Death, Dismay and Rosé

by J. C. Eaton

  “We’d better hurry. I don’t even know what time it is but Billy was in a rush.”

  “It’s only one forty-five.”

  “One forty-five?” I practically shrieked. “The race starts at three. They’ll be lining up any minute now. Yeesh. I can’t believe it’s one forty-five already. It took us forever to trek around this place.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a mega raceway, not the local amusement park.”

  “Just point me in the right direction, and so help me, if I hear the words Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines, I’ll heave.”

  “Uh, I believe the command is now ‘Drivers, start your engines.’”

  “Whatever. I’m not going to let them get away with this. And I’m not referring to Vance’s unfortunate demise, I’m talking about Alex’s.”

  “Gotcha. But one more thing. Promise me you won’t do anything to disrupt the race or make a blazing spectacle out of us. I’m a tenured research entomologist and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “No problem.”

  Godfrey motioned me to follow him as he hugged the fence that separated the bays and media building from the track. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. Throngs of raceway aficionados flooded the area. It was as if they came out of nowhere along with their kids. And not just kids. They came with kid paraphernalia—strollers, baskets that turned into strollers, and small rolling carts filled with God knows what.

  I’m going to put off parenthood indefinitely.

  Then there were the handholding couples who wouldn’t dare let go of each other to let us pass by, not to mention the packs of teens and the guys who just turned twenty-one. Easy to differentiate. The legal drinkers held up their beer cans like trophies.

  A few cars were on the track but a quick look told me they weren’t the race cars. Godfrey mentioned official track cars checking the road surface and things like that, but I didn’t pay attention. I was focused on getting to the pit area, where I could convince whoever was in charge to prevent Augie Lennox from racing. In retrospect, I would have had better luck launching the space shuttle.

  “There’s a break in the crowd,” Godfrey announced. “But don’t get your hopes up. We’d have to get over the two fences that separate us from the track. And before you say climb them, take another look. They’ve got hardware cloth wrapped around them. Impossible to get a foothold.”

  “You can hoist me over. I don’t weigh that much. All I want to do is inform one of those men what’s going on. It’ll be simple. He’ll radio to whoever’s in charge and they’ll be forced to talk with us and confront Augie and his crew. It’s not as if we can go straight to the top, so to speak, because we don’t know where or who the top is.”

  Godfrey groaned and looked in both directions. “Okay. Fine. Might as well get it over with. But I can only get you past one fence. The rest is up to you.”

  “Wait! I don’t think you’ll need to boost me over the fence. There’s a gate a few yards away.”

  There was a gate, all right. And it was guarded by Hagrid’s dog. Okay, fine. Maybe the guy wasn’t quite as intimidating but he was formidable enough. At least six foot tall and no stranger to bench pressing weights.

  I gave Godfrey a quick tap on the arm and raced to the gate. Still panting, I looked directly at the guy. “I need to get inside the fence and speak with one of the officials. It’s urgent.”

  The man gave me a cursory look and turned to face the track. “You have to wait with the rest of the press in the media area,” he said with his back facing away from me. That was the instant I realized the gate wasn’t locked and he wasn’t looking. I shoved it open with a kick and an elbow before running between the two fence lines. The hum of engine motors from the track vehicles drowned out his words but I could pretty much ascertain what he was yelling about.

  Without bothering to answer, I charged ahead. Two men were leaning over the fence a few feet away from the track. Both of them had radios pressed to their ears, and in my mind it couldn’t get any more official than that. I immediately shook the nearest shoulder and the guy spun around in a nanosecond.

  “You’re off-limits,” he said. “Don’t know who let you in but you need to return to the grandstand.”

  Just then, the announcer’s voice blared, “Drivers, begin lining up in position. Drivers, begin lining up in position.”

  I had every intention of providing a clear, succinct explanation of events leading up to my discovery regarding Augie Lennox’s crew. Unfortunately, the minute I heard “begin lining up,” words spewed out of my mouth like a geyser. And they didn’t just spew.

