by J. C. Eaton
“The storm, maybe. But unless that deputy apprehends the person who strangled Devora and then returns my passport to me, I may be stuck in Renee’s stable of romance actors until I’m too old to kiss.”
I stood and stepped back from the bed. “I should get going. Oh, before I forget, Renee asked me to review the footage from the filming. I invited the cast and crew to my house Wednesday around seven so we could all watch it together. Before you say anything, I already spoke with Don and Theo from the Grey Egret and they promised they won’t let you out of their sight. In fact, one of them even offered to drive you there and back.”
“That won’t be necessary. Gordon already told me and I made him swear he’d be my bodyguard for the duration. I should have mentioned it.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you Wednesday night. Our bistro chef is preparing the food so no one has to worry about my cooking, or the storm, for that matter. It isn’t expected until after midnight.”
At that moment, a nursing assistant stepped into the room and I slid the chair away from Priscilla’s bed. “Um, guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Get some rest.”
“I will when I’m on that plane to LA.”
• • •
The next two days were an absolute bust in terms of getting any further with my so-called investigation. Other than constant phone tag games with Stephanie, Theo, and Godfrey, not to mention quick conversations with Cammy, all we were left with were the same two questions:
“Did you hear anything?”
“Was anyone arrested?”
Stephanie was chomping at the bit to be part of Zenora’s aura reveal but understood that my kitchen and living room could only hold so many people. “Besides,” she said when I spoke with her from my winery office, “I can’t leave Derek and the boys in the house if that storm decides to sock us in tonight. Not only will the place look as if a demolition crew showed up, but they’ll stuff themselves full of frozen pizzas, pop, and more candy than most manufacturers can produce in a year.”
I told her it was a good thing Brouse Candies was moving into the area when I literally had an epiphany and rushed to end the call so I could phone John Grishner. It was right in front of me all the time but I never gave it much thought. John had mentioned ordering Concord grape root stock in December and being one of the last vineyards to do so. That meant the other wineries must have known the candy company was a done deal. And if so, Gerard Dobrowski had to have used his and Devora’s monies to finance that venture. It wasn’t only the fortune he wanted to acquire, but the one he used without Devora’s knowledge. Even more reason to get her out of the picture.
“John, it’s Norrie. Listen, remember when you said you were the last vineyard manager to order Concord root stock? Well, do you know who the first one was? It’s important. I need to find out how they knew the candy company was coming long before everyone else did.”
“They didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“Not them. The CEO of Brouse Candies. Can you find out?”
“Give me a few minutes to sift through the papers on my desk. By the way, we’re bringing Alvin into the big barn this afternoon in case Neville dumps too much snow for us to handle. Alvin hates the barn but we’ve got a nice stall all fixed up for him and he can ride it out with the farm equipment we’ve got stored. Your brother-in-law was insistent we have a backup plan for his goat in case of emergencies.”
Heaven help the farm equipment. That goat will spit all over it.
“Um, good idea.”
John cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah. The root stock. If I remember correctly, someone mentioned it late last summer during a Cooperative Extension meeting. I’ve got those notes in one of these piles. Hang on and I’ll call you back.”
Less than forty minutes later I had my answer, only it wasn’t a winery that knew about Brouse Candies relocating to the Finger Lakes well before the rest of us, it was our own Cooperative Extension. It seemed Brouse Candies had contacted them regarding the availability of Concord grape juice in the coming years.
My original theory began to take hold. Gerard Dobrowski paid someone on that film crew to murder his estranged wife. That’s why he was in the area, not to check on a manufacturing plant location that he already had in place. But who did he pay off ? Who was the conniving rat on that film crew? And how did Priscilla fit into any of this?
I crossed Gordon off my list even though he lied about his plane flight. For all I knew, he could have been canoodling with another woman in Toronto before rekindling whatever was going on with him and Priscilla. No matter what, he was off the hook as far as Devora’s note was concerned. Whoever Devora responded to had obviously approached her about a new location for the shooting and it certainly wasn’t Gordon. That left the usual suspects—Gavin, Stefan, Skylar, Mickey, and Rikesh. It was enough to make my head spin.
I shook my head and stared at the blank screen on my computer. Then I decided to have another look-see at all the players. I perused their Facebook and Instagram pages until I developed an annoying twitch in my left eye. I closed the laptop and was about to chat with Fred regarding tonight’s refreshments when something occurred to me. It was regarding a photo I’d seen before. Call it instinct, call it a gut feeling, but whatever it was, I was pretty certain I knew who killed Devora and why.
The only way I could be sure was to set a trap. And if I expected it to work, I couldn’t very well tell the whole world about it. So I decided to share my devious little plan with the two people whom I knew wouldn’t blow it—Don and Theo.
“It’s kind of risky if you ask me,” Don said. “Kind of like waving a red cloak in front of a bull.”
“If you mean my plan is going to set the killer in motion, you’re right. But we’ll be on guard. Poised to watch every move that’s made.”
“Do you think we need to worry about Glenda and Zenora?” he asked.
I gulped. “I always worry about those two but they’ll be safe. They don’t pose any threats.”
