Divide and Concord

by J. C. Eaton

  Oh, yeah. That’s bound to endear me even more with Grizzly Gary.

  “Um, I’m pretty sure they know what they’re doing.” Even if Nancy doesn’t concur. I had to tread lightly because Lizzie was a diehard Nancy Drew fan, and as far as Lizzie was concerned, Carolyn Keene’s fictional sleuth was as alive and breathing as I was.

  Just then, Cammy returned with an armload of T-shirts and shouted, “Good morning, Norrie!” That was all I needed to thank Lizzie and get away from the cash register.

  “I’ll help you put those on the shelves,” I said to Cammy. “Give me a batch.”

  She handed me the bright green ones and a few of the fuchsia-colored shirts. “The doors open in five minutes. I wanted to get these shelved.”

  We moved to the clothing and gift section of the tasting room, where Cammy lined up the bright orange shirts in their bin. “I heard Deputy Hickman’s voice as he was leaving. Let me guess. Another go-round of interviews?”

  “And then some.”

  Cammy shrugged. “I figured as much. It was on the early-morning news.”

  “Don’t tell me you got up at the crack of dawn to watch one of the networks?”

  “Are you kidding? I try to get as much shut-eye as I can. My mother woke me up screaming about putting Marc and Enzo in harm’s way. I told her they were surrounded by off-duty EMTs and a slew of vineyard workers, but she still wasn’t convinced. She and her sisters think a deranged killer is stalking the vineyards in search of victims. I told her to quit watching Criminal Minds.”

  “I don’t know what’s worse—a deranged killer or someone from that film crew.”

  “True. It is kind of creepy to think that someone working on the film set for your screenplay is also a murderer.”

  “That’s why we need to act fast. Deputy Hickman’s going to interview everyone here on Wednesday. He’ll be doing the same at Gable Hill. Today he’ll be at the Ramada to grill the cast and crew of Windswept Love. That’ll take forever. Not to mention the autopsy and the toxicology report. That’s where we come in.”

  Cammy furrowed her brow and straightened a few of the T-shirts. “We? What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Face it. There’s no one on our payroll or Stephanie’s who would have had any motive to murder Devora Dobrowski. Heck, half the employees didn’t have a clue who she was. However, as far as her own crew was concerned, she was Captain Bligh. Now we just have to figure out who was Fletcher Christian.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” She stepped away from the T-shirts and widened her eyes.

  “We need to get every last piece of dirt we possibly can on the three film crew guys plus Stefan, Gavin, and Priscilla. Oh, and let’s not forget Devora. Something in her past or present is bound to be lurking on the internet.” And if Bradley is right about her identity, she’ll be lurking all right. “Face it, they all must have social media pages, especially the actors, so that’s a good start. We’ll have to look for little clues that might point to a more substantial motive other than ‘the woman was a witch on wheels so I did her in.’”

  “Do you have any idea how much work that is? Facebook could take you all day. Not to mention Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and probably some new ones I haven’t heard of.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll divide and conquer. I know Theo and Don will help out and I’m positive Stephanie will as well. She’s pretty adroit with computer searches.”

  “Were you thinking of divvying up the names?” she asked. “If so, I get dibs on Gavin Chase.”

  “You may have to fight Don for him, but sure, he’s all yours. I’m going to pay Stephanie a little visit today and see if she’ll pick up two of the crew members. I want to sink my teeth into Priscilla and Devora. No love lost there as far as Devora is concerned.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll scrounge around on social media tonight and see what I can come up with, but I don’t think we’re going to get too far.”

  I straightened my back and stretched my arms. “Social media is only step one. Online background checks and criminal reports are next on my to-do list. They run from fifteen to twenty dollars a person. At the high end, it would cost a hundred and forty dollars. I’ll get Stephanie to split the bill with me. Heck, she spends more on lattes during the week.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t mention this to Glenda. She’ll want to cast a purifying spell on the place, or worse yet, try to contact Devora’s restless spirit. Next thing you know, we’ll all be up at the Ipswiches’ pond chanting something none of us understands.”

