by J. C. Eaton
My face felt warm and it was all I could do to keep myself from making a flippant remark or, worse yet, a gesture I’d regret. Then he would have an excuse to arrest me on the spot.
“I can’t believe you’re taking that call seriously.”
Deputy Hickman, who was leaning against a file cabinet up until now, walked to the door and pushed it closed. He pulled a chair up to my desk and sat down. “Miss Ellington, you had motive, means, and opportunity. The three major criteria for committing a crime.”
By now, the heat in my face had reached a new level and I pressed the cold cranberry juice bottle against my cheek. “Huh?”
Grizzly Gary crossed his arms and leaned forward. “Let’s begin with motive. Our witness said that when Ms. Dobrowski allegedly threatened your place in the filmmaking industry, you told her in no uncertain terms that . . .” He paused for a moment and pulled out his notepad. He looked down and then continued his thought. “. . . she was ‘the one who needs to worry.’ In my business, that’s known as a veiled threat.”
“Well, in my business we call it a retort.”
“Now then. Means. Ms. Dobrowski was strangled with a chain consistent with the kind found wrapped around that cattail your dog dredged up from the Ipswiches’ pond. You told our office you were certain it belonged to one of the actors, Priscilla McCoy, since you had seen it on her neck the day of the wine and cheese event.”
“That part’s true. I did see it. On her neck.” Oh, crap. I hope I’m not implicating myself.
“Miss McCoy informed our office that she had lost it during the filming and her crew substantiates that claim. In fact, she had to purchase another such necklace to continue with that scene. Something about continuity, if I’m reading my notes correctly.”
“What does that prove?”
“You were in the area where they were filming. And in the winery. Very easy for you to have come across that necklace and used it to strangle Ms. Dobrowski.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“What I believe is irrelevant. I follow the evidence and the facts.”
And ridiculous phone calls from kooks and nutcases.
“If I did do such a thing, and believe me, I didn’t, why would I be so stupid as to tell anyone about the necklace? Or hand it over to you?”
“Because you’re a clever woman, Miss Ellington. By handing it over, you made the case that you were the innocent party who came across a clue.”
“Oh, brother.”
He glanced at his notes again and continued. “Opportunity. Who, better than you, had the opportunity to commit a murder? You could easily come and go at your winery and no one would notice. It was a Seneca Lake Wine Trail event, was it not?” He continued talking without waiting for a response. “Those events are notorious for bringing in throngs of visitors. With a packed winery and that film production going on at Two Witches, no one would have batted an eyelash if you disappeared out of sight for a while.”
“And do what? Go over to where they were filming and ask Devora to take a little hike with me?”
As soon as I said that, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Is that what you did?”
“Of course not. I was at the winery the entire time, except for when I went back to the house.”
Oh, hell, no. How can I prove I was at the house?
“In any case, Miss Ellington, I’ll need the exact accounting of your whereabouts faxed to my office today. Understood?”
I nodded.
“Good. We’re on the same page. I’ll be back tomorrow to interview your employees. And please, no interference.”
Again, I nodded. He was out of my office in a nanosecond. The cranberry juice bottle was now room temperature and I finished it in three gulps. Just then, Mickey rapped on my door.
“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you but we ran out of double A batteries. Any chance you’ve got some we can use? We’ll replace them.”
I told him yes and directed him to see Lizzie or Cammy. The conversation I’d had with Deputy Hickman put me on edge.
A person of interest? I’d been in predicaments with Grizzly Gary before, but this was the first time I was a suspect. If I couldn’t find out who really murdered Devora, meeting Renee’s deadline for my next screenplay would be the least of my worries. Then again, maybe they have WI-FI in the county lockup.
I immediately phoned Bradley, who told me not to worry and that the sheriff’s office would have one heck of a time proving anything. Still, he told me to detail everything on my timeline sheet.
“He probably wants to put you on notice, Norrie,” Bradley said.
“For what? Murder?”
