Pinot Red or Dead?

by J. C. Eaton

  “Norrie, I don’t think—”

  “Listen, I won’t do anything to mess up your pheromone plan. Honest. I won’t so much as step on a single one of those disgusting stinkbugs. I promise. While you and Alex are setting your traps, or whatever it is you plan to do, I’ll keep a low profile and try to find out which of those Sisters stashed the blueprints.”

  “So breaking and entering, essentially.”

  “Entering. I could pretend to be taking photos of the infestation for scientific research. In fact, I could take photos. I have a smartphone.”

  “It’s not that…it’s…well, this is government work we do. Government research. We can’t compromise it.”

  “Godfrey, one of those nuns could be a killer. A bona fide killer who goes free because she has the perfect ruse. No one would ever suspect a nun. I could join you as an observer, couldn’t I? Surely the Experiment Station allows observers.”

  I wasn’t sure if Godfrey was groaning or humming. “Fine. Meet me at my office at eight tomorrow. I’ll think of something to tell Alex.”

  “You’re the best, Godfrey. The absolute best!”

  Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day, and I was positive Theo and Don would agree. Unfortunately, they didn’t. I called them at a little past seven that night. I was absolutely brimming with enthusiasm.

  “Are you insane?” Theo asked. “You actually plan on sneaking into the nuns’ private bedrooms? It’s a religious order. What if you get caught?”

  “I’ll whip out my phone and tell them I’m documenting the infestation.”

  “Geez.”

  “Look, Godfrey found those blueprints. You know as well as I do people don’t have blueprints drawn up if they’re not serious about building something. And those architects don’t come cheap. I keep thinking something fishy is going on and I need to be sure.”

  “Oh brother. Here, talk to Don.”

  “You’d better be really careful, Norrie. This isn’t like snooping around in a warehouse or something. And how are you going to go about it if those Sisters are milling about?”

  “I doubt they’ll be in their rooms during the day. It’s not a dormitory. They’ll probably be praying or something.”

  “If you’re not careful, you’ll be the one praying. Make sure your cell phone is charged, just in case.”

  “You make it sound as if I’m going into Dracula’s Castle.”

  “Castle, convent, it’s all the same.”

  When I got off the phone with Theo and Don, I revisited my earlier Google search on the Holy Sepulcher Convent. This time, I focused on images. I wanted to get a general sense of what I would face tomorrow. In my mind, I pictured a combination of The Cloisters in Manhattan and that enormous Romanesque structure in the 1966 classic, The Trouble with Angels. What I saw instead reminded me more of an English countryside estate, only instead of a barn and horses, there was a chapel and another larger structure—a Tudor Revival with a steeply pitched roof, high chimneys, and dormer windows.

  It looked as if a more modern addition had been added within the last decade, given the style and the fact that it bore no resemblance to the original building. Maybe it was the industrial kitchen the Sisters needed for their thriving bakery business. The last thing I noticed was a Morton garage with a side overhang. It was located between the chapel and the residence—and was large enough to accommodate two vehicles plus lawn mowers and a snowplow.

  If I was lucky, the Sisters would be baking in the kitchen or praying in the chapel. Unlike The Trouble with Angels, the religious order no longer ran a boarding school. Arnold Mowen’s class was probably one of the last ones to grace its hallways. Cheesecakes, tarts, and prayers replaced unruly kids and demanding parents.

  With absolutely no plan of action for the following day, I decided to take a “look-see” approach—and hoped that Godfrey spent lots of time on the second floor, where the dormitories were located. Like the nuns, I did some praying of my own. Mainly that Alex Bollinger wasn’t a stickler for following the rules.

  I arrived at the Experiment Station promptly at eight, dressed in assorted layers of clothing in case it got warmer, colder, or wetter. The fact that it was in the mid-thirties didn’t mean a thing. Weather in the Finger Lakes could change in a matter of minutes. Godfrey and a tall, thin man, in his early forties, met me at the front entrance. The guy had wavy brown hair and wore rimless eyeglasses with a slight tint.

