Chardonnayed to Rest

by J. C. Eaton

  By eight thirty I was convinced Stephanie Ipswich had inadvertently gathered an assortment of rogues and self-styled crime hunters. It was frightening.

  “Good morning, everyone!” I called out as the unofficial crew helped themselves to an assortment of donuts and coffee. “I really appreciate you giving up your Saturday to help us out.”

  I then went on to explain what a covert operation was and more specifically, what it wasn’t. “So you see, all you need to do is keep an eye out for someone, male or female, wearing the aforementioned windbreaker. If you spot them, don’t approach them. Let Cammy or me know. Cammy’s the brunette in the tasting room. The one with her hair pulled into a bun. She’s wearing an orange T-shirt that matches the ribbon on her bun. If you can’t locate either of us, tell whoever’s working on the cash register and they’ll know what to do.”

  For the most part, it would be Lizzie at the cash register, but, in case she was on a break, it could be any of our tasting room employees. All of them were told to remain calm and find me.

  “Are we being assigned to a particular position?” someone asked.

  “No, not at all. Please wander around the place as if you were one of the partygoers. Feel free to take a wine tour, enjoy the polka music, everything we have to offer. It’s best that all of you are scattered throughout the event. I’ve got lunch tickets for everyone, as well as drink tickets. Also, coupons for fifteen percent off our wines. It’s the least we can do. Keep in mind, you’re observers, not a militia. Everyone understand?”

  A cacophony of uh-huhs, yeahs and okays followed, but I had a dreadful feeling this crew was going to be as unpredictable as they come.

  “Enjoy your coffee,” I said. “The event starts at ten and the entertainment tent is through those back doors. I’ll be right here handing out your tickets. Again, thanks.”

  The group was orderly as they waited in a makeshift line to pick up their meal tickets. Unfortunately, a few side comments really rattled me. Things like, “Mary Sue carries a can of mace with her if she needs to spray it,” and “No one can wield a two by four like Timmy.”

  By the time I got done handing out the tickets, I was downright jittery. So jittery, in fact, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when Theo approached me from behind.

  “Whoa! Didn’t mean to scare you. That polka band sounds really good, by the way. I heard them practicing as I was coming up here. It’s gorgeous outside, so I walked. I don’t suppose you could hear them from inside the building. Trust me, they’re great.”

  “That’s a relief. At least one thing’s going right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of worried about our volunteer spies. Some of them think this is Mission Impossible.”

  “Relax. Once everything gets underway, they’ll be fine. All they have to do is look-see.”

  “Tell them that.”

  “Come on, you can fill me in over coffee. I spied that collection of donuts and one of them’s got my name on it.”

  Theo was in absolute stitches when I got done recounting my introduction to Stephanie’s operatives, for lack of a better word. “Hey, if nothing else, there’ll be lots of eyes on the visitors. And as soon as I’m done with my donut, I’ll be playing I Spy, too. Stop worrying, Norrie!”

  If nothing else, the weather forecast was right. It was cool with partial sunshine and a breeze. Perfect weather for wearing a windbreaker. I left the tasting room and bistro in order to check out the tent and the festivities, but instead of cutting through the building, I walked outside to get a look at the parking lot.

  It was filling up fast, and we didn’t open for another twenty minutes. Thankfully John had roped off a portion of our unused land, adjacent to the barn, for extra parking. I glanced at Alvin. He was busily munching on some fresh hay. His enclosure looked better than ever since John and his crew rebuilt much of it following that disaster two months ago when I was attacked and Alvin broke through his pen.

  I prayed we wouldn’t have anything quite as dramatic with this event. And for the first two or three hours, my prayers were answered. The Polka Meisters from Buffalo were really as good as Theo said. They played all sorts of old favorites, which prompted the audience to get on the large platform and dance. Not only that, but they had singers, too, and even a few comedians.