Don’s voice sounded softer but maybe it was the phone connection. The wind had picked up a bit and that always did a number to landline reception. “I hope you’re right about this, Norrie. I’m already wishing the night was over and it hasn’t even started yet.”
Chapter 36
Fred drove to my house at a little before five with trays of ready-made sandwiches. Assorted breads, cheeses, cold cuts, and veggies. In addition, he had made a scrumptious-looking egg salad and an equally impressive imitation crab salad. Emma had baked fruit tarts and cookies for the screening and he delivered those as well.
“So far it’s only the wind picking up,” he said. “The real deal’s not supposed to start until after midnight so your aura-reveal-catch-the-killer shindig should be done by then. By the way, what are you going to do once you ferret out the culprit?”
“Um, call the sheriff and hope he’s not out issuing a traffic ticket or something.”
Fred chuckled. “Good plan. I hope it works.”
“Me, too. If not, Priscilla will have lost her chance for international stardom and the killer may literally get away with murder.”
“About tomorrow—”
“If that storm does what it’s supposed to, then all the roads will be closed for a while. Best bet is to check a news app from your phone. Satellite and cable may be iffy. I sent an email to everyone telling them the same thing. Seriously, what tourists are going to hit the wine trail when it’s buried under snow?”
“The same ones who do in the winter?”
“Yikes.”
I put the trays of food in the fridge, moving my half-full jars of mayo and ketchup to the crisper drawer. The pastries were fine on the kitchen counter and would stay there until I came up with a better idea. Then I did the one thing I’d meant to do since I last spoke with Don and Theo. I wrote a sign that read Keep Basement Door Shut and posted it.
Zenora and Glenda were to act as food servers whil
e Zenora did her aura-reading thing. I must have used the word inconspicuous at least a hundred times when I last spoke with the two of them. In addition, I made them a list that included: don’t chant, don’t touch anyone, don’t wave herbs around, and lastly, don’t set anything or anyone on fire. Glenda assured me that Zenora would be six to eighteen inches away from her subjects as per the protocol for aura reading, but still, I was worried.
Earlier in the week Skylar had informed me that I needed to clear a large enough area for him to set up a six-foot tripod screen for his HD projector, which needed to be on a table across from the screen. He mumbled something about two to three thousand lumens and how a larger screen would have been better, but theirs was back at the studio in Toronto. I assured him it would be fine no matter how many lumens there were. Then he went on to explain about sound systems and channel mixers.
It was worse than listening to Herbert, our winemaker intern, talk about fermentation and definitely worse than listening to Godfrey babble on and on about some species of insect. In a fit of exasperation I told Skylar that even if he brought a 1970s boom box, it would be fine. The guy groaned and our call ended. Now I had to figure out exactly how much space he’d need for the speakers and all those wires that came with it.
Godfrey was the first to arrive, having left the Experiment Station early. I offered him a sandwich but he insisted on waiting until everyone got here.
“At least have some juice or wine,” I said.
“Juice. I think I’m going to need all my wits about me tonight.”
Cammy and Glenda showed up at a little before six and parked their cars along the driveway. In the distance I could see the dim security lights in the tasting room. Theo and Don were the next two people who arrived. They, too, had locked their winery and parked along the driveway. Then Zenora made her appearance. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn she’d just left the stage following a performance of Cats. The only things missing were the cutesy cat ears and whiskers.
What part of inconspicuous did she not get?
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her tight-fitting black body suit complete with a silver fur bola. She slipped into matching silver slippers the minute she took off her boots by the kitchen door. My water-absorbing boot mat resembled a rummage sale table with everyone’s footwear piled on top of it. The standing coatrack was full but the large deacon’s bench next to it compensated by taking on a mound of outerwear.
Don, who was seated at the kitchen table, took one look at Zenora and poured himself a large glass of Chardonnay. Yep, no doubt about it. It was going to be one hell of a long night.
Bradley and I had already spoken about the evening and I knew where I stood. That left the film crew and the actors and I was beginning to get antsy.
“Relax,” Theo said. “They’ll come.” As if to prove it, he walked to the window, looked out and announced, “Was I right or what? A van is headed up the drive. It has to be them.”
Sure enough, Skylar, Mickey, and Rikesh were at the kitchen door complete with enough film equipment for me to open my own studio. Not to mention a box of streak-free microfiber cloths that Mickey had tucked under his arm. Once inside, I directed them to the living room, where I had cleared off space for their setup.
“Gavin, Gordon, and Priscilla should be here any minute,” Skylar said. “They’re driving together.”
I looked past him at the door. “What about Stefan?”
“He told us he’d drive here separately. Said he had a few things to finish up. Go figure.”
The crew immediately got down to business setting up the screen and the rest of their equipment, when Gavin, Gordon, and Priscilla showed up.
“My hair hasn’t looked this bad in years,” Priscilla said. “That wind made a tangle of it. Can you tell me where your guest bathroom is?”
Oh, my God! The guest bathroom!
