Divide and Concord

by J. C. Eaton

  Theo tossed a finger sandwich in his mouth, and in a second it was gone. “Catherine goes off the deep end if she gets crumbs on her skirt. I should know. I watched her two meetings ago.”

  All of us burst out laughing just as Cammy walked in. “Sorry. Hope I didn’t keep you. What’s so funny?”

  “The WOW meeting women,” he said. “Don’t ask.”

  I plopped myself down in one of the chairs and grabbed a juice. “Okay, I know everyone’s pressed for time so we’ll try to be brief. I’ll start with everything I managed to dig up and we’ll go around the room after that. All right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “First off, Godfrey Klein saw some sort of correspondence from the agricultural department about Brouse Candies coming to the area. I asked him to find out if their CEO, Gerard Brouse, was in the area during the time of Devora’s murder. He’s Devora’s estranged husband and he would have had a real motive for knocking her off—money. Bradley Jamison said a real nasty divorce case is going on. He found out because it’s such a humdinger that law schools are using it as a case study.”

  “Holy mackerel, Norrie,” Stephanie said. “All you need are a few more boyfriends and you’ll have the scoop on everything.”

  “Godfrey’s not a boyfriend, and Bradley’s, well . . . let’s just move on. What have you got, Theo?”

  “Don and I had Stefan, Mickey, and Rikesh. Stefan’s about as social media–shy as they get so we’re still digging. Mickey’s on a few sites and one of them linked him to an actress named Bailey Wagner.”

  “I know that name,” I said. “She had a minor role in A Swim Under the Waterfall. One of my screenplays. And I think I heard Priscilla mention it. What else did you find out about Mickey?”

  Theo shrugged. “The guy recently bought a new motorcycle. Photos were plastered everywhere. Yellow Harley-Davidson Sportster something-or-other. New. Must have cost him plenty. Same deal with his leather riding jacket.”

  “What about Rikesh?” I asked.

  “Guy’s a real sci-fi and tech nerd. Into video gaming and Doctor Who. When he’s not doing those things, he’s at Comic Cons.”

  Stephanie crinkled her nose and turned to Theo. “Comic what?”

  “Comic book conventions. But it’s more than that. Way more. Anyhow, I didn’t find anything that would give him a motive to murder Devora. Same with the other two guys, but like I said, Don and I are still looking.”

  Cammy reiterated what she knew about Devora blacklisting Gavin, when I suddenly remembered something.

  “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe I forgot this. One of Ralphie’s EMTs, a guy named Chad, heard Gavin threaten Devora. Ralphie told me. It was on Saturday. According to Chad, Gavin told Devora that ‘he’d see to it that it was the last film she ever directed.’ Yikes. I must have pushed it to the back of my mind.”

  “But there’s no context with it,” Theo said. “Still, a threat’s a threat. Maybe this Chad guy should be contacted so he can share that with Deputy Hickman.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Grizzly Gary interviewed the EMTs who worked here. Same deal with Cammy’s nephews. If Chad was going to say anything, he already did.”

  At that point, we all turned to Stephanie. She brushed a strand of her long honey-blond hair and smiled. “Skylar Randall’s one hot little ticket, if you ask me. Good thing I wasn’t doing all those internet searches at night or my husband would have wondered why I was so flushed.”

  “Skylar Randall the cameraman?” I asked her. “Are you sure you looked up the right Skylar Randall?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I’m sure all right. He looks exactly like the photo you emailed me after I agreed to do a little background checking. The other guys in that crew aren’t bad-looking either, but nothing like Skylar.”

  Chapter 21

  I rubbed my temples. “We’re talking possible murderer, Stephanie, not The Full Monty. What’s the deal with Skylar?”

  “Yeah,” Cammy said. “What did I miss? Tell us now before Norrie starts blabbing about Devora and Priscilla.”

  Stephanie gave me a wink and smiled. “I’m glad I picked Skylar. I could look at those pecs and abs all day.”