  The tantalizing aroma from the sausages cooking on the grill permeated the tent. So far so good. Inside the tasting room, the canapes were quickly getting gobbled up and our tasting room tables were filled to capacity. I was on “standby” duty if needed, but Cammy reassured me they had plenty of part-time college students working. That left me plenty of time to scout out the area for Roy Wilkes’ elusive killer.

  In theory, that was exactly what I should’ve been doing, but the reality was, I got sidetracked by all of the winery friends and acquaintances who came by so that the event would be a success. Madeline Martinez had two handfuls of sausage cheese balls when I spotted her outside the far end of the tent in front of the Chardonnay barrel that held our precious Federweisser.

  Herbert and Alan were assigned to the task of pouring out the Federweisser and serving it. Since it wasn’t bottled, and the barrel was adjacent to the winery, it made sense for the winemakers to handle that task.

  “Norrie!” Madeline shouted when she spied me. “The Federweisser is outstanding! Bubbly and bright! If it wasn’t so deceptive, I’d be drinking it by the gallon.”

  “I know. People forget there’s an alcohol content to it.”

  “Have you seen Catherine or Stephanie? I know they’re both here because I ran into them a few minutes ago in the tasting room. Still no news on catching that killer, huh?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, we’re all on the lookout. By the way, I think that goat of yours has gotten bigger. My husband mentioned something about us purchasing some llamas for the winery, and I told him if he did, he could count on sleeping outside with them. It’s enough work growing grapes and turning them into wine.”

  No truer words said.

  Just then, I heard someone calling my name and when I spun my head around to see where the voice was coming from, I saw Mallory and Bethany from the blue ranch house waving to me.

  “Excuse me, Madeline,” I said. “I need to get over there. Enjoy the Federweisser and thanks so much for coming.”

  “My pleasure!”

  I walked to the opening in the tent where Mallory and Bethany were standing. “Hi there! So glad you could make it.”

  “Did the e-mail I sent you work?” Bethany asked. “I mean, did the sheriff’s department release the wrongly accused guy?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. But it’ll help the guy’s defense lawyer, that’s for sure. Listen, we owe you some complimentary wine. Ask for Cammy in the tasting room before you leave. She’ll take care of it.”

  “Sure thing. Say, this party’s a blast. I never thought I’d be into polka music, but it’s like you can’t stop dancing once you start. Oh my gosh! Do you hear that? They’re playing the ‘Macarena’. I don’t want to miss it.” Then she grabbed Mallory by the arm and gave her friend a tug. “Hurry up, Mallory. Get a move on!”

  Looking around, it was obvious people were having fun. Kelsey Payne was all but rotting in a jail cell, but as far as the attendees at our Federweisser were concerned, all was right with the world. I stepped inside the tent and stood for a minute watching the “Macarena.” Or, to be more precise, watching to see if any of the Macarena dancers had on a blue windbreaker. No luck. I moved to the tasting room.

  No sooner did I get one foot in the door than Catherine Trobert caught me by the arm and wouldn’t let go. “I knew I’d find you sooner or later. Too bad Steven isn’t here to enjoy this with you. But never fear, he’ll definitely be home for the holidays in December.”

  D
ear God. Where can I escape to in December? Aruba, Jamaica? My God, I’m reciting that Beach Boys song. And yes, Kokomo. I’ll go there. I’ll go anywhere. “Um, sure…December.”

  “Did you get to see Stephanie? She was here earlier but had to leave. Her babysitter called. Threatened to quit. Stephanie said she’ll try to get back later today. But you know who else is here? Rosalee’s sister, Marilyn. With some friend of hers. A big woman who reminds me of a woodcutter. What was her name? Oh yes, Erlene. Erlene Spencer.”

  Terrific. No sign of Bradley Jamison, but Erlene Spencer’s here. Must be my lucky day. “Did Marilyn or Erlene mention if Rosalee plans to stop by?”

  “They didn’t say. Anyway, I can’t wait to taste the Federweisser.”

  “It’s on the other side of the tent. Walk straight through and you can’t miss it.”

  “Wonderful. And remember, December’s less than four months away.”