“No, for snooping. Deputy Hickman is well aware by now that you have a tendency to throw yourself into his investigations. He probably thinks this is one way to slow you down.”
“Virtually accusing me of murder isn’t going to slow me down. If anything, it’s going to speed things up. I’m already using social media to see if I can find anything that might link one of the film crew members to Devora’s death. The good news is that I’ve commandeered Stephanie, Cammy, Don, and Theo to help.”
“I’ll sleep better if I know you’re going to limit those searches to a computer and not the usual stalking around that you’ve been known to do.”
He sounds like Godfrey.
“Don’t worry. No one’s stalking anyone.” Unless a black Mercedes counts. “Hey, before I forget, Devora Dobrowski is the one from that divorce case. My producer told me that she’s the estranged wife of the Brouse Candies CEO. You know, if anyone had a motive for murder, it would be him. Don’t you think?”
“If money was the motive, absolutely. Gee, I wish we didn’t have to wait until tomorrow for dinner but I’m buried in work here.”
“It’s busy on my end, too, so don’t worry. Talk to you later. And thanks for reassuring me.”
“I’ll do more than that if Deputy Hickman makes another move. Miss you.”
“Me too.”
I figured I’d tell him about Stefan and the black Mercedes tomorrow. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. I tossed the juice bottle into my recycling bin and left the office. Cammy was at the front register since Lizzie was on break.
“Our little data-gathering crew is going to meet here after the WOW meeting on Thursday,” I told her.
“Great. I was able to round up a really juicy tidbit on Gavin Chase late last night but I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”
“What tidbit?”
“It wasn’t on his Facebook page but it was on another site that deals with celebrity gossip. Devora pretty much blacklisted Gavin a number of years ago, making it difficult for him to get choice roles.”
“Blacklisted?”
“Well, maybe bad-mouthed would be a better word. Anyhow, she told other directors and people in the industry that Gavin was difficult to work with. As a result, he could only get commercials and voice-overs until someone hired him for the movie Waltzing in Winnipeg two or three years ago.”
“Holy cow. If that’s not a motive for murder, what is? She could have destroyed his entire career.”
“I know. Isn’t there some sort of a quote about revenge being best served cold?”
“Uh-huh. But in this case, it was served wet.”
Chapter 18
By the time I sauntered into the tasting room the following day, Deputy Hickman had already interrogated Lizzie, Cammy, and Roger. He told Cammy he’d be back later in the day to speak with Fred and Emma since they had to contend with the lunch crowd. Sam and Glenda were off for the day, and Grizzly Gary agreed to speak with them first thing Thursday morning.
The good news was that Gordon Wable had arrived and was already on the east side of our vineyard with the film crew and the actors. We still needed road security, for lack of a better term, and since Marc and Enzo were on spring break, they were more than happy to earn a few extra bucks and ogle Priscilla at the same time.
The large crowds that had engulfed the area during the wine and cheese event were gone, but thanks to the news channels, we had no shortage of visitors who wanted to catch a glimpse of the actors.
“That Gordon Wable is absolutely darling,” Cammy said when I walked into the tasting room. “He was in early with Stefan and Skylar. Fred made them coffees as well as to-go cups for the rest of the crew.”
“What do you mean by darling?” Cammy never described anyone that way. Not even if they were drop-dead gorgeous. I could detect a slight blush on her cheeks but didn’t say anything.
“Well, he looks to be in his late forties or early fifties and he’s got this neat cuddly factor going for him. I don’t know how to explain it, but he reminds me of an old sheepdog one of my uncles had. The kind you want to snuggle up to.”
Or not. “I take it he was friendly and not like Devora.”
“Polar opposites if you ask me. Stefan seemed much more relaxed around him and so did Skylar.”
“Good. Maybe they can finish the filming and move on. Or out of here, as the case may be. They’ll still be stuck at the Ramada until Grizzly Gary gives them the okay to go back to Toronto.”
“The news media’s been pretty quiet about the investigation. I take it there are no new leads.”
