by J. C. Eaton
“I did at the time. Not anymore.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“When I asked him this morning. Cal would never lie to me. I thought I was protecting him. Turned out I was wrong. And now what? I’m being framed for murder. This rots, you know. You have to do something.”
Bradley turned off the recorder and pocketed it. “We will. We’ll do everything in our power to defend you.”
“It won’t be enough,” Kelsey said. “You have to find out who really killed that guy.”
Bradley scratched his chin, never taking his eyes off of Kelsey. “Did you give a statement to the deputies when you were brought in?”
Kelsey nodded. “Same thing I told you. They asked if I wanted to call my lawyer, but I didn’t know I had one. Besides, I have nothing to hide.”
“One quick question. What made you think one of the perpetrators was your brother? Wasn’t it way too dark to see anyone clearly?”
“When the train went by, I saw the hat. It was illuminated by the train’s headlight. In the winter and on cold mornings, Cal wears one of those woolen hats with a reflective band. Really dorky looking. And there’s another thing—Cal and Roy got into a big row about a week or so before. Cal told me about it. So, when I saw the hat, naturally I thought it was him.”
Finally—“Shortly” was a week or so, not hours or minutes before.
The door opened again. “Ten minutes are up. You’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be back on Monday for your bail hearing,” Bradley said. “Meanwhile, sit tight.”
I felt as if I had been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Of all things. Kelsey Payne witnessed a murder but kept quiet because he thought the killer was his brother. And for all any of us knew, it could be the brother. It gave new meaning to the term “Family Affairs.”
Bradley took my elbow as we left the building and pulled me aside. “How did you know he wasn’t telling us the truth about his reason for not phoning in the murder?”
“I didn’t. It was a line I used in one of my screenplays. ‘What was the real reason?’ It’s a popular line, you know. ‘What was the real reason you broke up with him?’ ‘What was the real reason you left town?’ That line could go on and on in infamy. It came to me all of a sudden and I blurted it out.”
“Well, it worked. Not that it’s going to help him much. They’ll think he’s grasping at anything to save his hide.”
“Or his brother’s.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s our client, not Cal, and I’ve got to prove him innocent. Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. It was a choice this morning between shaving or eating. And believe me, I didn’t want word to get back to Marvin I showed up to interview a client looking as if I stumbled out of bed. Even if that’s true.”
I laughed.
“So, do you know any good places to eat? I’m not that familiar with Penn Yan.”
“The Penn Yan Diner’s down the block and around the corner. Fantastic breakfasts and even better pies. You’ll like it.”
“Uh, guess it really is early for me. I wasn’t too clear. Would you like to join me for breakfast?”
“I, er, um…”
“I really could use the company. Oh crap. That didn’t come out right either. I would really enjoy your company, Norrie Ellington. So, how about it?”
“It’s a date. I mean, a deal.”
Bradley laughed and shook his head. “Mornings must not be your best time either.”
The aroma of bacon permeated the air as soon as I stepped into the diner. I could’ve inhaled the entire grill, I was that hungry. I looked around and saw that Bradley was already seated at a corner booth.
“I ordered coffee for you as soon as I got here,” he said. “I figured you’d want a cup.”
“You figured right. Thanks.”
The menu hadn’t changed in decades, but I still looked it over. Bradley gave it a glance and groaned.
“What? Don’t tell me there’s nothing here you like?”
“Oh no. That’s not it. Everything looks wonderful. It’s just that I didn’t have the heart to tell Kelsey that Marvin Souza’s firm is only helping him out temporarily until we can secure a criminal lawyer. Our practice is family law—divorces, custody, real estate, wills and trusts…that sort of thing.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, no sense having the poor guy worry about it all weekend. Rosalee Marbleton was adamant that Marvin either take the case or, and I quote, ‘Find me a damn good lawyer who will.’”
“Sounds like Rosalee.”
“Marvin’s got a number of contacts in Syracuse. He’ll line up someone by the beginning of the week. Until then, we’re the official counsel for Kelsey Payne.”
At that moment, one of the waitresses appeared to take our order. She looked like a high schooler—lots of ear piercings, short black hair with blue and green streaks and red lipstick that could’ve come from Marilyn Monroe’s private stash.
“Hi! I’m Cassidy. What can I get you?”
I ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, and sourdough toast while Bradley took another gander at the menu.
“I’ll have the pancakes and eggs. No syrup but extra butter.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s how I like my pancakes, too. No syrup. Just butter.” Glenda would say this is a sign from the universe.
“It’s funny,” I said, “but Kelsey Payne really does look like that guy our tasting room manager and I saw at Rosinetti’s Bar a few nights ago.”
“Rosinetti’s? I’ve never been there but I heard the pizza is good. Is that someplace you go often?”
“Me? No. It was my first time.”
I then proceeded to tell him the reason I was at Rosinetti’s in the first place and how Cammy and I were trying to identify the man who fought with Roy Wilkes.
“Come to think of it,” I said. “They all look similar—the Payne brothers and the man we’re convinced is David Whitaker. Ruddy complexions, reddish hair but not too red. Aw, it’s probably coincidence. Cal and Kelsey work outdoors, so that would explain their coloring. And David Whitaker? Maybe he’s an outdoorsman, too, for all I know. If it’s the same man.”