  Terrific. I’ll buy a giant wall calendar.

  The aroma from those sausages had really gotten to me, and I charged over to the bistro as fast as I could. Not that it mattered. I waited in line like everyone else for a sausage on a bun. That was when I overheard someone talking about “the windstorm that was supposed to hit Seneca Lake sometime late in the day.”

  I immediately clicked the weather app on my phone but couldn’t seem to pull up an hourly forecast the way I could on my laptop. Instead, I got the temperature and some idiotic graphic of light rain. I tried to tell myself that “late in the day” could be anything, but all I envisioned was that humongous tent coming loose from its tethers and landing on everyone.

  I’d seen videos of bouncy houses lifting off the ground with toddlers still inside, but I tried not to think about it.

  “Hi, Norrie!” Fred said when I finally reached the front of the line. “It’s going great, isn’t it?”

  He handed me a sausage sandwich. The giant link was barbequed exactly the way I liked it, brownish on the skin and a few splits. I couldn’t wait to sit down so I took a bite. The warm juices started to run down my chin and I wiped them with the back of my hand. Francine would have rolled her eyes.

  “You haven’t heard anything about a rain or windstorm, have you?” I asked.

  “Sorry, no. I’ve been too busy running back and forth to the grill. Don’t worry. Those reports are always exaggerated. Besides, last night’s news said late in the day. I take that to mean after dark.”

  “Geez, I hope you’re right.”

  “Any luck with your other endeavor? You know, the blue windbreaker.”

  “Nope. Nothing yet, but we still have three hours left.”

  I didn’t want to hold up the line, so I told him I’d catch up later and stepped aside so the next in line could get a sausage. I thought I caught a glimpse of Marilyn Ansley and Erlene Spencer near the T-shirt bins, but when I got closer, they were gone. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with none other than Bradley Jamison and the adorable blonde. I wanted to puke.

  “Norrie! I was looking all over for you,” he said. “We’ve been here for over an hour. What a terrific event. This is Pam, she’s—”

  I cut in before he finished the words. I really didn’t want to hear them.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Pam. I hope you’re enjoying your visit to our winery.”

  “I am. Thanks. This is the first chance I’ve had to see Brad in ages. When he called to suggest it, I couldn’t wait to drive down here. I’m only in Cazenovia but it feels like a zillion miles away.”

  I’ll bet it does.

  Bradley gave her a quick glance. At least he wasn’t holding her hand or nuzzling her. “Pam teaches fifth grade and when she’s not in the classroom, she’s working on lessons. Even our parents don’t get to see her as much anymore.”

  What? What did I miss? “Your parents?”

  “Good grief. I never made a full introduction. Pam’s my older sister, by a year.”

  “Your sister. How wonderful. How absolutely wonderful. That she could be here, I mean.”

  Pam reached out and shook my hand. “Brad’s told me all about you and how you’ve been working day and night to catch a killer. I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed.”

  And at this very moment, I’m relieved. “Don’t be. I haven’t gotten anywhere.”

  Suddenly, a grey-haired lady from one of the quilting guilds rushed over to me. I recognized her from earlier in the day because she was wearing a chartreuse top with a screaming loud purple jacket.

  “The killer! The killer! I saw him. Doris and Deborah have got him trapped in the restroom. Doris is barricading the door so he can’t get out and Deborah is right behind her. Hurry. He could be armed and dangerous. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to the Merry Stitchers.”

  Apparently Doris and Deborah forgot about my directive to observe and report. They were working off their own playbook—corner and trap.

  I bolted out of the tasting room and ran straight for the corridor where the restrooms were located. I wasn’t sure if Bradley and his sister were following me, and there was no time to look. Behind me, I could hear a jumble of voices screaming, “Killer? There’s a killer in here?” And that’s when I knew we were in major trouble.

  Chapter 28

  Sure enough, two ladies stood in front of the door to the men’s room, their arms crossed in front. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn they were blockers for a national roller derby team.

