Divide and Concord

by J. C. Eaton

  Since I hadn’t bothered to say anything to the winemakers, I left things as is. I debated whether or not to give Godfrey an update, but at that moment Deputy Hickman pounded on the doorjamb and stepped inside my office. He had a clipboard in his hand and looked frazzled.

  “The body is on its way to the morgue and a forensics team is working the scene. I trust you’ll keep that Plott hound of yours tied up at the very least. Or better yet, kenneled until they’ve concluded their investigation.”

  “I will. And for your information, if it wasn’t for Charlie, no one would have discovered her until it was time to irrigate or spray. It’s not like that’s a recreational pond or anything.”

  “Right now it’s a possible crime scene. We won’t know anything until a positive identification is made and the coroner completes an autopsy on the body.”

  “Um, uh, yeah, about the body. It’s not Priscilla McCoy. I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion when I saw her necklace.”

  Deputy Hickman moved a chair close to my desk and sat. “Really? You jumped to the wrong conclusion?”

  “You don’t have to rub it in. It was a logical conclusion.”

  “Nonetheless, that’s why we have trained investigators in the sheriff’s office.”

  Another knock on my doorjamb, only this time it was Fred with a hot cup of coffee and a plate of toast and jam. “Thanks, Fred,” I said.

  He placed the coffee and toast on the edge of the desk, directly in front of the deputy. “Compliments of Two Witches,” he said and then took off.

  “That was nice of you, Miss Ellington, and I appreciate it.”

  He took a few sips of coffee and a quick bite of the toast before he spoke. “As you know, we’ll need a statement from you regarding the discovery of the body. The form’s on the clipboard. Next year we expect to have everything on iPads, but for now it’s old-school.”

  “Old-school’s fine,” I replied.

  “Be sure to include the approximate time you left your house and the time you arrived at the pond. Include any pertinent details.”

  It was a short statement—drippy wet cattail entwined with a necklace belonging to Priscilla McCoy, trek to her pond, branch that turned out to be an arm, phone call to Stephanie Ipswich. When I finished, I slid the clipboard back to the deputy and asked, “Did anyone have any idea who she was? I mean, our film crew is all accounted for as far as I know and so are my employees. Unless it was a tourist who over-imbibed and somehow wound up at the pond and fell in. But that doesn’t explain the necklace, huh? Oh, my gosh. Maybe you should talk with Priscilla McCoy. It was her necklace, after all.”

  “Again, Miss Ellington, we cannot presume the necklace was hers. We cannot make assumptions willy-nilly. For all I know, those things could have been mass-produced in Canada and are hanging on more women’s necks than we’d care to count. And yes, we are following procedure. We will need to interview everyone on that film crew as well as your employees.”

  He slid the clipboard back to me. “Page two is for a list of names.”

  I groaned and filled it out while he devoured the rest of his toast and finished his coffee. Then he spoke. “Would you please arrange a time this week for me to speak privately with your staff? Maybe one of them saw or heard something. Naturally, I will be doing the same thing with the staff at Gable Hill, considering the body was found on their property.”

  “Sure.” This isn’t my first rodeo. And if I’m not mistaken, I still have the schedule from the last time. All it needs is some tweaking.

  With that, Deputy Hickman stood, grabbed his clipboard and walked to the door. “Good coffee. Jam’s not bad either. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  I waited a few minutes to make sure he left the building. When I looked outside, the place was still packed. Lots of oglers in the driveway who were most likely hoping to see one of the actors, and of course the festivalgoers, who were more interested in food and wine.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine how that necklace wound up in a pond with a dead body, but I was relieved the body wasn’t Priscilla’s. Deputy Hickman refused to reveal the details, so I had no idea if it belonged to someone who was eighteen or eighty. I doubted the nightly news would have an answer either. It was much too soon.

