From Port to Rigor Morte

by J. C. Eaton

  “I couldn’t very well do anything except tell him to get the caller ID from the phone and call me back. And as for your second question, he came here because he knew the sheriff’s deputies wouldn’t believe him. Smart kid. Oh, and he wasn’t about to tell his parents because he’s in deep you-know-what from the other incident.”

  “Do you think maybe you should call Deputy Hickman?”

  I shook my head. “With secondhand hearsay? And from a kid, no less?”

  “What about Henry Speltmore? Think there’s any validity to what Eli heard?”

  “He heard words like blackmail and a veiled threat about Brewer’s body. That tells me Henry may know more about the murder than anyone. Right now I’m banking on Eli having some luck with caller ID. And there’s more. When Lizzie gets back, come over to the bistro for a few minutes and I’ll tell you. I’m starving and liable to chew my arm off.”

  “Go! Eat! See you in a bit.”

  It was lunchtime and the bistro was bustling. I had Fred make me a ham and Swiss on rye and helped myself to a bottle of iced tea. Emma was so busy with salads, I don’t even think she saw me in front of the counter. As I walked toward a two-person table, Cammy approached.

  “Lizzie’s back! Talk about good timing. What else were you going to tell me?”

  “Do you want something to eat?”

  “I had a big breakfast. I’ll wait until later. So, what else is going on?”

  I bit into the crusty bread, savored it for a few seconds and then spoke. “Last night I talked Godfrey into poking around where Brewer’s body got dumped.”

  “Momma mia!”

  “Relax. We didn’t go near the crime scene tape, only the surrounding area to see if we could find any evidence that the forensic team missed. I figured they would stick to the direct route but Godfrey and I fanned out.”

  “And?”

  “And we lucked out. Here, see for yourself.” I reached in my pocket and showed her the scarab bracelet.

  “It’s fourteen carat gold, Norrie. Not some cheap costume piece.”

  “I know. I looked it over last night and that wasn’t the only thing we found. Or the only thing that happened to us.” I went on to tell her about the bungie cord and the couple who were in the woods looking for something.

  “I think they were after the bracelet. Maybe they killed Brewer and it slipped off of the woman when they dragged his body. They had to come back and find it. I mean, why else would two people be in the woods at dusk?”

  Cammy propped her elbow on the table. “You tell me. You and Godfrey were in there.”

  “We were looking for evidence. They were looking for that bracelet before the sheriff’s deputies found it.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe not.”

  “Oh, I think so. Besides, the guy said something that made me think he had a gun. Godfrey and I literally flew out of there. Thank goodness those bushes are thick and they didn’t see us. We drove off but skirted back and watched them. Someone picked them up and dropped them off at a wide pull-off down the road from the woods. Then they got in their own car, a white SUV. And get this—I have the license. And a photo of them.”

  Before Cammy could say a word, I took out my cell phone and showed her the picture.

  “Um, it’s kind of grainy. They could be anyone.”

  “I know. But I’ve got a license plate. I’ll make sure everyone at the winery has a copy and we can all keep an eye out if that car pulls into our parking lot. I mean, it’s not as if I can turn the license plate number over to Deputy Hickman.”

  “True.”

  “I’ll make sure to hand it out at the WOW meeting and I’ll call Don and Theo later.”

  “Mind if I take another look at the bracelet?” Cammy asked.

  I handed it to her and she rolled it over in the palm of her hand. “Looks like these are cabochons.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know. Gems that are polished but not faceted. They don’t look like resin or anything man-made.”

  “I’ll show it to our tasting room staff. Maybe someone will remember seeing a woman wearing it. People are always holding out their wineglasses for the next taste, and if that bracelet dangled, maybe someone will remember whose arm it was attached to.”

  “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Cammy held the bracelet in the air, and at that moment Glenda appeared.

  “Sorry to interrupt but the T-shirt company is on the phone for Cammy. It’s about the fall order.”