  I screamed, “Stolen engine . . . murderers . . . Vance Wexler . . . chloroform . . . Augie Lennox, but not him, I don’t think, his crew . . .”

  “Whoa, whoa,” one of the men said. “Slow down. How much have you been drinking?”

  “I’m not drunk, you moron! I’m telling you that one of the pit crews murdered someone and I can prove it. They stole the guy’s engine, too. Listen, you have to contact the officials and stop this race.”

  “No one’s stopping the race,” the other guy said. “You can wait in Hospitality and have a nice chat with one of our deputies once we call security.”

  “I don’t want a nice chat with one of your deputies. I want the men responsible for committing a crime to be arrested.”

  My words fell on deaf ears, and it didn’t look as if I had any other options. That was the moment Godfrey shouted from his side of the fence. He was out of breath from running but that didn’t stop him from bellowing, “Who knows what they could have done with their engine!”

  In that second, one of the men got on his radio and the next announcement I heard was, “The lineup is delayed by thirty minutes. Repeat—the lineup is delayed by thirty minutes.”

  “Find me the nearest track official,” I said. But before either of the men could answer, a sheriff’s cruiser with his red and blue lights flashing made its way to the grandstand.

  “There’s your nearest official,” the first guy said. “Stay put until your escort arrives.”

  Godfrey held up his hands and shrugged from the other side of the fence while I stood motionless waiting to be taken into custody. Minutes later, we were seated in a restricted security area not far from the pit terrace and media area.

  A lone deputy sheriff paced back and forth shaking his head. “Once again, if you don’t mind. From the top.”

  I pinched back my shoulder blades and groaned. “We already explained. And we wrote down statements for you. We have undeniable evidence that one of the race car drivers and his crew was involved in grand theft auto and murder.”

  The deputy shook his head. “A bottle of chloroform on a workbench in a garage is not evidence of theft. Unless it was your chloroform bottle. And as for murder, what evidence should I be looking at?”

  In my wildest imagination I never thought I’d mutter the following words, “Call Deputy Gary Hickman from Yates County. He’s at this race. Someone in your office is bound to have his number. He knows what’s going on.”

  The call to Deputy Hickman took less than five minutes, but I figured I must have hit a nerve with the Schuyler County deputy because the next announcement coming from the raceway was loud and clear: “There is another thirty-minute delay until lineup. Repeat—another thirty-minute delay until lineup.”

  I turned to Godfrey, who was seated next to me on a wooden bench, and whispered, “Finally. They’re taking us seriously.”

  Godfrey whispered back, “Don’t get your hopes up. My money is on county lockup. That’s where they’ll take us.”

  Chapter 45

  “Miss Ellington!” The deputy’s voice cut through the room like a razor. “God forbid I get to enjoy a day off.”

  “You’ll thank me. Honestly, you will.”

  Deputy Hickman rubbed his chin with such force I thought he’d scrape the skin off. Then he pulled a wooden chair close to the bench where Godfrey and I were seated. “I’m reading the no
tes the Schuyler County deputy handed me but I’ll need more. Start at the beginning.”

  I always thought the expression start at the beginning was reserved for old 1940s crime movies, but apparently not. For the next seven or eight minutes, Godfrey and I told him about Augie recognizing the key chain and the absolute positive ID I had on those three guys in his pit crew.

  “Augie knew Vance,” I said. “He pretty much admitted as much. Don’t you see? They were all in cahoots.”

  Deputy Hickman looked at his watch. “That may or may not be the case, but no one is in imminent danger and there’s no reason the race can’t go on as usual.” With that, he stood and walked over to the Schuyler County deputy. While they talked, the announcer came on again. This time to get the race underway.

  When Deputy Hickman returned, he held out his hand. “Guess I’ll need that little key chain you’ve been carrying after all.”

  I turned it over without saying a word.