In all my rush to make sure everything was set up for the filming and aura reveal, I had completely forgotten that my suspect clock was in full view over the mirror. I all but shoved her out of the way as I made a mad dash to get to the room. “Toilet tissue!” I proclaimed as if I’d discovered some rare mineral. “I need to replenish the toilet tissue. Give me a minute and then you can go in.”
I ripped the suspect list from the mirror and wadded it up in a ball that I stuffed under my sweatshirt. From there, I raced past the living room and upstairs, where I tossed the paper wad into the guest bedroom and closed the door. Seconds later, I directed Priscilla to the guest bathroom.
“My goodness, Norrie,” she said. “You didn’t have to rush on my account. All I needed was the mirror.”
As Priscilla headed to the bathroom, I noticed Don was now seated next to Gavin on the couch with Theo across from them in a wingchair. The three of them appeared to be deep in conversation, with Don hanging on Gavin’s every word while Theo kept readjusting his position in the chair.
Gordon, unfortunately, was trapped at the kitchen table by Godfrey, and when I walked past them to find Cammy, I heard Godfrey say, “I’d be happy to forward you a copy of my study on the Mediterranean flour moth. You know, it isn’t only grain stores that are faced with that pest. The Plodia interpunctella can be a nuisance in the home as well.”
Before I could interrupt Godfrey, Zenora crept up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “I have to fixate on someone’s presence to get a good reading,” she whispered.
I pulled her aside and whispered back, “What do you mean fixate?”
“You know. Stare at them. Look deeply at their faces.”
“Try to look deeply without creeping them out. Maybe they’ll take their time when they select a sandwich.”
“Should I start now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“Hey, everyone!” I announced. “Stefan should be here any minute, but meanwhile, my friends Cammy, Glenda, and Zenora will be serving sandwiches and assorted salads. Wines and juices are on the dining room table so help yourselves. Also, take a plate, utensils, and napkins. Once everyone is here, we’ll get a sneak peek at the film.”
“Can you tell me again why we’re doing this?” Gavin asked.
Gordon immediately seized the opportunity to extricate himself from Godfrey and walked toward me. “Because Renee insisted the screenwriter view the footage. Said she wanted to make sure the film was in keeping with the tone of the story.”
“Geez,” Gavin replied. “We’ve never had to do that before.”
I had to think fast before everything unraveled. “Um, maybe it’s because of the change in directors. Continuity and all that.”
A few people grumbled but once Cammy, Glenda, and Zenora moved about with the sandwiches they quieted down.
“What the hell’s keeping Stefan?” Skylar asked. “Don’t tell me he decided to buff his boots or something. Heck, it’s not like we’re screening this thing in Hollywood.”
“Are you all set?” I asked him.
“Uh-huh. We’re good to go. The sooner we show it, the sooner we can get out of here. No offense. The food looks good but that wind is getting stronger. The windows are rattling.”
Another joy of living in an old farmhouse in the Finger Lakes.
“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
I kept my eye on Zenora and prayed she was able to do whatever it was with the auras. Just then, the lights began to flicker and the already strong wind got even more intense.
“Maybe something happened to Stefan’s car,” Priscilla said. She was now seated next to Gordon in the living room and a good distance from Godfrey.
“I’m sure he’d call,” Mickey said from the other side of the room. “I’d give it another ten minutes and let’s get this show on the road. All we need to do is turn down the lights.”
Zenora let out a gasp that took all of us by surprise. “Turn down the lights? You mean dim them?”
“Yeah. Dim them,” Mickey said. “We need ambient lighting to view
the film. Why? What’s so earth-shattering about dimming the lights?”
“Vision problems!” I announced while grabbing Zenora by the elbow and ushering her to the kitchen. “The poor woman has vision problems.”
Once in the kitchen and out of earshot, I whispered, “What’s the matter?”
Zenora wrung her hands. “In order to read the auras, I rely on peripheral vision. I need light. And a calm, soothing atmosphere.”
Too bad she didn’t take a course on speed-reading for auras because the film crew was getting restless and I could only put off the screening for so long.
“Um, do the best you can. Improvise.”
Apparently that’s exactly what Zenora did because for the next thirty or forty minutes, I watched her maneuver around our guests, but more importantly, I watched our guests maneuver themselves as far from her as possible. She did, however, manage to corner me near the staircase.
“Bunch of perfectionists if you ask me. Mostly yellow and oranges,” she said.
“Who? Which ones?”
She pointed out Skylar, Rikesh, and Gordon.
“What about the others? Could you get a reading?”
Zenora closed her eyes and inhaled. “That actress’s aura was practically screaming. I’ve never come across such a brilliant red color.”
“Red? What does it mean? Don’t tell me I was wrong about her.”
“I don’t know what you thought, but given her aura, she’s competitive and, well, let’s just say she enjoys her sexuality.”
I looked over to where Priscilla was standing and noticed she kept touching Gordon’s arm. “Uh, yeah. That’s about right.”
That left Gavin and Mickey, but before I could say anything Zenora told me she was having trouble reading their energy centers. Something about cloudy chakras. Or was it murky chakras? Anyway, it didn’t matter. The landline rang and I rushed to pick it up from the extension in the kitchen. “It’s Stefan!” I shouted.
