by J. C. Eaton
Up ahead, Richard had the crowd beat by at least seven or eight yards. If this was a horse race, my money would’ve been on him. Erlene and Marilyn were slowing down but not stopping. It was only a matter of seconds and I’d be neck and neck with them. Then, out of nowhere, the sound of a motorcycle starting up. By the time I realized it was Richard Whitaker under the red helmet, he had given all of us the finger as he headed down the driveway.
Erlene must’ve caught me out of the corner of her eye because she spun around like that kid from The Exorcist. “Say a word about this and it’ll be the last thing that comes out of your mouth.”
We were now a few yards from the tasting room parking lot on a grassy area between the driveway and the pavement. And we had a new audience watching the show—attendees who were getting into their cars. Some of them were craning their necks to get a better look at us. I hadn’t realized how loud and downright masculine Erlene’s voice was.
“Say a word about what?” I asked. “Your husband’s industrial espionage or whatever it’s called? Your affair with Roy Wilkes? And believe me, I really don’t care about that. But I do care that you’re letting an innocent man take the blame for something you did.”
“You better not be accusing me of murder.”
“Um, if you want to be specific, I think it was your son who made that accusation. Well, more like an insinuation, but—”
“Norrie!” Bethany’s voice rang out from the first row of cars. “I thought that was you. Hang on. I want to say good-bye.”
Before I could shout to her to stay put, she rushed over with Mallory a few feet behind her.
Meanwhile, Erlene had grabbed me by the wrist and tightened her grip. “I mean it. Keep your mouth shut.”
She let go just as the girls from the blue ranch arrived.
“My mouth shouldn’t concern you,” I stated calmly, “but if I were you, I’d be more worried about your son.”
“That blithering moron! He’s an absolute idiot!”
Suddenly Bethany and I locked gazes. We heard it—“id-jut.” A loud, raspy voice.
“Is it—?” I mouthed to her and she, in turn, mouthed back, “OMG.”
Bethany eyeballed Erlene and, after a few more OMGs, finally spoke. “I heard your voice. It was dawnish.” She turned to me. “That’s a word, isn’t it? Dawnish. Around dawn.”
I nodded back because, for some reason, I couldn’t form words.
Bethany, however, seemed to have a never-ending supply. She crinkled her brow at Erlene. “Your voice is unmistakable, and I heard it. It was the morning that guy got killed down the lake. You were getting into a car in front of the creepy house on Route 14.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Erlene said.
Finally, my vocal chords started working. “Not by itself, but it puts you in the vicinity of a murder with an eyewitness.”
“Who? Those stinking little punks with the fishing rods? They took off before anything happened.”
Oh my God! How could I have missed it! Eli Speltmore wasn’t referring to Rosalee, he had an encounter with Erlene before Roy got murdered.
The witness I had in mind was Kelsey. So what if he was the one being accused of the crime. As far as Erlene was concerned, there might be another player out there. I had to keep her on edge while I figured out what to do next.
“Not your ‘stinking little punks,’” I said, “although they’ll corroborate what my witness saw. I’ll let the sheriff’s department piece this together.”
“Don’t you dare reach for your cell phone or I’ll be forced to use what’s in my handbag.”
Part of me wanted to get really snippy and retort with something like, “What? Your mirror?” But I wasn’t dealing with someone who was entirely rational. My eyes darted back and forth, hoping I’d spot Theo but instead, Godfrey Klein meandered over, his right hand clutching the small cooler with the ladybird beetles.
“I had a blast, Norrie! Thanks for inviting me. I need to get going. It looks like it’s going to rain pretty soon.”
“Um, sure. Anytime.”
“I’ll keep in touch.” He seemed oblivious to what was happening in the small circle that surrounded me.
He turned away and walked slowly to his car. And that was when two things happened at once. I grabbed the cell phone from my pocket and Erlene pulled out a syringe from her handbag. She was inches from me and ready to take a jab at me. It was probably a small needle, but, to me, if looked as if it could tranquilize a large mammal.