  “Pecs and abs? For goodness sake, Stephanie, there’s a killer loose. You were supposed to do some background checking, not admire the guy’s physique.”

  “Relax, Norrie,” Theo said. “Don would have done the same thing.”

  Stephanie shot me a look and crinkled that cute little button nose of hers. “See, I’m not the only one. And besides, I did plenty of background checking. Skylar’s really into filming with the intent of becoming the director of photography for a major motion picture.”

  “Isn’t that called the cinematographer?” Cammy asked. “I’ve seen enough Academy Awards.”

  “I think the camera operator and the director of photography have to be the same person,” I said. “But I could be wrong. Renee sends me lots of info but I don’t always read it.”

  Cammy all but burst out laughing. “Gee, just like the Wine Trail news from Henry Speltmore.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned to Stephanie. “What else did you find out?”

  “He graduated with honors from Vancouver Film School, and that’s not an easy feat. The guy seems pretty serious about his career. And before you ask, the answer is no. I couldn’t find anything about his love life or any other life beyond his work. At least not on social media.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I might as well share what I turned up, or in this case, didn’t, on Priscilla and Devora. Other than Devora being a temperamental pain in the butt, and the fact that no one on film sets enjoyed working with her, I couldn’t find anything in particular that would wave a red flag in my face.”

  I reached for one of Fred’s mini-sandwiches, stuffed it in my mouth, and kept talking between bites. “The only one who’d really gain from her death is the estranged husband, Gerard Dobrowski. Devora’s shares from Brouse Candies were massive. And get this—according to Bradley, who did me a favor and looked into a few things, Devora never changed the beneficiary of her will. Gerard gets it all. If that’s not motive, I don’t know what is.”

  “It may be motive,” Theo said, “but what about means and opportunity?”

  “Um, yeah. I’m hoping Godfrey will be able to find out more. Like Gerard’s whereabouts during the time of death.”

  “Me, too, because I’d hate to think Priscilla was the one who committed the crime.” I looked at the tray of sandwiches and grabbed another one. “She did have motive, you know. Devora made her life hell on the set. And, after all, it was Priscilla’s necklace in that cattail. She could have lied about losing it. And her hands were all scratched up. She could have lied about that, too. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find out much about her social life or her connections based on social media.”

  “So now what?” Cammy asked.

  I rubbed my chin and let out a slow breath. “Think of it as an archeological dig. We uncovered the first layer, now we keep going. Go back to the social media pages and look for secondary links.”

  “I’m not sure I understand you, Norrie,” Stephanie said.

  “Okay. See who their social media friends are and scope out their pages. See if anything on them links to Devora. Maybe she really ticked off a friend of a friend.”

  Stephanie widened her eyes and did that hair flip thing of hers. “Honestly, I don’t think real detectives put in as much time.”

  “They don’t have Deputy Hickman breathing down their necks. Meanwhile, I plan to have a little chitchat with Stefan. At first I wasn’t going to say anything to him but I changed my mind. A few days ago I saw him get out of a black Mercedes in front of the Ramada. Long story. Canadian license plates. Stefan was supposed to be with the film crew in the vineyard.”

  “What were you doing at the Ramada?” Stephanie asked.

  “My producer was in a huff because he didn’t return her calls so I thought I’d check it out.”

  Cammy poured mo
re juice in her glass and sipped. “More like scope it out if you ask me. So what do you think he was doing?”

  I shrugged. “Something secretive or he would have told the crew he wasn’t going to be on the set. And he would have called Renee, the producer.”

  “What makes you think he’ll tell you?” she asked me.

  “I don’t. But I think it will unnerve him if he was up to something nefarious. And that’s when people make mistakes.”

  Theo looked directly at me and held his gaze. “Don’t you go slipping up. Don’t confront him unless other people are around. As far as I’m concerned, anyone in that film crew could be our killer.”

  “You sound like Bradley. He wasn’t all that thrilled when I told him my intentions either.”

  “With good reason,” Theo said.

  “Look, I won’t barge over and confront Stefan. I’ll be cunning and discreet.”

