A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  The rest of the day and the following morning I tethered myself to the house and refused to leave until I had made some headway with my screenplay. I was still steaming over the fact Declan had accused me of murder and worse yet, called the county sheriff. I tried to dismiss it as I dove into my writing. Thankfully, screenplays didn’t require intense grammatical scrutiny like novels or short stories. As long as the characters were compelling, the dialogue flowed, the storyline was tight and the interest level high, I was in business. The only break I took was to double check the séance timeframe with Cammy and grab an aioli burger at our bistro.

  “You just missed Peter and Herbert,” she said. “They left a few minutes ago after lunch. Doesn’t matter, I’m sure you’ll see them tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, with bells on.”

  * * * *

  On July Fourth, Glenda insisted everyone meet in front of the new Riesling vineyard, aka Elsbeth’s near final resting spot, at exactly eight forty-nine, the official time of the sunset.

  “The spirit forces will be the strongest between eight forty-nine and nine twenty-four, when the twilight hour ends,” she had told everyone. Not that I wanted to participate, because, believe me, I didn’t, but I felt as if I should at least make an appearance as the crowd gathered. I felt sorry for the staff at Two Witches since they’d already put in a full day and now had to return to our winery a few hours later because one of them was certifiable.

  Charlie trotted beside me as I walked toward the infamous spot. The sun had just started to set and cast a pinkish hue on the horizon. Up ahead, closer to the Riesling vineyard, I saw Cammy, Lizzie, Sam, Fred and Emma. Oh, and Glenda. It was impossible not to notice Glenda. She was decked out in a long purplish robe circa nineteen sixty-nine Woodstock and small flowers were pinned to her hair.

  “Hey, Norrie! Hold up!” came a voice. I turned.

  Herbert quickened his pace and caught his breath when he reached me.

  “Thanks for doing this,” I said. “It’s really above and beyond any of your responsibilities.”

  “My advisor said the same thing when I told him. That was before he doubled over laughing and asked me again for the name of the winery.”

  “Oh, geez.”

  “Relax. This’ll be a hoot.” He turned back for a second when we both heard a car pulling into the tasting room parking lot.

  “That must be Roger,” Herbert said. “Let’s hurry before we get caught up in the French and Indian War. He had me tied up for a full forty minutes once going on and on about William Shirley’s expulsion of the French settlers in seventeen fifty-five. After listening to him, I wanted to be expelled as well. Come on, we’d better put some distance between us and him.”

  “Hello there!” Glenda called out as we approached. “Our circle is almost complete. I believe that’s Roger heading toward us. Isn’t that him?”

  “Looks like him,” Cammy said. “Good. Maybe we can get this over with so I can get off my feet.”

  Glenda ignored her remark and waved Roger over. “I believe we’re all here, except for Peter. I thought I saw him earlier.”

  “You did,” Cammy said. “He showed up and went back down the hill to check the barn for his wallet. He thought it either dropped out of his pocket down there or maybe even by the bistro when he had lunch.” Then she turned to me, “I hope you don’t mind, but I loaned him the key to the tasting room and gave him the alarm code to get inside, in case the wallet fell out in there. Must not be his week. Fred had to chase after him a few days ago because he left his baseball cap on one of the tables. You know, that black one he always wears with the red knight on it.”

  I was half listening but something caught my attention. Black cap with a red knight. Where had I seen something like that before? Oh yeah. That faded decal on the rear windshield of his truck. Then, something else hit me. It was as if I was spinning a Rubik’s cube and every algorithm fell into place.

  “Um, you’ll have to excuse me, everyone. I need to take care of something. I’ll be back. Get started without me. You don’t want to miss the spirit forces while they’re at their strongest.”

  “She’s right,” Glenda said. “We must begin. Quickly now. Form a circle. We’ll start with a soft incantation chant I’ll teach you. Everyone should be holding a sage and lavender incense stick. I’ll pass around my barbeque lighter. It’s much safer than the smaller ones. Once your stick is lit, hold it in the air.”

