From Port to Rigor Morte

by J. C. Eaton

  “Hey, you owe us for finding the perfume woman whose smell was on the body behind the wine.”

  “Fine. I’ll add M&M’s or something to my shopping list.”

  “Make it Snickers and Milky Ways. We like those better.”

  I ended the call and hustled back to my table. “How did you enjoy that blend?” I asked. “It’s our most popular. Especially around Halloween.”

  As I listened to their comments and took out another wine for tasting, I couldn’t seem to shake the same unsettling feeling I first had when Eli told me about the perfumy smell. Funny, but I didn’t need Zenora or Glenda to tell me there were energy waves moving around. I had already located the source and it was Eli Speltmore.

  Chapter 30

  The first thing I did after the winery closed and I went home was to take out my laptop and run a property search for that house. Apparently Zenora and Glenda weren’t the only psychics because I had been right all along. The owner’s name, according to the assessor’s office, was Barbara Stanowicz.

  I added that tidbit to my murder map and took Bradley’s advice. I wrote down what I knew and what I needed to know. For the first time since this mess dropped in my lap, I actually could fill in some of the blanks. If I wasn’t mistaken, Barbara not only owned that house but rented it out to seasonal workers. Convenient since she most likely got a list from her former employer, Brewer. Who may also turn out to have been her former lover if what that Coors guy told the bartender had any validity.

  I figured Barbara might have also gotten some compensation for offering up her backyard garage as the spot for those illegal poker games. Given Eli’s latest intel, she financed something and I doubted it was on the up-and-up. The other man that Eli overheard mentioned getting his hands dirty, so whatever business it was, it wasn’t kosher. The thought crossed my mind that Brewer found out and that’s what got him killed.

  Then there was Frank. If Eli was on the money with his description, then the man who dressed like his principal, aka the “hands dirty” guy, was also the same man he saw having that verbal altercation with Henry a few days prior to Frank turning up dead. I bit my lip and called Don and Theo.

  “I think I can connect the two murders,” I said, “or at least the same guy who was privy to them.”

  “Good evening to you, too, Norrie.” It was Don’s voice. “Usually our callers say hello before they mention murder.”

  “Sorry, but I’m really on to something.”

  “No worries. I was teasing. What’s up?”

  “Can you put the phone on speaker? That way we won’t have to repeat it for Theo.”

  “Done.” Then I heard him yell, “Theo, get over here.”

  I gave a fast rendition of my conversation with Eli before asking, “What do you think? I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Both guys admitted I was on to something but unless we could positively identify the man in the suit who had the verbal encounter with Henry, we weren’t going to get very far. And asking Henry himself was out of the question.

  “See if you can wheedle it out of Delia,” Theo said.

  “I’ll give her a call tomorrow. I’m sure she’s frazzled beyond belief with that murder investigation and their gala release event.” If they’re not behind bars by then, along with the Troberts.

  Meanwhile, I had enough on my own plate. Steven Trobert was due to grace the Finger Lakes on Sunday and I had to stop that at any cost. I told Don and Theo I’d keep them posted and they agreed to do the same.

  I read somewhere that if someone’s working overtime to figure something out, the best thing they could do was step away from it for a while and do something menial. Like housework. Or cooking. Like that was ever going to happen. So I did the next best thing. I returned to Kisses on a Sandy Beach and reread what I had written.

  And while my characters dined on lobster tails and corn on the cob, I was relegated to chicken pot pie compliments of Marie Callender. About an hour before dusk, I took Charlie out for a stroll around the vineyards and looked forward to a peaceful night of couch lounging and channel surfing, but the minute I stepped into the house I saw the landline blinking and played back the message.

  It was Delia and she was frantic. “Norrie? Is Eli over there with Stuart? Laura Landrow called me a half hour ago. The boys were outside all afternoon and never came in for dinner. I wouldn’t put it past them to bike up to your winery. Call me.”

