Pinot Red or Dead?

by J. C. Eaton

  “How do you know so much about these things?”

  This isn’t my first rodeo. “Uh, I happen to read a lot.”

  Lavettia reached for a napkin from the small stack we had on the table and dabbed her eyes. “This will all land on me, you know. His funeral. His eulogy. His final wishes. There’s no one else.”

  “What about his lawyer? I’m sure his lawyer will be able to handle the business end of things.”

  “You’re right. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll call Marvin Souza’s office and insist he see me.”

  “Marvin Souza in Geneva? That Marvin Souza?”

  “How many Marvin Souzas are there? You know him?”

  “I know another lawyer in that office. Bradley Jamison.”

  “Bradley, you said? Sounds like an old coot. Well, if they saddle me with him, I’ll simply have to deal with it.”

  My cheeks warmed. Lavettia would be in for one hell of a surprise if indeed she “got saddled” with Bradley.

  Just then, Lizzie stuck her head in the doorway and called out, “Norrie, Godfrey Klein’s on the phone for you. Isn’t that the entomologist from Cornell who keeps you informed about your sister and brother-in-law? His department must have deep pockets for him to be on that satellite phone all the way from New York to Costa Rica. Said he tried your cell but it went to voice mail. I told him I’d get you.”

  Oh no. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Godfrey’s probably calling to tell me my sister and brother-in-law contracted some awful insect-borne illness in Costa Rica. “Tell him I’ll be right there, Lizzie!”

  Lavettia was still dabbing her eyes and twirling around the charms on her bracelet. I swore I could hear her humming. For a split second, I pictured Dr. Manette, from A Tale of Two Cities, hunched over a table in the Bastille as he made shoes. His mental lapse I could understand, but heaven help us all if Lavettia went off the deep end.

  “I’ve got to take this call,” I said to her. “There are trays of truffles on the counter in here. Help yourself.”

  I rushed out the door and into the tasting room, where the phone was located. Wedging myself behind Lizzie at the cash register, I picked up the receiver. “Godfrey! Hi! Is everything all right?”

  “You tell me. I turned on the news this morning and caught the tail end of a report about a body being found in the ditch by the side of your driveway. Who? What happened?”

  “Long story but it was our wine distributor. And the body was actually equidistant from our property and the Grey Egret’s.”

  Somehow, I wanted to absolve Two Witches from the entire burden of shouldering yet another corpse on our property.

  “My God! That’s horrible. Do you know what happened?”

  “The sheriff’s deputy thinks it was a hunting accident. Someone who goofed while sighting in a rifle. I think it was deliberate. Um, listen, there’s no way my sister and brother-in-law can find out about this, is there?”

  “They won’t find out from me when we make our satellite calls, if that’s what you mean. At some point, however, they’ll be airlifted out of the rainforest for an R & R along the coast. Even the best researchers need a break from time to time. Of course, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

  “Why? Francine will get hysterical and insist Jason abandon his research project and come home. I’d feel miserable about that.”

  “Well then, I’ve got stunningly good news for you.”

  Wonderful. I could use stunningly good. “What?”

  “They’ve located the Culex corniger in a remote area. Normally, this is an urban mosquito species found in the Greater Puntarenas area on the west coast.”

  “And this is a good thing…because?”

  “It will open up a whole new field study area for us.”

  “Oh, I see. Anyway, not a word about the dead body, okay?”

  “You said you thought it was deliberate. Mind if I ask why?”

  “Because, out of the blue, our wine distributor, whose name hasn’t been released to the public yet, lowered the compensation rates on all of the wines in our area. In other words, he was paying us less than he did in prior years. That’s a major business loss for the small wineries. But someone was making a profit on the retail sales, and that someone was him. Everyone was ticked. Everyone!”

  “And you think one of the winery owners killed him?”

  “Someone did. Of course, it could be personal, too. His girlfriend’s sitting in our tasting room kitchen at this very moment. She drove here because she thought I might have some answers about his death. Which, by the way, hasn’t officially been deemed a murder, yet.”

