by J. C. Eaton
“Circle back? You must be watching too many westerns.”
“I’ll ignore that. You said Lavettia had a condo. Maybe her association would know. Or at the very least, a neighbor.”
“That place is probably sealed as tight as Fort Knox by now, but you’ve given me an idea. Lavettia was a rep for The Essential Life Company, and I know exactly who to ask. Thanks, Theo. I couldn’t’ve done this without you. I’ve got to hurry. I’ll be in touch.”
“Be careful, Norrie. And if you do decide to call those architects, call Don or me first. And whatever you do, don’t sign anything. Okay?”
“Yeesh. It’s like having two big brothers. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Like hell.”
I laughed when the call ended and then glanced at the microwave clock. Our tasting room was opening for business in less than thirty minutes, and I was positive the person I needed to see, absolutely had to see, would be making her entrance. I rinsed my knife and plate in the sink, put them in the dish drainer, and raced upstairs to dab on some eyeliner and fix my hair.
In keeping with the holiday spirit, I put on a Two Witches festive sweatshirt, grabbed my all-weather jacket, and raced out the door. The damp winter air, coupled with a light snow, made my trek down to the tasting room miserable. Still, it wasn’t worth starting up the Toyota to go a few yards.
A handful of cars was already in the parking lot when I got there and that didn’t include the ones that belonged to our staff. Good. The tasters and shoppers were out and about early. I all but knocked into Lizzie when I raced inside the building.
“Norrie! You look as if you’re running from the mob!”
Instinctively, I spun my head around. “What? No. Sorry, Lizzie. No time to talk. Have you seen Glenda? Is she here yet?”
Lizzie pointed to the kitchen. “She’s in there with Cammy. They’re setting up a few more tasting tables and went to get pitchers of water. Sure everything’s okay?”
I shrugged. “Sort of. I’ll explain later.”
I must’ve taken Cammy and Glenda by surprise, because the minute I flung the door open it hit the side wall and they both jumped.
“Talk about entrances,” Cammy said. “Good morning, Norrie.”
“Hi! I’d like to talk but I don’t have time. This is really important.” I walked over to the sink where Glenda was filling up the water pitchers. “Glenda, can you call your friend Zenora from The Essential Life Company and ask her if she knows who Lavettia’s cleaning woman is? Now. I need you to find out right away.”
Cammy gave me a sideways glance and grimaced. “What happened? Did you decide to make a home-cooked meal and trash the kitchen?”
Before I could answer, Glenda turned off the water and put the pitcher on the counter. “Um, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to call Lavettia and ask her?”
I bit my lip and grimaced. “I would, except Lavettia’s dead—shot in the back of the neck like her boyfriend. The cleaning woman found her this morning, and I need to find the cleaning woman. Lavettia called me Tuesday night convinced someone had tried to kill her. And now they have. So, I need you to call Zenora right away. Those women must’ve talked about something other than essential oils.”
Glenda looked at Cammy then me. “What do I tell Zenora? Do I act as if nothing’s happened, or can I tell her another soul is about to enter the spirit world?”
“Good point.” Cammy eyeballed me. “And how exactly do you know all of this?”
I gave them the abbreviated version of Bradley’s phone call and went on to explain I felt guilty as all get-out because I didn’t take Lavettia seriously.
Glenda made an unsettling hum and clasped her palms together, placing them under her chin. “This could be bad for you, Norrie. You do realize Lavettia’s restless spirit could fixate on you. You might have been one of the last people she spoke with.”
“You’re scaring the crap out of her!” Cammy shouted.
“I’m fine, ladies. Really, I am. I just need to find out who that cleaning woman is. Glenda, we can talk about spirits and cleansings and all sorts of ephemeral stuff after I get a name and a phone number. So, please—go call Zenora.”
Glenda walked to the door. “I have her on speed dial. Give me a few minutes. My bag is under my tasting room table.”