  That horrible pit in my stomach that I had when Theo and I dropped the boys off at Stuart’s house on Sunday came back with a vengeance. Exacerbated only when Eli told me they had been seen spying on Barbara and her two gentleman acquaintances. I immediately returned Delia’s call, and even though I tried to sound upbeat and optimistic, I was afraid she wouldn’t fall for it.

  “Laura told me she’d been cruising the neighborhood for the past forty minutes and nothing,” she said. “No sign of them. She even drove to the docks at the marina and asked around but no one saw them. I suppose that’s a relief in some way. Being so close to the water and all . . .”

  “Did she call any of Stuart’s other friends? Maybe they went there.”

  “That was the first thing she did, and no. No one’s seen them. I hoped they were at your place. Henry’s at the Ramada Inn in Geneva. He called an impromptu meeting with the wine trail board in order to fill them in on the, um, er . . . well, you know. The situation. I didn’t want to call him right away but I’ll have to do just that. Laura told me she called the sheriff’s office. I don’t know if I should drive to Dresden or stay here.”

  “It’s probably best for you to stay where you are. In case someone needs to reach you. I’m sure the boys are fine and simply lost track of time.”

  “It’s getting dark.”

  “That never stopped me when I was a kid. I’ll call Theo from the Grey Egret and we’ll cruise around Dresden, too.”

  “Thanks, Norrie. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  I gave her my cell number and phoned Don and Theo the second I was off the line with her. Theo had the same sinking feeling I did about Eli and said he’d wait for me on their porch.

  Most likely sheriff’s deputies would knock on doors and ask the usual questions, but they didn’t know about Eli and Stuart’s venture to Barbara’s rental house. Like it or not, I had to let Grizzly Gary know.

  The non-emergency line was manned by one of the deputies since Gladys got off work at five. I asked to be connected with Deputy Hickman, but unfortunately all I was able to do was leave him a voicemail.

  “I’ve got to hit the road, Charlie,” I said. “I’ll be back soon. Be a good boy.”

  The dog, who was otherwise occupied licking his paws, looked up and returned to his task. I grabbed my lightweight jeans jacket, my wallet, my cell phone and two bottles of water before racing out the door to get Theo.

  “If you’re thinking the same crummy thing I am, we’d better not say it out loud,” Theo said as he opened the passenger-side door and got in my car.

  “Oh, I’m thinking it, all right, and a whole lot worse, too. I really could kick myself for not doing something when Eli told me he and Stuart had been seen by Barbara and her cohorts.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the ones responsible for the boys’ disappearance. Don’t beat yourself up. They could be anywhere, doing any idiotic thing.”

  “Okay, but my money’s back to that house. Either those two decided to have another go at it or someone made sure they’d keep quiet.”

  “So essentially we’d be breaking into that house and having a look-see.”

  “Yeah, for starters. Not that we haven’t done that sort of thing before.”

  “Not in private houses.”

  “It’s the same principle. And if a window’s open, then it’s only entering not breaking and entering.”

  Theo groaned. “Tell me what law school you graduated from.”

  “Very funny.”

  By the time I got off Route 14 and
drove down Dresden’s Main Street, dusk had turned to night and the place looked eerily foreboding. The only illumination came from porch lights and they were dim at best. I thought perhaps we’d see blue and red flashing lights from sheriff’s deputy cars but that wasn’t the case. Maybe they were on Bogart Street and hadn’t backtracked to Main.

  I drove past the notorious clapboard house and parked down the block. “It’s a Monday night,” I said. “We’re better off parking here than behind the Dresden Hotel. It’s not crowded on Mondays and someone’s bound to notice my car.”

  “Good point.”

  “I think our safest bet is to sneak around by the huge oak tree on the side of the house and try the windows. If they’re locked, we move to Plan B.”

  “Which is?”

  “Pick the lock.”

  “You’ve done that before?”

  “No, but I’ve watched enough Hailey Dean movies to see how it’s done.”