  The sky was getting darker and the air more humid. What was it with the Finger Lakes? Every night the same thing–an invitation for every insect to come out and suck blood. The gravel underneath my feet made a soft crunching sound as I raced to the tasting room. It was dark. That meant Peter was still in the barn somewhere, looking for his wallet. I had time.

  I unlocked the front door and walked inside, latching the screen door behind me. Alvin must’ve been in his little hut because I didn’t notice him on my way inside the building. I hurried to the office and unlocked the employee records file with the small key that was now a permanent fixture on my keychain.

  It took me all of three seconds to pull out Peter Groff’s file. A copy of his high school diploma, along with his degrees from colleges, was staring me in the face, but it was the high school that mattered. Tully, to be exact, a small hamlet outside of Syracuse and home to the black knights. I remembered Arden Grant saying something about it because it was his hometown, too. And he wasn’t the only one.

  Too bad I didn’t have an eidetic memory or it would’ve saved me some time. I immediately Googled Tully Central High School Alumni and was hit by a number of sites, each one with a list according to the graduating year. I found Peter’s year and clicked the site. Then I scanned the names and bit my lip. Yvonne Finlay. Just as I thought. It was Peter’s baseball cap on the rack by her B & B door the first time I was in the Peaceful Pines. And, as for Yvonne? It was all starting to make sense.

  The last time I had seen her name was in a Syracuse newspaper dating back from the time she was sentenced for embezzlement. She graduated with the same high school class as Peter. Everything was beginning to jell. I wondered why on earth someone like Peter Groff would leave California to work as an assistant vineyard manager in Penn Yan. And his explanation when I asked him a while back was really vague. Now it made sense—he wanted to be near Yvonne. Yvonne and Peter. Peter and Yvonne. My God! Her necklace. The rotating letters in that heart. It wasn’t Penn Yan she loved, it was Peter. When that B & B guest, Cheyanne, mentioned “the couple,” it had to be the two of them.

  I could hear Lizzie admonishing me now. “Nancy Drew would’ve figured this out weeks ago. Without the drama.”

  Well, piss on Nancy Drew. I wasn’t doing too badly myself.

  Outside, the incantation circle was getting louder and louder. Elsbeth’s spirit could save herself the bother. I knew who her killer was.

  Chapter 27

  I pushed Ctrl+P on the keyboard and waited for the information to print. Then I picked up the phone and dialed the Yates County Sheriff’s Office. The call hadn’t connected when I heard the latch on the screen door opening and closing. Instinctively, I stood, dropping the receiver.

  “Norrie? Are you in here? It’s me, Peter. I think I might’ve left my wallet in the bistro.”

  “Peter, I…”

  He stepped inside the door of the office at the same instant the paper rolled off the printer and onto the floor. He snatched it up and read it before I could get there. The look on his face was one I recognized. One I always used in my screenplays—betrayal. The look of betrayal. Actually, a combination of furrowed brow, a grimace and jaw clenching.

  “So, you figured it out.” His voice was softer than usual and slower. “It wasn’t supposed to go down the way it did, but things happened.”

  “If it was an accident, I’m sure the deputy sheriff will understand.”

  “I
t wasn’t an accident. Not all of it.”

  My heart was racing and my hands felt sweaty. With only the screen door closed, I heard Glenda’s séance getting louder and louder. Keening sounds. Moaning sounds. At one point, something that resembled yodeling, but I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of, was the fact I needed to get the hell out of there but Peter was blocking the door.

  “It makes sense, you know,” I said. “Elsbeth stood in the way of your future with Yvonne. I could understand why you and Yvonne—”

  “She didn’t have a thing to do with this. NOT A DAMN THING! Understand?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Yvonne took the fall for me. Sacrificed her career for me and got a felony record to boot. The only reason she siphoned monies from that department store was to help finance my college expenses. In case you haven’t figured it out, there aren’t too many millionaires living in Tully.”