She thundered out of the room, her purplish-green hair flying all over her face. If I wasn’t so freaked out about Lavettia’s death, I would’ve said something about Glenda’s latest color choice.
“Lavettia was wearing a sweater. Not a nightgown, not pajamas. A sweater. She must have been stone-cold dead when her cleaning lady arrived.”
Cammy crossed her arms over her chest. “So, how is finding her cleaning lady going to help you?”
“Lavettia might not have been able to speak, but maybe her condo did.”
“Holy Heck, Norrie, you sound worse than Glenda!”
Chapter 18
“Hold on, hold on, and think about it. The cleaning woman might’ve noticed something those sheriff’s deputies ignored. That’s why I must speak with her. I can’t have Lavettia’s murder hanging over my head. And it’s not because of all that mumbo-jumbo with the spirit world, it’s because my own conscience won’t stop plaguing me. I’ll always wonder what would’ve happened had I done something differently when she called me.”
“You’ve got to stop beating yourself up,” Cammy said. “You aren’t the responsible party.”
“No, the responsible party may be gunning for someone else we know.”
Just then, Glenda raced back into the kitchen, out of breath and holding her palm over her heart, as if she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “Lavettia doesn’t have a cleaning lady.”
“What?” I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.
“Zenora and Lavettia got pretty chummy from attending so many essential oil conferences and workshops together. Zenora said Lavettia never would have paid anyone to do the housecleaning. She didn’t want ‘other people’s hands’ all over her things, especially her personal and private possessions.”
“Then who the hell tipped off the sheriff’s department?” I asked. “Bradley insisted a cleaning lady called the authorities when she let herself in and discovered Lavettia’s lifeless body. In fact, they took a statement from her.”
“Maybe Lavettia changed her mind and hired someone,” Cammy said to Glenda.
“Not according to Zenora. Lavettia was convinced that if anyone touched her things or moved them, the positive energy she had built around those objects would be compromised.”
Cammy let out a sigh. “Oh brother. What a bunch of malarkey.”
“That’s precisely why smudging and aura cleansing are so important,” Glenda replied. “Too bad I never counseled Lavettia.”
“Well, cleaning lady or no cleaning lady, someone opened that darn door and made the grim discovery. Then they opened the door a second time for the sheriff’s deputies. I’ve got to call Bradley back and let him know what I learned. Thanks, Glenda, and please, keep this to yourself until there’s an official statement.”
Cammy glanced at her wristwatch. “I’d give it another hour and a half. It’ll be on the noon news. Trust me. Unless some local councilman had an affair with the governor’s wife or something equally scandalous, it’ll be on the noon news. I’m not telling you what to do, Norrie, but if I were you, I’d wait for the news first and then make that call. Maybe those reporters will beat you to it as far as the cleaning lady is concerned.”
“Aargh. You’re probably right, but I’ll be chewing my fingernails for the next ninety minutes. Oh, and will someone please tell Lizzie and the rest of the crew what’s going on? I really should hightail it back home and get some work done. I’ll stop back later whether I find out anything or not.”
By twelve twenty-three on the nose, the
entire Finger Lakes Region and most likely the Southern Tier and Western Corridor of the state were all privy to the shocking news about one of The Essential Life Company’s most valued employees, Lavettia Lawrence from the Waterloo-Seneca Falls area. Who knew essential oils were such a hot commodity?
Not only did the newscasters expound on Lavettia’s recent demise, but they reran their original story about Arnold Mowen’s murder, showing footage of our winery and the Grey Egret. Just what we needed. In addition, they flashed photos across the screen showing Lavettia arm-in-arm with Arnold Mowen. One reporter even speculated the two deaths might somehow be linked. Way ahead of you on that one, people.
Unfortunately, there was no mention of a cleaning lady, so I felt completely within my bounds to have another conversation with Bradley. In fact, he didn’t seem all that surprised to hear from me so soon.
“Norrie! Hi! I imagine you caught the news. That was fast. Must be Lavettia didn’t have any next of kin or they wouldn’t have released the information to the public so quickly.”
