Chardonnayed to Rest

by J. C. Eaton

  I walked toward the pumping station and found myself staring at Roy Wilkes’ lifeless body. Face-up. I wasn’t as unnerved as I was the last time I found myself in this kind of situation. I figured it was because I only knew the guy from his wretched reputation.

  The first thing I noticed was his work boots–—well-worn brown leather boots that laced up to the ankles. The soles were still in pretty good shape, with plenty of tread left. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to get his money’s worth. I supposed I saw the boots right away because his feet were directly in front of me, given the direction I came from. He was wearing dark jeans and a dusty brown Carhartt jacket, with a few visible holes in the cloth. A large red stain seemed to be oozing closer to the emblem on the front pocket. Maybe Roy hadn’t been dead that long. One arm was twisted above his head and the other rested across his stomach.

  I tried not to look at his face, but it was near impossible. With that long brownish grey beard of his, the guy could’ve passed for thirty-eight or eighty-three. Hard to tell. His eyes, also dark, were wide open. Dead people in movies and on TV always had their eyes closed. Darn it! Why couldn’t Roy’s be closed? I was positive I’d be having nightmares for weeks.

  My ears hurt from the siren sound, and I knew the sheriff’s deputies had to be coming down Rosalee’s driveway. What I didn’t realize was there were two response vehicles, one with its flashers and siren in full force, and the other one not. That fact became clear to me when I heard a crunching sound a few feet from behind. I spun around and found myself face-to-face with Deputy Hickman. Deputy Gary (aka Grizzly Gary) Hickman.

  “Miss Ellington. I should have known if there was a dead body anywhere in the county, you’d be within spitting range. Please don’t tell me you were out for a morning stroll and just so happened to stumble across it.”

  “No. Rosalee Marbleton stumbled across it and called me. Well, actually one of her Corgis found the body. Then she called me.”

  “Unbelievable. The county has an excellent emergency response system in place, and who do people call? Their neighbor. So, I suppose you were the one who phoned it in. Am I right? I was out on another assignment when I got the word and drove over here. The other vehicle belongs to our forensics team.”

  Yep, couldn’t miss ’em. They probably woke up everyone in a five-mile radius.

  I looked behind the deputy. The forensics team was headed in our direction. Two men carried large black bags. I didn’t see Rosalee or Theo, but I imagined the forensics guys told them to stay in the house and wait.

  “Don’t go anywhere, Miss Ellington. I still need to ask you a few questions. But that doesn’t mean you need to be breathing over the investigators. You’ll need to walk a few yards back.”

  Would the next county be too far?

  I gave a quick nod, turned, and walked about ten steps when Deputy Hickman waved me over to him. “Forgot to ask, but, on the off chance, you wouldn’t happen to know who our victim is, would you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Roy Wilkes, but that’s all I know. Okay, not all.” I figured he was going to get the information one way or the other, so I thought I’d save everyone some time. “Roy Wilkes owns the lakefront property where the Marbletons’ waterline goes. Terrace Wineries rents that land from him. It used to belong to the Baxters, but they moved to Texas.”

  “You’ll need to slow down. Roy Wilkes, you said?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The deputy took out a pad and pen and wrote the name down. Then he re-directed me to wait a good ten to twelve yards away.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Um, is that blood on his jacket? Looks like blood to me. Maybe he was shot. Or possibly stabbed.”

  “Miss Ellington, I would suggest you limit your observations to your writing and not crime scene investigations. That’s why we have a forensics team. Now, please, wait a few yards back, or even better yet, why don’t you go to Mrs. Marbleton’s house? I can question you there as well as here.”

  I shrugged and took off for the house. Whoever shot or stabbed Roy Wilkes must’ve come from the north side of the lake. The joggers I’d seen said they’d been running for a half mile or so and hadn’t come across anyone. Given the fact the blood was still oozing, I was pretty sure Roy had met his maker at the first sign of daybreak. In fact, had Rosalee arrived a bit sooner, it was likely she would’ve witnessed a murder. It had to be the first inkling of daybreak because no one went walking around the lake in the dark.

