by J. C. Eaton
Godfrey turned beet red and all but choked on his coffee. I smiled and reached for a sugar packet. “Stefan would like to share some information with us.”
“Look,” Stefan said, “I don’t know what this is about but I had a horrid morning at the public safety building in Penn Yan. If you must know, I sent word to Renee to have our production company’s barrister make the drive here.”
“Barrister? Not solicitor? So it is true. Priscilla is under arrest for murder.”
Stefan shrugged. “The evidence is circumstantial at best. Her fingerprints were found on Devora’s glasses, but that’s easily explainable. Priscilla said Devora asked her to hold them for a minute while she got something out of her eye. It was during our shooting before . . . before her body was found the next morning.”
“Did anyone see Priscilla holding the eyeglasses?”
Stefan shook his head. “Once we got to the public safety building in Penn Yan, I made some calls and asked everyone on the crew. No one remembered. Not surprising. We had a lot of things going on.”
“If Priscilla was the person in question, why were you at the public safety building?” I asked.
Stefan leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. “Priscilla didn’t want to go alone. She called Gavin and Gordon but they didn’t answer their phones. Then she tried me. Right now, no arrest has been made and she refuses to answer any more questions. They have the right to detain her for another twenty-four hours. Or is it forty-eight? I’m not that familiar with the laws in your country.”
“Twenty-four hours,” Godfrey and I chimed in at once. Then he went on. “They do have the right to apply for up to ninety-six hours if it’s a serious crime like murder.”
I gave him a funny look and he grinned. “Insects aren’t my only life. I do watch TV, you know.”
At that moment, our waiter reappeared and Stefan ordered coffee and a croissant. I leaned my elbow on the table and stared directly at his eyes. Pale hazel eyes. “You orchestrated all of this, didn’t you? You knew her prints were on those eyeglasses. You were never more than a foot away from Devora at all times so you had to have seen something. You were the one who planted them in my house. In my nightstand. So I’d find them and notify the sheriff’s office.”
Stefan slipped out of his coat and let it rest on the back of his chair. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I do a thing like that? To set the record straight, I like Priscilla. I have no ill will directed at her. And while Devora is an entirely different story, I certainly would not have resorted to murder.”
I kept my gaze fixed on his eyes. “Then why were you in cahoots with Devora’s estranged husband? And don’t lie. This past Tuesday, I saw you getting out of the Brouse Candies Mercedes in front of the hotel. And yes, it was the Brouse Candies Mercedes. I had the license checked.”
Stefan squirmed in his chair and for a minute I thought he’d break. No such luck.
“That’s right. This past Tuesday. Early. I spoke with Skylar because he was checking out something in the vineyard and told me he thought you were sleeping in. Even though it wasn’t like you. Then I had a chat with Renee, which led me to believe something may have happened to you. So, out of concern more than curiosity, I drove to the Ramada and had Housekeeping check to see if you were in. Sure enough, the room had been slept in and the shower was used, but you were long gone. And don’t even think of fabricating some story about using the fitness center or eating an early breakfast because I saw you plain and clear getting out of Gerard Dobrowski’s car. It was for your payoff, wasn’t it? You met to collect the money he owed you. What else would you be doing in his car?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, please. Give me a break. That’s the most overused line in creation. Want to know what I think?”
Just then, Stefan’s coffee and croissant arrived, complete with a tray of flavored butters and jams. The waiter refilled Godfrey’s and my coffee cups while he was at our table and all conversation paused while we were being served.
I added a new sugar packet to my coffee, took a sip, and continued as if I was having a pleasant conversation about gardening or some other benign topic. “Gerard Dobrowski needed to get his estranged wife out of the way for good so the Brouse Candies fortune wouldn’t be divided in two. Especially since their new venture in New York would bring scads of money his way. It was serendipitous. Devora was directing a film smack dab in the middle of wine country and only minutes away from the industrial park where Gerard’s new manufacturing plant would be built.”