“Um, not all the information. I found out Lavettia doesn’t have a cleaning lady. So that begs the question, who made the call and let the sheriff’s deputies into her condo?”
The line went quiet for a moment until Bradley found his voice. “Are you sure? Marvin distinctly told me it was a cleaning woman and he got that straight from the lead deputy.”
“Then can he get the name? They questioned her, didn’t they?”
“Give me some time. I’ll get back to you. Marvin’s in a meeting right now and I can’t interrupt, but I promise, I’ll call you one way or the other. If what you’re saying has any validity, then the sheriff’s department might be one step closer to solving Lavettia’s murder.”
There was no word from Bradley by three when I went down to the tasting room bistro to grab an extremely late lunch.
“This is so frustrating,” I whined to Cammy. “Deputy Hickman refuses to keep us apprised of the investigation’s progress, even though Arnold’s body was found on our property. Well, ours and the Grey Egret’s. And now, as if that isn’t bad enough, Lavettia gets murdered and the Seneca County Deputy Sheriffs are equally close-lipped.”
“I think they have to be, to conduct a thorough investigation. They have to play by the rules. You don’t.”
“Meaning?”
“If this was your screenplay, what would you write next?”
I thought about it for a second and remembered something. Clayton LeVine had an entire Pinterest board devoted to his passion—disguises with wigs. I’d pushed that information to the back of my mind, but it was beginning to make sense. If I was writing that kind of screenplay, it wouldn’t be implausible for Clayton to be second in line for Arnold’s throne. He simply needed to knock off the person who was first in line in order to inherit.
“I know I’m going to kick myself in the rump for doing this, but I need to pay Clayton a little visit. Whatever you do, don’t tell Theo or Don if they call and ask for me.”
“Arnold’s secretary, right?”
“And quite possibly his and Lavettia’s killer.”
The look of shock registered immediately on Cammy’s face and I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Don’t worry. It’s not as if I’m meeting him in some dark alley. I’ll drop by Lake-to-Lake Wine Distributors to see if they’ve had any updates about all those thefts and sabotages. While I’m at it, I’ll see if I can’t get a sense of whether Clayton is our guy.”
“Boy, if that isn’t a well-thought out plan, I don’t know what is. You’d better be careful. If he is the murderer, he could snap, you know. Wait! Hold on!”
Cammy rushed out of the room and was back in a few seconds. She handed me a small aerosol can. “It’s anti-wasp lemongrass spray—handheld size. I keep it with me because there are some nests near my garage. If that man makes a move toward you, aim for his eyes. Got it?”
“Um, yeah, sure, but I don’t think it will come to that.”
I wasn’t about to sit around and wait for Marvin Souza to come out of his meeting—or whatever else he was doing that prevented him from conferring with Bradley. If I hurried, I could be at Lake-to-Lake Wine Distributors before they closed at five. It was only twenty minutes to four and since it was a clear day, the drive would be a half hour at most.
The complex consisted of a retail office and storage, and was located on the north end of Seneca Lake by the intersection of Routes 5 & 20 and Route 96A. I’d passed by the place numerous times when my family went out to eat in Auburn, but I never gave it much thought. Now, I wondered exactly what I’d say to Clayton LeVine when I made my impromptu visit.
There was only one car in the parking lot, and it had to belong to Clayton. It was an older white Mazda3 in dire need of a wash. A haze of brownish dirt covered the vehicle, making it appear ancient. If there were dings and nicks, the dirt hid them.
It was five fifteen on the nose when I opened the door to the office and stepped inside. I’d only seen one photo of Clayton, and that was on his Pinterest board. At least I thought the snapshot was of Clayton, wearing a green wig that resembled a dragonfly head. The man seated at the front desk had a horrible brown comb-over and the chubbiest cheeks I’d ever seen. On a cherub they’d be adorable, but for someone in his late thirties or early forties, it had the opposite effect.