  There were scuffle marks all over the sand and shoeprints everywhere. I doubted the forensics team would have much luck with the shoeprints. Probably every kid and tourist on summer break walked up and down that shore. Darn it. I should’ve looked around for a bullet shell.

  Rosalee was on the phone and Theo let me into her house. White with black shutters. It was a typical upstate New York farmhouse, with a large foyer and doorways that led to separate rooms—dining, living and kitchen. No open concept whatsoever. He pointed to the kitchen, which was directly across from the front door, while we waited in the hallway. From my vantage point, I had a bird’s-eye view of the room and immediately noticed the décor. Country kitchen for sure, with a round light oak table, not very different from my sister’s, and chairs with blue and yellow cushions that matched the curtains. Small flowerpots with violets and asters lined the ledge over her sink, while an enormous spider plant hung directly above it.

  “Shh! She’s talking with her sister and the conversation’s a doozy. Stay still and listen.”

  Rosalee’s sister, Marilyn Ansley, owned the actual land, while Rosalee and her late husband owned the winery business.

  Rosalee’s voice was surprisingly loud. “I don’t care if it is Pancake Day for your ladies’ club. You need to get over here now. I mean it, Marilyn. For all I know, I could be a suspect. What?”

  There was a slight pause and I held my breath. Then Rosalee resumed talking.

  “No. I don’t think he was out walking and dropped dead. I could’ve sworn I saw blood.” Pause “What’s that?”

  Again, another pause.

  “Of course I plan to do that, but his office doesn’t open until nine. I told you before. The only number we have is for the office. No attorney in his right mind is going to give us his personal cell phone number. What’s that again? Speak up.”

  Theo stifled a laugh, and I gave him a nudge.

  “A bail bondsman? That’s a little extreme, isn’t it? No one’s been arrested yet. Now get over here. You can eat pancakes some other time.”

  Rosalee slammed the receiver down, and Theo and I walked into the kitchen. Two of the Corgis were at their food bowls and I imagined the other two had finished eating and were sacked out somewhere.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked. “I mean, with your phone call. Obviously everything’s not all right with the dead body and all.”

  “Sit. Sit. I’ll get us some coffee. I put on a fresh pot this morning. That was my sister, Marilyn, on the line. She’s on her way over here. She lives right in town, a few blocks away from the Penn Yan diner. That’s where she was headed before I called.”

  Just then there was a sharp rap at the door and Deputy Hickman swung it open. His voice was thunderous. “Mrs. Marbleton? Do you mind if I step in to ask you and Miss Ellington some questions?”

  Rosalee called out from the kitchen. “We’re in here. Come on in.”

  She took out four ceramic cups, each with a different dog on it, and lined them up by her coffeemaker. “We might as well have some coffee. There’s sugar and creamer on the table.”

  “Thank you.” The deputy took a seat at the table.

  I skootched over to give him more room. He took out that same little pen and pad of his and cleared his throat. I expected the dogs to at least show up and bark, but they didn’t.

  “At this juncture in time, Mrs. Marbleton, I’m trying to establish a
timeline and get a description of what you saw when you first discovered the body.”

  “What I saw? What I saw? I was horrified at what I saw. There was Victoria sniffing and prodding a body. I didn’t know it belonged to Roy Wilkes until later. I called Norrie the minute I realized my poor dog had found a dead body.”

  I smiled and nodded, but Deputy Hickman ignored me. “Did you notice anything else at the scene?”

  Rosalee furrowed her brow. “Like what? Isn’t a dead body enough?”

  The deputy sighed. One of those long sighs that usually signaled exasperation. “Were you acquainted with the deceased?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. He owns, er…owned the land where our water pipeline runs.”

  The deputy glanced at me, as if to say, “Fine, you got the information right,” and then he immediately focused on Rosalee. “What was your relationship with the victim like?”