  “Um, that may be step three.”

  Chapter 13

  Gable Hill Winery was situated at the bottom part of Gable Hill Road, the next road over from Two Witches. Both our wineries faced Route 14 and Seneca Lake. And both of our wineries had been in operation for a number of years before we became the current proprietors.

  Unlike Two Witches, the original owners of Gable Hill converted their farmhouse into the winery building, adding on a modern production lab and tasting room. When Stephanie and her husband purchased the place, they didn’t want to live at another location so they built their house on the hill as well.

  The original owners must have been enamored with Anne of Green Gables, because the winery building looked exactly like Anne’s house on Prince Edward Island in all the photos I’d seen: A white wood-framed house with steep dark green gables, a wraparound porch, and a pristine picket fence.

  The sign in front read Welcome to Gable Hill Winery, Stephanie and Derek Ipswich, Owners. I stepped inside their tasting room, where the Green Gables theme continued throughout the interior: farm-style tasting tables, a large vintage cooking stove that was more decorative than functional, framed paintings of country scenes, and pastel painted walls. The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon cookies permeated the room.

  Like Two Witches, they also had their cash register/computer situated by the front door, and Stephanie was the one seated behind it.

  The minute she saw me, she looked around as if something was about to jump out at her. “Hi, Norrie. Oh, no. You’re here in person. Does this mean bad news? I’ve been twitchy and skittish all day. Thank goodness the boys are at school and my tasting room staff can function on their own.”

  I shook my head. “Relax. Other than Grizzly Gary stopping by to tell me we’re going to be questioned regarding Devora’s drowning, there’s no other news.”

  Stephanie brushed a strand of her honey-colored hair from her brow. “Same here. I didn’t sleep at all last night and I must look atrocious.”

  If atrocious could be described as knock-down gorgeous, then she certainly fit the bill.

  “You look fine. The reason I’m here is to ask for your help. We all know that none of our staff members would have a motive to kill Devora Dobrowski, but that film crew sure did. They despised her. She chastised Priscilla no end, barked at her assistant constantly, and, according to the video and sound guys, plagued them constantly.”

  “I’m not sure how I can help. Isn’t the sheriff’s office investigating?”

  “Come on, Stephanie, they couldn’t find a cow in the pasture if you marked a big X on it.”

  “Don’t say that out loud.”

  “Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating, but they move so slow that it will be weeks until they make any progress. The film crew’s passports have been locked up and they’re stuck in Geneva until an arrest is made. Meanwhile, our wineries are going to get a black eye over it. You know how rumors fly around here.”

  “They’ve already flown. We’ve had curiosity seekers traipsing up the hill all morning. The crime scene tape around the pond doesn’t help matters, either. Derek had to put No Trespassing signs on vineyard rows, and he wasn’t a happy camper about it.”

  “That’s why we need to do something.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Nothing prevents us from prying into that film crew. You know, social media, background checks, the usual.”

  �
�I’m not a detective. I don’t know the usual.”

  “We watch enough TV shows to figure it out. There’s got to be something one of them is hiding regarding their relationship with Devora. I mean, we’ve all had bosses we’ve hated, but we don’t go strangling them and shoving them into irrigation ponds. It has to be something more.”

  “Social media? What am I supposed to find out on Facebook? That they like cats?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We need to find out their other relationships and all the nuances that go with it. Then we can move on to background checks. I figured at most it would cost us each seventy bucks.”

  Stephanie moistened her lips and sighed. “If all it takes is seventy dollars to move this thing along, then I’m game.”

  “Great. Cammy’s going to look up anything she can on Gavin Chase and I can get Don and Theo to take Stefan and two of the video and sound guys. That leaves one other guy.”

  “What about Priscilla and Devora?”

  “I figured I’d do Devora and we can split Priscilla, so you’d actually be taking a person and a half. We can figure the logistics later.”