“I meant what I said, Norrie.”
Bethany let out a scream and so did Mallory.
Suddenly, Godfrey spun around and yelled, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Inside this nifty little cooler are Brazilian Killer Bees. They’re the most lethal of their species. One move with that syringe and you’ll wish you were never born.”
Erlene held the syringe in her hand and didn’t move. Meanwhile, everyone else took off, including Marilyn, who shouted, “You’re on your own, Erlene.” She set the world’s record for the fifteen-yard dash.
“If they’re so lethal, you’ll be bitten, too.” Erlene didn’t take her eyes off of Godfrey or the cooler.
Godfrey appeared unfazed. “Norrie Ellington’s brother-in-law and I happen to be Cornell Entomologists, and, along with our family members, we’ve been immunized. The bees won’t have an effect on us, but you’ll be struggling to breathe if you make one move. Now drop the damn syringe.”
With the needle tip only an inch or so from my neck, I was afraid any sudden move on my part would spook her and she’d stab me with God knows what. Some powerful horse tranquilizer? Some stolen narcotic?
And then, out of nowhere, a car raced up the driveway and all but skidded into us. Whoever was behind the wheel slammed on the brakes with such force that the noise startled Erlene and she dropped the syringe. Godfrey immediately kicked it aside as the car door slammed.
“Can’t you ever leave well enough alone, Miss Ellington?” Deputy Hickman shouted as he exited the car. “Against my better judgment, I listened to your friend Theo Buchman and didn’t blast the siren or use the flashers.”
“Theo? Theo called you?” My voice took on a weird whiney tone.
“Yep, something about you chasing after a killer. And, given that little scenario I caught on my way up the hill, I believe you, Ms. Spencer, have some explaining to do.”
Erlene stamped her foot on the ground and pointed her finger at Godfrey. “Me? You need to arrest him! He was about to unleash a swarm of killer bees on all of us! He’s got them contained in that cooler of his. I demand you arrest him this instant.”
Godfrey could barely keep himself from laughing. “Um, upon closer inspection, I must’ve grabbed the wrong cooler because according to the labeling, these are ladybird beetles that need to be released into the community gardens. In fact, I should be heading over there right now. Looks like we’re in for some rain, and that’s perfect for them.”
I took a step toward Godfrey and, for some inexplicable reason, most likely nerves, I threw my arms around him and gave him a hug.
Godfrey kept his voice low and whispered in my ear, “I think we may be looking at Betty Crocker herself. Have the deputy ask her for her fudge recipe.”
I don’t know what got into me, but I didn’t wait for the sheriff. Mainly because he had no idea about my near miss with the Dulcolax. Instead, I lit into Erlene like a madwoman.
“It was you! The fudge! My car brakes! It’s all making sense. Back when you and Marilyn were at Rosalee’s, I mentioned finding a witness who could corroborate Kelsey Payne’s story. That must’ve scared the daylights out of you, considering it was you all the time! So, what did you stick on my car brakes when you sent Marilyn back into the house to look for some sunscreen/bug spray of yours that was never there to begin with? Sound familiar? Tell me, what did you u
se? And by the way, you’re paying for the labor charge!”
Deputy Hickman gave Erlene a cold stare. “Now isn’t the time to start lying.”
“Hairspray. I used hairspray. Extra hold.”
Terrific. Wait ’til I tell Hank Walden at the garage.
“That’s attempted murder!” I shouted. “And if you press her, I’ll bet she’ll admit to putting a laxative in a gift box of fudge for me.”
“Really, Ms. Spencer? A laxative?”
“Sounds like attempted murder to me,” Godfrey said.
Erlene clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. “You have to believe me, I wasn’t trying to kill Norrie. I only wanted to slow her down.”
“Slow me down!” I yelled. “I could’ve wound up in a ditch! And what about that syringe? What was in that? Ketamine?”
“If you must know, it was insulin for Sir Puss-in-Boots, my cat. He’s diabetic.”
