Sauvigone for Good

by J. C. Eaton

  “As much as I’d enjoy reprising my role as one of the Hardy Boys, I’m going to pass. We’re shorthanded today and I’m needed in the tasting room. Two of our employees wound up with pinkeye. Talk about Don going berserk disinfecting.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Listen. Don’t do anything that would give anyone a reason to think you have something to hide,” Theo said.

  “Don’t worry. You’re beginning to sound like Francine.”

  “Good.”

  It was now a little past seven, and I figured Godfrey was up by now. His phone number was on the wall next to our calendar under the list of emergency contacts my sister had written. Since June, I had added two more—Tony’s pizza delivery and Rosinetti’s Bar. Cammy’s family owned that Geneva establishment and more than once she’d had to bail some family member out by taking over their shift.

  Godfrey barely had time to say hello when I cut in. “Jules Leurant was found dead this morning in the parking lot. Not ours. Geneva on the Lake. Deputy Hickman woke me up to give me the grim tidings. Their preliminary guess is poisoning from our Cabernet Sauvignon.”

  I went on to reiterate everything I told Theo, including my “plan of action” to snoop around the resort.

  “Are you really sure that’s such a good idea? You might be better off letting the deputies do their job.”

  “According to Deputy Hickman, we’re numero uno on their suspect list. If it turns out Jules was really poisoned from drinking our wine, I have to find out who’s responsible because it sure as hell wasn’t any of us.”

  “What does Franz say about all this?”

  Oh, good Lord! Franz! Right now, he’s probably on his way to the winery—completely clueless about Jules.

  “I, uh, er, what the heck. I totally forgot to call our winemaker. Deputy Hickman got me so worked up I moved right into investigation mode without giving any thought to communicating with my own staff. How can I be this lamebrained?”

  “Give yourself a break. Your mind is working on fast-forward, that’s all. Same thing happened to me once with the classification of the lepismatidae. Of course, I was just a sophomore at the time, but—”

  “The lepismatilda or whatever that thing is, wasn’t lying face down dead in the snow, having just consumed a glass of our wine. I’ve got to get ahold of Franz.”

  “Take a breath and calm down. It’ll be all right. I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and it’s lepismatidae. You know, silverfish.”

  Silverfish. The last thing I felt like thinking about. I wondered if Francine had to endure these kinds of conversations with Jason. I thanked Godfrey for listening and immediately dialed Franz’s cell phone.

  “Franz? Are you on your way into the winery lab?”

  “Yes. I’m speaking over Bluetooth. Why? Aren’t the roads plowed yet? Everything’s pretty clear here in Ontario county.”

  “The roads are fine. It’s just that, well, do you remember anything odd toward the tail end of last night’s event?”

  “Odd? What do you mean odd?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe some sort of a scuffle or argument near the wine table.”

  “Can’t say that I did. Leandre from Terrace Wineries and I were talking about this year’s vintage in comparison to prior years’, but we weren’t standing next to the wine table. Why?”

  “One of the chocolatiers was found dead in the parking lot this morning. Face down and buried in the snow.”

  “Stanislav! I knew it was only a matter of time. Did his paramour’s husband shoot him? That ongoing affair has been all over the internet.”

  “What? No. Not Stanislav. Jules. Jules Leurant.”

  “Someone shot the chocolatier from Belgium? Why? What possible motive?”

  “Not shot. Maybe poisoned. Poisoned from our Cabernet Sauvignon.”

  “My God! That’s impossible. That’s outrageous. Are you certain?”

  “I’m not certain of anything. It’s what Deputy Hickman told me this morning. Until lab results are in, we won’t know. What we do know is it appears the last thing Jules put to his lips was our wine.”

  “This is a catastrophe. It will be all over the news. Pray tell they won’t mention the wine, will they?”

  “Oh no. They might. The footage shows someone pouring that Cab-Sav into Jules’s glass. And that footage came from one of the TV stations, according to the deputy. That’s how the authorities found out.”

