Chardonnayed to Rest

by J. C. Eaton

  “Stephanie, we really have to have all those volunteers meet in my tasting room an hour before the Federweisser opens so I can explain what they should do. Or shouldn’t, for that matter. Can you help?”

  “Absolutely. Count me in. I’ll e-mail you their names with either a B or a Q next to them so you’ll know if they’re a bowler or a quilter. I’ll also e-mail all of them with explicit directions to be at your winery at least an hour before the event starts. So it would be nine, right?”

  “Right. Nine o’clock. Tell them we’ll have coffee for them.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Suddenly the Main Street Bridge over the Keuka Lake Outlet was no longer front and center in my mind. Instead, I wondered how on earth I was going to manage such a huge group of self-appointed spies. Even Agatha Christie had her limits.

  I looked at the time and it was already past three. The day was practically wasted as far as my writing was concerned. Instead of firing up my laptop, I jogged down to our tasting room to see if I’d missed anything from the rumor mill.

  Glenda spotted me the minute I walked through the door and gestured frantically for me to get over to her table. She was in the midst of a tasting with three middle-aged women and all of them were laughing and giggling.

  Like Glenda’s table, Cammy’s was also occupied, as was Sam’s. Roger had the day off, but everyone seemed to be doing okay with the crowd. It was a weekday afternoon, in between two major events, so it wasn’t that hairy.

  I approached Glenda’s table cautiously, on the off chance she’d want to rid me of foul spirits or something equally bizarre in her realm of thinking. She was a sweet soul but, honestly, I wasn’t prepared for the “Potteresque” experiences she seemed to thrive on.

  “Must be the phase of the moon we’re in because your love life is picking up,” she said when I stationed myself next to her customers.

  Picking up? From where? “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Don’t be coy. First the flowers from that developer friend of yours two months ago and now a box of Aunt Lena’s fudge. It’s in the kitchen. Funny, but usually that stuff ships Fed Ex. One of those local delivery couriers brought it. The guy was only here two seconds and left. So, care to tell us who the new man in your life is? And to think, only last month I considered making a love potion for you. Kind of like pheromones but with better results.”

  The women at the tasting table looked at me as if I had three heads.

  “I don’t have a secret admirer, or an overt one for that matter, either. Fudge, huh? I’d better check it out.”

  I walked into the kitchen and, sure enough, there was a bright blue box on the counter that said “Aunt Lena’s Fudge, a Martha’s Vineyard Favorite.” It was tied up with a white ribbon and a small card was attached with my name on it. I opened the card and read the typed message. All it said was, “Enjoy this with my compliments.” Hardly a love note. And whose compliments? Who the heck sent it?

  My first, and only, thought was Bradley Jamison. But why didn’t he own up to it? Then I thought of Rosalee. Was this her way of thanking me? Nah. She’d given me those wonderful cinnamon rolls, but I seriously doubted she had time to place an Internet fudge order for herself or anyone else. That left, well, absolutely no one. Still, it didn’t stop me from untying the ribbon and walking the box out to the tasting room. Maybe I did have a secret admirer. Oh dear God. Please don’t let it be Sam or Roger. Especially Roger.

  There was a slight lull in the room as the customers had all completed their tastings and were perusing the wine racks and gift items.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “Someone sent me fudge. We might as well enjoy it. I’ll grab a knife from the kitchen. I should’ve snagged one while I was in there. Give me a second.”

  I handed the box to Cammy, who put it on her table, while the others quickly gathered around. “Go ahead, open it up. I’ll be right back.”

  When I walked back into the tasting room, everyone looked at me as if it were a funeral.

  “What?” I asked. “Was this a joke? Was there a dead mouse in there or something?”

  “No,” Cammy said, “but something’s not right. My aunt Luisa orders fudge from Aunt Lena’s all the time. Pumpkin, Cappuccino, Bittersweet Chocolate…you name it, she orders it. She spent a vacation on Martha’s Vineyard a few years ago and got hooked on the stuff.”