  Stephanie twirled a long strand of hair around a finger. “Give me the best-looking of the crew.”

  “You’re not picking a date for the prom, and besides, that’s a terrible criteria.”

  “Yeah, but it makes it more fun.”

  “They’re all thirtyish and decent-looking. Skylar is tall and muscular with that Brad Pitt stubble thing going for him, Rikesh is adorable with average height, darker skin, deep brown eyes and dark wavy hair. Mickey is also average height with lighter hair, broad shoulders and a cute smile.”

  I can’t believe I’m actually telling her this.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll take the first name.”

  “Fine, you can have Skylar—”

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “I just realized I don’t know all their last names, only Stefan’s and Skylar’s. Never mind. I’ll find out today from my producer and call you. Anyway, I need to get going.”

  “Keep me posted if you hear anything. See you Thursday at our WOW meeting.”

  “Yep. Another opportunity for Catherine Trobert to mention her son and how much she wants us to connect. I could retch.”

  “At least you’ve managed to dodge him so far.”

  “That’s because he lives in Maine, but one of these days he’s going to show up to visit his parents. I can only hope I’ll be back in Manhattan by then.”

  Stephanie laughed and I headed out the door.

  I went home, completed the interview schedule for Deputy Hickman and faxed it to Gladys. I emailed it to everyone on our staff and even called the tasting room, the winery lab, and the barn to make sure they’d check their emails. Only Franz responded, indicating it was “a preposterous waste of time,” but nevertheless he’d be most cooperative.

  The rest of the day was tedious as I had to edit one of my screenplays, but it did give me the perfect excuse to call Renee for advice and then ask her for the film crew’s last names, “Just in case we needed to share them with the authorities.”

  Renee was more focused than she was during our earlier call but not her usual upbeat self. I couldn’t blame her, considering the circumstances. To add to the strain, Stefan had informed her that the passports were under lock and key and the crew was essentially under “house arrest” in New York.

  “The loss of production time and the overall expenditure will undoubtedly put a dent in our profits,” she told me. “Our production team is hashing this out at the moment and we should render a decision shortly regarding the direction we need to take. I’ll keep you posted, Norrie.”

  As soon as the call ended, I made up my mind to never, under any circumstances, write another screenplay with a vineyard in it.

  • • •

  Don, Theo, and I agreed to meet at Tim Hortons for that “quick bite” after work since the soup of the day on Mondays was chili and Theo had a hankering for it. The restaurant was on Hamilton Street in Geneva and close to Wegmans, so I figured I could pick up a few things after I ate. With the weather being “unseasonably cold” for this time of year, according to the news, I added a scarf around my neck and put on warm boots instead of my usual sneakers.

  Don and Theo must have gotten the same memo because both of them showed up with long scarves and higher boots.

  “As soon as we think winter is over,” Don said as he took a seat next to me, “we get a lousy forecast and boom! Back to heavier clothes.”

  “Huh? Are we supposed to get snow?”

  He nodded. “Not for a few days but a spring storm is on its way. It’s that heavy wet crap that doesn’t even look good.”

  “I guess it won’t matter as far as the filming goes because there’s no director and the actors are stuck at the Ramada along with the crew.”

  “Any word from your producer?”

  “She’s reviewing her options or something like that. Anyway, there’s no reason whatsoever we have to put up with Deputy Hickman’s glacial investigations when we can get a head start ourselves.”

  Don looked at me as if I’d suggested we take a cold plunge in the lake, but before he could say a word, Theo leaned toward me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Nothing at all like the last time. Honest. This would be more of an armchair investigation rather than—”

  “Your usual show-up-where-you’re-not-wanted ones?” Don asked.

  “Hilarious. What I had in mind was a simple, painless internet search of the film crew and the actors. People spill out all sorts of things on social media without even realizing it. Cammy and Stephanie already agreed to help out.”

