by Liz Eagle
“Well, what kind of games? What do you mean, Phillip?” She pushed because she wanted to know everything, she had to. There would be no secrets between them. She could see sweat begin to bead on his forehead and felt it on his palm. This was so unlike the Phillip she knew, he seemed so vulnerable.
“W-well…” he began. He looked away and then back again. “Oh, hell, they watch each other have sex. They do it right in front of each other, in the same room, once every damn week.” His face was hot, but he felt better after spitting it out. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, let us go inside.”
Jacqueline’s suspicions had been confirmed, and then some. Her mind was reeling. On one hand she felt sorry for Phillip that he was exposed to such disgraceful behavior but grabbing her and manhandling her like a piece of furniture was not right, there was something off about the whole situation. She cared for him a lot, though, and tried to understand what it must feel like to carry that secret around with him. She tried her best to force her attention on shopping which always put her in a good mood. She nodded, and Phillip took her inside the store.
Fraleigh’s was the name of the shop, such a classy name for a small independent boutique. As they opened the glass door, the bell rang with the motion. She could smell the fragrance of the high-end department stores in the city and the smell of new clothes and shoes, and she liked it. This store carried clothing by several designers she recognized. She was impressed with the store especially since it was so far away from the city. Jacqueline walked around while Phillip talked quietly to the sales lady, whom, she assumed, he knew very well.
Jacqueline found an adorable satin swing dress that she liked. The skirt was attached to the bodice of the dress, which hung slightly over the skirt. The pencil-shaped skirt looked great on her and accentuated her long legs. She brought it to Phillip and held it up for him to see.
“You found something,” he said. “Wonderful.” Phillip turned to the sales lady and said to Jacqueline, “Allow me to introduce you to Doris. She runs the store for the owner and does a fantastic job with the latest fashions.” He turned back to Doris and smiled.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doris,” Jacqueline said, extending her hand. “I am Jacqueline, a friend of Phillip’s.”
“Very nice to meet you, Jacqueline,” Doris said as she shook her hand and noticed the dress she was holding. “That is a wonderful dress that we ordered from Saks Fifth Avenue. It just arrived yesterday. You must show Phillip how it looks like on you. Come. I will show you to the fitting room,” she said, taking the dress from Jacqueline and leading her toward the back of the store.
A few minutes later, Jacqueline came out from the fitting room wearing the dress. It was a perfect fit, and Doris commented on how beautiful it looked on her. She may have even been a bit jealous. Jacqueline looked at herself in the three mirrors on a platform outside the dressing room. She was very pleased at how it showed the very top of her breasts and how slim it made her waist look. This was a perfect dress to make a good impression on Phillip’s parents. Despite what happened, she still wanted to impress them. Glancing down at the sales ticket hanging from the sleeve, she realized it was far too expensive for her budget. But given the designer, Jacqueline had figured as much before trying it on.
“I love that dress on you,” Phillip said, walking over to her. He slipped his hand around her small waist and moved it slowly to feel every inch of her back. Pulling her to him, Phillip gave Jacqueline a passionate kiss. When their lips parted, he said, like a small child with lips puckered and sad eyes, “Please let me buy that for you.”
“It’s far too expensive,” Jacqueline said. “You are still a law student and can’t afford it.”
“Oh, I have my ways,” Phillip responded slyly. He turned his head so he thought Jacqueline could not see, but she saw him as he winked at Doris. It was clear that there was some kind of history between those two. This all made Jacqueline feel very uncomfortable, but she was flattered by his gesture and loved the dress. She figured that even if the relationship did not work out, she would have gotten a great dress out of it. Besides, Phillip owed her from the way he behaved.
Doris carefully placed the dress in a box and tied it with a ribbon, but only after she had helped Phillip pick out a stunning necklace and earring set to go with it. He whispered something in her ear when they were finished, Doris giggled as she moved her pen across a piece of notebook paper. Phillip and Jacqueline left the store without paying a dime.
“You didn’t pay for the dress or the jewelry,” Jacqueline said as they walked out the door. “I hope you have a good lawyer. You can get arrested for stealing, you know.” She was joking but hoped that would prompt him to explain just how he had managed to walk out of the store without paying.
Phillip laughed at her comment. “My parents just opened up an account in there,” he said. “The owner is one of my dad’s clients. He will get the bill, and I will pay him back. It’s that simple.” But he knew it was not that simple. Ever since his father had left him that note on the mirror, he knew he would never have to pay for a single thing again. He could be just as ruthless.
Chapter 16
1945 Warsaw, New York
Gus spent several days making copious notes and pondering the facts of the case after his interview with Mr. Harvey in Attica and the phone call from Jacqueline. He had reread all the newspaper accounts of the murders and reviewed all the court documents. The official cause of death of the two girls was strangulation, and the cannon they were found near was made in 1918 during World War I and came to Warsaw in 1936. There was not much peculiar or significant about the cannon other than it being a memorial. But Gus continued to ponder those two nagging, important questions: what could be the significance of the jars of wine that Mr. Harvey talked about? And why weren’t they found at the crime scene? Mr. Harvey didn’t look strong enough to strangle two women, but perhaps, if they were already inebriated and unconscious, he could have. He picked up the photographs he had of the bodies and studied them again. These girls appeared even bigger than Harvey and definitely wouldn’t have been so easy to keep still. But, wait…. Something else caught Gus’ eye as he scanned the victims’ skin.