  I wasn’t about to give him a lecture on scholarships, grants and student loans. He’d made his own choices and was about to make another one. He reached into a back pocket and grabbed a pruning knife. Nasty little sucker—serrated teeth on a wide-curved blade. I stepped back, bumping into the desk. Outside, the chanting had reached a fever pitch. The moans echoed everywhere and there was some sort of awful trilling sound. At that instant, two things happened.

  Peter lunged toward me with the knife, and Alvin broke through the screen door into the foyer. The noise was enough to startle Peter long enough for me to grab hold of one of those Dowitcher paperweights. I jabbed the bill into his upper thigh and made a run for it.

  “You witch!” he yelled. “Think a little blood’s going to stop me?”

  Alvin was now in the tasting room, knocking into chairs. It was only a matter of time before he’d find the racks with our wine bottles. I heard crashing sounds but ran instead to the front entrance where I screamed my lungs out. It was pointless. That infernal caterwauling from Glenda’s incantation made it impossible for anyone to hear me.

  I was just about out the door when Peter grabbed me by an ankle and pulled me to the ground.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Stab me right here?”

  He poked the pruning knife into my side and told me to stand. “We’re going to walk nice and slow to my truck.” He prodded me along.

  I screeched as loud as I could but Peter pasted his hand across my mouth. I tried biting it but all I managed to do was nuzzle his hand with my lips. Ugh. Then, out of nowhere, Alvin charged into us from behind. It took Peter completely off guard and he lost his balance. I managed to sidestep the goat and paste myself against the door frame. Then I screamed again. Louder this time.

  My scream must’ve hit a lull in the séance because the chanting had stopped. Unfortunately, the blasts from Roman candles and assorted fireworks pounded my ears. The lake-goers, the neighbors and the tourists were all celebrating the Fourth of July.

  I didn’t bother to turn and see if Peter was behind me. I ran down that driveway as fast as I possibly could. Granted, it was a longer distance to Theo and Don’s, but why run uphill? That most definitely would’ve slowed me down.

  Suddenly, I was all but blinded by red-and-blue lights. An emergency vehicle. And it was headed straight up our driveway. Dear Lord, had someone complained about Glenda’s little spirit fest in the vineyard? I ran directly toward the car and waved my arms. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

  My mind was so intent on getting away from Peter that I hadn’t realized I was being followed. Apparently, the entire entourage from the vineyard either heard my screams or saw the emergency flashers. Behind me, I could make out voices. Voices I recognized—Cammy, Lizzie, Glenda, Sam, Roger, Herbert, Emma and Fred. And they were all yelling at once.

  The flashers gave off enough light for me to turn and see them. And that wasn’t all I saw. Alvin had made his way into one of the vineyards and was now happily chomping on some vines. Dear God, will this nightmare ever end?

  “Don’t worry!” Sam shouted. “I’m wearing a belt. I’ll get it around Alvin’s neck and lead him back to his pen. Hopefully he didn’t break the gate, only knocked it over. Was that why you were screaming? Because of that goat?”

  Sam didn’t wait for my answer. He took off after Alvin at the same instant as Deputy Hickman got out of his car.

  “Dispatch got your emergency call but couldn’t make out what was going on. That’s why I’m here. So, Miss Ellington, what brings me out to your winery on the Fourth of July?”

  By now, everyone had crowded around me and they all began to speak at once.

  “Elsbeth Waters’s spirit has emerged from the dead.”

  “The dwarf goat got loose.”

  “The conjuring séance worked.”

  “Did you hear our incantation?”

  “Damn fireworks are too loud.”

  “Elsbeth’s ghost is among us.”

  “That goat’s gonna cause a lot of damage. Did Sam catch him?”

  Deputy Hickman crossed his arms and said two words—“QUIET EVERYONE!” Then he looked directly at me. “You haven’t answered my question. This better be good.”

  “It is,” I said. “Peter Groff tried to kill me. I was calling your office for help.”

  Just then, another vehicle pulled up behind the deputy’s car and my two buddies from the Grey Egret came racing over.

  Don was practically out of breath. “We heard the commotion! My God, Norrie, what’s going on?”

  “The killer… He—”

  A few yards away, Sam shouted. “I’ve got him. I’m taking him back now.”