  I looked at the classy blue package and shrugged. “So, what’s wrong with this box?”

  “The box is genuine, all right,” Cammy said, “but I’m not so sure about the contents. Aunt Lena’s fudge doesn’t come packaged in those thin roundish slabs like you see in your box. They come in one huge chunk and it’s wrapped in wax paper with the store’s logo on it. Your fudge is wrapped in plain wax paper.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying, but I wouldn’t eat it if I were you.”

  I pushed the lid down hard on the box and grabbed it. “Did anyone get a good look at the delivery guy?”

  A chorus of “sorry” and “no” followed.

  Lizzie seemed particularly rattled. “I should’ve been more observant. Nancy Drew would’ve been observant. I’ll do better next time, Norrie. Honestly.”

  “Might as well throw that sucker in the trash and call it a day,” Sam said, “unless you want to bring it to the sheriff’s office to have them check for food poisoning.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I said. “Meanwhile, beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

  “Good thing Roger has the day off,” Glenda said, “or he’d be telling us that awful story about those blankets tainted with smallpox that some British commander gave to the Indians. I mean, Native Americans. I don’t know why I can’t say ‘Indians.’ It was the French and Indian War, not the French and Native American War. Good grief, after working with Roger, I feel as if I could write a book.”

  “We could write a thesis,” Sam said. “And it was William Trent, a militia captain. I had to listen to Roger for two whole hours the day before yesterday.”

  The three or four minute lull ended abruptly when customers approached the tables.

  “Next time I’ll bring in a box of donuts,” I said. “Have a good afternoon, everyone.”

  As I headed out the door with the fudge tucked under my arm, Cammy tapped me on the shoulder. “Seriously, girl, you should have that checked out. Maybe someone’s trying to give you a not-so-subtle message to leave things alone as far as the Roy Wilkes’ murder is concerned.”

  “Yeah, well, we both know that’s not going to happen.” I held the box of fudge in the air. “I’ve got this covered. Don’t worry.”

  Okay, so maybe I lied. I didn’t have anything covered, but I did have a thought. The minute I got back to the house, I picked up the phone and called Godfrey Klein at the entomology department.

  “Norrie! Are you calling about the image I sent you of the Aedes bahamensis? I got it off to you in a rush, but I can send you better images.”

  “Oh no. Please don’t. I mean, the image was fine. Just fine.”

  “Oh good. Are you calling about Jason and your sister? Nothing much to report really. We’re getting their transmissions and everything seems to be going smoothly.”

  Yep, as long as they’ve got enough DEET for an army. “Actually, the real reason I called was to ask for your help. I know you’re in the entomology department, but I was hoping you might know someone in the chemistry department who could help me out with something extremely confidential.”

  Without going overboard, I gave Godfrey the gist of what had happened regarding my brakes and now the possibility that someone might’ve sent me a poisoned box of fudge.

  “Shouldn’t you be going to the police?”

  “It’s a long story, but they don’t believe me. So, can you help?”

  “I thi
nk so. A colleague of mine works for the department of food science. Let me give him a call and I’ll get right back to you. Are you going to be at this number?”

  “Um, yeah. I’m home. But you have my cell number, too, right?”

  “Indeed I do. It’s with Jason’s file.”

  “Thanks, Godfrey. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

  It must’ve been a really slow day at the Experiment Station because Godfrey called me back less than twenty minutes later.

  “Can you get over here with that box of fudge in the next thirty minutes? Michael Liu, that’s my colleague, said he’d stop by on his way home.”

  “I’m on my way!”

  “Wait! Hold on a second. You’ll need to bring your identification with you when you enter the building. Some people leave their driver’s licenses in their cars and have to walk all the way back to get them. Didn’t want that to happen to you. The security in this building is very tight.”

  For bugs? They’re worried about someone stealing bugs? “Uh, thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be right over.”