“Hold on. Let me try to get all of this straight. You found out that Roy Wilkes had an altercation with a man in a bar who you think is a former school board member.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But you didn’t report it to the sheriff’s office.”
“I know. Another long story. I wanted to wait until I was sure.”
“So when you got a call that the mystery man was back at the bar, you and your tasting room manager went there.”
“That’s right. My tasting room manager is related to the owners.”
Bradley listened intently while I told him about the photo we took and my unofficial sleuthing.
“I hate to say it, but David Whitaker is missing and, if it turns out that he’s really the man from the bar, he may be the murderer. Norrie, you could actually be hindering an investigation.”
“Only if someone rats me out.”
Bradley groaned and took a gulp of his coffee. “Do you have any plans to share your intel with the Yates County Sheriff’s Department?”
“My God. You sound just like Theo Buchman from the Grey Egret. He and his partner are friends of mine. And yes, I have a plan.”
That led me to the next bit of information I held—the hang-tab.
“You really need to own up. The sooner the better. Look, I didn’t want to say this, but here goes. I wouldn’t put it past those sheriff’s deputies to think Rosalee put Kelsey up to the murder so she could prevent her winery from going under. Everyone knows by now that, without a water supply, she’d be doomed. It won’t only be Kelsey who’s facing murder charges, it’ll be Rosalee as well. My boss kept making a point o
f it, over and over again.”
“It’s that bad, huh? Last thing I want is for Rosalee to be unfairly accused of something. This stinks. The deputies are dragging their feet, even with the forensic evidence they have. That’s why I have to go through with my plan. I really believe we can find the killer during our Federweisser event.”
Bradley’s mouth opened and I don’t think he closed it until I was done explaining about the bowlers and the quilters. “You see, we might be able to pull together some real evidence—tangible evidence if someone with a blue Eddie Bauer windbreaker is missing a hang-tab. And, if the threads match. Did I tell you there were blue threads?”
“You—”
He never got to finish his thought because our food arrived and we literally dove into it. We made no mention about the murder, Kelsey’s arrest, or David Whitaker’s disappearance until after we had eaten.
Then Bradley spoke and what he said took me totally off guard. “I have to be back here on Monday to arrange for Kelsey’s bail. That is, if they decide to grant him bail. Anyway, I’ll have a chance to speak with him and I’ll ask if it was him the night you and your tasting room manager were at the bar playing photo shoot. If it was, he’s bound to explain who he was with and why.”
“Cammy, that’s my tasting room manager, really doesn’t think it was him because one of their bartenders overheard someone calling the guy Richie when he showed up again. Still, I’m not too sure.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do. When did you say this Federwhatever is taking place?”
“Federweisser. I can tell you’re not all that familiar with fermentation. Don’t worry. Neither am I. Federweisser is wine from the first fermentation. The stuff tastes like Champagne but it’s got a short shelf life. Very short. Anyway, the big shindig is Saturday, two weeks from today.”
“Two weeks, huh? Are you really sure about those bowlers and quilters? Don’t take this the wrong way, but your grand scheme kind of reminds me of a Woody Allen or Mel Brooks movie.”
“Gee, not the Marx Brothers?”
“I wasn’t about to go that far.” He reached over and patted my hand. “You can relax. Your secret sleuthing is safe with me for now. But you can’t hang on forever. If the Federweisser turns out to be a bust, as far as finding Roy’s killer, then you seriously need to come forth with what you know. In fact, I’d wager that lead deputy would be genuinely appreciative.”
“Grizzly Gary? Deputy Hickman? Appreciative? Not on your life. Or, in this case, mine.”
“Please don’t put me in a spot where I need to say something.”
True, his words could’ve been taken as a threat, but I honestly didn’t believe that was his intent.
“Okay fine. You’ve worn me down. Does this mean you’ll be at the Federweisser?”
“I can’t very well sit back and do nothing when I know what you’ve got planned. Oh yeah, I’ll be there. So, guilt and bugs. Care to expound a little on that?”
The waitress refilled our coffees and I gave Bradley the long story. Holy cow, I don’t know what got into me. I all but started with my elementary school years. I was clamoring to ask him if he was single but couldn’t figure out a way to approach it without sounding desperate. Turned out I didn’t have to wait too long. His phone, which he’d placed on the table, rang and I could see a photo of a woman named Pam. Real easy to read the name upside down. She looked downright gorgeous. Especially in a phone snapshot.
“Excuse me for a second. I really have to take this.” He got up and stepped outside the diner, while I pretended to take another sip of my coffee.
“Everything all right?” I asked when he got back.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Well, I’m sure you’ve got a busy day ahead and I know I do, so we’d best get going. Oh, I paid the tab when I walked back in.”
“How much do I—”
“It’s on me. Thanks for introducing me to this place. Terrific food.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for breakfast.”
I figured if he was talking to a client, he would at least make mention of it, but since he didn’t, I let my imagination do the work for me—girlfriend, fiancée, wife, ex-wife. Four very possible choices.