Stefan didn’t say a word but Godfrey widened his eyes and tapped his fingers on the table. I clasped my hands together, rested my elbows on the table, and pushed my coffee cup aside. “Money is one hell of a motivator. How much did he offer you to make sure Devora would never get her share of the fortune?”
“I wouldn’t, I mean I didn’t—”
“And using Priscilla . . . that was the easy part. You had the perfect situation when she lost her necklace and you found it. Then you had a conversation with Devora about using a different location for the final scene. It was perfect. Except for one thing. I saw you get out of that Mercedes.”
Stefan’s face flushed and his hands began to tremble. “I know what it must look like but—”
“The Yates County Sheriff’s Office has the note to confirm what I said. About the new location. And as far as breaking into my house to frame Priscilla, not many intruders are, shall we say, anal-retentive? Who else would place a mat, or in this case a towel, on the floor to conceal muddy footprints. I’ll wager the one you used came from this very hotel. I’ll give you this much, you’re a good planner.”
“I may be a good planner but I’m no murderer. And yes, using a towel to absorb dirt is the decent thing to do, I suppose, if one is breaking into a house. But I wasn’t that person. The real reason I was in that Mercedes in the first place was at the request of Gerard Dobrowski, but not to collect money for Devora’s murder. I met with him to plan her damn funeral arrangements. No one else would do it. And yes, I will be getting paid for that job. In fact, I have a signed and dated contract to prove it. Witnessed by his driver.”
If my mouth could have opened any wider, it would have absorbed the entire room. I was so positive I had Stefan dead to rights that his explanation took me totally off guard.
“You still can’t prove you weren’t the person who climbed into my house late Thursday,” I mumbled.
Stefan scratched the back of his head and crinkled his nose. “Late Thursday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have an alibi for that time. One that’s easy to verify. I suffer occasionally from gout and my big toe swelled up that afternoon. I suffered with it as much as I could before driving to the Finger Lakes Urgent Care late in the day. In retrospect, I should have taken a Tylenol and waited it out. Do you have any idea how many sniveling, coughing, and spewing children were in that waiting room? I probably contracted something far worse than a case of gout.”
In that instant, I felt genuinely sorry for Stefan. Not only was he stuck planning a funeral for a woman he despised, but he had to defend himself from my accusations as well.
I bit my lower lip and let out a slow breath. “Um, I’m not quite sure what I can say, except Oops. And sorry. I really am sorry, but you should have told the crew where you were going on Tuesday so none of this would have happened.”
“What? Tell them I was in charge of Devora’s funeral arrangements? That certainly wouldn’t have endeared me to them.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. So, uh, would you like to stick around for lunch?”
Stefan shook his head, stood, and motioned for the waiter. “I’ll just pay for my food and get going.”
“It’s on me,” I said. “It’s the least I can do.”
Stefan grabbed his coat and exited the restaurant without saying another word. I smiled at Godfrey and leaned forward. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse
, I suppose.”
“Compared to what? And deadly snake flies? Really? They’re perfectly harmless.”
“You mean to say they’re real? Snake flies are a real thing? I made that up on the spur of the moment.”
“From now on, stick to screenplays, okay?”
Chapter 30
“I guess I can cross Stefan off the list for now,” I said. “I mean, his alibi adds up and it kind of makes sense about the funeral arrangements. But that doesn’t mean Gerard Dobrowski’s off the hook. He had a hell of a motive. And you know what I’m thinking?”
Godfrey rubbed his temples and gritted his teeth. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Gordon Wable, that’s what. The guy outright lied about flying in from Vancouver. I found his ticket stub and it was from Toronto. Toronto! Drivable distance to do the deed and get home. What if Gordon teamed up with someone else? Like Gavin, maybe. He would have gone along for the ride considering Devora all but blacklisted him.”