  “Sam caught the killer?” Theo yelled. “Shouldn’t someone help him?”

  “The goat,” Roger groaned. “Sam corralled Alvin. God knows where Peter Groff has gotten off to. Very similar to a situation back in seventeen fifty-five when—”

  “Enough!” Deputy Hickman exploded. “There are far too many of us to stand in the middle of a driveway at night and discuss the whereabouts of an alleged killer.” Then, to me, he said, “Miss Ellington, perhaps we can all take a seat in your tasting room and work this through.”

  What followed next was one of the longest nights of my life. First, my recounting of the events that led me to the revelation that Peter was the one responsible for Elsbeth’s murder. Then, my blow-by-blow description of what had taken place in Francine’s office. Then, the Alvin fiasco. I think the incantation noise scared the living daylights out of the poor goat. And finally, the realization that none of us had any idea where Peter Groff had gone. I imagined he got into his truck and exited from one of the seasonal dirt roads that connected to the vineyards.

  The tasting room crew remained to clean up the outrageous mess Alvin had made. Fortunately, he only broke a dozen or so bottles of wine and those were our blends, not our most expensive varieties. Theo went outside to help Sam repair Alvin’s fence or gate or whatever it was that the goat had broken.

  “I’ll go to Home Depot tomorrow,” Don offered, “and get you a replacement screen door. This one is totally shot.”

  Deputy Hickman took copious notes and notified his office to put out an all-points bulletin on Peter Groff. He also directed someone to pay a little visit to Yvonne, shouting, “I don’t give a rat’s patootie if it is the Fourth of July. Send someone over there!”

  “I’ll need a complete written statement from you, Miss Ellington, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

  All of a sudden, Glenda stood and grabbed the deputy by the wrist. “There’s something you should know. Our séance worked. We conjured Elsbeth’s spirit and she led us directly to her killer.”

  “I’ll be sure to make a note of it,” he replied, not batting an eyelash.

  It was well after two in the morning when our employees left the building and I followed Grizzly Gary out the door. Theo and Don were right behind me, making certain I s
et the alarm.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Theo asked. “What if Peter comes back?”

  “He won’t,” Deputy Hickman stated. “Or he’s dumber than I thought. We’ll have a sheriff’s car posted in front of the house tonight until we catch him.”

  I should’ve conked out the minute my head hit the pillow, but I was too wired. Instead, I made myself a cup of tea and snuggled with Charlie on the couch, taking catnaps throughout the night.

  The next morning I called Franz and John to let them know what had happened. Franz took it in stride and said he’d notify Alan, but John was absolutely beside himself.

  “I’m stunned,” he said. “Speechless. Peter was the last person I’d ever suspect of doing such a thing. I can’t even imagine how he could kill someone.”

  “Me either. Maybe we’ll find out when the sheriff’s deputies catch up to him. Meanwhile, he’s at the receiving end of an all-points bulletin.”

  As things turned out, it was the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department who managed to nail Peter at the airport a few days later. He had a one-way ticket to Loreto, Baja California, with a stop in Los Angeles. I imagined he planned for Yvonne to join him once she sold the B & B. I found all of this out when Deputy Hickman stopped by my house at some obscene time in the morning. I was barely awake when he knocked on the door.

  “I came by to inform you that Mr. Groff has been apprehended and is no longer a threat to you or your winery.”

  “Great.” I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping it would flatten down. Thankfully I was awake enough to have thrown on a decent T-shirt and jeans.

  “I know I’ve admonished you on numerous occasions, Miss Ellington, for interfering with deputy business, but I must admit, your sleuthing led to an arrest.”

  “I should’ve figured it out sooner,” I said. “It was so obvious. The way Yvonne used Madeline Martinez to learn about running a winery. That was Yvonne’s plan. Along with Peter. To have their own winery in Baja California. And the Spanish tape Peter had in his truck, along with his book for beginners. All of it escaped me. So, how did he do it? How did he kill Elsbeth? You can’t leave me in the lurch. I caught a killer, after all.”