  I sent a quick text message to Don and Theo that read, “Forget earlier conversation. The body is not Priscilla’s. Talk later.” Then I left the same message on Godfrey’s cell but I added, “Tim Hortons for coffee around eight? Text me.” I figured he was totally engrossed in that non-water larva dissertation and didn’t expect to hear from him until late afternoon.

  With a packed tasting room and a huge serving line for the mac and cheese, I decided to help out as best I could. Not wanting to get stuck in any particular place, I offered my services as a runner if anyone needed anything. In retrospect, I should have planted myself at a tasting table or on the serving line. For the next two hours, I literally hoofed it back and forth from the kitchen to the tasting room. It seemed as if everyone needed something—more napkins, more water, more crackers. The worst was the wineglasses. I found myself loading and unloading the dishwasher more times than I could imagine.

  Then, out of nowhere, Stefan walked into the kitchen. “The older lady at the cash register said I’d find you in here.”

  I pushed the Start button for the dishwasher and wiped my hands on a towel. “What’s up?”

  “Devora. That’s what’s up. Her morning coffee’s beyond cold. So much for me trying to anticipate her every move. I tried calling her on her cell and at the Ramada but she’s not picking up. I thought maybe she arranged for a ride from the Ramada and stopped in here like she did yesterday.”

  “You mean you haven’t seen her today?”

  “Nope. But that’s not unusual. I’ve worked with her before. Actually, it’s better if she’s not around when we do a technical shoot, but the guys wanted to go over some footage with her before they continued.”

  “What did Gavin and Priscilla say?”

  Stefan shrugged. “Not much. They thought Devora would be driving in with me. Heck, she probably decided to book herself a nice spa treatment this morning and didn’t bother to say a word to any of us.”

  Unless that spa treatment was in the Ipswiches’ irrigation pond.

  “Leave your cell number with Lizzie at the cash register. If she shows up, I’ll call you right away.”

  “Thanks. The crew still has quite a bit to do so, you know where to find us. I’m going to get a coffee for myself and trek back to that vineyard. If nothing else, I’m getting my exercise.”

  The only sound in the kitchen was the hum of the dishwasher as the water began to fill. The worst thought of all entered my mind and I couldn’t shake it—Priscilla must have gotten into a fight with Devora and strangled her with that necklace before shoving the body into the Ipswiches’ pond. But what were they doing all the way up there when the vineyard scene was on the other side of our property?

  Without wasting a second, my hand reached into my pocket for my cell phone. I called Gladys Pipp again and spoke before she could give the “call 911” spiel.

  “It’s Norrie. Everything’s fine but I have urgent information for Deputy Hickman,” I said. “Is he in the office?”

  “Hold on. I’ll get him.”

  Everything’s fine? Am I nuts?

  “Ms. Pipp said you were on the line. What is it, Miss Ellington?”

  “Okay, okay. So maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusion before about the dead body. But this time I’m sure. It’s Devora Dobrowski, the film director.”

  “Devora Dobrowski. And who will it be next time? The secretary of state? As I indicated earlier, our coroner and our forensic team will make a positive identification.”

  “You were there when they removed her body from the pond. You must have seen something. Just tell me. Was it a middle-aged woman with layered black hair and one white streak?”

  “Miss Ellington, I am not at libert
y to tell you anything at this juncture in time.”

  “Fine. I thought maybe you’d like a head start on the investigation.”

  “What I would like, other than you staying out of it, is to have a conclusive determination by our trained professionals so that we can proceed with a proper investigation that does not waste anyone’s time.”

  “But, but—”

  “Good day, Miss Ellington.”

  The call ended and I groaned, just as Cammy walked in with another tray of wineglasses.

  “What’s the matter, Norrie? Don’t tell me the dishwasher is acting up?”

  “No, Deputy Hickman is.”

  I proceeded to tell her about Stefan’s visit a few minutes earlier and the fact that Devora seemed to be missing.

  “That body in the pond was hers,” I said. “It has to be. That’s what I told Grizzly Gary but he pretty much blew me off.”