  “That woman carries an arsenal of lock-picking tools. I’ve seen those movies, too. What have you got?”

  “An old paper clip in my pocket and a plastic comb.”

  “We better hope we can pry a window open.”

  Unfortunately, we couldn’t. Theo and I tried all the windows and every one of the casement windows was locked. To make matters worse, lights were on upstairs. That meant someone was home in spite of the fact there weren’t any cars in the driveway. If seasonal workers were renting the place, their manager would pick them up and drive them directly to the winery. We had to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible.

  “We can’t walk away from this,” I whispered. “Eli and Stuart could be in there. What about those basement windows?”

  Theo took out his phone and beamed the flashlight on one of the window wells. “Don and I had to replace two of our basement windows last spring. Even if we manage to open one of them, it will be a nightmare. Especially if they’re hopper windows.”

  “Hopper?”

  “Yeah. They hinge to the bottom of the frame and tilt inward. Can’t very well climb over glass to get in. Only one way to find out. Here, hold my flashlight and keep the beam low. I’ll check it out.”

  The next word out of his mouth was crap followed by damn window well.

  “Can you open it? Can you get in?”

  “The good news is that it’s an awning window. It hinges from the bottom out, so yeah. But one of us will have to shimmy through it and try not to land in the window well. Uh, maybe shine the light down there and make sure there are no snakes or mice.”

  “Ew. Forget it. I’m going to try the side door diagonal from the oak tree.”

  An old screen door wobbled when I pulled it toward me and for a minute I thought it was going to come loose. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the wooden door. When I pulled on the doorknob, it didn’t budge. That’s when I realized something. The lock was in the doorknob and it wasn’t a deadbolt. In fact, it was probably the original lock circa 1940.

  “We can do this, Theo. And I don’t think I need to use my paper clip. Do you have a credit card handy?”

  Nancy Grace would have been proud. With Theo aiming the flashlight beam on the lock, I slid the credit card down with one hand and turned the knob with the other. I don’t know who was more surprised when it opened, Theo or me.

  “Quick! Before anyone sees us,” I said. But it was too late. A blue and red flashing light came out of nowhere and I was positive whoever was behind the wheel of that sheriff’s car spotted us. I shook Theo’s arm. “How fast can Don post bail?”

  Chapter 31

  The car pulled over and I heard the door slam just as Theo and I skirted to the rear of the house. “Maybe they didn’t see us,” I said under my breath.

  We plastered ourselves against the wall and held still. I tried to think of a credible excuse for trying to get inside the house but it was useless. I’d have to tell all. Then we heard a knock that turned into a pound. The deputies were at the front door. That meant I could unclench my fists.

  “The front door probably opens into a foyer with an upstairs door and a downstairs one,” I said. “I hear voices but it’s impossible to understand what anyone’s saying. Want to risk hugging the side of the house and moving closer?”

  “No.”

  I stood fixed against the house and my body stiffened up. Seconds later a creaking sound signaled the front door being closed. Theo grabbed my wrist. “Stay still.” A few seconds later we heard a car door slam followed by the engine starting up. He let go of my wrist and stepped back. “We can breathe again. They’ve moved farther down the block.” He moved away from the wall and leaned his head toward the right side of the street. “See for yourself.”

  “No time to waste. Keep your flashlight on. Even if the electricity is turned on in the house, we don’t dare switch on the lights.”

  As we entered what appeared to be a mudroom I wondered if that’s how it felt to be a cat burglar—pent-up energy coupled with excitement. I wanted to shout “Eli! Stuart! Are you here?” but I knew better. People were definitely upstairs. That meant we had to walk slowly and systematically through the place, peering into cupboards, closets, pantries and any other potential hiding spots. I used the word hiding as opposed to the other grim alternative. Other than a small kitchen and living room, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom that would have made Tarek and Christina from Flip or Flop gag.

  Nothing. No sign of the boys. Theo kept his voice low and opened the narrow door in the kitchen that led to the basement. He flipped on a switch and motioned for me to follow him, insisting the light from downstairs would hardly be visible to anyone who happened by. He said something about fifteen watts at best and I rolled my eyes.