  “Norrie, this is Alex Bollinger.” Then Godfrey turned to Alex. “This is Norrie Ellington from Two Witches Winery. As I mentioned, she’s very interested in our project today since all the wineries are always concerned about overwintering pests.”

  Alex held out his hand and I shook it. “Nice to meet you. It’s not often we get community members joining us on our off-site visits. Of course, you’re Jason Keane’s sister-in-law, so that might explain it. Lucky guy getting that grant, huh?”

  I smiled, nodded, and held myself back from saying anything I’d regret.

  The three of us piled into the Experiment Station’s van, and Godfrey drove us to Lodi. He made a quick stop at the Dunkin’ Donuts on Hamilton Street so we could grab coffee. The conversation consisted mostly of their pheromone plan to rid the convent of the stinkbugs, although I was privy to all kinds of information regarding winter pests, including some things I would have rather not heard, including the mess caused by cluster fly excretions. How anyone could revel in this knowledge was beyond me.

  Lodi, a village that made my hometown look like a metropolis, was directly east of Penn Yan, on the opposite side of the lake. We took two county roads and made it there forty minutes later. The convent was situated on the lake and, had it not been winter with barren trees, it would have been obscured by foliage.

  The sign in front of its long driveway read “Holy Sepulcher Convent.” The words “and School” were painted over but still visible. Godfrey drove us directly to the Tudor Revival house. It looked exactly like the image I saw yesterday on the computer.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got to let Sister Mary Katherine know we’re here. She’s the one in charge of operations. Sister Celeste runs the bakery and Sister Gloria Mae does the accounting and bills.”

  He used the brass doorknocker to let the Sisters know we had arrived. A young nun, who looked like she might be in her teens, answered the door and ushered us inside. She told us to wait for Sister Mary Katherine.

  If I could describe the convent in one word, it would be imposing. Everything seemed to be struggling to breathe under the layers of dark curtains, dark furniture, and dark rugs. Even the circular staircase looked like it would be better placed in a Gothic horror movie. I half expected to hear a blood-curdling scream as a body was hurled from the top floor. Instead, Sister Mary Katherine arrived and greeted us.

  I hated to admit it, but my mind was stuck in that stereotypical image of nuns, so when I found myself face to face with her, I was taken aback. For one thing, she was on the young side of middle age, probably in her late thirties, had a clear complexion and high cheekbones, and wasn’t wearing a long black habit—or any habit, for that matter. She was wearing a plain white blouse and a non-descript beige skirt that came below her knees. Not ankles, knees. I noticed that she wore heavy beige stockings, and a gold cross around her neck. No veil, but a small beige covering that looked like a starched scarf. Her hair was dark brown and cut fairly short, just below her ears. She wore no makeup whatsoever. Without the drab attire and with a little blush and eyeliner, she could’ve passed for a coed.

  Godfrey introduced me but didn’t provide details. He explained to Sister Mary Katherine that he and Alex would begin the pest removal process using pheromones to lure the stinkbugs out of their recently discovered abodes. Alex would start in the chapel, as they found a large concentration of the insects there. Godfrey would begin upstairs in the dormitories, and he sugge
sted that the Sisters do the preliminary work in the kitchen, since that infiltration was prominent. They would need to vacuum all visible bugs and take the vacuum cleaner outside. There, they would dump the insects into bags that they would seal carefully. Godfrey and Alex would take the bags for further research or obliteration. In addition, the baseboards and cabinets would have to be wiped down with Clorox. The nuns considered Clorox a cleanser and not a chemical, so Sister Mary Katherine had no objection.

  “After we have vacuumed the visible insects, we’ll introduce the pheromones,” Godfrey explained. “More bugs will emerge from the cracks and holes. They should be vacuumed up immediately. We’ve brought two small, handheld machines for the upstairs and the chapel. I take it you have a decent upright or canister model for the kitchen.”

