Pinot Red or Dead?

by J. C. Eaton

  “Connect-the-dots University. Didn’t Deputy Hickman say something about the body being twelve or thirteen hours cold, according to the coroner? That puts the time of death around Saturday afternoon. Since Arnold’s body was face down in that deep ditch, with his head toward our driveway and not your parking lot, it would seem logical someone fired a shot at him from the clump of trees that borders your lot. Whoever it was, they picked a good spot. I couldn’t even see a body. I figured there was road trash in the ditch.”

  “Got to admit,” Theo said. “It adds up. Arnold was either on his way into the Grey Egret or on his way out when it happened. No one would’ve batted an eyelash if they heard a gunshot. It’s almost hunting season. Too bad we don’t have surveillance cameras for the tasting room building.”

  “What about Lavettia?” I asked. “She could have lied about that essential oils symposium. Maybe she told him she had a headache or was too tired to go inside. She could have stayed in the car the entire time, just waiting for an opportunity to blow his head off.”

  Don rubbed his chin and grimaced. “Someone should have heard the gunshot.”

  “Maybe, but remember, like I said before, it’s hunting season,” Theo replied. “Gunshots are going off all the time. And even if someone heard one, it would’ve been too dark to notice our guy taking a header into the ditch. The sun goes down about four thirty this time of year, and it’s really overcast and dark even when it’s daylight. The only lighting we have is around the building plus those low-level lights by the bushes. There would be enough light to make your way to your car, but not enough for anything else.”

  “Maybe our killer knew that all along,” I said. “Think about it—a crowded event, slightly inebriated people, and an early nightfall.”

  “Are we talking murder, or one of your screenplays?” Don laughed.

  “I try to steer clear of Gothic horror.”

  Chapter 11

  “Lavettia Lawrence most definitely wasn’t your murderess,” Glenda exclaimed the second she saw me enter the tasting room. It had taken me a while, but I was getting used to her dramatic overtures. The last full meal I had eaten was pizza the night before, so I’d decided to pop into the bistro for a quick lunch before returning to my laptop.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Last night, my friend Zenora and I had our Chakras read by another friend of ours.”

  Of course. Why not? What else is there to do on a Saturday night in Penn Yan?

  “Zenora?”

  “Actually, her given name is Mabel Ann, but it really doesn’t suit her, so she goes by Zenora.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, we were having our Chakras read when Zenora told me she ran into Lavettia at the essential oils symposium. Zenora also works for The Essential Life Company. The symposium was held at the La Tourelle Hotel in Ithaca and Lavettia was there the entire time. Zenora said she looked like hell.”

  “Why would she look like hell? It was before her boyfriend was found dead.”

  “According to Zenora, who’s run into Lavettia at scads of these conferences, Lavettia was in a bland eye shadow rut with washed-out colors and a neutral face foundation that made her look as if she was ready to go to confession and not a symposium. Oh, and she said Lavettia’s hair looked like someone took a wig and blew it up like an air mattress.”

  “Was Zenora sure it was Lavettia?”

  “Of course, she was sure. The two of them spoke to each other. She thought Lavettia might’ve caught a cold, but other than that, everything was as normal as could be.”

  I stood perfectly still, trying to absorb what Glenda told me.

  “Are you all right. Norrie?”

  “Just ducky.”

  I waved hello to Cammy before I walked to the bistro for my lunch. The truth of the matter was, I wasn’t all right. My theory about Lavettia blew up in my face, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was time to revisit the list of suspects, beginning with Miller Holtz.

  Miller was so positive he was going to inherit the whole kit and caboodle, he wasted no time telling everyone. Heck, if he could’ve hired a helicopter to drop flyers across the Seneca Lake communities, he would have done so, which was why I was kind of reluctant to point the finger at him. Way too obvious. Then again, weirder things had been known to happen. And my phone call from Bradley the following day proved that point.