  Cammy stood, handed me the bracelet and said something about catching up later. While she rushed off, Glenda zeroed in on the exquisite piece of jewelry and winked. “Is that a gift from Bradley?”

  “Um, no. It may be a piece of evidence that can link us to Brewer’s killer. Godfrey and I found it near the scene of the crime last night. Too bad we have no way of knowing who it belongs to.”

  Glenda closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “I may be able to help. Well, not me, but Zenora.”

  I widened my eyes and didn’t say a word. If I thought Glenda was a tad on the eccentric and offbeat side, she was the epitome of normalcy compared to Zenora. From sage-stick house cleansings to ritualistic chants and séances, Zenora had all bases covered. I cringed in fear of what Glenda had in mind.

  “Zenora is learning a new art—communicating with the dead through the objects they loved and treasured.”

  Heaven help us.

  “Uh, the person who owns this bracelet is still breathing.” Or at least I think she is.

  “That will make the process go a whole lot easier for Zenora. She won’t have to navigate through the barrier that separates the living from the dead.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Her sense of touch will enable her to feel the essence of the owner and thus contact her spiritually.”

  “And then what? Let Verizon or T-Mobile take over?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Zenora will draw the person to our winery. I’ll call her when she gets off from work. You can thank me later.”

  With that, Glenda rushed back to the tasting room. I stared at the remainder of my ham and Swiss sandwich for a moment before taking another bite. I wasn’t sure if Zenora’s newly honed skills would help matters or hinder them, but I figured in the long run it probably wouldn’t matter.

  Chapter 13

  Funny how Don, Theo, Godfrey, and Bradley all had the same reaction when I told them about Eli’s visit. If it could be summed up in a single sentence, it would read, “Call Deputy Hickman.” Of course, Godfrey’s reaction had a postscript—“Hand over the evidence from the woods.”

  I rang up Godfrey as soon as I washed down my sandwich since I knew he’d be in his office mulling over one insect or another, but I waited until early evening to call everyone else. I figured Don and Theo would be up to their necks with customers and Bradley would most likely be with a client or worse, with his boss, Marvin Souza, the most demanding lawyer in New York’s Southern Tier.

  I promised the guys from the Grey Egret that I’d let them know if Eli was able to get an ID from the phone but it wasn’t looking good. It was after seven and I hadn’t heard from him. Bradley was dying to go over all the details with me but it would have to wait until we got together Friday night for dinner at the Red Dove Tavern on Castle Street, a place we’d discovered recently.

  Resigned to the fact I wasn’t going to get any further with my so-called investigation that night, I took Charlie for a long walk, read and rewrote what I had written on my screenplay, prepared a tuna salad for dinner and sank on the couch like a rock. Occasionally I’d review my notes in the murder notebook but I was at a standstill. At least I had Thursday’s WOW meeting to look forward to. Not so much for the business and updates, but for the gossip and hearsay. This was one time I counted on some of those women to come up with information about Brewer and Boyd.

  At a little after ten I called it a night and crept into bed. I was out fast and in a deep sleep
until a sharp ringing noise jolted me awake. At first I thought it was the smoke alarm until I realized it was the phone. The clock on my nightstand read twelve fifty-three.

  Oh, no. Something’s happened to Francine and Jason. Or maybe even my parents in Myrtle Beach.

  Every nerve in my body was now on high alert and I could feel pounding in my chest. “Hello? Who’s calling?”

  “It’s me, Eli.”

  “Eli! There’d better be a bogeyman about to attack you because it’s almost one in the morning!”

  As soon as I said that, I felt horrible, because what if something awful was going on?

  “I couldn’t call you during the day. My mom was like on top of me. Watching everything I did.”

  And for good reason.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Uh-huh. I did what you asked and checked the answer machine screen. There were only two calls and I even wrote the times down for you.”

  “Hang on. I need to get a pen and paper.”