When we got to the door, he held it open. “Don’t take any crazy chances with this investigation of yours. The Federweisser’s bad enough. Truth is, Kelsey’s explanation is credible right down to the details. Unless he’s playing us, the killer could be anyone you know.”
Chapter 19
“Does paying for someone’s breakfast make it a date?” It was a little past five and I had moseyed down to the tasting room to catch Cammy before she left for the day.
She looked up from the wine bin, where she was rearranging bottles, and waited for me to continue.
“Because Bradley Jamison, that hunky attorney who works for the one Rosalee has on retainer, paid for mine this morning. So, was it a date?”
“Depends. Did he act as if it was a date?”
“No.”
“Then it wasn’t.”
“Phooey. Not to sound all goo-goo eyed, and I know I said I wasn’t interested in dating anyone since I’m not going to be here that long, but damn it all! This guy’s a real hottie. He only has one flaw as far as I can tell.”
“What flaw?” she asked.
“Pam.”
“Pam. Who’s that?”
“She could be anyone, but right now let’s just say she’s the significant other.”
“And you know this how?” Cammy asked.
“He left the table to answer a phone call from her.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. He’s a lawyer. She could be a client of his, for all you know.”
“Then he would’ve said something.”
“Not really. Haven’t you heard of client confidentiality? And if she wasn’t his client, she could’ve been his sister or a relative.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Never mind. I really don’t have time to worry about my social life. I had breakfast with him because I was at the county lockup this morning trying to find out more about Kelsey Payne’s arrest. Rosalee put me up to it. Those sheriff’s deputies think Kelsey murdered Roy Wilkes.”
“Whoa! Slow down! You’re losing me. Kelsey Payne got arrested? I’ve heard you mention his name once or twice. He’s Rosalee’s handyman, right? The one who stained her deck and saw those flowerpot stakes. That Kelsey Payne?”
“Yes, yes. The very same Kelsey Payne whose brother is Rosalee’s vineyard manager.”
“It’s beginning to sound like a soap opera.”
“Worse. Bradley Jamison, the temporary legal counsel, was there to speak with Kelsey. I managed to wrangle my way into the interview, too.”
“Impressive. I must say, I never knew you had such persuasive skills.”
“I don’t. He was scared of what Rosalee would do if I didn’t get inside the lockup to hear what Kelsey had to say.”
“Now this is beginning to make sense. That’s how you wound up having breakfast with Mr. Hunk of the Day.”
“Yep. That’s about it.”
I told Cammy what Kelsey told Bradley and me. About witnessing the altercation and Roy Wilkes’ subsequent murder behind the pumping station that morning.
“No one’s going to believe him,” she said. “A solid fingerprint is like a full confession, and as for the motive…Oy vey. I don’t even want to go there.”
“You can say it. Bradley already did.”
“That Rosalee put Kelsey up to it in order to save her winery?”
“Yep. That’s it in a nutshell. Except for one thing. If it was a planned murder, how on earth would Kelsey have known Roy was going to be on the lakefront behind the pumping station at the break of dawn? Tell me that.”
Cammy smacked her palm against her forehead. “Oh my God! You’re right! How wo
uld he? No one goes walking around the lakefront at dawn hoping to run into someone so they can kill them. Even in the worst horror movies, they don’t do that. Now what?”
“I’m not sure. Not until I finish with the boring stuff I’ve got to do. Theo, Don, and I are tracking down archival information on Roy Wilkes to see what we can find out. I intend to do my part as soon as I go back to the house. However, I did call Rosalee a few hours ago to tell her I spoke with Kelsey this morning. Apparently Bradley called her, too.”
“How’d that go?” she asked.
“As well as could be expected I suppose. Her sister, Marilyn, was over there so I wasn’t on the phone long. I could hear Marilyn in the background yelling about poor Erlene. Guess the husband never showed up.”
“Speaking of not showing up, no word yet either on the other missing man, David Whitaker. Unlike Erlene’s spouse, this Whitaker guy’s been all over the news. They’ve practically canonized him for the work he did on the Penn Yan School Board.”
“Before they nominate him for sainthood, I hope we can find out more about Roy and why the two of them were almost at fisticuffs at your family’s bar. So, any other excitement around here?”
“Nope. Say, what did you mean by ‘temporary legal counsel’?”
“Oh, that. Marvin Souza’s firm is a family law firm, not a criminal law firm. They’ve got to find Kelsey a good defense lawyer.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. There are lots of those firms in Rochester and Syracuse.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Monday’s the bail hearing and Bradley will be representing him.”
“You going?”
“I’m tempted, but for the wrong reasons, so no. I’ll be either buried in a screenplay or mired up to my elbows in research. Theo, Don, and I split up the workload.”
“If you need me to do anything, give a holler.”
“I will.”
Alvin was chomping on a fresh pile of hay as I exited the building. I heard those guttural sounds of his before I actually laid eyes on him. It looked as if he had bitten off more than he could chew because a gigantic wad of the stuff was resting between the walkway to the tasting room and his pen. The goat must’ve leaned over his fence while he was eating.