I groaned and pushed my hair behind my ears. “I should have told you this yesterday but I was too unnerved. I’m the lead suspect.”
“What?” Cammy dropped the towel she was holding and it landed in a pitcher of water on her tasting table. “What do you mean?”
“Deputy Hickman paid me one of his not-so-pleasant visits yesterday. He informed me that one of our event visitors called their office about the verbal exchange I had with Devora on Saturday. To cut to the chase, he thinks I had motive, means, and opportunity. Anyway, I’m now officially a person of interest.”
“That man’s a lunatic. An absolute lunatic if he thinks you could have murdered Devora.”
“That’s why we need to really dig deep on the film crew’s scuttlebutt. Someone’s holding back something and we need to find out what it is.”
“No problem. I’ll keep digging.”
Just then a group of six or seven middle-aged women walked in and headed toward us. Roger was tied up with three customers at his table and Cammy had no choice but to motion them to her table.
I gave her a nod. “I’d better let you go. We’ll catch up later.”
“Hang in there.”
The only thing I could do was hang in there. Well, that and my own little bit of prying. I had to find out what the heck Stefan was doing getting out of that Mercedes and whether it had anything to do with Devora’s death. Then there was Gordon Wable. Cuddly or not, it wouldn’t be the first time someone in the moviemaking industry used sneaky tactics to reposition themselves on the hierarchy. Although, stepping in at the last minute to direct one scene in a movie could hardly be considered a step up. And murdering someone for one lousy scene didn’t make sense at all. Plus, the guy was in Vancouver. Still, I wasn’t about to rule him out.
When I left the tasting room, I told Lizzie I’d be back later to grab a late lunch. Then I walked home and phoned Don and Theo. They were as astonished as Cammy when I gave them the grim news about my new status in the community.
“A person of interest?” Theo shrieked. “Has Hickman gone mad?”
Then Don grabbed the phone. “Did you call an attorney?”
“I, um, spoke to Bradley.”
“Well, did he call a criminal attorney for you?”
“He said it was too soon. He thinks Deputy Hickman said that to keep me away from the investigation.”
Don groaned and I could hear him take a deep breath. “Bradley may be right but it wouldn’t hurt to have some legal counsel lined up.” Then he gave the phone back to Theo, who said, “Holy crap, Norrie. Don’t get yourself too worked up over this.”
Actually, I wasn’t too worked up until I’d spoken with Don and Theo. “I’ll tell you more after the WOW meeting. By the way, which one of you is going?”
“I am,” Theo said. “I drew the short straw.”
In the background I heard Don shout, “I went last time. I had to listen to Catherine’s never-ending description of the dress she planned to wear for Easter dinner. You’d think she was going to a coronation.”
I laughed. “Okay. See you tomorrow. And keep hunting down info on our suspects.”
It was after three when I returned to the tasting room. I waved to Cammy and Roger before charging straight to the bistro and ordering my usual panini.
“I like the new director better,” Emma said. “He was in here for lunch along with Priscilla. I had to sneak them into the banquet room before anyone noticed. Thankfully, that miserable deputy was already gone by then.”
“What about the rest of the crew?”
“They drove to the Penn Yan Diner. Skylar reiterated what you said about their chicken fried steaks and that was all it took according to Gordon.”
“Even Mr. Whole Grains and No Sugar went there?”
“Uh-huh. Apparently someone told him the diner had salads on the menu.”
“They do. With the heaviest, tastiest dressings imaginable. I suppose Stefan will take his salad sans the dressing.”
“By the way,” Emma said, “the director left his jacket in the banquet room. He wasn’t wearing it when he walked in, he had it draped over a shoulder. He probably doesn’t need it right now since it’s in the fifties and he was wearing a heavy-looking sweatshirt.”
“Is it still in the banquet room?”
“No, I hung it up in the kitchen closet. Maybe someone can take it to him today. We simply haven’t had time.”
“I’ll grab it. I’ve got a few things to do at the house and then I’ll drop it off. Knowing how many film shoots they take, they’re bound to be in the vineyard for a while.”