There were no external marks on either of the victims’ necks in the photographs. In his training, Gus knew that strangulation always left marks either pre or post-mortem, but he could see absolutely nothing of the sort. On the night in question, the park was full of people from all over the county who had come out to the fair. But there were no other witnesses, and Milton Chandler didn’t bother to even look for anyone who was there in an effort to help his client’s defense. Neither did he make any attempt to discredit the district attorney at all during the trial. There was nothing in the record about any objections to any of the evidence, but it was obvious to Gus’ trained eye that this did not add up.
Gus wrote his suspicions in his notes. He was an experienced investigator, and based on his training, he knew enough to recognize that even the black-and-white photos of the victims should have revealed some sign of strangulation. Could the deaths have been caused by a different means? If so, what would leave no marks or evidence? If Jacqueline’s suspicions proved true, could Phillip’s family be involved? Was this whole thing about protecting a dirty family secret? It seemed no coincidence that homemade wine was both mentioned by Harvey and at the home of a wealthy family with a scandalous hobby. He needed to get to the bottom of this. All small towns were full of rumors and innuendos, but this town was hiding something. He would just have to dig a little deeper to get to the truth. Gus also questioned whether Attorney Chandler would have influence or connections all the way to the local hospital, or if maybe Louise had some secrets of her own. At this point, everyone was a suspect.
Gus knew he had his work cut out for him, but first and foremost, he needed to have a closer look at the winemaking jars and the tools Max and Gynnie used for their h
omemade wine. He closed and locked his briefcase with all of his notes and slid it under the bed. He needed to be as cautious as he could be at this point in the investigation.
Gus headed downstairs to the first floor of the inn. Max was sitting in the front room reading a newspaper and puffing away on his pipe.
“Hi Max,” Gus said. “How’s it going?” He was glad Max was alone.
“Just fine, Gus,” Max said. “What are you working on today? Do you have more work in the area?” He hoped Gus would elaborate on his work. He and Gynnie didn’t know what he did, except what Jacqueline had revealed, and they were growing extremely curious.
“Say, would you mind if I took a look at your winemaking process in the cellar?” Gus asked, ignoring the question. “I was thinking of making my own wine when I get back home. I have really been enjoying the flavors you have captured, and I wouldn’t mind a new, fruitful hobby.” Gus smiled. It wasn’t entirely bullshit as he had enjoyed the wine quite thoroughly. “Every bottle you have served us has had a unique taste,” he said, “and I thought I could get some pointers from you.” Gus paused, hoping that he had said enough to get him into the cellar. The three key elements he learned about interrogation techniques in his law enforcement career were called “M-I-C,” offer money, instill humanitarianism, and, finally, create trust. There was an “E” added later which Gus found useful in situations like this: stroke their ego.
“Why, yes,” Max said thoughtfully. “Certainly. Follow me and I am happy to show you our operation.” He hoped that Gus would open up more about his work once they were in the cellar. Perhaps he would feel more comfortable there.
Gus followed Max to the back of the house to the kitchen area, where Max opened the wooden door with a white ceramic door knob and pulled a string to turn on the light below. Gus stepped down onto the first step. The wooden board almost gave way, and he quickly stepped back onto the kitchen floor.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Max said. “Don’t mind that step. It has been loose for about ten years. It has not given out yet and probably never will,” he said, hoping to reassure his guest. They proceeded to the bottom of the stairs, where Gus detected the smell of pipe tobacco in the air. That meant Max had just come up from down here. He was certain of it. Gus took the opportunity to look around and take it all in, spotting every type of bottle imaginable. He did not really know what he was looking for. He made a mental note that any of the jars could have held the missing jars of wine.
Gus also saw bottles and jars with small labels on them lined up on a shelf. There was a lot of sugar and some jars of yeast. There were some substances or spices used for cooking, and some he did not recognize. Among them were sodium bicarbonate, acid salts, tartaric acid, and unlabeled jars containing a blue crystalized material. It was a pretty substance but did not look like something that was used for cooking or even winemaking. Gus realized he was totally ignorant of the winemaking process. He could identify the ways people murdered each another such as knife wounds, gunshots and the way blood would splatter, but he knew nothing about the chemicals used in winemaking.
The basement had a hard-packed dirt floor, and the cellar was lined with wall-to-wall wooden shelves supported by concrete blocks. Most of the shelves were covered in dust or had bare spots without dust where apparently someone had recently moved some jars. What had Max been doing down here just before Gus asked to come down? Gus took his time looking around the cellar. Not too long ago, the northern folks protected the blacks from slavery in storage rooms in cellars as part of the Underground Railroad. Gus knew that was part of the Warsaw history. He strained to see if he could spot a break in the shelves where such a room existed, but it was too dim with just the overhead light bulb.