  It was late in the afternoon and I had just come inside, following a brisk walk around the vineyards with Charlie at my heels. Poor dog had to be leashed. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t dart into the woods without notice. He could run toward deer and either get shot or land this family a major citation and fine.

  When I got back to the house, the phone was ringing, and I picked up.

  Bradley’s voice was as chipper as ever. “Hey, Norrie, I had a terrific time Friday. I’m heading home to spend Thanksgiving with the family. I should be back to work on Monday. Let’s do dinner when I get back, okay?”

  “Sure. I had a great time, too.”

  “Listen, that was only part of the reason I called. You may want to sit down for this part. When Marvin went through Arnold Mowen’s documents, he didn’t realize our secretary had filed a separate letter related to the will. The letter was addressed to our firm.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Here’s where it gets bizarre. Really bizarre. In addition to the MoU that Arnold had with our law firm regarding the reading of the will, this letter specified the place.”

  “The place? I thought wills were read in law offices.”

  “Under normal circumstances, yes. But like I said, this isn’t normal. Arnold directed our firm to read his will at Two Witches Winery at midnight, twenty-nine days after his death.”

  “What???”

  “Oh, you heard me. And there’s more. Good news actually. He directed our firm to pay Two Witches Winery the sum of five thousand dollars for their trouble. And another two thousand dollars for the food and drink he requested.”

  “Two thousand dollars for food? Who does he think is coming? I mean, other than the vultures we already know about. Which reminds me, Lavettia didn’t kill him. I’ll tell you about that later.”

  “So, can you do it? There’s more than enough money to pay your staff overtime, too.”

  “Yeah, we can do it. The question is why. Why Two Witches? Did the letter say?”

  “In a cryptic sort of way, I think. The exact sentence reads, ‘It’s all in the name.’”

  “Oh brother.”

  I looked at the wall calendar Francine had in the kitchen. Twenty-nine days past Arnold’s death would fall on a Thursday night—two weeks after Thanksgiving and right before the next “Deck the Halls around the Lake.” Not the best timing, but it was doable.

  “Fine. Send out the invitations. Did Arnold specify what he had in mind for refreshments?”

  “Not exactly, but he used the word ‘extravagant’ at least three times when he mentioned food and drink. Look, it doesn’t matter if a handful of people attend or a brigade. Hire your entire staff and be sure to serve wine.”

  “Extravagant? What does he mean by extravagant?”

  “I take it to mean anything other than reheated canapes from the frozen foods department at Costco. Look, don’t overthink this, Norrie. It’s not a wake. It’s a colossal waste of money, if you ask me. Who’s going to be hungry at midnight?”

  “The entire room, I imagine. Only not for food.”

  Bradley chuckled. “That’s what I adore about you—that sense of humor.”

  “Right now, I have more of a sense of foreboding. Keep in mind, one of those so-called mourners may be our killer.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ll figure out who it is. Talk to you later. I’ve got to get going.”

  When I hung up the phone, I glanced at the clock o
n the microwave. Still plenty of time to give Cammy a heads-up about the reading of Arnold’s will. I started to dial the tasting room and then hung up. This was something that needed to happen in person.

  I tossed a fleece jacket over my sweatshirt and darted out the door. If nothing else, I was getting my exercise, unlike Charlie, who scratched his ear and plopped into his dog bed.

  “Back in a flash, dog,” I said. “I’m about to give new meaning to the word ‘drama.’”

  Lizzie looked up from the cash register when I walked into the tasting room. “Nice to see you. Any news yet on the murder? I figured since the body was found by the driveway, you and the guys from the Grey Egret would be the first to hear from the sheriff’s office.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. The only thing I hear from Deputy Hickman are directives to mind my own business.”

  “Don’t fret. Nancy Drew was told the same by many a person, but she was undaunted.”

  And fictional.

