by J. C. Eaton
“The prior year was a fantastic vintage,” she said. “We’re hoping we’ll be in the same boat next summer and fall.”
As if on cue, Franz gave his report. The wine was in the aging process and, according to the samples the winemakers took periodically, all was going well. Bottling would happen next, but that was a while off.
I thanked Franz and turned to John. “I know we’ve had some changes here with the introduction of the Veltliner and some new Riesling vineyards. Like Cammy, I’m hopeful this fall’s yield will mean a good vintage for us.”
“Keeping our fingers crossed Mother Nature feels the same way. You do realize that the newer Riesling vineyards won’t really produce any viable grapes for another year or so. It takes that long for the grapes to have a decent flavor so even if the clusters look good, the taste won’t be. The vines have to mature.”
“But we’re okay as far as quantity goes, right? I mean, we have mature vineyards and varieties that have been with us for years.”
John clasped his hands together. “Absolutely. And worst-case scenario, we can always purchase grapes from the big vineyards in Hammonsport. But honestly, it won’t come to that.”
Peter sat motionless as John spoke. I wondered if perhaps I should include him in the conversation, so I asked if he had anything else to share about their progress.
“I think John’s got it covered. I was concerned we wouldn’t be able to get back into our new Riesling vineyard and replace the drip system, but on my way over to this meeting, I saw the yellow tape had been removed.”
If ever there was an introduction to the next part of the meeting, Peter made it. I was about to launch into the deputy’s request for the make and model of each employee’s car when I realized I still had to ask about concerns and suggestions. Not to mention the calendar of events. Thankfully, Cammy stepped in.
“The tasting room has a few suggestions for better traffic flow in the fall, but we can go over them with you at another time. Nothing major.”
Franz cleared his throat and held out a brochure for me to take. “We need to discuss which wine competitions to enter. The deadlines are fast approaching.”
“Can you make your suggestions to me by Monday and we’ll figure it out?”
“Certainly.”
That left John and Peter. They looked at each other and groaned at the same time.
“If you must know,” John said, “we’ve got all sorts of wackadoodles out there who are ignoring our signs to keep out of the vineyards. I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re snapping selfies and searching for ‘the dead body drop-off’ according to one lunatic.”
I cringed. “Aargh. What suggestions do you have? Does anyone have, for that matter?”
We batted around a few ideas, including hiring more tour guides who would essentially be vineyard monitors, but opted instead for roping off the entrances to the rows of vineyards.
“It’ll be a pain in the butt,” John said, “but ultimately, it’ll be worth it.”
Peter suggested posting “please protect our vines” signs and I said, “Good idea but maybe something like, ‘Watch for hazardous snakes’ might be more effective.”
The calendar of events, including the “Sip and Savor,” was reviewed in a matter of minutes. Before I knew it, it was time for the elephant. Not mine. Deputy Hickman’s.
“I suppose you’re all wondering what I’ve heard about the investigation. Especially since one of the sheriff’s deputies left a few minutes before our meeting started. Not much, really. Except for one thing. Well, maybe two. The case is now officially a homicide. They have reason to believe someone drove Elsbeth’s body to our vineyard through our woods. They’ve taken tire impressions and asked me to get the make and model of each employee’s vehicle. So, I’m passing around this sheet. No big deal.”
“I’m outraged,” Franz said, “that they would point a finger at one of us. Well, they won’t find my Volvo’s tires in those woods. I’m no Daniel Boone.”
John and Peter grumbled under their breath and jotted down the information. I already had Cammy’s.
“I’ll also need you to get the same information from the people on your crews—vineyard workers, Alan and Herbert in the winery and the entire tasting room and bistro employees. Here’s the form for each department.”
“Did he say what evidence he found?” Peter asked.
“No,” I lied. And not because Grizzly Gary directed me to “keep that information to myself.” I didn’t want to get the reputation of a tell-it-all. “The sheriff’s department isn’t sharing a whole lot of information with us.”
More grumbles. I thanked everyone for coming and stayed seated while they left. I didn’t want any of them to notice the giant perspiration spot on my rear end from the combination of nerves and heat.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Cammy said when the rest left.
“Oh yeah, it was. Francine owes me big time. By the way, no matter how much Glenda whines, we can’t hold a smudging ceremony or purification or whatever she calls it.”
“No kidding. Wine tasting is a sensitive business. The least little odors can ruin it. Look, Glenda’s a good soul and she’ll do as you say, but she’ll be persistent. I’m thinking maybe we can offer up that séance sometime and get it over with.”
“Okay. Okay. As long as it’s after hours. And outdoors.”
All sorts of bizarre ceremonial smells accompanied by wailing, keening or both immediately sprang to mind and I shuddered. When I walked into the tasting room, Lizzie motioned me over. “You got a phone call from Declan Roth. He wants you to call him back. He left the number.”
I took the slip of paper and tucked it in my pocket. My next stop was to grab a sandwich at the bistro. Whatever Declan wanted, and I was sure it was that lunch date, could wait.
One chicken chipotle salad later, I returned the call. I was back at the house checking for any new e-mails. I figured I’d get Declan’s call over with before I continued with my screenplay.