  “I paid him his rent, if that’s what you mean. Listen, it’s no secret. When Roy Wilkes bought the property from the Baxters, he jacked up the price for renting the land. In fact, I met with our attorney on Thursday to see if my sister and I had any legal recourse about the rent. My sister owns the land itself, and I own the winery.”

  I thought I heard a slight groan before Deputy Hickman continued, but I might’ve been mistaken. One of the Corgis was under the table and the noise might’ve been him or her.

  “So, what you’re telling me is you and your sister had an issue with the victim? Is that correct?”

  “Don’t say anything, Rosalee!” I blurted out. “Not until you speak with your lawyer.”

  Chapter 4

  “Miss Ellington, no one has been Mirandized. Now, may we please continue?”

  Theo kicked my ankle under the table and gave me a wink. I kept my mouth shut while Rosalee answered his question.

  “Mr. Wilkes charged us an astronomical amount of money to rent that portion of the land. He threatened to cut off our water supply if we didn’t pay him. Since the pipeline is on his property, he could’ve removed it and prohibited us from re-installing it. Either that or he could’ve shut down the pump house, which is also on his property. Either way, it would’ve meant curtains for Terrace Wineries.”

  Deputy Hickman rubbed his chin and leaned back “Do you own a gun, Mrs. Marbleton?”

  “What a ridiculous question. Who in Yates County doesn’t own a gun?”

  I cringed as Rosalee dug herself deeper and deeper into the pit of “I could be the possible killer.”

  “I’m not asking for a county gun census. I’m asking you. Yes or no?”

  “Of course I own a gun,” she said. “In fact, I own at least five. All shotguns of one type or another. Twenty-twenties, a twenty-thirty, some sort of a pump action one…who the heck knows? They belonged to my late husband and are locked up in our gun case. Now, if you were to ask me if I knew how to shoot a gun, that would be a different story.”

  “Do you?” the deputy asked.

  “No, but I imagine I could if I had to. I watch enough TV shows. All you do is aim the thing and pull the trigger.”

  Theo gasped and this time I was the one who kicked him under the table. At that moment, the deputy’s phone rang and he stood up to take the call. None of us uttered a word while he left the room. A few seconds later he returned.

  “The preliminary evidence from the forensic investigators points to a stab wound and not a gun. That’s a good thing for you, Mrs. Marbleton.”

  Please Dear God, Rosalee, do not tell him you own any knives. Even kitchen knives.

  The deputy went on. “We’ll know more when the coroner completes the autopsy.”

  Gee, where have I heard that line before?

  “I don’t suppose anyone sitting around this table would know if our victim has any relatives around here?”

  Theo and I shook our heads and Rosalee scowled. “Doubtful he’s married.” Then she turned to me, “Norrie, you probably took a good look at the body, was he wearing a wedding ring?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t really notice.”

  “Never mind,” Deputy Hickman said. “Our team of investigators will be able to ascertain that information. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go all hog wild talking to everyone and spreading rumors. The crime scene will be cordoned off, and I imagine our investigators will be walking the lakefront in search of clues.”

  Rosalee reached across the table to pour more sugar into her coffee. She stared directly at the deputy. “If the man was stabbed, I truly doubt the perpetrator would leave the knife lying around for anyone to pick up.”

  “Murderers leave all sorts of clues, Mrs. Marbleton,” he said. “And it’s our job to find them, not yours. The last thing we need is for evidence to be tainted. And to make myself clear, let me remind all of you that this is an official investigation. Unless you’ve been hired by the Yates County Sheriff’s Department, please do not take it upon yourself to go snooping around. There could very well be a dangerous killer out there. Leave it to the professionals.”

  When he said the last five words, his voice got noticeably louder, and he was looking directly at me. Then he excused himself and walked to the door. He opened it at the exact moment Marilyn Ansley arrived. She was taller than her sister and appeared to be at least half a decade younger. Short brown hair, not much makeup and sporting one of those homey sweatshirts with an embroidered design on the front. Hers featured a scene of two kittens playing with a ball of yarn.