  Don made a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a chortle. “That’s because Cammy works for you and Stephanie’s in as deep as you are.”

  I must have registered a pained look or something because the next thing I knew, Don said, “Relax. I’m sure you’ve got some sort of plan brewing in that head of yours. Spit it out.”

  Five minutes later, Don and Theo agreed to dig the dirt on Stefan Olinguard, Rikesh DeSai and Mickey Permutter. Don was somewhat disappointed that Cammy had beat him to Gavin Chase but he said he’d get over it. We agreed to get started as soon as possible and share notes after the WOW meeting.

  Since Don and Theo had already “taken out a second mortgage” to shop at Wegmans a few days ago, they headed home after we ate. I, on the other hand, had my heart set on their homemade chocolate chip cookies and one of their giant roasted chickens. I figured that thing would be my meal staple for at least three days.

  I made a mental note to always shop at Wegmans on Monday nights since the parking lot wasn’t packed with cars and I was able to snag a spot close to the door. I grabbed a shopping cart and immediately began to fill it with necessities—freshly baked bread, double chocolate chip muffins, assorted trail mixes, flavored butters, and natural dog biscuits for Charlie.

  Remembering I was out of Band-Aids, I made my way to the health and beauty aisles, trying not to make eye contact with anything in between. No sooner had I tossed a box of assorted-size bandages into my cart than I noticed Skylar a few feet in front of me. His shopping cart was directly behind him.

  He held a tube of Neosporin in his hand and then flicked it into the cart. It bounced off the six-pack of Molson Canadian and landed on top of a large bag of pretzels.

  As he turned toward the cart, our eyes met.

  “Norrie. Hi. Guess this is the local hotspot, huh?”

  I peered into his cart and smiled. “Sadly, you’re right. Did you get cut? I couldn’t help but notice the Neosporin.”

  “Not me. Priscilla. She asked me to pick up an antibiotic cream for her as well as something for rough hands. I figured this was as good as anything. She said her hands got scraped when she backed up against some grapevines the other day. She didn’t want to make a big deal of it but said the scratches were bothering her. Both hands, too. She must n
ot have been paying attention.”

  I looked down at the orange box with its brightly colored label.

  “What’s wrong?” Skylar asked. “Should I pick out a different antibiotic cream? I have no idea about this stuff.”

  “Um, no. Neosporin’s the best. I was just thinking about how uncomfortable those scratches must be.”

  “Yeah, well, next time Priscilla will be more careful about where she positions herself when we film outdoors.”

  I’ll say. And too late for Devora.

  Chapter 14

  “Any word from Renee?” I asked.

  “She sent Stefan a text. Said she was working on something. If we have to quit now and reshoot later, we’ll lose all the continuity from the scene. Especially if the weather changes drastically. You can’t have wet snow during the first part of a dialogue and practically nothing on the ground by the time someone finishes a sentence.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll have snow all right, but maybe more than you bargained for.”

  “All of this is more than what we bargained for. Our director found dead under a haze of suspicion and not very pleasant interviews with your local deputy today. In fact, I think I’ll swing by the beer section and grab another six-pack.”

  “Tell Priscilla I hope her hands feel better. Scratches can be nasty.”

  I had a hard time keeping myself from jumping up and down shouting that I knew it. I knew Priscilla got scratched up fighting with Devora. I only prayed Deputy Hickman had the same revelation.

  Skylar turned toward the beer aisle when I suddenly remembered something. “Hold on a second. Did Deputy Hickman mention anything about the timeline for Devora’s death?”

  “What do you mean? How long she’d been underwater?”

  “That, and who saw her last.”

  “According to the coroner’s report, Devora had been dead for at least fourteen hours, possibly sixteen. That means she wound up in that pond late Saturday afternoon. As for who saw her last, it was anyone’s guess. All of us thought she was driving back with someone else. The only thing anyone could agree on was that Devora asked Rikesh to stash her purse in the van sometime during the shoot, which he did.”