  The minute I said that, everyone made coughing, choking noises. “Very funny. I can be discreet. So, uh, are we all set for phase two? More digging?”

  The three of them nodded and we agreed to catch up in a few days. “By the way, I’m adding the new director, Gordon Wable, to my list. He lied to me about his plane flight from Vancouver. He flew in from Toronto.”

  “That doesn’t mean he murdered Devora,” Cammy said. “Maybe he had business in Toronto.”

  “Then why lie about it?”

  Cammy smiled slightly. “Perhaps it was something he didn’t want your producer to know about. Or maybe his business in Toronto wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. Like an affair or something.”

  Suddenly I thought back to how he and Priscilla were practically cozying up to each other in our bistro. “Nah, any affair he’s having is right under our noses.”

  • • •

  Between the WOW meeting and swapping notes with Stephanie, Cammy, and Theo, I’d lost some decent screenwriting time. Still, it was an absolute necessity if I was going to escape unscathed from Deputy Hickman’s clutches. Motive, means, and opportunity. Really? As if I could kill someone. I tried not to dwell on it when I got home and took out my laptop.

  Charlie had eaten a full bowl of kibble and was snoring away in his dog bed. I plunked myself on the couch and picked up where I’d left off—in Wellfleet, Cape Cod. The perfect place for a summer romance.

  If it wasn’t for the fact my stomach began to grumble a few hours later, I would have stayed in Wellfleet. At least in my imagination. Dinner was the last thing I thought of when I got up in the morning, and unfortunately my choices were slim to none. Aside from bags of chips and some condiments in the fridge, I was left with only quinoa or oatmeal. Ugh. I’d neglected to purchase any real food during my last trip to Wegmans. And forget about my sister’s health foods in the pantry. I might as well eat twigs and bark.

  It was hard to tell if the sun had just set or if the clouds were particularly thick. It didn’t matter. In another half hour or so, it would be dark. I looked at Charlie, who had moved from his dog bed to one of the chairs, and I said, “Want to take a ride to Wegmans with me?”

  He immediately shot out of the chair and flew to the door. Yep, I’d spoiled Francine and Jason’s dog all right. Sometimes I’d take him to Wegmans, where he sat patiently in the car until I returned with a treat for him. Usually slices of turkey or ham.

  I threw on a jacket, made sure to leave the kitchen light on and lock up, before getting into the Toyota. Charlie beat me to the punch by hopping across the driver’s-side seat and into the back as soon as I opened the door.

  As I headed down the driveway, Skylar, Mickey, and Rikesh cut across the parking lot to their van. I honked and Mickey waved back. He was the only one with a free hand. The thought of dealing with all that video and sound equipment while trekking across wet snow was as unpleasant as could be. I figured the others had already left for the day.

  Unlike the slower-paced Monday night shopping, Thursday seemed to bring out all the pre-weekend warriors. I purchased deli meats, premade salads, and frozen chicken tenders along with some pork chops and seasoned bread crumbs. I added a fresh baked baguette to the mix and called it a night. Then I waited on register seven for what seemed like an eternity. Someone had trouble with their credit card, and after a few tries finally realized it was expired. Fortunately, they had another one in their wallet.

  By the time Charlie and I got home, I was ready to tear into the deli meat rather than cook the chicken. The kitchen light was the only illumination in the house since I neglected to turn on the porch lights. It didn’t matter. I could make my way into the house blindfolded.

  Charlie raced to the kitchen door, and even with three plastic bags of groceries dangling from my arm, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was strange, but I had the feeling that something was off. Not quite right. Charlie must’ve agreed because he lifted his head up and began to sniff the air as if it was a new place, or, a new scent.

  I stood absolutely still for a moment, not knowing quite what to expect, but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary in the kitchen. Everything was as I’d left it, including my laptop on the kitchen table, exactly where I’d placed it when I got off the couch.

  “We’re being silly, Charlie,” I said. “I mean, I don’t smell anything different, but maybe it’s the air from the heating system.” I put the groceries in the refrigerator and shoved the plastic bags in the flowered bag holder that Francine bought at a craft show.

