by J. C. Eaton
“If it will get you to stop ruminating about my office hours, the answer’s yes. Getting there shouldn’t be an issue, but do me a favor and make sure you have plenty of candles and water.”
“Zenora didn’t say anything about candles or water.”
“Not Zenora. Neville. If the power goes out, you can kiss your well water goodbye and hang out in the dark. Not the best predicament with a murderer in the house.”
“Yeesh. Come to think of it, I could use a few things at Wegmans even though I’m in and out of there all the time. I’ll pick up the pace so we’re not followed by Gordon and Stefan. So far so good, huh?”
“I’ll save my opinion until Thursday morning.”
• • •
When I finally got home and dumped the Wegmans bags on the kitchen table, Charlie shoved his food dish at my feet and looked up. It felt like hours since I’d last filled it with kibble. In fact, it was hours. “Sorry, guy,” I said. “I’m tracking a killer and we all have to be flexible.”
I poured the kibble and watched as he devoured it. Then I hung up my coat, slipped off my boots and glanced at the landline to see if it had registered any messages. Sure enough, the light was blinking. The caller ID said Ipswich and I knew it was Stephanie. I pushed the Play button and stood still.
“Hey, Norrie, it’s me. Stephanie. Before you get your hopes up, the answer is no. I couldn’t find anything else on Skylar. Only work-related stuff. I did see a cute photo of him taken a few years ago on some set. I sent it to your email as an attachment. Sorry I couldn’t be more help. By the way, have you heard anything more from Hickman? He hasn’t been back here since his department interviewed our staff. Derek thinks it’s a good sign for us. What about you? Call me when you get a minute.”
It was late and I was way too exhausted to gab, so instead I put away the stuff I’d bought at Wegmans. Thank you, Godfrey, for spooking me. I’d purchased a few power-outage candles and four LED power-failure lights as well as two twenty-four-bottle cases of spring water that I still had to retrieve from the car. If nothing else, Francine and Jason would be ready for the first storm in the fall.
Not taking any chances, I’d also added chocolate chip cookies to my emergency supplies as well as more crackers, chips, and a bag of apples. We had more than enough bandages and a first aid kit in case someone fell in the dark and got scraped up. The thought of antidotes for poisons crossed my mind while I wandered down aisle sixteen but Devora wasn’t poisoned, she was strangled. With a necklace, no less. I made a mental note to hide my jewelry box.
Once I finished stashing the stuff, I went into the guest bathroom and had another look-see at the oval mirror/suspect clock. No revelations. Then I moved to the couch, booted up my laptop and found Stephanie’s attachment.
Sure enough, Skylar Randall flashed a grin at the camera as he stood behind a tripod. I recognized the movie set immediately. It was one of Conrad Blyth’s Amish love stories. Before he got kicked to the curb with no explanation given. In the background, a long-haired girl had her arms draped around some guy’s neck and she was in Amish attire. He, on the other hand, wore a leather motorcycle jacket, complete with epaulet chain on one shoulder and torn jeans. Obviously not one of the actors. All I could see were their profiles and a large camouflage bag at the guy’s feet. I couldn’t make out the writing on the bag but it didn’t matter. Cute picture or not, it was absolutely no help. I exited the screen and was about to close the laptop when I noticed an email from Renee. It was longer than her usual emails, and once I read it, I was sorry I’d told her I could deliver results in the first place. What was the matter with me?
I trust your judgment, Norrie. That’s why I directed Gordon to share the film footage with you. I’m not sure how that’s going to help. It’s not as if the murder was caught on tape, but maybe there’s something in that film that will point you in the right direction. God knows, we’re getting nowhere here. I’m holding off sending our barrister since Priscilla hasn’t been charged yet. If the roads are bad, he can always hop a flight. Keep me posted. Gordon tells me the crew is restless. At least Gavin can work on his lines. Best, Renee.