  Behind me, the voices were getting louder, but thankfully there was one I recognized—Theo’s. “I heard the commotion and got right over here. What’s happening?”

  “Doris and Deborah over there think the killer’s in the men’s room. Now what?”

  “Oh brother. If we don’t do something right away, this is going to get out of hand. You go over there and talk to them while I deal with the crowd.”

  He turned away and I could hear him shout, “Just a plumbing problem in the men’s room. There are lots of portable toilets outside until we get it fixed.”

  Meanwhile, I sprinted over to the ladies and whispered, “What’s going on?”

  “We saw it!” one of them said. “The blue windbreaker. That was a windbreaker, wasn’t it, Doris?”

  “I thought it was a poncho, but you said it was a windbreaker.”

  I bit my lip and forced myself to stay calm. “Okay. We can take it from here. Why don’t you wait over by the cashier, and I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be safe?” Doris asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  At that instant, Theo, Bradley and Pam rushed over.

  “I overheard the conversation,” Theo said. Then he turned to Bradley. “What do you say we walk in there and see who may or may not be our murderer.”

  With that, Theo opened the door and he and Bradley walked in.

  “Honestly, Norrie,” Pam said. “Here you are tracking down killers and do you know what the high point in my life is?”

  I shook my head.

  “On Wednesday, the school cafeteria serves fried chicken.”

  Both of us laughed as the men exited the restroom.

  “We almost had to hire Bradley ourselves,” Theo said. “Thank goodness the guy in the men’s room isn’t going to press any charges. Said two ladies chased him in there shouting, ‘Murderer, Murderer!’”

  My cheeks felt warm, and I swore there was a giant lump in my throat. “I’m almost afraid to ask. What was he wearing?”

  Theo and Bradley burst out laughing and answered simultaneously—“a blue hoodie.”

  “Remind me to never listen to Stephanie Ipswich again,” I said.

  Bradley and Pam went off to listen to the Polka Meisters after Bradley pulled me aside for a split second to tell me he’d give me a call tomorrow. I wanted to ask him if it was busine
ss or pleasure, but I wound up saying, “Okay.”

  It was midafternoon and no sign of our suspect. However, there were signs of a possible rainstorm, and that wasn’t good. The sky, which had been partially sunny, was now overcast, but that didn’t seem to matter to any of our guests. The tent was packed and the lines for food were long. I moseyed back to where Herbert and Alan were serving the Federweisser to see how it was going.

  “If this keeps up,” Alan said, “we won’t have any feeling left in our hands from all that pouring. Franz is going to work for the next two hours while Herbert and I take breaks in between winery tours. Franz says if he has to answer one more question about how wine is made, he’s going to make a video and tell everyone to find him on YouTube.”

  I was about to go back to the tasting room when I realized something. I had locked Charlie in the house because I didn’t want him to position himself in front of the outdoor grill begging customers for a handout. Francine had mentioned the dog had a propensity for doing things like that. That, along with other reasons, was why he wasn’t allowed in the tasting room.

  It was a quick jaunt back to the house. I let him outside for a few minutes, fed him some kibble, and freshened up. I figured what was fifteen or twenty minutes more. No one would miss me. As I was about to leave the house, I noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine.

  The message was from Gladys Pipp at the public safety building. “Managed to locate your home number. Didn’t want to leave a message at the winery. You didn’t hear this from me. David Whitaker’s son, Richard, was in to see Deputy Hickman first thing this morning. And it wasn’t about his missing father. It was about Kelsey Payne. Couldn’t hear the whole conversation, but I did hear the kid say, ‘Don’t ask me how I know, but you made a mistake. Kelsey’s not your killer.’”

  I replayed the phone message three times, waiting for it to sink in. Darn it! It was after three and Gladys would be gone for the day. I opened the cupboard where Francine kept her stack of yellow phone books and flipped frantically to find Gladys’ number. If she even had a landline. My eyes bounced all over the last names beginning with P. Finally, a number. I dialed it as fast as I could only to get her answering machine.