I thought I remembered her saying something about having a diabetic cat when she was at Rosalee’s with Marilyn, but I never made the connection when she pulled the needle out of her bag.
Deputy Hickman took out his little pad and looked directly at Erlene. “I’m one step away from placing you under arrest, so you’d better think out your answer carefully. What did you mean about ‘slowing her down’?”
“I know my rights. I want a lawyer. Right here. Right now.”
I wouldn’t have believed it in a million years, but the minute Erlene demanded an attorney, who rushed over to us but Bradley Jamison, looking even more adorable than he did earlier in the day.
“Whoa! Hope I’m not interrupting anything, but your friend Theo sent me out here to find you. Some woman came running into the tasting room screaming her head off about killer bees in the parking lot. She got everyone in the tasting room into a near hysteria. Theo’s trying to calm down the crowd because they’re afraid of leaving the building.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Helping Theo.”
Deputy Hickman looked directly at me. “Do you think you can handle this, Miss Ellington? Or should I send for backup?” I could envision the headline in the Finger Lakes Times—Federweisser Flops Over Bee Hysteria.
“It’ll be fine. Honest. I’ll get on the sound system in the office and thank everyone for coming. I’ll reassure them that there’s nothing but cars in the parking lot.”
“What about my lawyer?” Erlene demanded. “What about my—” Then, it was as if she had an epiphany. She extended an arm and pointed to Bradley. “Aren’t you Marvin Souza’s helper, or whatever you call it? Get him on the phone right now and tell him he’s hired.”
Bradley shook his head and spoke softly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. It would be a conflict of interest. I heard everything that was said, even though I was a few yards away. Voices carry, you know. Our firm is representing Kelsey Payne. And, for your information, I’m a partner, not a helper.”
As much as I wanted to remain standing to see what Erlene would do next, I had to get into the tasting room and convince the public it was safe to leave.
“I’ve got to get to the tasting room,” I said to Deputy Hickman. “But I can tell you this—Erlene’s son is Richard Whitaker, and he lives in Geneva, near Rosinetti’s bar. He knows all about the affair his mother was having with Roy Wilkes and how she manipulated everything to cover up murdering him. I’ll bet anything you’ll find David Whitaker safe and sound in his son’s apartment. Heck, he’s probably scared out of his mind she’ll murder him next.”
It was funny how some people got fixated on one or two words. Because, for Erlene, it was the word “affair.” Apparently, that was all she heard before she went totally ballistic.
“You stupid little fool!” she screamed at me. “An affair? With Roy Wilkes? I wouldn’t let that man so much as touch my little pinky finger! I wasn’t having an affair with him, I was blackmailing him!”
The instant she said it, she gasped. The words must have flown out of her mouth before her brain had a chance to censor them.
Something my mother warned me about when I was in my teens. “Don’t ever open your mouth in anger, Norrie,” she told me, “because once those words leave, you’ll never get them back.”
“Ms. Spencer,” Deputy Hickman said, “I need to bring you in for questioning. If you resist, I will be forced to place you under arrest. Do you understand?”
The last words I heard as I raced to the tasting room came from Erlene’s mouth. They were aimed at me and they certainly weren’t censored.
Chapter 30
Theo was standing a few feet from the front door as I stormed in. “You won’t believe what happened out there. It was Erlene Spencer. Erlene Spencer Whitaker, to be precise, and if it wasn’t for you and Godfrey Klein, she would’ve killed me, too. With a syringe!”
“Norrie, I—”
“I know, I know. Scared the hell out of me, too.”
“Not that—the crowd. Look around. No one wants to leave. They’re all clumping up in groups, talking about killer bees. You’ve got Marilyn Ansley to thank for that. And the only people who aren’t talking about bees are the quilters and bowlers. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen and banquet room. A big guy with a scary tattoo said you’d be conducting a debriefing. What the heck! You’ve got to do something. Maybe start with the bees. Does your sound system have a microphone?”