  I was notorious for sticking pens in my jeans pockets so finding one was a no-brainer. As for the paper, I grabbed an old L.L. Bean catalogue that was on the top of my dresser and turned to a page that had plenty of blank space between the photos.

  “Okay,” I said. “Read me what you’ve got.”

  Eli’s voice was soft and low. “I think I heard someone going to the bathroom. I gotta whisper.”

  “Fine, whisper.”

  “315-719-9463”

  “Great. Did you see any other numbers?”

  “Yeah. Lots of numbers after that but they were mostly wireless caller and private caller. Oh, and one from Martinez.”

  Martinez. It had to be Madeline or someone from her winery. Not very unusual. All the winery folks talk with each other. Besides, it was after the fact. But something about the first number looked familiar.

  “Thanks, Eli. And next time call me during the day.”

  “You’re gonna let me know what you find, right?”

  “I’ll do my best. Good night.”

  Eli’s call left me wide awake but at least my heart didn’t feel as if it was about to jump out of my chest. I stared at the number he gave me and then picked up the landline phone to take a closer look at the last four digits—9463. I knew the number sounded familiar but needed to check to be sure. Right on the money! It spelled out the word wine, and that number belonged to Libations, a chain of liquor stores in the Finger Lakes that sold our wines as well as most of the wines from the Seneca Lake Wine Trail.

  Crap! It would be impossible to figure out who placed that call or which store it came from without knowing the extension. And as for the other call Eli mentioned, I had no idea if Madeline called to speak with Henry or Delia, or if someone from her winery called to speak with their winemaker, tasting room manager, or vineyard manager. No matter. It didn’t send up a red flag and I didn’t need to pry into their business. I had enough on my plate with Brewer’s murder, Henry’s impending doom, and Steven Trobert two steps away from getting reconnected with me. Ugh!

  I crawled back into bed since the last thing I needed was Charlie getting up and deciding to go out. With skunks, raccoons, and coydogs all over the place, I didn’t need to invite trouble. Instead, I mentally mapped out a plan that I hoped would bring me closer to finding out who did Brewer in.

  The next morning, I did what I should have done the instant I found out who Davis Brewer was. Drat. Nancy Drew would be one step ahead of me. As soon as I finished my breakfast and made sure Charlie had fresh water and food, I got dressed and drove a few miles down the road to where Routes 54 and 14 connect. Off to my left was Dresden, a small village on the lake that’s part of the Penn Yan Central School District and home to the cooperative office for the seasonal workers. Even though our winery didn’t use their services, I still knew where their business was located.

  I wasn’t sure who, if anyone, would be manning the office in Brewer’s stead but there was only one way to find out. Like the Dresden Post Office, a small white clapboard building that looked as if it had been snatched from a fairy tale and plunked on Seneca Lake, the Seasonal Worker Cooperative Office had that same cottagey style. It was a tad larger than the post office and a few yards down from it on a shady street with four or five private residences.

  A red Ford Focus with assorted bumper stickers that touted animal rights was parked off to the left. I parallel parked a few yards behind it and walked toward the building. The front door had one of those cowbells dangling over it, and the minute I turned the knob and gave the door a push, the bell clanged. The sound startled the woman who was seated at the weathered Mission- style desk in front of me and she looked up.

  She appeared to be my age with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, freckles that peeked through her makeup and a slew of mismatched earring posts in both ears that all but screamed quirky and perky. Her desk was piled high and deep with papers that towered over her computer. Off to the side was a smaller desk that might, at one time, have come from a school. From my vantage point, I could see the door to her right opened to a room with a conference table and a few chairs. As for restroom facilities, it was anyone’s guess. The oak-paneled walls were filled with safety posters and inspirational sayings like “Splash in the waves of change” and “Stay calm and farm.”

  “Can I help you?” She pushed a stack of papers away from the center of the desk and smiled.