I flipped the lid on the laptop and leaned back on the couch. Renee trusted my judgment. What judgment? I was all over the place with my own cockeyed investigation. At least Nancy Drew followed the clues with precision and thought. I jumped around from would-be suspect to would-be suspect with more ill-conceived action plans imaginable, including my version of a Hail Mary pass as far as getting covert info from the mini-cam in Gordon’s room.
With no choice but to finalize the details of the aura reveal with Zenora, I picked up the phone and called her. I kept telling myself that we had three days, possibly four if I counted Wednesday, to nab Devora’s killer before resorting to some sort of hocus-pocus, but I wasn’t optimistic. What I was sure of was that if I got too close to the killer without thinking things through, I could be the next one with something wrapped around my neck.
After mindless channel surfing, I called it quits for the night and followed Charlie up to bed. For the first hour or so, I slept the sleep of the dead. Then I heard voices. I was positive two people were downstairs and immediately reached for my phone, only to realize it was my phone. Godfrey had programmed it in conjunction with Apple’s Live Listen program and it was picking up a conversation in Gordon’s room.
I moved closer to the phone, petrified that if I picked it up I’d lose the connection. For a relatively inexpensive system, the audio was pretty clear and I recognized the voices—Gordon’s and Priscilla’s.
Without her usual sniffling and sobbing, Priscilla enunciated every single word. “Like I was saying, I went down the hall to get some ice and who did I see? Skylar and Mickey at the vending machine. Traitors. Bad enough they hemmed and hawed about what had happened when I ran into them at the elevator, but now they even went so far as to say I was overreacting. Overreacting? My fingerprint was on those horrid tortoiseshell glasses of Devora’s. That’s enough to have the deputy slap handcuffs on me.”
A few garbled noises followed and I couldn’t determine if they were kissing or if they moved farther away from the recording device. Then, all of a sudden I heard Priscilla again.
“But I got even. I told them the deputy called to inform me I was no longer a suspect and was free to return to Toronto. I wanted to see the expressions on their faces.”
Gordon’s voice practically boomed. “And?”
“Humph. Mickey tugged on that ratty Toronto Maple Leaves sweatshirt that’s all but glued to his skin and Skylar adjusted the collar of his stupid sweater for the umpteenth time. If you ask me, they were both nervous. Skylar had the nerve to ask if the deputy said anything about anyone else and I shrugged. That’ll show them.”
Then a loud knock in the background. Gordon yelled, “Hold your horses. I’ll be right there.” His voice got softer and I strained to hear it. All I could make out was the word bathroom and I knew that’s where Priscilla had gone.
Chapter 33
I was glued to my spot on the bed intent on hearing every word and even more intent on finding out who Gordon’s night visitor was. Within seconds, I got my answer.
“Hell, Skylar,” Gordon said. “Do you have any idea what time it is? This better be important.”
Skylar must have been too close to the door for his part of the conversation to be picked up but I got the gist of it from Gordon’s response. “If that’s what she said, I’d take her word. Why would she lie?”
More muffled sounds. I guessed Gordon must have moved toward the doorway to keep Skylar from walking more than a foot or two into the room. Then, for some reason, Gordon’s voice picked up. “No, she didn’t say anything to me. Look, I doubt she’ll drive back on her own or even catch a flight out of Rochester. Not with all that snow. Add it to the lake effect stuff and it’s a nightmare. That’s why I’m stuck here. Priscilla may be free as a bird as far as the authorities are concerned but she’ll be forced to wait it
out with the rest of us.”
Somehow, Skylar’s voice came in range and I heard him say, “Mickey’s pissed as can be about her news. He practically freaked out when she told him. And you should have seen her face. Smug as anything. Still, I wasn’t buying it. I had to get out of the room and find out for myself. She seems to be pretty tight with you.”
“We go way back. That’s all.”
“Was she always a loose cannon?”
“If you mean emotional, that’s what makes her such a good actress.”
“I’m sure that will put Mickey’s mind at ease.”
“Tell him to leave it alone and go to sleep. Nothing he can do about it anyway.”
“I suppose. Hey, is it true what Stefan told us about screening the footage for Norrie? That’s a first.”