  Cammy leaned against the counter and rubbed the back of her neck. “I hate to say it, but maybe you should wait until it’s definitive. Maybe Devora is having a spa treatment. I overheard Stefan by the doorway. She does that kind of thing.”

  “Only one way to find out. Hold on.”

  I pulled out my cell phone, called the Ramada and asked if Devora Dobrowski had booked a spa, or any other treatment, with them today. I explained that we could not reach her in her room or on her phone.

  “We don’t have an appointment listed for her,” the receptionist said. “However, walk-ins are welcome.”

  “Then could you please call them and see if she’s there?”

  “Give me a moment and I’ll put you on hold.”

  Barry Manilow’s “Mandy” was the next thing I heard.

  “I’m on hold,” I said to Cammy.

  She nodded. “I figured.”

  Seconds later, the receptionist returned. “I’m sorry but no one by the name of Devora Dobrowski has been or is currently in our spa treatment area.”

  I was about to thank her and hang up when I got another idea. “Wait. This is important. Can you please call Housekeeping and see if she’s in her room. I’ll hold as long as it takes.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t tie up our phone lines that long.”

  “Fine. Fine. Then will you check and call me back? It’s really, really important.”

  The receptionist agreed and I gave her my cell number.

  “And what if she’s not in the room?” Cammy asked when I pocketed my phone.

  “Then I’ll find out from Housekeeping if she slept in her bed last night.”

  Chapter 9

  The kitchen door flung open and Lizzie announced, “Bradley Jamison is on the winery phone for you, Norrie. Said his calls kept going to voicemail. I’ve got to hurry back to the cash register. Sam’s keeping an eye on it for me.”

  The last time I spoke with Bradley was last night. Last night! What the heck was wrong with me? I was dating the guy, after all. Shouldn’t I have at least called him about the body in the pond? It was a good thing he couldn’t see the look on my face when I picked up the phone. There was only one word to describe it—sheepish.

  I tried to sound nonchalant. “Bradley, hi!”

  He sounded as if he was out of breath but it could have been the connection. “Sorry to bother you during a wine event,” he said, “but I thought you should know something. Marvin called me from his sister’s house. His nephew is an EMT in Yates County and he was supposed to have a family luncheon with them today, only he got called over to your neighbor’s property for a search and recover. Gable Hill Winery. I don’t know the details but thought you should be aware. I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine event.”

  At that moment I felt like the biggest heel in dating history. I should have at least phoned him. I took a breath, cleared my throat and said, “Charlie found the evidence leading up to finding a body in their irrigation pond this morning. It’s been a circus ever since. I was going to call you but Deputy Hickman showed up at the winery and things sort of spiraled from there.”

  “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

  Not unless you can wave a magic wand and make all of this go away.

  “Not really. The sheriff’s office hasn’t made an official identification of the body but I’ll tell you who I think it is. It’s the film director for Windswept Love. Devora Dobrowski. The she-witch from Toronto. Oh, my gosh. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  Then, for the next five minutes, while dodging Lizzie’s looks since the phone was right behind her counter, I went on to tell Bradley everything about Devora and the rest of the crew.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You mentioned what a tyrant she was but you never told me her name. Devora Dobrowski, right? Could it possibly be the same woman from that infamous Dobrowski divorce case in Canada that wound up in law school classes everywhere? Not the divorce itself, mind you. The property division and all the tentacles that went with it. Including a multitude of legal briefs, but that’s not all. Are you ready for this? It’s still going on. Not only that, but since Canadian divorce laws are akin to ours, there are law classes that deal solely with that divorce.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? I thought Canada was a no-fault country as far as divorce goes.”

  “It is. They operate under the premise of a marriage breakdown. But we’re not talking divorce per se, we’re talking settlement.”

  “And you think it could be the same woman? The director?”

  “I know the husband is Gerard Dobrowski, the CEO of Brouse Candies, a multinational company, but I’m not sure about the wife. Look, how about if I do a little digging and let you know?”