  Franz didn’t say a word and, for a minute, I thought we had lost the connection. “Franz, are you still there?”

  “Yes. Sorry. All of our Cabernet Sauvignon was bottled at the same time. And all of it came from the same barrels. If that man was poisoned, it was after the fact.”

  “I know. I know. At first, I thought maybe I should have Cammy pull those bottles from the shelf, but then it would look really suspicious. Besides, that wine’s already been distributed up and down the state, not to mention the surrounding ones. It’s been months and no news of wine-related deaths anywhere. Still, it doesn’t look good for us, does it?”

  “No, I suppose not. Would you like me to inform Alan and Herbert or is that something you plan to do?”

  “I need to take care of some other matters, so please let them know and please tell them to keep everything hush-hush.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Hush-hush. I grimaced. Here I was telling my winemaker to keep this matter quiet when I’d all but been shouting about it from the rooftops. Of course, I had to let Theo know. And Godfrey. And now Cammy. It was business. Not gossip. Not yet, anyway.

  I glanced at the wall clock and couldn’t believe I’d been talking for over forty-five minutes. Cammy had to be up and about by now so I wasted no time adding one more call to my morning’s “to-do list.”

  Cammy picked up on the second ring and, for a second, I forgot everyone had caller ID these days. “Norrie, what’s up? Is Route 14 really bad at the winery?”

  “Uh, no. The road’s fine. Plows have been up and down. Salt trucks, too. I can hear them from the house. That’s not why I called. We seem to have a bit of a situation.”

  “Uh-oh. What do you mean, ‘bit?’”

  “Arrgh. I really wish you could have attended last night’s event with the chocolatiers.”

  “Me too. You probably had more fun than I did, but what did you mean by ‘situation?’ Did the power go out in the tasting room?”

  “No. Someone’s lights went out. Permanently.”

  “Huh?”

  I sighed and took a deep breath. By now I could recite the scenario in my sleep. “Jules Leurant was found dead in the snow holding a glass that contained our wine. Our wonderful, now-under-suspicion-of-poison Cabernet Sauvignon.”

  “Holy Cannoli! How did you find out?”

  “How else? Grizzly Gary paid me a house call first thing this morning. I’m still in my loungewear, so to speak.”

  “Please don’t tell me he thinks our winery had anything to do with this.”

  “The winery? No. Most likely me.”

  Chapter 7

  The road into Geneva was wet, but otherwise clear. The shoulders, however, were piled high with snow that was bound to turn yucky in a day or two. So much for a nice scenic drive up the lake. As I expected, the parking lot in front of Geneva on the Lake was plowed to perfection. I found a decent spot for Francine’s Subaru off to the side of the building and walked to the front entrance.

  Godfrey wasn’t kidding when he said the place would be crawling with deputies. A full line-up of official Yates and Ontario County vehicles bordered the perimeter of the driveway and a few feet away, near the entrance to the ballroom, was a ribbon of crime scene tape that formed a huge rectangle in the parking lot. A single deputy stood over the spot and it appeared as if he was taking notes on an iPad.

  As tempted as I was to approach him, I knew
better. Instead, I went directly to the concierge desk and smiled at the middle-aged woman seated behind it.

  “As you probably surmised,” the woman said, “we had an incident here last night. An unexpected death in our parking lot. One of our chocolatier guests.”

  Unexpected or perfectly planned?

  “I know. I’m one of the winery owners who attended the event. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I need to pick up our remaining bottles of wine from the kitchen. I’m Norrie Ellington from Two Witches in Penn Yan.”

  “Oh dear. I’m not sure there’s anything left in there. Those deputies have been hauling out boxes for the last hour. I have no idea about the contents, but they did come with a search warrant. Woke up some poor Ontario County judge.”

  “Wow. What could they possibly be looking for?”