  Cammy walked over on her way to the kitchen with a tray of used glasses. Only fifteen minutes until closing, so the tasting room was no longer bustling with customers. Only two women remained, and they were off to the side of the room looking at the holiday sweatshirts. Glenda was tidying up her table, and Sam was re-stocking the wine racks. It was Monday, so I knew Roger had the day off. Each season the tasting room schedule changed—amazing that I even remembered who was on and who was off.

  “You’re not going to believe this in a million years,” I said to Cammy and Lizzie. Before they could say anything, I continued. “Get Glenda and Sam over here and I’ll run over to the bistro to grab Fred. It’s important.”

  “Is everything okay?” a panicked Glenda asked.

  I was already a few yards away, but in good hearing distance.

  “There are unstable energy fluctuations in the atmosphere today,” she went on, “so it wouldn’t surprise me if things were in flux.”

  I turned my head and gave her a quick look. “Don’t worry about it. There’ll be more instability in this room by the end of next week. I guarantee it.” With that, I took off to find Fred, leaving Glenda with her mouth wide open.

  “Please tell me you didn’t find another body,” Fred said. I frantically motioned for him to leave the bistro, where he was cleaning up, and follow me to the tasting room.

  “Not yet. This should only take a minute or two, but it’s important.”

  The two ladies who were perusing the sweatshirts finally decided on their purchases. They were standing in front of Lizzie when Fred and I returned to the tasting room. Cammy, Glenda, and Sam positioned themselves near the kitchen and were conversing under their collective breaths.

  “As soon as these customers leave,” I said to Cammy, “please lock the door and hurry back.”

  “My God, Norrie, you’re giving us the heebie-jeebies.”

  Finally, when the doors were locked and the Closed sign placed on the outside of the building, I took a deep breath and groaned. I told them everything Bradley had told me, beginning with the twenty-nine-day wait time for the reading of Arnold’s will and the final directive to hold the damn thing at our winery at midnight.

  “Holy crapola!” Sam said. “Was that man a nutcase or what? Does he think his spirit’s going to emerge from the grave and point out his killer?”

  At the mention of the words “spirit” and “grave,” Glenda held out her hands as if she was about to conduct an orchestra. “We could always hold a—”

  “No!” I said firmly. “Not another séance. All we need to do is serve refreshments to the mourners, or whatever you call these people, and let Marvin Souza read the will. It will mean one hell of a long day for us, since you’ll need to leave at closing time and get back here by eleven to set up. Fred and his wife might need more time. That is, if you agree to do it. And wait! There’s more! Arnold’s paying for this shindig so that will mean overtime pay. Time and a half before midnight and double time after midnight.”

  “What the hell. I’m in,” Sam said.

  “Me, too,” Lizzie added. “With or without the overtime, I wouldn’t want to miss such a…”

  Sam chortled. “Sideshow?”

  Lizzie pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “I was going to say ‘presentation.’”

  “My wife and I won’t let you down,” Fred said. “We’ll figure out something tasteful and tasty for the occasion.”

  Cammy’s face resembled the Cheshire Cat, with a huge grin and wide eyes. “You think I’d miss something like this? Not on your life. Heck, I’m up later than that when someone doesn’t show up to work at my aunts’ bar in Geneva and I get stuck because ‘It’s family.’ Count me in.”

  “What about Roger?” Lizzie asked. “Would you like me to call him?”

  I thanked her but told her I’d take care of it. “I’m also going to ask Theo and Don from next door to attend. I have a funny feeling it’s going to be a challenging night.”

  Glenda, who had been fairly quiet, rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “I think what we all are feeling is Arnold’s restless spirit. I sense he cannot and will not move on until the person responsible for his death is apprehended.”

  “Well, I don’t know about Arnold, but I’m movin’ on,” Sam said. “I’ve got a hot date with a girl in my computer systems class, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. I’ve got two racks of glasses to put in the washer and I’m out the door.”