  “Thank you, Miss Ellington. And now, if you don’t mind, the Schuyler County deputies and I will take it from here.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to arrest Augie and that pit crew? Does it mean you’re going to release Alex?”

  He shook his head. “It means . . . you need to go back home and let us proceed without any further interference.”

  “But, but―”

  “Miss Ellington, these county deputies can have you arrested for disturbing the peace. And trespass as well, unless those tickets the both of you are wearing are legitimate.”

  “They are. Arvin Pincus gave them to us. He’s an entomologist in Dr. Klein’s office. Got poison oak.”

  Deputy Hickman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Now, before either of you say or do anything that would give anyone reason to detain you further, I suggest you return home. Am I clear?”

  Godfrey and I nodded simultaneously. When we exited the building, the familiar “Drivers, start your engines” came on the loudspeaker.

  “I don’t suppose you want to stay and watch the race?” I asked Godfrey.

  “I’d rather deal with an infestation of bedbugs.”

  It was easier trekking our way back to the parking lot because everyone was gathered around the track. We walked in silence except for the occasional groan. Once on Route 14, we stopped for burgers and ice cream at a roadside stand but neither of us felt like talking.

  “I’ll call Gladys Pipp in the morning,” I said. “She’ll know what’s going on. I can’t believe we were so close and then, poof! Nothing.”

  Godfrey reached over and put his hand on my knee. “Quit beating yourself up. You were amazing. A tad reckless, mind you, but still, amazing.”

  His words, coupled with that reassuring feeling of his hand on my knee, made me wonder if maybe I should reconsider my relationship with him. Then thoughts of Bradley came to mind and I knew I’d be better off leaving things as is.

  When we reached Two Witches, I invited Godfrey in for some iced tea or even one of our wines, but he said he was exhausted and needed to head back to Geneva. With the winery closed for the night, I figured I’d let Cammy and the gang know what happened when Monday morning came around, but I couldn’t wait as far as Don and Theo were concerned. I was about to pick up the phone when Theo beat me to the call.

  “Good. You’re home. Don turned on the news and they had a special announcement regarding today’s race at Watkins Glen. The starting time kept getting pushed back. Don was adamant you had something to do with it but I told him you weren’t that nutsy-koo-koo. Were you?”

  “Arrgh. It’s a long, painful story. Good news is, Godfrey and I weren’t taken into custody.”

  Theo must have moaned at least half a dozen times when I explained what happened.

  “Poor Alex is going to rot in a cell thanks to me,” I said. Then Don got on the line and reassured me it wouldn’t be all that bad and that we’d revisit things in the morning.

  Once I said good night to them, I opened a bag of Wise potato chips, inhaled the aroma and dug in. Later, I sank down on the couch and channel surfed while Charlie snored at my feet. At some point I must have dozed off, because when I woke, it was pitch-black outside and I’d neglected to turn on any lights. At least the TV screen gave off enough light for me to pull the chain on the table lamp.

  No sooner had the light flooded the room than I saw another light—this time headlights coming up our driveway. I moved closer to the window and gulped. It was an official county car and I recognized it as the off-duty car Deputy Hickman drove.

  Oh, no. Now what?

  Without wasting a second, I flipped on the kitchen lights and opened the door to let him in.

  “I knew you’d badger my secretary first thing in the morning,” he said, “so I figured I might as well spare her the agony and let you know what ensued.”

  “Uh, great. Sure. Do you want something to drink? Iced tea? Water?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. I need to be getting home but felt I owed you this much.”

  Owed me this much? Oh, my gosh. Maybe it’s good news.

  We sat at the kitchen table and I forced myself to let him speak without interrupting him.

  “As it turns out, Miss Ellington, and believe me, I hate to say it, but you were right.”