  “I don’t know anything of an official nature, but I’ve had my ears perked up since I got here at five. The words ‘substance’ and ‘toxic’ kept coming up. Usually it’s ‘stroke’ or ‘heart attack.’ Believe it or not, we’ve had other deaths in our resort before, but they were all due to natural causes. Nothing natural about this one.”

  “Um, how can they be sure?”

  The woman motioned for me to lean closer to her desk. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but it will probably be on the news at some point. When they found the body, the man’s clothing was frozen and all rumpled up. I overheard one of the forensic people telling that gnarly-looking deputy from Yates County that it appeared as if the man originally fell backwards and then someone made a point of rolling him over into the snow so he would be facedown.”

  Wonderful. Next thing I know our winery will be accused of doing that as well.

  “That’s horrible. Then again, maybe he did have a heart attack and staggered around in the snow.”

  “Honey, if that was the case, we wouldn’t have half the county deputies in here. Listen, if you really need to get those wine bottles of yours, I suggest you use the side entrance. It’s in the back and clearly marked KITCHEN. I’ll call and let them know. Did you bring your own cart?”

  My cart? How can I be so dense? Who goes to pick up bottles of wine without a handcart?

  “I thought your kitchen would have a cart. Once the carton is in my car, my staff can haul it into our place.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense. Drive your car around back, too. Much shorter distance.”

  I thanked her and did exactly as she said. Unfortunately, the moment I chose to enter the kitchen was the exact moment Deputy Hickman chose to exit it.

  He took one look at me and let out a groan that could be heard in Cleveland. “Miss Ellington. I thought I made it perfectly clear you were to stay away from this investigation.”

  “You did. I am. Staying away.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Thought I’d save our winemakers the time and pick up our unused bottles from last night.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now. Everything has been seized for evidence.”

  “Everything as in food and wine?”

  “Yes. The consumables.”

  I pretty much figured that would be the case, but I wondered if those deputies were also busy ransacking Jules’s room for clues to his death. In the movies, and my screenplays were no exception, the police were always scouring the victim’s room. It was one place I needed to check out. Still, if I could get in there, the place would be picked over like Best Buy after Black Friday. Nevertheless, I’d kick myself in the pants for not trying.

  “Fine,” I said to Deputy Hickman. “I need to use a restroom and then I’ll be on my way.”

  He muttered something and brushed by me. I waited a few seconds and then stepped inside. The kitchen entrance was straight ahead, but there was a stairwell a few feet away. I immediately took it to the second floor instead of the elevator farther down the corridor. I distinctly remembered Catherine telling Theo and me that the chocolatiers were all assigned deluxe suites, complete with Jacuzzis, on the second floor. Now, all I needed to do was find out which one belonged to Jules Leurant.

  If anyone’s timing could stink, it was definitely mine. The instant I opened the stairwell door to the second floor, I noticed Stanislav and Allete emerging from the room cattycorner to where I was standing. I pulled the door partially shut, allowing a narrow opening for me to eavesdrop as they walked past to the elevators.

  “Mon Dieu!” Allete said. “This is all we need.”

  Stanislav ran his hand down her cheek. “Stay composed and be brief with your answers. Tell them how saddened you are at the loss of such a great talent.”

  “You mean blowhard. Is that not the word?”

  Stanislav laughed. “Indeed it is.”

  Their voices faded as they approached the elevator, but I had heard plenty. Unfortunately, it was all hearsay as far as anyone else was concerned. Most likely, Allete and Stanislav had been summoned for questioning by one of the deputies. I wondered if Earvin had already been questioned or if he’d be making an appearance in the hallway as well.

  I took a tentative step away from the stairwell and glanced in the opposite direction from the elevators. No guesswork regarding which room was Jules’s. It had to be the one with the door ajar and a wooden chair in front that held the sign, “Do Not Enter.” It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to reach the conclusion that a forensics crew was inside.