  The mere thought of going into the entomology building made my skin crawl. I envisioned tons of corkboard and Styrofoam boxes with all sorts of dead insects set out for display—wings spread wide open and tiny pins holding them in place.

  I was being silly, but I wiped some of Francine’s Burt’s Bees Insect Repellent on my arms before I left the house.

  Chapter 25

  Godfrey Klein lived up to the mental image I had of him from when we first talked. He was shorter than me by a few inches, was slightly overweight, had a round face and had a receding hairline with wispy light brown hair that looked as if he’d been through a wind tunnel. Round, dark brown glasses completed the look. He was Jason’s age and, judging by the two framed posters of assorted beetles that hung on the wall behind his desk, shared the same enthusiasm my brother-in-law did for his profession.

  “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Norrie. Would you like a tour of the facility? We have the most amazing specimens you’ll find anywhere.”

  “Oh, gee, as much as I’d love to, I really need to get back to the winery. It’s our busy season, you know.”

  I handed him the box of fudge and thanked him again.

  “I’m glad I could help you out. Poisoned, huh? How unnerving, to say the least. Michael should be here any time now if you want to wait.”

  “Again, thanks, but I really need to get going. Do you have any idea when he’ll be done with the analysis?”

  “He’s going to get started on it tonight. He’s going home for dinner and then he’ll be back in his lab. Forensic toxicology isn’t his field but he’s got the equipment and the expertise to conduct a preliminary scan for major toxins.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “Norrie, just because he’s getting started on it tonight, don’t expect a fast turnaround time. These things can take days…weeks.”

  “I don’t have weeks. Can you tell him that?”

  “Sure. Look, this isn’t any of my business, but if I were you, I’d make sure I knew where my food was coming from. And I’d only eat candies that were properly sealed.”

  “You sound like my mother when we went out trick or treating for Halloween.”

  Godfrey’s face flushed slightly. “Yeesh, I’m beginning to sound like my mother.”

  I had to admit, I liked the guy. Not in a Bradley Jamison sweep-me-off-my-feet kind of way, but there was definitely something endearing about Godfrey Klein. Even if he worked with bugs.

  Since the Experiment Station was only a few blocks from Wegmans, I phoned Theo and Don to ask if they’d like to drive up the hill to my place for an impromptu dinner. Impromptu meaning an assortment of culinary dishes that the Wegmans chefs prepared for takeout.

  “Wegmans takeout?” Theo asked and, in the background, I heard Don shouting, “Tell her yes.”

  From chicken French to Cavatappi pasta with vodka blush sauce, I brought home an assortment that would make anyone’s mouth water. I even paid close attention to selecting vegetables that were eye-catching as well as tasty.

  “You remembered my favorite,” Theo said as we sat around the kitchen table. “Butternut squash with baby spinach and Craisins.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You and Don feed me all the time.”

  I also indulged Charlie with pieces of boneless turkey breast I put into his kibble. It was the only way to stop him from begging at the table.

  When we had finished our second, and in the case of Don, third, helpings, I put my fork down and groaned.

  “Eat too much?” Theo asked.

  “Yeah, but that’s not why I’m groaning. There’s something I need to tell you. I think someone’s trying to kill me.”

  “What???” Theo and Don’s voices exploded across the room.

  “I was going to tell you about the first incident when I found out about it this morning, but then the second thing happened.”

  “What thing? What incident?” Theo asked.

  “The first attempt on my life happened yesterday, but I didn’t know it was sabotage. Vehicular sabotage, to be precise.” I then expounded on the incident worse than when Roger went on one of his rants about the French and Indian War. Before Theo or Don could say anything, I told them about the fudge and how Godfrey Klein’s chemistry colleague was going to give it the once-over for poisoning.

  Don pushed his plate toward the center of the table and straightened his arms. “Unbelievable. This is absolutely unbelievable. What gets me is the fact that Deputy Hickman dismissed the whole car thing as if you reported someone smoking in the boys’ room.”