  “I’m Norrie Ellington, the co-owner of Two Witches Winery in Penn Yan, and I wanted to find out about your seasonal workers. Um, uh, in case we need to hire extra hands during our fall crush.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with your winery. Our cooperative works with a few of your neighbors. Unfortunately, well, I’m sure you must have heard the news since it’s such a tight community and all, but our manager, Davis Brewer, was found dead a few days ago. Today is the first day I’ve been back in the office since I found out. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “That was your boss? The news mentioned his questionable death but I must not have paid attention when they gave specifics about his employment. I’m so sorry.”

  The woman nodded. “Thanks. I’m Melissa. I started working here a few months ago when Barbara Stanowicz retired. I didn’t know Mr. Brewer all that well but he seemed very nice. I can’t imagine anyone killing him. I keep thinking it had to be an accident and someone got scared and hid the body.”

  With that, Melissa reached across the desk to a box of tissues and pulled one out. “Excuse me. I get teared up all the time and have to replace my eyeliner at least twice a day.”

  Eyeliner, huh. I have to remember to put it on in the first place.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ll be happy to give you our pamphlet about the seasonal workers and we have a website, too. It’s listed in the pamphlet. Basically, the winery hires our company for an agreed-upon fee depending on the work and time needed, and we pay the employees an hourly rate. It’s that simple. That way your winery doesn’t have to deal with individuals or carry insurance for them. We do.”

  “So, uh, you operate more like a private contractor than a cooperative.”

  “More or less. But the workers do buy into the company. Mr. Brewer, if he were here, could explain things better.” She paused and dabbed her nose with a crumpled tissue. “Right now, I’m kind of in limbo until I hear from the other office on Cayuga Lake. They contacted me on Monday and, well, I was such a wreck, I had to stay home yesterday.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of understandable. Um, I know you’re new but did Mr. Brewer seem to have a problem with anyone in particular?”

  She shook her head. “A gruff-looking sheriff’s deputy asked me the same thing before you got here. Kind of ornery. You must have missed him by about fifteen minutes.”

  Heaven be praised!

  “Deputy Hickman? Gary Hickman?”

  “Do you know him? Please don’t tell me he’s a relative of yours.”

  “No. He’s the lead dep
uty in the county.”

  “I kind of figured as much. He didn’t strike me as someone who could work for a boss.”

  I laughed. “You got that right.”

  Melissa folded her hands and placed them directly in front of her. “Since you’re not in a hurry to hire seasonal workers, you may want to wait a few weeks until things settle down. All of the information is in that pamphlet and on the website. Oh, and to answer your question, the only issues I knew Mr. Brewer had were with Speltmore Winery and Lake View Winery. But those issues were about employee pay and benefits. That’s not the kind of thing that results in murder, is it?”

  Does the name Jimmy Hoffa ring a bell?

  I stepped closer to her desk. “I know this is none of my business and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, but what about his personal life? You know, like wife and kids?”

  “He wasn’t married but that’s all I know. Gee, I probably shouldn’t have told you as much as I did but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. And thanks for the information. I appreciate it.”

  Just then, Melissa unclasped her hands and looked at her wrist. “My right arm feels naked. I used to wear a favorite bracelet all the time but somehow I lost it. Now I suppose I’ll have to buy something else.” Then she grabbed another tissue. “I can’t believe I mentioned that. My boss was found dead the other day and I’m worried about a stupid bracelet. An expensive one, mind you, but still . . . what kind of person am I?”

  Oh, I don’t know. Killer? Assassin? Murderer? Accomplice? My list is never-ending.

  “A sentimental one?”

  “I suppose.”

  It was the perfect opportunity for me to find out if she was the woman Godfrey and I saw coming out of the woods, but as my luck would have it, the phone rang and she took the call. With a quick wave, she mouthed, “Thanks for stopping by,” and that was my hint the conversation was over.

  It was only ten forty but I was famished. The three chocolate chip cookies that I washed down with a cup of coffee could only go so far. Thankfully a healthier option would be waiting for me at the bistro, but before I could make my way over there, I got intercepted.