  “We have both,” Sister Mary Katherine said. “Thank the Lord we completed our baking yesterday and sent the cheesecakes and tarts out for delivery. I anticipated we’d need at least a full day to take care of our situation. Oh dear. We have the garage to consider as well.”

  “I wouldn’t concern myself too much about the garage,” Godfrey told Sister Mary Katherine. “Right now, concentrate your efforts on your residence. How many Sisters will be assisting?”

  “There are eight of us in all. We’re a very small order and, unfortunately, dwindling. When we closed our school due to lack of enrollment, we feared something like this would happen. Most nuns study education as well as theology because they wish to teach. We cannot compete with the larger convents and monasteries like Bishop Grimes in Syracuse. Anyway, we genuinely appreciate your help. You said the kitchen contained the greatest number of those pests. What about the rest of the house?”

  Godfrey and Alex exchanged glances and Alex spoke. “When we were here the other day, we noticed a number of ornamental plants. The insects feed on those as well as any fruits, like apples or berries, you may have lying around. It’s always a good idea to remove the food source or at least make sure it’s refrigerated so they can’t get to it.”

  “And the plants?” Sister Mary Katherine asked.

  “If you don’t wish to discard them, scrutinize them carefully. Of course, the insects do lay eggs, although during the winter months they tend to remain in hibernation mode.”

  “Yes,” Godfrey added, “The female of the species is known to lay four hundred eggs in her lifetime.”

  Sister Mary Katherine gasped and then put her hand over her mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” Alex said. “Have your Sisters begin with vacuuming and the bleach treatment. We’ll add the pheromones to the mix and your dilemma should resolve itself.”

  Suddenly, the only thought in my mind was houseplants. So help me, if I saw so much as one stinkbug on Francine’s spider plant, out it would go. Bug and all!

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Sister Mary Katherine said. “I’d better let Sister Gloria Mae know what’s going on. She’s working in our office, the small room on our left, past the devotional room.”

  I wasn’t sure what all those rooms were, but it didn’t matter. I needed to scope out the dormitories to see which of the rooms housed the blueprints. I knew Godfrey had arranged for us to be upstairs so I could have access to those rooms without Alex, or anyone else, breathing down our necks.

  “Off to the chapel I go,” Alex said. “I expect to be done within the next two hours.”

  Godfrey gave him a quick nod and turned to Sister Mary Katherine. “Guess Miss Ellington and I had best get started as well. I need to go back to our van to get the hand-vac. Our pheromone vials are in the van as well, in my briefcase. Shouldn’t be more than a minute or two. Would it be all right if Miss Ellington heads upstairs or would you rather she wait right here?”

  Sister Mary Katherine glanced at the long circular staircase before turning to me. “No sense waiting. You might as well go up there and see for yourself what we’re up against. All of the rooms are identical, and all of the light switches are on your right.”

  “Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  The steps creaked as I walked up the stairs. The worn carpeting no longer muffled the sound of footsteps. When I got to the landing, I stared at a long corridor with an open door at the end. A row of sinks was clearly visible, and I figured it had to be the community bathroom. I shuddered. One year of living like that in college was enough for me. I much preferred my ratty apartments with one or two roommates to communal living.

  It was eerily quiet upstairs, and I felt as if I was about to commit a sin by opening someone’s private drawers and closets. I told myself it was sleuthing, not snooping. Still, it was creepy, and I muttered “It’s a murder investigation, not a scavenger hunt.” Of course, Deputy Hickman might’ve had another word for it, but I tried not to think about that.

  I had always thought the Shakers and the Amish lived simple lives, but their simplicity was nothing compared with the Sisters from the Holy Sepulcher Convent. I was glad I dressed in layers. Clearly, the Sisters didn’t believe in overspending when it came to heating the place.

  I had gone through every conceivable corner in the first room when Godfrey finally made it upstairs.

  “What took you so long?” I asked.