“So, tell me about these jars,” Gus said to Max. “Do you have to use all these ingredients in the winemaking process?” he asked, pointing to the chemicals in the bottles.
“Oh, no,” Max replied. “Gynnie uses most of those for cooking, baking or canning. She just stores them down here. She has so much junk in the kitchen, there is no room. We really should keep some of these away from the other bottles, so they don’t get mixed up. Now this one…” Max said as he grabbed a bottle containing some bright blue crystals “… is not safe for human consumption. It is copper sulfate. We spread it on the floor down here to keep the mold and fungus down. It gets awfully musty down here. That chemical also keeps the mold off the fruit that we use for the wine.”
Max sounded as confident about the various chemicals as he did when he talked about the legends of Letchworth Park. Gus remembered the jar of brandy that Gynnie dumped on the ground. He wished he had gotten a better look at the jar before they threw it in a trash can. Gus made a mental note to call the lab at headquarters and find out why copper sulfate was not safe, as Max had indicated. He also wondered if ingesting it would produce a strangulation sensation and thereby not leave marks on a victim’s neck. He had more research to do but only after he had heard the full instructions on winemaking from Max.
Proceeding to explain the winemaking process and what ingredients were used, Max pointed out the big barrels or vats that held the rotten fruit or dandelions until they were ready for winemaking. He told Gus that this process took a lot of patience and time, as the fruit must ferment for months before it is ready for canning and drinking. By the time Gus left the cellar, he felt he had a very good idea about the whole process, and also something new to investigate, copper sulfate. Gus also noted that there were plenty of jars in that cellar that could have been the very ones used to hold the wine that those two girls drank.
“So, do you ever sell wine to the folks in town?” Gus asked. He knew he asked that before. He was just checking. Sometimes guilty people can’t keep up with the lies they have told. “I am sure they have heard about your great wine.”
“Oh, no,” Max said. “We occasionally give some away to the local doctor or dentist, and we donate a good bit to all the churches for communion wine. It saves the pastors and priests a lot of money, and we consider it a donation. But, no, we never sell.”
Chapter 17
1945 Warsaw, New York
Jacqueline changed clothes at the Chandlers’ home on Perry Avenue before dinner. She felt beautiful in the new evening dress and jewelry Phillip had bought for her. There was nothing quite like a new outfit to make a woman feel her best. Phillip had pleaded with her not to mention even the slightest hint about what she found out earlier; he wanted this to be a nice evening, with his parents’ sexual antics left out of it. The dress made her forget about all of that for now, and she took a deep breath before stepping out into the common area, ready for a pleasant evening. She felt totally self-confident at this moment.
They all enjoyed cocktails before dinner. It was just her and Phillip and his parents. Jacqueline took slow, tiny sips of wine to keep her wits about her during the evening. They sat down for dinner at an elegant table setting, very much the same as Gynnie’s formal setting.
“I noticed your dress, my dear,” Phillip’s mother, Louise, said. “It looks gorgeous on you. Did you buy it in the city?”
“Thank you, but no,” Jacqueline said. “I just acquired it today in Warsaw, actually. I wanted to wear something special for this dinner tonight.” She hoped her manners, culture, education, and good looks would take her far in this family. Jacqueline could tell that Phillip was highly protected by his mother and that no woman was ever going to be good enough for her precious only son. That message had come across loud and clear during dinner.
“Tell us a little about yourself,” Milton said. “Phillip and my sister, Gynnie, have told us that you are a model in New York City. Is that right?”
“Yes, I am,” Jacqueline responded, proceeding to tell them all about her education, career, and her parents. She sadly noted that her mother had passed away in an accident and about all the previous times she and her father had stayed at the inn with Ma
x and Gynnie. Jacqueline even threw in the part about sitting next to Vincent Price at the theater, hoping to drop a famous name and impress them.
“Oh, my, you live an exciting life,” Phillip’s mother said. “I suppose you have figured out that this little town is pretty boring and not nearly as exciting as the city. I imagine you can’t wait to get back there,” she said as she placed the dessert on the table for Milton to serve.
Jacqueline wondered how she meant that? Did she want her to go away? Perhaps it was just a casual comment and Louise meant nothing by it. “I have thoroughly enjoyed myself here. The city can actually feel too busy and noisy at times. I am very relaxed here.” She paused briefly, looking over and smiling at Phillip. “Max and Gynnie have made my father and I feel very comfortable. I adore their home.”
“Max and Gynnie are close relatives, and we enjoy their company,” Louise responded. “In fact, …” Louise said before pausing.
Phillip hoped she would stop right there. But just in case she didn’t, he decided to interject and interrupt her.
“Why don’t we all go into the other room for an after-dinner cocktail?” Phillip suggested as he pushed his chair away from the table, put his napkin down, and moved Jacqueline’s chair back for her.
“Good idea, son,” Milton said. “We have some more of the wine Max and Gynnie prepared. They left us a few jars earlier today. Let’s open them up.”
Jacqueline giggled to herself and wondered which color or flavor they would serve. She had consciously limited the amount of wine she consumed at dinner to ensure that she was on her toes in front of Phillip’s parents.