  Charlie continued to sniff around the kitchen before doing the same in the living room. Then he darted up the stairs to the bedrooms, and that’s when my overworked brain hit the top of the Richter scale.

  With no real weapons to speak of, I reached under the sink and nabbed a can of wasp spray. Then I followed the dog upstairs. Please don’t let there be a crazed maniacal killer in the bedroom.

  I walked quietly but that seemed to make things worse. The sound of creaky wooden steps under my feet echoed in the stillness of the house. Oh, hell. It’s too late to do anything else.

  Charlie went from room to room sniffing and I followed him as if he was Rin Tin Tin, but deep down, I knew he was more like that hound dog from The Beverly Hillbillies rather than a trained German shepherd poised to attack.

  My fingers shook as I held the wasp spray in front of me. Damn it. I should have left the house and called the sheriff.

  Chapter 22

  Nothing appeared to be out of place and there was no evidence of a break-in. Still, I had this uneasy feeling that someone had been in the house. Or, worse yet, was still there. I tightened my grip on the wasp spray and one by one opened the closets in the upstairs bedrooms. Meanwhile, Charlie continued to sniff around as if this was a new place and not his house.

  “I’m checking under the beds,” I told the dog. And so help me, no one better reach out a hand and pull me under. I’ve read enough Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Joe Hill.

  Three beds later, the only thing I discovered were dust bunnies. I made a mental note to buy one of those Swiffer mops. Then, off to the bathroom, where I pulled shower curtain aside as if I was about to reveal a prize on Let’s Make a Deal. Again, nothing.

  “We’ve still got the downstairs closets and the guest bathroom,” I said out loud. Charlie followed me down the staircase and into the kitchen. The pantry looked exactly the same as it had when I left the house. Lots of bland health foods and canned goods.

  Neither the coat closet nor the guest bathroom was hiding anyone, either. That left only one more place and I was damned if I dared go there alone. I knew it was still early enough for Don and Theo to be up, so I called them. “Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, but I came back from Wegmans and it felt like someone had been in the house.”

  Theo’s voice was at least two decibels louder than usual. “What do you mean felt like? Was anything broken? Moved?”

  “No, it was more like a creepy feeling. Charlie sensed it, too. He’s been sniffing all over the place.”

  “Did you call t
he sheriff’s office?”

  “And what? Tell Deputy Hickman I had a funny feeling? The door was locked when I got home and all the windows were closed. Without any sign of a break-in, he’d have my head.”

  “Yeah, sorry. You’re right. Don and I are on our way. Look, I don’t want to panic you, but someone may still be there. Wait by the kitchen door in case you have to make a run for it.”

  “Thanks. That’s very encouraging. Hurry up. Now I’m even more freaked out.”

  I stood by the door and watched the driveway for car lights. In the dim porch lighting, I could see wet snow beginning to fall. Terrific. Another fun night in the Finger Lakes. Although Don and Theo’s house was only about a mile down the driveway, it felt as if they lived on the other side of the lake.

  Just then, car lights got closer, and within seconds I heard the doors slam shut.

  “We’re here!” Don shouted as he marched to the door. “Flashlight and all.”

  “And we brought ammo,” Theo added as he waved a baseball bat in the air.

  “Not a single thing was touched in the house,” I said, “but something feels wrong. The only place I didn’t look was the basement. I didn’t want to go down there alone.”

  “Wait here, Norrie,” Don said. “If we’re not back in three minutes, call the militia.”

  I opened the door to the basement, flipped on the light, and stepped back so Don and Theo could have a clear path downstairs.

  “So far only wine racks and cobwebs,” Don yelled. “Oh, look! Oh, my gosh!”

  “What? What?” I shrieked. “What did you find?”

  “Elderberry jam. Francine canned elderberry jam. I thought she only did raspberry and strawberry.”

  Then I heard Theo’s voice, “Oh, for goodness sake, forget the jam and keep looking.”