  “Oh, brother. Look, if there’s anything I can do, let me know. And be careful. That hill of yours is becoming a regular magnet for every kook and nutcase on the lake.”

  “I will. And thanks, Godfrey. For everything.”

  I hung up the receiver and raced back into the kitchen. Lavettia was still rolling the gold charms around on her bracelet.

  “I really should get going. Is Arnie’s car still where you said it was or did the sheriff’s department have it towed?”

  My gosh. With all the chaos going on, I hadn’t thought about the car. I wasn’t even sure if Deputy Hickman knew about it. “Um, I think so. It was parked by the far edge of the Grey Egret’s lot.”

  “Good. I need to get something out of it. Don’t worry. I have a key.”

  “Uh, er, gee, I’m not so sure that’s a great idea.”

  “Why? It isn’t as if someone ran him over with it. Besides, my extra makeup bag and overnight jewelry are in there. Under the front passenger seat. You know, in case Arnie and I were out somewhere, and he decided to get romantic and book us a room along the lake. He did that sometimes. A nice, romantic…”

  And then the tears again. And the sobs. People handled grief differently and they went through all sorts of stages, but watching Lavettia Lawrence was like having a front seat at Wimbledon.

  With this morning’s light snowfall, I was positive Lavettia’s footprints would be found next to the car. That stuff didn’t melt. It became crusty and imprints lasted a long, long time. It was a really bad idea for her to retrieve some lipstick and more bracelets or whatever she had stashed in her overnight “just-in-case” bag. Worse yet, when Deputy Hickman got around to dealing with Arnold’s car, he’d badger Theo, Don, and me about why there were footprints going straight to the passenger door.

  Lavettia pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m sorry if I went off on you when I first got here. It was the shock, you know. I’m fine now. Really, I am. And I’ll call Marvin Souza first thing in the morning. He’ll know what to do, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  She reached for the black and white faux fur jacket that she had tossed on her chair and buttoned it up. I followed her past the tasting room to the main doors, hoping she’d take my advice and stay away from Arnold’s car.

  She didn’t.

  Hours later, when “Deck the Halls around the Lake” ended and four or five stragglers headed out the door, Deputy Hickman walked in. I was standing next to Lizzie, looking at the total sales for the day. It was only when my eyes left the screen that I noticed him standing only inches from me.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Ellington. I’m coming from the Grey Egret, where I had a word with the owners. The key to a new Audi A-4 all-road was found in the victim’s pocket. And surprise, surprise—his car was parked at the far end of the Grey Egret’s lot. Our protocol called for the vehicle to be towed to a forensics lab in Syracuse. The lab is closed on Sunday, so we made arrangements for that process to take place tomorrow morning.”

  “Um, is there a problem?”

  His face was expressionless. “One of our deputies drove over there this afternoon to tag the car. When he arrived, he noticed a fresh set of footprints by the pass
enger door. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you?”

  “I, uh…”

  “The owners of the Grey Egret were equally surprised.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was rat out Lavettia Lawrence. I figured if anyone might have an idea of who Arnold’s killer was, it would be Lavettia. I stepped away from the counter and looked straight at Deputy Hickman. “Today was a major winery event. Lots of cars were parked in their lot. That Audi was brand new and pricey. Maybe someone wanted to have a closer look.”

  “Maybe.”

  “The news commentators are saying the cause of death was a bullet wound. Would you happen to know—”

  “No, I would not. I should receive the coroner’s report sometime tomorrow—along with a positive identification of the body.”

  “I thought it was pretty obvious. I mean, the driver’s license photo, and all the other papers and stuff in his wallet.”

  “In this county, we turn to blood type, dental records, DNA, surgical implants, and/or fingerprints to make a positive identification, not ‘stuff from someone’s wallet.’ The only stuff I want to see is a piece of paper with a county seal on it.”