“Hi, Norrie. Thanks for getting back to me so soon. I won’t keep you. I wondered if you’d be free sometime next week for lunch. I’d really relish going over Vanna Enterprises’s plan for the Finger Lakes. I’m hoping I might sway you into seeing things differently. We can select a restaurant near your winery so you won’t have to drive into the Rochester area.”
My first instinct was to say no. Politely, of course, but emphatically. Then I had second thoughts. Declan Roth was my number one suspect for knocking off Elsbeth Waters. Like it or not, I needed to pursue that theory.
“All right. I’m not quite sure of my schedule, so how about if I give you a call the beginning of the week?”
“I’ll look forward to it. As much as to our lunch date.”
Yeesh. Why did he have to use the word “date”? “By the way, the flowers you sent were lovely. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“Glad you liked them. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Me too. Good-bye.”
“Me too?” Why the hell did I say that?
Detectives were really good at pulling information out of people without having their suspects realize what was happening. I had no idea how I was going to get Declan Roth to admit to his role in Elsbeth’s suspicious death. At least I’d bought myself some time.
With that looming screenplay deadline getting closer and closer, I all but chained myself to the kitchen and my laptop. Thankfully, the only interruptions I had were from Charlie. Once, around five to demand food, and an hour later when I swore he brought a decaying corpse into the house. Luckily, and I use that term loosely, he had rolled in something obnoxious but left it wherever it was. I was able to wipe him off with some wet paper towels I dosed with Dawn. I figured if that stuff was good for wildlife, it wouldn’t hurt the dog.
At seven-thirty, I called it quits and dug up on
e of Francine’s casseroles for dinner. Some kind of pasta and veggies. I flipped on the TV and, at that exact moment, the phone rang. It was one of those rare moments when I prayed it was a telemarketer.
“Norrie? Hope we didn’t disturb you. How’s it going?”
“Oh, thank goodness it’s you, Theo. I was beginning to get jumpy wondering what might happen next.”
“Yeah, that’s understandable. Listen, tomorrow’s Friday and Don and I are going to grab a bite to eat at Port of Call around seven. Want to join us? You can’t stay cooped up in the house all the time.”
The aroma from Charlie’s latest encounter with God-knows-what still lingered in the room. Maybe eating out would be preferable.
“Sure. Sounds great. Where’s Port of Call? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a new restaurant about five miles up the lake near Geneva. It’s got a fabulous deck for alfresco dining and the food’s wonderful. The usual stuff like steaks and seafood, but it’s their appetizer menu that keeps us coming back. It changes weekly. Don is smitten with their deck and refuses to eat indoors in the summer.”
“I’ll meet you over there. Unless Deputy Hickman returns with more tidings of good cheer.”
“What do you mean?”
I told him about the tire tracks and how the sheriff’s department wanted a list of our employees’ cars.
“Don’t sweat it. It’s all procedural stuff. They stopped by here, too, asking us to provide the same information.”
“I sort of embellished our list. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow night.”
“This I’ve got to hear.”
“Thanks for the invite. Catch you later.”
Funny, but our employees seemed more bent out of shape with that request than Theo or Don. I doubted it meant anything other than annoyance, but when I went to sleep, I found myself thinking about each and every worker we had at Two Witches and wondering if Elsbeth’s killer was one of them.
* * * *
If I was sitting in the kitchen of a murderess the next morning, it certainly didn’t seem that way. Not with the yellow and red gingham curtains that matched the farm-themed wallpaper in Stephanie Ipswich’s dining area. Then again, what was I expecting? American Gothic? I took in the cutesy decorations and fixated on the piglet salt and pepper shakers on the table. The refrigerator showcased what I presumed to be her boys’ artwork—finger paintings, cutouts of zoo animals and drawings of beach scenes.
“This is my last Friday morning of sanity for the next two months. The final day of school is this coming Wednesday. I feel like throwing myself over a bridge. Preferably one in the Caribbean.” Stephanie poured me a cup of coffee and motioned for me to help myself to one of her giant chocolate chip or cranberry muffins. Stephanie’s long blond hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and she reminded me of a younger version of Christie Brinkley. Even her voice was chipper. “I’m really glad you could stop over. I wanted to connect with you. This must be a nightmare. And to think I was alone in my house when all of it took place.”
“Oh?”
“My husband was at his sister’s in Watkins Glen. Her son is the same age as our boys and it was his birthday, so they invited us for an overnight. I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed here. Anyway, like I was saying, it must’ve been a horrible nightmare for you.”
I brushed some hair from my forehead and took a quick sip of coffee. “It’s creepy, that’s for sure. But not terrible. I mean, it’s not as if anyone at Two Witches was really close to Elsbeth.”
Stephanie shook her head. “I don’t know how anyone could’ve been. She was a miserable wretch of a human being. And I’m being polite. Of course, I probably have more reason to dislike her than anyone in our women’s winery group.”
Oh my gosh. I can’t believe she’s telling me this. “Uh, what do you mean?”