  “I spotted a few boxelder beetles in the kitchen when I peeked inside. This place is a veritable winter hotel. It appears as if the Sisters didn’t bother, or didn’t have the resources, to have their windows caulked and sealed. Not to mention the doorplate areas.”

  “Yikes. I don’t do that either.”

  Godfrey looked as if I said I left all of our windows and doors open at night. “Unless you plan on sharing your house with a host of unwelcome guests, you might want to consider it.”

  Consider it? I’m calling the vineyard manager right this minute and having him line up the first carpenter he finds!

  Chapter 15

  The hum of Godfrey’s vacuum cleaner was a soothing sound as I worked my way through each of the rooms. With the exact same layout and amenities (one dresser, one nightstand, one small, non-walk-in closet), it was easy to poke around.

  The mattresses were lightweight and twin-sized, so it didn’t take any Herculean effort to lift them and see if any of the Sisters was hiding something. Three rooms down and the only thing that caught my attention was the bugs. Ew! They were everywhere. The worst clusters were in the corners of the closets and in some of the drawers. I hoped Godfrey had brought lots of vacuum cleaner bags or garbage bags if his vacuum was one of those bagless ones.

  “Hey, Norrie, how’s it going?” he asked when we bumped into each other in the corridor.

  “Do you have any idea where you found those blueprints?”

  Godfrey shook his head. “It wasn’t one of the end rooms, but that’s the best I can do.”

  “Okay. I’ll plod on.”

  Plod on was definitely the expression for what I was doing. The entire process was mind-numbing, and I wasn’t getting anywhere. Finally, when I left one of the rooms and walked toward the next one, I caught a whiff of something. It was faint, but discernable. It was a scent I recognized, even though I couldn’t place it. It was someone’s perfume. Until now, most of the rooms smelled like a mixture of mildewed wood and Ivory soap.

  Working in the tasting room, I inhaled all sorts of aromas, or in some cases, odors. This was definitely an aroma. Maybe I’d smelled it on one of the customers. Normally, I wouldn’t notice this kind of thing, but this was a convent, and I didn’t think nuns were allowed to wear perfume.

  I don’t know why, but I looked to my left and my right before entering the room. Godfrey was across the hall, or at least I thought he was because I heard the vacuum. I walked into the room, expecting to get a good dose of the perfume, but like the lingering aroma in the hallway, it was diluted.

  By now I had worked out a routine—check the nightstand first, check the dresser drawers, look at
the closet, and finish with the mattress. Too bad Hilton and Marriott weren’t hiring in our neck of the woods.

  Other than the usual Bible and, in this case, a box of tissues, there was nothing of interest in the nightstand. The dresser held an assortment of white undergarments and stockings, as well as white blouses and two cardigan sweaters, both tan. The closet held a few beige skirts and a heavy winter coat. Two pairs of clunky black shoes were lined up on the closet floor.

  Next, I moved to the mattress and I heard footsteps approaching. It was one of those Stephen King moments when the small hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I told myself to relax, that I was searching for stinkbugs and what? Boxelder bugs now? Before I could turn my head, I heard a woman’s voice.

  “There’s a false bottom on the second drawer down. Unless you’re really looking for more of those horrid stinkbugs.”

  Standing in the doorway was another Sister, about the same age as Sister Mary Katherine but much taller and thinner with reddish hair and bangs.

  My face suddenly warmed and, for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond.

  She went on. “Don’t worry. I’ve often wondered what Sister Celeste keeps in that drawer.”

  “I, uh, um…”

  “Shh, your secret’s safe with me. I’m Sister Gloria Mae, and you are?”

  “Norrie. Norrie Ellington from Two Witches Winery in Penn Yan. I’m friends with one of the entomologists and he said I could join them today.”

  “Fair enough. Mind telling me why? Like I said, the last thing I’m about to do is go scuttling off to Sister Mary Katherine.”

  I had to phrase my words carefully, or I’d be making an accusation I’d regret. “One of the Sisters in this convent may have knowledge about our wine distributor’s suspicious death.”