  “If you must know the truth,” I said, “I’m getting kind of freaked out about this. The worst part is, he wouldn’t believe me at all about the evidence Theo and I found. Or Bethany’s statement.”

  “We still have a last-ditch attempt,” Theo said. “The whole blooming county and then some shows up for the Federweisser. In fact, last year we had winemakers and vineyard managers from all over the lake, not to mention the locals and the tourists. Don’t worry. We’ll find out who really murdered Roy Wilkes.”

  “I hope so. Because the wrong guy is headed for prison. And worse yet, his brother may be the one who’s trying to get me out of the way. You don’t suppose Cal’s the real killer, do you? Remember that fight he had with Roy Wilkes? And the timing of the murder? He could’ve done the deed once he got done locking lips with Bethany.”

  “Cal doesn’t strike me as a murderer,” Theo said. “True, I don’t really know him but I do know about his reputation. He’s been Rosalee’s vineyard manager forever.”

  “It doesn’t mean he’s innocent,” I said. “He was there at the courthouse around the time my car was tampered with.”

  “You think he’d really let his brother take the blame for something he did?” Theo asked.

  I let out a slow breath, plopped my elbows onto the table, made two fists, and rested my head on top of them. “I honestly don’t know. And if it was him, who was the other person?”

  Theo and Don looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “Guess only time will tell,” Don said. “So, about the Federweisser, Theo and I talked about it and decided that he’s going to be there all day in case the murderer shows up.”

  “Don, you don’t have to—”

  “Oh yes, we do. We’ve got the Grey Egret covered and besides, the giant crowd is going to be at your place all day. Think about it. What if one of those bowlers or quilters spies someone in that blue windbreaker? Then what? At least you and Theo will be able to detain them or whatever you had planned.”

  “Um, that’s the trouble. I haven’t planned anything. Not really.”

  “Good. It’ll give you and Theo something to think about all week. You’ve only got about a week and a half.”


  “Aargh. Don’t remind me.”

  “By the way, what were you able to find out about the dates of employment for Roy Wilkes and David Whitaker?” he asked.

  “Oh no! Not again! Not a second time. I am such a dunderhead! When Hank Walden called about my car this morning, everything else in my brain shut down. I swear that won’t happen again.”

  I stood up and grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the counter. In bold print I wrote “Beecher Rand” and used one of Francine’s magnets to stick it to the refrigerator. “There,” I said, “unless all hell breaks loose, their human resources department will hear from me in the morning.”

  “I wish our newspaper searches yielded something more than what we already knew,” Theo said. “The only thing I managed to pull up was an old police report that referenced a minor disturbance in one of the break rooms at the Athens, Pennsylvania, facility and guess what? Roy Wilkes was cited for grabbing a photo from a woman, which apparently caused her distress so she phoned the police. They showed up, talked to both parties, and dropped the whole thing as being inconsequential, but it still made the news. Talk about making a mountain out of a mole hill. Small town news and all that.”

  “First I’ve heard of it,” Don said.

  Theo gave him a pat on the hand. “Uh, sorry. I must’ve forgotten. I’m getting as bad as Norrie.”

  “Hello. I’m right here, you two.”

  We topped off the night with a mini dessert tray that featured tiny Wegmans cheesecakes and assorted mousses. If nothing else, I knew how to shop.

  “Do you think I’m putting all my eggs in one basket?” I asked when the guys got up to leave. “I mean, pinning my hopes that the killer will be wearing that windbreaker?”

  “It’s the only thing we’ve got, Norrie,” Theo said. “That hang-tab had fallen to the ground recently. It was spotless. Let’s trust our instincts on this one.”

  It was past eleven when I finally got to bed and turned off the lights. Charlie took his usual spot on my feet and was oblivious to the numerous attempts I made to get him to move to the other side of the bed. At the very moment when I finally got the leg room I needed in order to sleep, the phone rang. Now what? I didn’t hear any fire alarms or any alarms, for that matter, but a phone call after eleven was never good.