  I smiled and gave him a shrug. “What if the coroner determines it wasn’t a hunting accident?”

  “Then, Miss Ellington, I’m afraid the wineries on Two Witches Hill will be seeing a lot more of me.”

  Chapter 8

  Glenda, who’d been standing a few feet away, presumably cleaning up the tasting room tables, rushed over to me the second Deputy Hickman exited the building.

  She adjusted the flowing green and gold caftan that draped over her winery T-shirt and whispered, “It’s your aura, Norrie. It needs to be cleansed. The negative forces circling around it will only attract all sorts of unwanted energy.”

  “The only thing I want cleaned is this tasting room. I’m fine. Honest.”

  Glenda shook her head. “You can cleanse your own aura with a few simple steps. All you need is a candle and a quiet place. You light the candle, stand in front of it, and visualize positive spiritual essences flowing into you. Then you step away from the candle and use your hand to grab the negative energies and throw them into the flame.”

  Terrific. One sudden move and I’ll set the whole place on fire. “Glenda, I really don’t have the time to—”

  “Once the negative energy is in the flame, draw an X in the air with your hand.”

  “Fine. Fine. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  With an armload of dirty glasses on a rack, Sam turned to us. “What did Grizzly Gary want? Any updates?”

  By now, Cammy and Roger were only a few feet from where I was standing.

  “Not really. They’re towing Arnold Mowen’s car tomorrow. Anyway, it’s been a long day for all of us. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  A half hour later, we all exited the building and went our separate ways. Shouts of “See ya tomorrow” came from everyone except Sam. He reminded us he had classes the first part of the week and wouldn’t be in until Wednesday afternoon. I trudged up the hill and immediately opened the door to let Charlie out.

  The light snow had stopped hours ago, but a cold wind made it really uncomfortable for anyone to be outside for more than a few minutes. I wondered how Theo and Don fared at their establishment today, but I was too hungry and exhausted to call them. Instead, I nuked a frozen mac and cheese dinner and poured ranch dressing over a chunk of iceberg lettuce. I also refilled the dog’s bowl.

  As I sat at the table, spooning the gooey pasta into my mouth, I thought about Lavettia. She had to be the most bullheaded woman I’d ever met. Why on earth would she risk getting in trouble with the sheriff’s department by opening Arnold’s car? No one needed makeup that badly. Then again, she was probably smart enough to wear gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. After all, she was his girlfriend. She was always in that car. I was pretty sure those forensics guys could determine which prints were recent and which were dated. I didn’t think it was the brightest move, on her part, to retrieve her things.

  The lettuce crunched between my teeth and, coupled with the ranch dressing, filled my mouth with a watery mix. It also made an odd popping sound in my left ear. An annoying, repetitive sound that, for some reason, reminded me of a gunshot. In that instant, I froze. What if it wasn’t jewelry or makeup she was after? What if it was a gun? And not just any gun. The gun that was used to put a bullet in the back of Arnold Mowen’s neck.

  Sure, she had an alibi. If what she said about being at that essential oils symposium was true. But if it wasn’t…it would’ve been easy for her to ditch the gun in the car after she fired it. Of course, that would mean she had an accomplice who drove her home. Unless…Oh My God!

  I dropped a full spoonful of the mac and cheese on my plate and called Theo and Don.

  “Do those winery buses still make the rounds up and down the lake?”

  Theo chuckled. “Hello to you, too, Norrie. Always glad to answer the question of the day.”

  “Sorry. This is important. So, are those buses running?”

  “Yeah, the wine shuttles still make the rounds—but only during the fall or for special events like the one we just had.”

  “So, they would’ve been running on Saturday?”

  “Uh-huh. Why?”

  “Because Lavettia Lawrence went from victim to possible murderess.”

  “Uh, suppose you slow down and tell me what’s going on. By the way, your favorite deputy dropped in to see us about Arnold’s car. Seems someone might’ve had themselves more than a look-see.”