“I simply go with the flow. If that’s what Renee wants, that’s what she’ll get. So what are you, Mickey, and Rikesh doing for the next few days while we’re cooped up here? We don’t have enough money in the budget for a bar tab.”
“We plan to shoot some footage in town. Small-city life. The college campus. Everything in walking distance from the hotel. Who knows? The film editor and post-production supervisors might decide to use some of it in the movie. At least it will keep us from going stir-crazy.”
“Sounds like a plan. And speaking of which, mine includes some sleep. So if you don’t mind . . .”
“Hey, sorry to bother you.”
The next sound I heard was the door closing. Then silence for at least thirty seconds followed by Priscilla’s voice. “I thought the SOB would never leave. And he’s not the worst of the lot. I can’t believe Mickey thinks I killed Devora. Honestly. At least Rikesh seems to be staying out of it.”
Yep, Priscilla must have had her ear to the door. Or better yet, she was smart enough to grab one of the glasses on the sink and press it against the bathroom door. A regular Nancy Drew feat. I took a breath and kept listening. This time it was Gordon who spoke. “Come on, I’ll rub your back and get rid of some of that tension.”
Then silence. Then a few moaning sounds. Ew. There was a fine line between eavesdropping for the purpose of solving a murder and listening in to someone’s intimate goings-on. To be on the safe side, I turned off my phone and went back to bed. If Priscilla was guilty of anything, it was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wearing the wrong necklace. How could I have possibly thought she was the one who climbed in my window?
• • •
The next morning I walked into the winery covered with sticky wet slush from my hat down to my boots. Lizzie mentioned something about getting used to it but that would never happen. I hated wet snow. Especially the heavy kind that clogs up snow blowers and makes everyone’s life a misery. And this wasn’t even Neville. Neville was alleged to be so heavy that it would make it impossible for cars to move down the road unless the plows were running nonstop.
If I was lucky, Neville would be too slow to get here by Wednesday or he would pick up speed, arrive early by a day or so, and get the heck out of here. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. But Neville was the least of my problems. Deputy Hickman was another thing.
No sooner had I thrown my coat over the chair behind my desk than I heard him clear his throat. He stood in the doorway of my office with his arms crossed in front of his chest. One of them held a manila folder. “This is a courtesy call, Miss Ellington.”
“Huh? What?”
He walked toward my desk and held out a piece of paper. “Eugene, the lab technician whom I sent to your house on Friday, was quite adamant the lab compare the lipstick on a note found by your window with the tube of lipstick from Ms. Dobrowski’s purse.”
Before I could say a word, Deputy Hickman went on. “Eugene was also quite adamant we do not send him to your residence again unless, and I quote, ‘the place is teeming with dead bodies.’ Miss Ellington, Eugene is one of our most dedicated and capable forensic technicians, but at the mere mention of your name, the poor young man recoiled. What on earth did you do or say to him?”
“I, um, er . . . Well, maybe I was a bit too zealous. I may have given him the wrong idea.”
“See to it that it doesn’t happen again.”
I nodded. “The lipstick was a match, wasn’t it? That note was written by Devora. If you want my opinion, I don’t think it was written in response to Priscilla. That leaves—”
“The Yates County Sheriff’s Office to do its job.”
He removed a photo from the folder and showed it to me. “Do you recognize this man? Do you remember seeing him at your winery?”
Not the winery, but on my suspect list. “Is that from today’s Finger Lakes Times? Is it an official announcement about the candy manufacturing plant?”
“I take it you recognize the gentleman in the photo.”
“Not personally, no. But I do recognize him. It’s Gerard Dobrowski, Devora’s estranged husband and CEO of Brouse Candies. I’m really good with internet searches.”
“Miss Ellington, our office is also quite adroit with internet searches. We are also in contact with Canadian immigration and customs. Mr. Dobrowski was in the area during the time of the murder and has since returned to Toronto, where he is being questioned by Canadian authorities.”