“Hi.” I extended my hand across the desk and accidently moved his computer monitor. “Er, sorry about that.” I immediately straightened the monitor, but not before tilting it my way to sneak a peek at the screen—the official Mazda website. “I’m Norrie Ellington, co-owner of Two Witches Winery in Penn Yan. I was on my way back from shopping in Auburn when I realized how close I was to your office. Sorry it’s so late. I really should’ve called first, but I’ll only keep you for a few minutes.”
Clayton leaned forward as if he was about to push himself up from his seat. “Have the plans changed for the midnight reading of Arnold’s will at your winery? No one told me.”
“What? No. The plans haven’t changed.”
“Oh. Forgive me. How rude of me. How totally unacceptable. Please pull up a chair. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Ellington. I’m familiar with your winery on paper, but it’s our reps who really get to know the clients. Let me say this is indeed an unexpected pleasure.”
Unexpected yes, but pleasure? My ass!
I forced a smile and sat down while Clayton continued to talk.
“I imagine you’re here because of the current instability in management. Please let me assure you Mr. Mowen’s business plan ensured a clear transition to whomever is named his successor.”
Clayton was short and squat and, with the appropriate wig, makeup, and attire, he could’ve easily passed for a nondescript cleaning woman. I tried to picture him feigning the role of a hysterical housekeeper who’d made a grim discovery. That part was quite possible. In fact, the whole scenario was feasible. Perhaps Clayton knocked on Lavettia’s door and she, immediately recognizing his voice, let him in.
The fact that the kitchen table was empty, according to Bradley, didn’t mean anything. For all we knew, Lavettia could’ve served him a four-course meal, and he could’ve cleaned up after he did away with her. I was so engrossed in visualizing the scene, I didn’t hear Clayton’s question.
“Miss Ellington?”
“Huh?”
“I asked, was that your reason for the visit?”
Suddenly, I was yanked back to reality, and I thought fast. “Partially. I’m more concerned about the widespread thefts and sabotage of this year’s Pinot Noir. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the shock I felt when the afternoon news reported Lavettia Lawrence’s murder.”
“Her murder? When?” The words caught in his throat. Either he was Academy Awards material, or he really didn’t have a clue. “How? I’ve been cooped up here all day. Didn’t even take a break for lun
ch. Brought my own salad and fruit bars. Did this happen at your winery, too?”
Yeesh. Our reputation for murders is going to supersede the one we have for wine. “Uh, no. Her condo. I probably shouldn’t have used the word ‘murder.’ It was on the noon news. They referred to it as a ‘suspicious death.’ Her cleaning lady discovered the body early in the day.”
Clayton remained poker-faced, but I noticed he kept folding and unfolding his hands. I decided to use a bit of old dialogue from one of my screenplays and tweak it a bit.
“All I can say is, thank goodness for DNA evidence. Her killer might’ve thought he scoured the place, but I wager the one spot he missed was under the chairs. People sometimes press their fingers underneath their chairs when they sit or stand. Someone’s bound to figure it out. Did you know her well?”
By now, Clayton had stopped the hand folding and instead, rubbed his hands together. The sound was audible. “Not that well. She was a real presence, though. Hard to miss. Other than that figure of hers, I always wondered what Arnold saw in her.”
“Probably enough to name her the beneficiary of his will.”
“I doubt it. She was eye candy for him. He would’ve named someone who had a deeper and more meaningful relationship with him.”
“Business or personal?”
“It was all business with Arnold. Now, the rest of us will have to wait until Saturday to see how it all pans out. If you don’t mind, Miss Ellington, I really do need to finish up and be on my way. Oh, you asked about those thefts…the Pinot Noir…Listen, three county sheriff departments are dealing with it, not to mention the state police. I’m sure they’re conducting a thorough investigation and they will apprehend the culprits.”
“Let’s hope so. It’s the wineries who’ll suffer. Your company and the restaurants will come out unscathed.”