  Marilyn took one look at Deputy Hickman, clutched her large floral bag to her chest, and shrieked. “Dear Lord, Rosalee, have you been arrested?”

  “No one’s been arrested, ma’am,” Deputy Hickman said.

  Rosalee motioned for her sister to come in and introduced her to everyone. The deputy, who was on his way out, paused for a moment and eyeballed Marilyn.

  “You’re Mrs. Marbleton’s sister? Is that correct?”

  She jerked her head back, which exaggerated her double chin. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Suddenly, that familiar pad and pen came out of Deputy Hickman’s pocket. “Were you acquainted with Roy Wilkes?”

  Marilyn shook her head. “Not in the least. Wouldn’t know him if I stepped over him.”

  “All right then,” the deputy said. “I’ll be on my way. And remember, keep your mouths closed about this case. And steer clear of the investigation.”

  With that, he was out the door.

  Marilyn walked to the front window and stood there for a second. “It’s okay. He got in his car. I want to know everything all of you know. I missed a good pancake breakfast for this.”

  “Eat a muffin, Marilyn,” Rosalee said. “Try the honey raisin bran ones. Helps the digestion.”

  “The only thing I want to digest is what happened.”

  She helped herself to a cup of coffee, hung her bag from the chair and sat at the table. “Well? Isn’t anyone going to say anything?”

  Rosalee kept turning her head making eye contact with each one of us. “Roy Wilkes was a selfish and mean human being. Most likely he got what was coming, but I’m afraid that unless the sheriff’s department finds evidence pointing to his killer, they’ll be focusing their sights on me. Let’s face it. Terrace Wineries had a darn good motive.”

  Theo tapped her arm and shook his head. “That may be true, but murders also require means and opportunity. Judging from his body, I’d say the guy was at least five foot nine and must’ve weighed over two hundred pounds. Rosalee, you can’t be more than four foot nine and, while it would be in terrible taste to offer a gander at your weight, I’d say you were no match for him. Even if you were wielding a knife.”

  “I agree,” I said. “Those sheriff’s deputies must have some common sense.”

  Marilyn stopped stirring her coffee and put the teaspoon down. It made an annoying
vibration as it hit the ceramic dish. “A knife? The man was killed with a knife? Nobody’s told me anything. All I heard from my sister’s hysterics was the man had blood on him. For all we know, he could’ve been shot. Seems like everyone’s getting shot these days.”

  Theo told her about the earlier conversation we had with the deputy and the preliminary findings from the forensics team.

  She looked at her sister and then at her coffee cup. “We’re going to be in deep you-know-what if someone else doesn’t appear on the horizon with a better motive and stronger biceps. What if the sheriff’s department thinks you and I were in cahoots to stab that man? Dear God, Rosalee, this is a disaster. I hardly know what to suggest next.”

  Rosalee gave her a cold stare. “Then don’t suggest anything. I’m going to call our attorney again. In the meantime, I’m sure Norrie will use all of her resources to find the real killer. You don’t think I trust our sheriff’s department, do you? Norrie happens to be an excellent sleuth.”

  A what? No way! I’m a screenwriter. Romances. Okay, fine. Maybe the occasional mystery, but I’m no detective. “I, um, er…I’m not an—”

  Just then, there was another knock on the door. Actually three raps in quick succession. Before Rosalee said a word, a man’s voice called out.

  “Rosalee, it’s me. Cal. What’s going on? I saw one of the deputies leaving your house and the vineyard guys who were working down by the lake called my cell to tell me there’s something going on below the winery. They spotted another sheriff’s car and swore they saw a news crew van go down the long driveway. I got here as fast as I could. I was at the hardware store picking up a few replacement clippers. The old ones were really getting worn. Did someone drown?”