  “Oh, my gosh! They killed Vance. And stole his car. And removed the engine. And―”

  “Hold your horses. The pit crew in question admitted to knocking out Mr. Wexler with chloroform while he was sleeping in his tent, and they confessed to stealing his car, which by the way has been located in a barn near the raceway. They also confessed to removing the engine and reinstalling it in Augie Lennox’s Porsche. But they emphatically denied smothering him to death. Had no reason to do so. They got what they wanted. Or in this case, what rightfully belonged to them.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. The engine belonged to Billy Sullivan and Augie Lennox. Quite a pricey piece of machinery if you ask me,” he said.

  “So what was it doing in Vance’s Karmann Ghia?”

  “Aha. The million-dollar question. It appeared Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Lennox had a number of gambling debts and the holder of their markers wasn’t about to take it lightly. The men were afraid their bookie would get ahold of that high-priced engine, car and all, so they approached Vance about doing them a favor.”

  “I don’t get it. Vance is in Geneva. Augie’s in Tennessee.”

  “Apparently, Vance is from the same hometown as Augie. They grew up together and were friends. Somehow Augie was able to convince Vance to let him replace his Karmann Ghia engine with the souped-up Porsche one. On a temporary basis only. Vance drove down there for an extended weekend and returned with a different engine under the rear.”

  “Holy cow!”

  “Vance was to remain mum about the swap and wait until the pit crew arrived in the Finger Lakes, where they would swap back the original engines.”

  “What about the other guys?”

  “Mr. Sullivan knew them from prior races. They worked for Glen Foreign Motors. Convenient, I’d say.”

  “So why steal the engine when it was going to be swapped back?”

  “Humph. Greed. It seemed the late Vance Wexler refused to give it up. Threatened them, in fact, if they tried to make a move near his car. Went so far as to suggest slapping them with a restraining order.”

  “Yeesh.”

  “According to Mr. Lennox and Mr. Sullivan, they felt they had no recourse but to steal it back. When they learned Vance was going to be camping out at Kashong Point, they devised a plan to steal the car. Even went so far as to pay off a couple of local fishermen to keep an eye out for anyone coming around asking questions.”

  Jerome and his buddy. So Jerome isn’t a liar after all.

  “Um, isn’t that enough of an admission to arrest them for murder and drop the charges on Alex?”

  “Like I said, they had no reason to kill Mr. Wexler. Unlike Dr. Bollinger, who had an ironclad motive—prese
rving his insect study. Most likely, Dr. Bollinger went to use the restroom, saw what was going on in Vance’s tent and took advantage of the opportunity to murder him. And yes, although we had initially booked him for premeditated murder, the charges will be changed to murder in the second degree.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”

  “I’m afraid, Miss Ellington, the arrest stands; but if it will make you feel any better, the gentlemen we have in custody have agreed to polygraph tests tomorrow. All the more reason I do not suspect them of murder.”

  “That’s splendid news,” I mumbled under my breath before thanking Grizzly Gary for paying me a visit.

  Chapter 46

  “Of all the insane theories,” I said to Charlie once the deputy got into his car and drove off. “First they think it was premeditated murder since Alex’s lab uses chloroform, and now they think he piggybacked on someone else’s actions. Oh, brother.”

  My mind was now on overdrive with an appetite to match. I nuked a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner, grabbed a Coke, and consumed everything in record time. “Imagine,” I told the dog again, “discovering someone being knocked unconscious with chloroform and then deciding to take advantage of that by smothering him with a pillow. As if Alex would ever― Oh. my gosh, not Alex, but someone else!”

  Suddenly Deputy Hickman’s theory was in full play. The only trouble was, I didn’t know who the someone else was. Certainly lots of people had motives, especially the ones Vance nixed regarding their building permits. I had to talk it out, and the only way I could was with someone who could distance himself from the situation yet provide me with the insight and direction I needed.

  Thirty seconds later I was on the phone with Bradley.

  “Norrie! Don’t you check your voicemail? I must have left at least three messages. Miss you like crazy and going crazy here at the same time.”

  “I miss you, too. And I’m going crazy. In fact, I nearly got arrested today.”

  “What?”