  I looked around at the tasting room and realized the crew still had some clean-up left. “I’ll load the dishwasher,” I said. “You guys need to finish up and get going. Listen, thanks for agreeing to do this. It really goes way over what’s expected.”

  “Everything at Two Witches goes way over what’s expected,” Cammy laughed. “That’s why we love it so much.”

  When I got back to the house, there was a message for me on the answering machine. The caller ID said Catherine Trobert and after hearing the first two words of her message, I knew I was in trouble.

  “Steven’s coming for the holidays! Isn’t that splendid news? Now you can get together, finally. Oh dear, I didn’t mean Thanksgiving. I meant Christmas. I’ll chat later. Bye, Norrie.”

  As if I didn’t have enough on my plate. The last thing I wanted to do was get together with her son, who was a few years older than me and who had ignored me all through high school. Why she wanted to fix me up with him was anyone’s guess. I was sure Steven wasn’t lacking in the dating department. He was a practicing attorney in Maine, and when Catherine showed me a recent photo of him on Facebook, he was still the same good-looking, self-assured guy I remembered from Penn Yan Academy.

  I shuddered and deleted the message. Then I realized there were two messages on the phone. The other caller ID read “Yates County Public Safety.” Crap! It had to be Deputy Hickman, unless, of course, Gladys Pipp had uncovered some choice gossip that couldn’t wait until morning. I tapped the phone and held my breath.

  “Miss Ellington, this is Deputy Hickman. I wanted to let you know our forensics department was unable to secure viable prints from your wine barrel. The perpetrators must have been wearing gloves.”

  Duh. You think?

  The message continued, “We will continue to pursue this case via our normal investigative means. Should you have any questions, please contact our office. Thank you.”

  I figured Theo and Don had received a similar message because they would’ve called me otherwise. I wasn’t really expecting the sheriff’s department to strike it lucky with prints. Still, I was bummed. Not the

  best mood to be in when writing a romance screenplay. What the heck. If I had to suffer through wine sabotage and another dead body cropping up, my characters could deal with their own problems.

  Chapter 12

  The weather turned cold again, and the forecast called for three to five inches of s
now for Thanksgiving. Like most of the wineries on the trail, the tasting room closed early on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but a skeleton crew remained to sell bottles of wine for last minute shoppers. That crew was Cammy and me.

  “My aunt Luisa decided a giant turkey wasn’t going to be enough, so she made lasagna and manicotti. I’ll just spoon it over the cornbread and gravy dressing,” Cammy said. “By the way, Marc and Enzo send their regards. They got in yesterday. Come to think of it, that’s probably why my aunt’s been on a cooking rampage.”

  Cammy’s two cousins, who were now officially college juniors, had helped me out with a sticky situation regarding a land developer. Without them, I might’ve said or done something I regretted.

  “Tell them I said hi and if they’ve got some free time, please stop by Two Witches.”

  “I’ll send them on my day off,” she replied and gave me a wink. “I take it Theo and Don are doing the cooking tomorrow?”

  “You shouldn’t even ask. I picked up two pies and homemade whipped cream at Wegmans. That’s as close to cooking as I get.”

  I figured we’d be lucky if two or three customers stopped by to purchase wine, especially since a light snow had started to fall. Surprisingly, people kept trickling in, and every one of them left with at least two bottles.

  “Excuse me,” a twenty-something man with a buzz cut and freckles asked. “Can you tell me what wines go well with turkey? I’m kind of new at this, and I promised my girlfriend I’d get the wines for Thanksgiving dinner at her parents’ house.”

  “Absolutely. The two favorites are Riesling and Chardonnay. We have three different varieties of Riesling—dry, semi-dry, and semi-sweet. Dry means there’s no residual sugar left after the fermentation process, while semi-dry and semi-sweet have increased levels of sugar.”

  “Okay. I’m going to play it safe and buy one bottle of semi-dry Riesling and one bottle of Chardonnay.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I’m sure the family will enjoy them.”