  So much for the hopes I had of finding a threatening message or even a flash drive with who-knew-what on it. Instead, I hit a wall. At least as far as Jules’s room went. However, that interesting little bit of intel from the receptionist regarding the placement of Jules’s body was quite telling. If indeed that was what happened. And if so, why were those deputies so intent on checking our wine for possible poisons? Was this simply part of the protocol when a corpse was found holding an edible or drinkable substance? Damn. Why couldn’t Jules’s body be found with one of those tasteless cucumber sandwiches in his hand?

  Then I realized something. Maybe someone had tampered with the glass of wine Jules drank but not to poison him, but to temporarily knock him out. Face it, finding a lethal poison like cyanide wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but lacing a drink? Probably more common than I could imagine.

  My mind flitted from scenario to scenario as I stood by the stairwell. Was the person who laced Jules’s wine the same person who messed with his body in the snow? Or maybe it was a crime of opportunity, and whoever turned his body over had nothing to do with putting him there to begin with. Or maybe he really was poisoned.

  Theo would tell me it all came back to motive and everyone in this little chocolate and wine festival seemed to have one. Earvin, if he had half a brain and half the talent his uncle did, could climb to the top as Belgium’s next chocolatier extraordinaire. He’d be at the right place to prove it, too. All that notoriety.

  As far as Stanislav and Allete were concerned, it was a no-brainer. Eliminate the competition. But what if Jules’s death had nothing to do with his skills as a confectioner? What if it was something else entirely? Was he blackmailing anyone? Did he scorn some revenge-seeking woman? I had absolutely no confidence that those deputies would expand the perimeters of their myopic investigation, but that didn’t mean I had to accept the status quo.

  Suddenly I remembered something—Cammy’s friend handled the reservations for Geneva on the Lake. It wasn’t like I’d be asking her to divulge a state secret. All I needed to know was if anyone else had arrived from out of the country. Identification was usually requested at the front desk. Driver’s licenses, passports, military documents…I ducked back into the stairwell and phoned our tasting room.

  Glenda answered on the first ring and mentioned something about an air purification ritual in case the negative energy surrounding Jules’s death somehow managed to permeate our establishment.

  “Uh
, thanks Glenda. I guess Cammy must have shared the news with everyone.”

  “She didn’t have to. I could sense something awry when I walked in.”

  “Give it a break,” Sam shouted in the background. “It was all over the radio with the farm report.”

  “Never mind,” I said, “put Cammy on the phone, will you? This is important.”

  Next thing I knew, Cammy was at the other end. “What’s up? Please don’t tell me you’re in any sort of trouble over there. When you mentioned taking a drive over this morning, I knew I should have stopped you.”

  “I’m fine, but I need your help. That friend of yours who handles the reservations…can you give her a call and ask her if anyone checked into the hotel this past week from another country? Other than the chocolatiers. It’s really important. I can’t very well knock on the door to their business office and demand information. I already pried some juicy stuff out of the concierge. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Where are you exactly?”

  “On the second-floor landing in their stairwell. Allete and Stanislav walked past me a few seconds ago. They had no idea I was behind the door. A forensics crew is in Jules’s room as we speak.”

  “You can’t hang out in that stairwell forever.”

  “Then call your friend and get back to me right away. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve been in hotels before. The chambermaids don’t clean until the afternoon and the dining service will use the elevators. Hurry up. I really need to know.”

  Cammy moaned and told me to give her a few minutes. I leaned against the stairwell wall and fiddled around with my iPhone. Facebook. Emails. The weather app. A thud from the door below me. Crap. Someone was taking the stairs.

  I shoved my phone in my pocket, exited the stairwell and made a beeline for the elevator. If I didn’t turn around, no one would know who I was. Unfortunately, that meant I wouldn’t know who had emerged from the floor below. I pushed the button and stood absolutely still, but didn’t hear anyone. Finally, I turned around and noticed a woman a few feet away holding a cup of coffee in one hand and sliding her room card into the lock with the other. Maybe she had a fear of elevators. Or maybe stair climbing was on her fitness list. At any rate, she didn’t notice me and that was all that mattered.