  “That would be fantastic. If it is her, then maybe her estranged husband had something to do with her death. And notice I’m saying death and not murder because, according to Deputy Hickman, ‘the situation is under investigation.’”

  “That means the body, too, Norrie. As a lawyer as well as the guy you’re dating, please take my advice and don’t say anything to anyone until the sheriff makes a positive ID. Okay?”

  Define “anyone.”

  “No problem.”

  “How about I pick you up on Wednesday and we chow down at Uncle Joe’s, or maybe even Stonecutter’s Tavern?”

  “You’ve got a deal. See you then.”

  I kept my word as far as not telling anyone else about my recent revelation regarding the body in the pond. At least until four fifteen. That’s when Stefan came back into the winery looking for me. I was helping Emma dole out the last of the mac and cheese since the part-time workers were on break.

  Stefan spotted me and hurried over. “Skylar, Rikesh, and Mickey are done for the day. At least in the vineyard. Gavin and Priscilla left for the Ramada about an hour ago. They would’ve left sooner but Priscilla went nuts because her necklace was missing. Pain in the butt for us, too, since that necklace appeared in prior footage. I told her to get her rear end over to Walmart or Target and buy something that looked similar. You can’t believe how berserk viewers get when all of a sudden something a character was wearing isn’t there anymore. Especially in the same scene.”

  “Won’t they notice a different necklace?”

  “Nah. We’ll make sure not to zoom in on the necklace.” Then he sighed. “What a day. If looking for the necklace wasn’t enough, Priscilla wound up posing for selfies with a few fans and two of your guys who looked like college kids.”

  Marc and Enzo, no doubt.

  I started to say something but Stefan kept talking. “Listen, if Devora shows up, tell her we went back to the hotel. Skylar and Rikesh need to review the footage with her. With my dumb luck, we’ll probably pass her on the road and not know it.”

  It was all I could do not to blurt out, “Your director is dead,” but I bit my lower lip and mumbled, “Uh, sure thing.”

  “Great,” he said. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning. Should be a tad easier, eh? Without that wine and cheese thing go
ing on.”

  Easier was the last word I’d use to describe the situation but I bobbed my head and smiled. Either Priscilla was a better actress than I thought and pretended to have lost the necklace when in fact she used it to commit a murder, or she really did lose it and someone else found the perfect weapon.

  • • •

  A half hour later, the Wine and Cheese event officially concluded. Of course, the winery stayed open until five thirty since it was a special event, so the last of our customers didn’t leave until almost six. No one wanted to rush them as they made their wine and gift purchases.

  Then the cleanup began. Glasses that needed to be washed, tables that had to be wiped down, food trays from the mac and cheese that had to be scoured, and ugh, bathrooms that had to be sanitized.

  Fortunately, Cammy arranged for a local cleaning service to handle the really dirty work and their crew arrived at six thirty. Two men and a woman. They had worked for us before and knew the routine but Cammy still went over it with them.

  “Did you catch the five o’clock news?” the heavyset woman asked. “They found a body at the winery next to yours. It was a woman.”

  I all but tackled her. “Did they give a name? Did they say who she was?”

  The cleaning woman shook her head. “Nope. The news anchors on Channel 8 said it was still under investigation and a positive identification hadn’t been made.”

  “What else did they say?”

  “I don’t know. I had to turn off the TV to drive over here from Waterloo.”

  Drat. The next news wouldn’t hit the TV until seven. That meant sweating it out for the next half hour because I seriously doubted my news app would have more to offer up. Cammy must have sensed my impatience because she said, “We’ll be fine, Norrie. You might as well get out of here while you can.” Then she pulled me aside and whispered, “Call me if you find out anything.”

  “Thanks, everyone!” I shouted. I was out the door before anyone could say anything. Especially Glenda. The last thing I needed was to hear about restless spirits, or worse yet, the stinky and unsavory herbs needed to rid ourselves of them.