“When my husband and I left the West Coast to start a winery business in the Finger Lakes, we expected to expand. That’s the thing with wineries. Or all businesses, really. If you’re not growing, you’re dying. Anyway, we were poised to buy the property that we already own, which we did, as well as the Tyler property on top of the hill. A few days before our scheduled closing on the Tyler place, we got a call from our bank informing us the property had been sold out from under us to Elsbeth Waters. A cash deal.”
“Oh my gosh. Can they do that? Er, um, I guess they did. But how? You had a contract.”
“Unfortunately, there was a contingency clause that stated if someone made a cash offer, our agreement would be rendered null and void. We never, ever, expected someone to cough up half a million dollars for a rundown house and the accompanying acreage. Our attorney approached Elsbeth to see if she would be willing to sell us a portion of that acreage so we could establish vineyards for our winery. Needless to say, she refused.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Elsbeth Waters knew all along we were vying for that property, and she literally stole it from us. Of course, that didn’t stop us from continuing to approach her from time to time on the off chance she’d have a change of heart, but that never happened. Well, enough about Gable Hill Winery. How are you doing? Are you settled?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I really like our tasting room staff and I know Franz is a topnotch winemaker. Too bad John’s leaving in a year. Of course, that will be Francine and Jason’s problem when they get back.”
“I thought they had an assistant vineyard manager poised to take over.”
“Oh, they do. But between you and me, I think he’s somewhat of a jerk. Overly sure of himself and all that.”
“Good looking?”
“A ten out of ten.”
“Ugh. They’re the worst kind.”
We both laughed and Stephanie poured me another cup of coffee. “Elsbeth Waters may have hurt us financially, but I think there was something really fishy going on between her and Madeline Martinez.”
“Fishy how?”
“On more than one occasion, when I took Billsburrow Hill to get to Route 14 and Tops Market, I saw Elsbeth’s car in her driveway. Not the winery. The driveway on the left, to the house. Now what would Elsbeth be doing there?”
“Complaining?”
“I don’t think so. Her complaints were like microwave popcorn. Three minutes or she’d self-destruct. I’d see her car on my way up the hill and at least forty or fifty minutes later on my return trek. Something was going on, but I never got up the nerve to ask Madeline. Now, it would seem like an accusation.”
For you, maybe, but not me, if I can figure out how. “I see what you mean. By the way, what can you tell me about Declan Roth from Vanna Enterprises? He wants to meet with me.”
“Declan Roth? He must be the other partner. I’ve only met Lucas Stilton and it was bone chilling.”
“He’s that horrible?”
“Oh no. Nothing like that. He’s good looking, eloquent and extremely polite.”
“I’m lost.”
“I’m not sure how to phrase this so I’ll just spit it out. When I met him, it felt as if he was undressing me with his eyes. He never laid a hand on me, never said anything off-color or the least bit inappropriate, but there was something. A feeling I had that he was looking at me stark-raving naked.”
“Oh my God!”
“He stopped by our winery to introduce himself and tell me about Vanna Enterprises. When he left, I felt as if I needed a cigarette and I don’t even smoke.” Stephanie stopped for a moment, looking at me. “Are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I hope that, if I do meet with Declan Roth, he doesn’t bring his partner along.”
“If you do meet with him, meet in a public place, preferably with a friend. Those men can be very manipulative, and they’ll do anything to fulfill their agenda for that mega-winery. Don’t let them unnerve you.”
; “Thanks for the warning. Too bad it’s summer. It sounds as if I should be layering up in ski gear.”
I thanked Stephanie for her hospitality and headed home. If I was lucky, I’d be able to get in a few hours of writing before my brain turned to mush. Then I could always pester the tasting room staff.
Chapter 15
Port of Call was absolutely packed when I got there a few minutes after seven. I elbowed my way through their long indoor bar and maze of bistro tables until I reached the deck. Theo wasn’t kidding when he said the place was popular. Seneca Lake had a number of restaurants with boat docks when I was growing up, but they were mainly rustic in nature and their top culinary delight was usually a burger. Things had certainly changed.
I was staring at a chalkboard menu at the entrance to the deck and I was flabbergasted at the appetizer column. Lobster salad on kale, toasted asiago cheese straws, brioche rounds with goat cheese, shrimp canapes, nachos with Kobe beef and cheese and firecracker rolls with assorted fillings. The soups blew me away, too. Four different kinds of clam chowder and one spicy seafood chowder.
“Norrie! We’re over here!” Don shouted from across the deck. I don’t know how he and Theo managed it, but they were able to get us a table at the far end with a fabulous view of the lake.
“Wow. Looks like all the tourists decided to convene here, huh?”
“It’s always packed,” Don said. “Especially in the summer and fall. Then, when it’s winter, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. Did you check out their gigantic fireplace?”
“No, I skirted through the bar trying not to knock into anyone.”
“Hope you don’t mind but we ordered a sampling of appetizers. They should be here any minute.”
He waved a waitress over to take my drink order and then leaned back.
“Geez,” I said, “it feels as if I haven’t talked to either of you in ages and it’s only been a few days but so much has happened.”
Don sat bolt upright in his chair and scanned the deck. “It looks like mainly tourists here, but you never know. Ever since Elsbeth’s murder, I’ve had this unsettling feeling that I’m being watched.”