One second I was thinking about crazy Erlene and the next about quilters, bowlers and our sound system. “Okay, okay. I’ll see if I can make an announcement. I used to mess around with that old sound system when I was in high school. Pretending to be a DJ and all that.”
“Well, pretend again and hurry!”
“Fine! Can you please go to the kitchen and tell everyone I’ll be there soon?”
Theo let out a moan and took off while I raced to the office. I switched off the mellow mood music that was piped in over our sound system and picked up the small microphone that my father installed sometime during Calvin Coolidge’s administration. It was an antiquated setup but it worked. No reason for Jason or Francine to go all high-tech when they didn’t have to.
“Thank you, everyone, for attending this year’s Federweisser at Two Witches Winery. We hope you had a wonderful time and will be back to taste the Chardonnay. It’s perfectly safe to exit out front to the parking lot. Someone thought they saw some bees but most likely they were ladybird beetles. Cornell University releases them this time of year. Very helpful for pest control. Again, thank you all for coming.”
Then, like a madwoman, I made a beeline for the kitchen and the small banquet room connected to it. At first glance, the crowd reminded me of a middle school dance—the men on one side and the women on the other. The instant I arrived, I was besieged with questions.
“Did anyone find the blue windbreaker?”
“Did you catch the killer?”
“Did anyone get arrested?”
“Should we wait for reporters?”
I clapped my hands a few times and shouted for everyone to be quiet. The irony wasn’t lost on me. “No one saw the blue windbreaker, but there was a break in the case and one of the sheriff’s deputies is questioning someone in the driveway. That’s all I can tell—”
“In the driveway?” someone shrieked. “I say we head out there right now and see what’s going on!”
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea since—”
I never got to finish my sentence because I was too busy trying not to get trampled as the quilters and bowlers vied for the nearest exit to the parking lot. Unfortunately, it was our main entrance and they wound up pushing and shoving the other guests, who were headed out the door. All sorts of horrible thoughts ran through my mind, including bodies underfoot, loss of our liquor license, and a melee that would make front page news. It was past five thirty, and we should’ve closed te
n minutes ago. I prayed for a major storm, but the only thing Mother Nature delivered was a light sprinkle of rain.
“Slow down! Slow down!” I yelled but nobody listened. The only good news was that none of our patrons fell, no one was face down on the ground and Deputy Hickman’s car was nowhere in sight.
“It’s all right.” Bradley tapped me on the shoulder. “The crowd will disperse. Theo’s playing traffic cop. He told me to tell you he got out of the kitchen before ‘all hell broke loose.’”
“My God, this is a nightmare.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think Deputy Hickman’s in for a worse one. He’s got to listen to Erlene Spencer all the way back to the public safety building. I can’t believe you got her so worked up she admitted to blackmail.”
With that, the two of us burst out laughing.
“Too bad I couldn’t get an out-and-out murder confession from her.”
“I’m sure Deputy Hickman will persist,” Bradley said. “Come on, I think it’s safe for you to go in the tasting room. I’ll go out the side door and give Theo a hand. See you in a few minutes.”
Pam was at the front entrance when I walked back into the tasting room. “Have you seen my brother?” she asked. “I barely managed to escape from some lunatic woman screaming about Brazilian Killer Bees. I think she’s gone now. In fact, other than the staff, I think everyone’s gone now.”
I stood for a few minutes and surveyed the room. The crowd might’ve been unwieldy, but there was no sign of damage, unless, of course, I considered our staff—Cammy, Glenda, Lizzie, Roger, Sam, Fred, Emma, and the part-timers. All of them looked as if they had barely survived a tornado.
“Holy Crap Fest!” Sam blurted out from behind his tasting room table. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life!”
“Lots of unsettled auras in that crowd,” Glenda said. “Norrie, you really need to consider a smudging of sage and lavender.”
“I, um, er…”
Cammy gave her a look. “Not on my watch.” Then she turned to me. “We’ve been so busy working, none of us knows what’s going on. Did anyone find the blue windbreaker? The killer?”