  “Keep this door wide open,” I said. “Last thing we need is to get trapped down there.” Two steps down and something icky brushed the top of my head—cobwebs. “Do you see anything? Can you hear anything?”

  “Old furniture and you talking.”

  Like the basement in our farmhouse, this one had a dirt floor, too. A dirt floor and even more dust and dirt on the discarded furniture down there: broken chairs, an armoire that was missing its cabinet door, a toppled-over side table, and a few lamps without the shades.

  “What else do you see?”

  “Not much, it doesn’t look as if— Oh, no.”

  “What? Oh no what? What do you see?”

  “A huge horizontal freezer.”

  In that instant, every single horror movie I’d ever seen came to life in my mind. Suddenly I was woozy and nauseous. “Is it locked? Please don’t tell me it’s locked.”

  “There’s a lock on it but it looks as if someone forgot to close it. Maybe they were in a hurry or thought they didn’t need to lock it. Seriously, I don’t think anyone’s used it to store food for a long time.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I tripped over the cord. It’s unplugged.”

  Salty saliva filled my mouth as I walked closer to the giant monstrosity huddled in the far corner of the basement a few feet from an ancient oil storage container. “We’ve got to lift it open. I can do that, but I’ll do it with my eyes closed.”

  “It’s probably piled high and deep with food that went bad three decades ago. Although I don’t smell anything. Maybe those freezers are really airtight.”

  “I’ll lift. You look.”

  I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please don’t tell me what I’m afraid you’re going to tell me.”

  “I’m going to tell you that you can open your eyes. There’s nothing perishable in here. Only an opened file folder box that’s jam-packed. See for yourself.”

  “Who stores files in a freezer?” I grumbled.

  “I don’t know. Someone who can’t afford to buy a file cabinet? Let’s go. Maybe it’s time we should find Deputy Hickman so you can tell him what you know.”

  “I suppose you’re right. We’re getting nowhere here. But before we leave, I’m takin
g some photos of those files. This is Barbara’s house and for all we know those files could implicate her in something. Eli was adamant she said something about financing and payback. We could be looking at the proverbial smoking gun. The one that explains Brewer’s murder.”

  “Or old cooking recipes, but what the heck? I’ll snap some shots too.”

  Surprisingly, the file folders weren’t old and brittle. They were still malleable, making it easy for Theo and me to open them and take pictures of the correspondence inside.

  “I wonder why she didn’t stick this stuff on a flash drive and call it a day?” I asked.

  Theo moved a few pieces of paper around and pointed to the dates. “The folders may be new but the contents aren’t. Converting files takes a lot of time. Much easier to stash this stuff in a place where no one’s bound to find it.”

  “Except us.”

  “Yeah, we seem to have all the luck.”

  “Holy cannoli! These seem to be financial agreements between Barbara Stanowicz and a number of different people. But check it out—the witness signature on the bottom of these says Emerson Boyd. And Barbara was the passenger in his car during that fender bender.”

  Theo bent down and eyeballed the papers. “Harrumph. I figured Boyd was into something with Frank since an exclusive release from Henry would mean beaucoup bucks for them, but this has nothing to do with wine distribution. Think it’s the same Boyd?”

  “It has to be. How many Emerson Boyds are there? Come on, we’d better get the heck out of here.”

  I figured if Deputy Hickman wasn’t at Laura Landrow’s house, another deputy would be there and he or she would know where I could find Grizzly Gary. When I pulled up to the corner of Bogart and Main, I saw two sheriff’s cars, both with flashers on. “Might as well get this over with,” I said to Theo.

  The off-white split-level house looked surprisingly larger with all of its lights on. I walked quickly for fear I’d lose my nerve. Thankfully Theo was only a foot or two behind me or I might have changed my mind. The door was ajar and a female deputy stood between it and the front steps.