“There’s no evidence, Norrie. Unlike Priscilla. Look, I know you don’t want to consider it, but in my line of work we evaluate an insect’s physical characteristics coupled with its diet and capabilities before accusing it of, let’s say destroying the wood in someone’s home. I wouldn’t want to work under the premise that I’m dealing with termites when in fact it could be woodworm, powderpost beetles, woodborers, carpenter ants—”
“Arragh. I get it. I get it. But Gordon Wable isn’t a carpenter ant, and in all honestly, I’d rather find a way to get the truth out of him and the rest of that crew before resorting to Zenora’s aura reading. To be honest, it terrifies me, but I’m running out of ideas.”
“Whoa. Slow down. What aura reading? What are you talking about?” His wispy light brown hair seemed to stand on end but I attributed that to the static in the room from dry indoor air rather than his reaction to my comment. I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Sorry. Lately I can’t seem to remember who I told what to. The aura reading is kind of like a grand reveal, à la Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot.”
Godfrey sat poker-faced while I explained the plan that would ultimately compel Devora’s killer to fess up. Then he rubbed his eyes, clasped his hands, and bent his head over them as if he was about to pray. “Fifteen of us, huh? During a possible snowstorm if the Neville predictions are right. I can’t think of a worse scenario.”
“Maybe we won’t have to. I can always confront Gordon with that ticket stub, although these guys seem to be better actors than the ones in front of the screen. Too bad I can’t bug his room.” I tapped my fingers on the table while Godfrey reached across it to grab the menu.
“Oh, my gosh!” I announced. “I think I can. They sell all sorts of mini surveillance cameras at Walmart. Stephanie Ipswich mentioned it a few weeks ago at one of the WOW meetings. She set one up in her twins’ bedroom. Said it was teeny tiny and not at all like those old-fashioned nanny cams. Said it had a sound feature, too, so she could hear everything.”
“Let me get this clear in my head. You intend to purchase a surveillance device and somehow sneak it into Gordon’s room in a place where he won’t notice it.”
“Uh-huh. Of course, I may be running out of excuses for Housekeeping to let me into the rooms, but I’ll figure something out.”
Godfrey started to say something when all of a sudden I saw another Yates County Sheriff’s vehicle pull up to the entrance and drop off Priscilla McCoy. Even with a white scarf draped over her head and the collar of her black car coat pulled up above her neck, she was unmistakable. She slammed the door shut, tucked her bag under an arm and tromped into the building as if her knee-high boots were made for combat and not style.
“You saw that, didn’t you?” I asked Godfrey. “Priscilla slammed the car door. Stay here. I’m going to catch her before she gets on the elevator. Oh, and order me a BLT, will you?”
I was out of the café and in the corridor when Skylar and Mickey left the elevator and found themselves face-to-face with Priscilla. I took a step back and watched the elevator door close behind them. Fast, so as not to waste a second, I wedged myself into an alcove and turned sideways so I wouldn’t easily be seen. The good news was that I could hear every word being said.
“I can’t believe the two of you hung me out to dry,” Priscilla said. “Backstabbers!”
“Hey,” Skylar replied, “I don’t know about Mickey, but I wasn’t about to lie. I didn’t see you holding Devora’s eyeglasses.”
Priscilla crossed her arms, her handbag dangling against her thigh. “We were standing right in front of you.”
“But I wasn’t looking at you. I was concentrating on the footage we took. To see if the lighting was okay or if we needed a reshoot.”
Then Mickey spoke. “He’s right. I wish I had seen you hold the old bat’s eyewear, but I didn’t. I was busy threading the film.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Priscilla said. “I only held those glasses for a few seconds, but that was all it took for my fingerprints to get on the temple. A big fat thumbprint. I should have put on my gloves but I’d taken them off for the scene.”
“So now what?” Skylar asked. “They released you so that must mean they don’t have evidence to make a conviction stick.”