“Thanks, Norrie. Gee, I hope I don’t get flustered speaking with that deputy.”
“You won’t. Tell him the truth. What you saw and what you remember about Saturday. Or whatever else he asks you.”
“I’ll try.”
I ate my panini in record time, grabbed Gordon’s lightweight jacket from the kitchen closet and started for the door. I definitely needed to be out of there before Deputy Hickman arrived.
“Have a nice afternoon,” Lizzie said when I neared the register on my way out. “Oh, and you might want to tune in to the Weather Channel. The entire Finger Lakes are in the path of that spring storm. What did they call it? Oh yes, Neville. That was the name. Seems Neville is a slow-moving storm so he might not reach us until the end of the week.”
Wonderful. That’s all we need, a heavy glacial storm named Neville that could last for days while it downed power lines and made plowing impossible.
“Uh, thanks, Lizzie. I’ll be sure to catch a forecast.”
The first thing I did when I got in the house, other than tossing Gordon’s jacket over a chair in the kitchen, was to make sure I had enough food for Charlie and enough dry goods to keep me from starving. I really wasn’t that worried about the storm but I didn’t need the dog to go without his kibble.
Figuring I had more than enough time to meet Gordon and return his jacket, I threw in a load of wash and pulled up my laptop. I had tons of editing to do on a screenplay that needed to be in Renee’s hot little hands in two weeks. Two weeks may sound like a long time but not when it comes to editing. It’s a boring, miserable process that saps the creative juices right out of me and I have to practically force myself to do it.
With Charlie curled up in his doggie bed and the afternoon lighting just right, I cozied up on the couch and painstakingly scrutinized the first twenty-five pages of my screenplay. This one was set in Wellfleet, Cape Cod, where Francine and I spent weeklong summer vacations when we were little. Then it was back to Two Witches and Seneca Lake.
“At least it’s not a vineyard,” I muttered to Charlie. “It’s a beach romance
. That means I have to leave out the weird fishy smell and yucky stuff that gets swept on to the shore.” The dog looked up and then closed his eyes. I leaned back and stretched, careful not to jostle the computer. “Hmm, I suppose you’d love it. All those fish entrails you could bring home. At least none of them would be a murder weapon.”
Just then I realized it was late and that I’d better get that jacket to Gordon Wable while it was still light out. At least my dinner with Bradley wasn’t until eight. Plenty of time for him to pick me up. I closed the laptop, reached for the sweatshirt I’d thrown over the couch and put it on. “I’ll be back in a jiff,” I said. The dog followed me to the kitchen and grabbed something from the floor. If there was one thing I noticed about that Plott hound, he wasn’t very particular about what he put in his mouth. But he wasn’t territorial either, so my fingers would be safe when I went to extract it.
I immediately pried his mouth open and retrieved a wet, crumpled piece of paper. “This better not be one of the bills I have to pay.” I un-wadded it and took a look. It was a boarding pass with yesterday’s date and Gordon Wable’s name on it. The edges were wet and slimy thanks to Charlie, and little bite marks dotted the document. I took a closer look at it and froze. Gordon Wable had flown to Rochester from Toronto, not Vancouver like Renee had told me. Something didn’t add up.
The document was as gooey and sticky as could be and there was no way I was about to shove it back in his jacket pocket. Besides, he’d know it had been tampered with. Instead, I put it in a Ziploc bag and tucked it under a stack of books on the counter. Gordon Wable’s flight plans were the least of my worries.
I threw on a heavy fleece hoodie since the winds were starting to kick up, grabbed Gordon’s jacket and headed for the spot in the vineyard where they were filming. Judging from the sky, we had maybe a half hour left of daylight. No sooner had I ducked into one of the vineyard lanes than Skylar and Rikesh approached. Both of them were carrying tripods and large black metal cases.
“If you’re looking for the rest of the crew, they’ve already left,” Skylar said. “It’s getting windy and we’ve had a full day.”