  “I know. I know. It was Lavettia. I think she might’ve been the one who killed him. Theo, the woman has a really good motive. One of the oldest in the book—greed. She could have killed him when there was a lull in the driveway traffic. Besides, no one would notice if she got on a winery bus. Heck, half those people are so intoxicated they wouldn’t notice a thing and the other half would be too busy texting on their cell phones.”

  “Norrie, before you go all hog-wild with one of your theories, take a breath and fill in the missing pieces for me, okay? And remember, this isn’t one of your screenplays. You can’t make it up as you go along.”

  “I’m not making this up—Lavettia’s about to inherit Arnold Mowen’s wine distribution business.”

  There was silence at the other end, and then I heard Theo shout, “Don, you’ve got to hear this.” Then he was back on the line with me. “Norrie, can I put you on speakerphone?”

  “If we get disconnected, call me back.”

  Thankfully, we didn’t. It took me a good two or three minutes to give Theo and Don the complete rundown, beginning with Lavettia making her grand entrance into our winery and concluding with me insisting that she not go to the car to fetch her jewelry and makeup. In between, I mentioned the will, Marvin Souza, and the possibility that maybe Lavettia planned to fetch the gun she used to kill her boyfriend.

  “So you see, that’s why I wanted to know about the Finger Lakes Wine Trail Buses. The flyers with their schedules are everywhere, even online. The buses stop at each winery, making the rounds before they drop people off in in Geneva, Seneca Falls, and Auburn. She could’ve used that bus to get home.”

  “Geez,” Don said. “This is almost making sense. Almost. That scares me. Whatever you do, don’t go spouting off about this to Deputy Hickman.”

  “My God!” I gasped. “That’s like the last thing I’d do.”

  “Good. Because right now you have no evidence whatsoever to indicate she might’ve been involved in the guy’s death. Heck. The sheriff’s lab hasn’t even completed the autopsy or determined what kind of bullet was used. When they do, they’re not about to share it with us. I’m afraid the public is going to have to wait. And you should, too.”

  “Aargh. I suppose you’re right. I mean, this wasn’t like the la
st time when a friend of ours was the suspect and we needed to get her off the hook. No one here is a person of interest, even if the situation isn’t pretty for our wineries.”

  “Speaking of situations, Theo and I are more concerned about the wine sabotage at this point. Not to sound callous about Arnold’s unfortunate demise.”

  “Yeah, about that. Did Madeline Martinez invite you to an emergency Winery Owners of the West meeting at her house to discuss it?”

  Before Don could answer, Theo broke in. “Yep. Day after tomorrow at two. Works for me. Nothing like fueling the fires with more rumors at the WOW meeting.”

  “Madeline’s really freaked about what happened to her wine. She told me her husband wasn’t about to sit idly back while some lunatic wreaks havoc on all of us. Said her husband planned to meet with the wine association board to address this.”

  Theo groaned and snorted. “And what are they going to do? Print out signs that say, ‘No tampering with our wine’?”

  “I really don’t know what they can do. Seems more a matter for the sheriff’s department. Now that they’ve got a homicide on their hands, our wine loss will be taking a backseat.”

  “Don’t be so loose with the ‘H’ word, or the ‘M’ word for that matter. Even though we think Arnold’s death was intentional, the sheriff’s deputy is operating under the assumption it was a hunting accident.”

  “Poof to that! Unless the hunter was Mr. Magoo. Look, I sat through an incredibly boring documentary about how gunshot wounds are evaluated.”

  “Yikes!” Don said. “Why on earth did you do that?”

  “Long story. I was dating a guy who majored in criminal justice. Anyway, the only thing I remember from watching that show was that there are four categories of bullet wounds. They’re broken down by range of fire—or how far away the gun was from the victim.”

  “And?”

  “The closer you get to the victim with the gun, the more gunk from the gun lands on the victim.”

  “Boy, if that isn’t a scientific explanation, I don’t know what is.”