“Not yet. Stefan sent word to Renee to have our company’s barrister drive here. If Stefan fears the worst, then I’m afraid I’m doomed. Even if the real killer comes forth, I’m afraid it’s going to be too late for me to meet the terms of the contract I have with Light-Star Pictures. I’m supposed to be in Los Angeles Friday. That’s six days from now. Light-Star Pictures. My first big break for international stardom, and where am I? In a Podunk little town watching my career circle the drain.”
“I’m sorry, Priscilla,” Mickey said. “Honestly, I am. But you’ll have other opportunities. It’s not as if you’re a struggling actress anymore, taking on bit roles or understudying.”
Priscilla brushed the hair away from her face and looked around. “Where’s Gavin? What’s he doing?”
“Last I heard,” Skylar said, “he was in his room going over the new script Renee emailed him. Another cozy mystery in his favorite locale—Toronto. This one food-themed. Right up his alley.”
“That’s right. I remember him saying something about it. Uh, speaking of Renee, have either of you heard from her?”
I could see Skylar and Mickey shake their heads just as the elevator door opened and a couple walked out.
“We’re going around the corner for a pizza,” Skylar said to Priscilla. “You’re welcome to join us. Rikesh plans to come as well but Gordon decided he’d take a drive and stop by a few wineries.”
“I couldn’t eat anything. Not now. Maybe another time. Looks like we’ll all be stuck here for a while.”
“Stuck, but still on payroll,” he said. “Consider that a good thing.”
I held still and watched as the guys left the hotel and Priscilla pushed the button for the elevator. Overhearing their conversation had given me the answers I needed without stressing Priscilla any further. I walked back to the café and waved to Godfrey.
He reached over and pulled out my chair. “You didn’t tell me what kind of bread so I ordered your BLT on white toast with mayo on the side. That’s how I like it, so if you don’t, you can have my grilled cheese.”
“Two of my favorites. I’m good either way. In case you’re wondering, Skylar and Mickey got out of the elevator just as Priscilla walked in. I huddled in a corridor alcove and caught the entire conversation. She’s pissed at the both of them for not coming to her defense about holding Devora’s eyeglasses and she’s crestfallen about losing her role in some major production with Light-Star Pictures.”
“So where does this leave you? Bugging Gordon’s room? Because if so, I may be able to help.”
“Really? You’re willing to do that?”
“I gave it some thought while you were away from the table and I came to the conclusion that it was better than that aura-reveal catastrophe i
n the making.”
“The aura thing may still be our only viable option.”
“Not if Gordon’s hiding something. What do you say we hit Walmart after lunch and do some serious shopping?”
• • •
This time it was Godfrey who talked the housekeeper into letting us enter Gordon’s room. It was surprising how fast she ushered us in when he showed her his entomology identification and explained he’d received a complaint about bedbugs. She stopped midway through her cleaning, having only a bit of dusting left, when she said, “Can I wait until I know for certain the room is safe?” Godfrey assured her that if any problems were detected, he’d report them immediately to management and the occupant would be given another, presumably bedbug-free, room.
We’d gotten back from Walmart with an anti-theft mini voice and camera recorder for under twenty bucks, not including batteries. It took Godfrey less than ten minutes to conceal the device on a decorative wall sconce, one of two that hung on either side of the king-sized high-profile bed. We figured we’d have plenty of time since Gordon was taking in a few wineries and those visits are never fast.
He put his coat back on and walked to the window. “Still snowing. I don’t know about you but I want to get the heck out of here before—”
“Shh. Do you hear that?” I whispered. “Crap. It’s a click from the door’s card insert. Gordon’s back. The bed! Hide.”
I grabbed my jacket from the back of the desk chair and tossed it under the bed. Then I took a nosedive so fast I felt as if I’d crushed my ribs. The pain seared me—a stabbing pain in my chest that disappeared once I realized I had landed on top of my bag, complete with wallet, hairbrush, and all sorts of implements of torture. At least the floor was carpeted, even if it was that short, dense carpeting.