“Aha. I’ve been saying all along that the husband had a motive to kill her. Believe me, if he was in our winery, I would have shouted it from the roof.”
Grizzly Gary moaned. “Maybe one of your staff noticed him. One of your staff who had the restraint not to shout anything from a roof, a rafter, or a loading dock.”
“Feel free to ask them but I don’t think he was here.”
“What makes you say that?”
I didn’t want to get Bradley in trouble for sharing information with me so I sort of fibbed. “The tabloids. According to the latest gossip, Gerard and Devora had such a tempestuous relationship that if he was here, we would have known about it. You know, like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”
“I’m not sure I understand, Miss Ellington, but it doesn’t matter. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to show this photo to your staff.”
“Because you think the husband was the killer? Personally, I pondered the idea of him hiring one of the film crew to pull off the murder in exchange for a whopping amount of payola. Gerard had the resources, you know. What do you call that? Motive, means and—”
“I call that conjecture. Mr. Dobrowski may possess information that can corroborate what we already have on file regarding the existing suspects. That’s why he’s being questioned in Canada.”
“What? How can he not be a suspect? The divorce . . . the money . . . really? Greed is like a really, really strong motivator.”
Deputy Hickman turned and walked to the door. “Thank you for your time, Miss Ellington. As usual, it’s been most enlightening.”
“Give my regards to Eugene,” I mumbled, but he was already out the door.
Too furious to peruse winery emails or tackle the written stuff on my desk, I thundered into the kitchen and plopped myself at the table. A few seconds later, Cammy walked in. “Trouble in paradise? Grizzly Gary is making the rounds.”
“Ugh. Can you believe it? The one person who has the most compelling motive isn’t even a suspect. What’s wrong with these people? Devora was a witch on wheels but that wouldn’t have sent her into the pond bobbing for air. I guarantee, money had to be a factor.”
Cammy pulled up a chair and leaned toward me. “Aside from Gerard not wanting to part with his money, who else may have needed to fill their coffers?”
“Beats me. All of the crew members are paid well and the actors certainly are. But maybe one of them is so deep in debt that doing away with Devora seemed like the only option.”
“If that’s the case, it’s a well-kept secret. Stephanie, Theo, and I scoured the internet and couldn’t find anything that would lead us to believe one of those guys was in over their heads. They all app
ear to be solid workers. Steady, stable, and focused.”
“Damn it! Too bad one of them didn’t have a gambling problem.”
There was an opened box of crackers on the table and I reached in to grab a few. “Oh, crap. Deputy Hickman has all the resources known to local law enforcement and he can easily pull up their bank accounts. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with Glenda’s crazy friend Zenora and the even crazier aura reveal.”
“Remember, that was your idea. If it fizzles like a bad sparkler, you can’t point a finger at anyone else. Not to get you even more nervous, but have you followed the weather reports lately? The unpredictability of spring storm Neville has got all the meteorologists baffled.”
“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as they say. They always exaggerate to get viewers.”
“Um, have you looked outside in the past hour? It’s continuing to come down.”
“It’s that wet stuff. The road crews are keeping up with it.”
“Unless it turns colder. I wish they’d tell us when that secondary front is supposed to come through but no one knows.”
I laughed. “You know what they say about the weather in the Finger Lakes? If you don’t like it, wait five minutes. It will change.”
I had no idea how prophetic my statement was until later in the day when all hell broke loose. The wet, heavy snow continued to fall and it kept our vineyard guys pretty busy shoveling walkways instead of tending to their usual duties. In addition, we needed to run a plow through the parking lot every few hours so our customers wouldn’t wind up stuck at Two Witches. Since Sam and Roger lived the farthest away, I sent them home along with Lizzie, and told Fred to close down the bistro. He showed me where he kept a few premade sandwiches just in case and thanked me. Only Cammy and I remained at the winery, and she wasn’t too worried about driving home. With an all-wheel-drive car, studded snow tires, Bluetooth, and Hum motor assistance, Cammy was pretty confident she’d make it back to Geneva in one piece.
