Divide and Concord

by J. C. Eaton

  Godfrey made his move by ducking to the floor and rolling carefully under the bed, but not before throwing the mini-cam box under the bed. Thankfully he was on the opposite side of the bed from me. I lifted the bed skirt and moved an inch or so in order for him to scooch next to me. We were nose to nose and my chest was pressed against his.

  I took shallow breaths and prayed he’d do the same. I moved slightly and turned my head toward the door. The half inch or so between the bed skirt and the floor gave me enough room to see Gordon’s brown lace-up winter boots as he approached the bed and sank into it.

  The salty saliva that had built up in my mouth tasted awful when I swallowed it. I clenched my fists and tried to remain perfectly still. This was, by far, one of my worst ideas ever.

  Chapter 31

  Please don’t let my cell phone go off. Please don’t let my cell phone go off. The ringer is set on high.

  While I fumbled in my pocket to retrieve my phone and push the mute button, Godfrey was already two steps ahead of me. He shifted his body so he was no longer on his side, but instead was stretched out on his back holding his phone above his chest. I could see the screen and watched as the line across the ringer image turned to mute. Meanwhile, one of Gordon’s boots thudded to the floor a foot or so from my head. I waited for the second one to drop, but nothing. I felt like yelling, “Drop the damn boot already,” but all I could do was wait it out.

  Hell. What if the guy decides to take a nap? There’s no way Godfrey and I can sneak out of here without being heard.

  Then, two things happened simultaneously. Godfrey gave my elbow a squeeze at the exact moment I heard a knock on the door. Make it three things. Gordon’s other boot dropped. This time even closer to my head.

  Seconds later, a stocking-footed Gordon got up from the bed and opened the door. “I got back here as fast as I could,” he said. “Honestly, I had no idea you were brought in for more questioning. I was asleep at the time, and when I woke I ordered breakfast in and decided to check out a few of the wineries. I never would have knowingly let you face that alone.”

  My field of vision was limited to the knees down but my hearing was a hundred percent accurate and Priscilla McCoy’s damsel-in-distress voice was unmistakable. “It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. Stefan was there for a while but then he left because they wouldn’t let him stay in the room with me while I was being questioned. He promised he’d call Renee and insist she send our company barrister here.”

  “Come here. You could use a good hug and a shoulder to cry on.”

  Terrific. I stared at two different sets of feet pointing at each other while I waited for the hug to end. It didn’t. Well, not right away it didn’t. I wondered if perhaps the hug might have turned into a different kind of embrace that included the usual smooching, but no matter how hard I tried to adjust my view, all I could see were feet.

  Godfrey returned to his original position, sideways against my body, only by now I had shifted so that we were in a spooning position. Surprisingly, it felt comfortable, like being tucked into bed with a familiar blanket. This can’t be happening. That kiss we had was eons ago and I can’t possibly become involved with two men. It’s bad enough I write that stuff.

  No change as far as Priscilla and Gordon were concerned and I wondered how long they could possibly remain in that embrace. I could feel Godfrey’s breath on my neck and I detected a subtle citrus scent. Lemon maybe? The warmer his breath got, the more intense the citrus. I could feel my pulse quickening. Damn. This is not good. Not good at all.

  Suddenly, Gordon’s voice jolted me out of whatever it was I was feeling and I all but sat up at attention.

  “No sense standing here when the bed’s far more comfortable.”

  Holy crap. Did he really say that? My God, it’s the second oldest line in creation. The one that replaced, “Would you like to go upstairs to see my etchings?” I gave Godfrey’s ankle a slight kick, then nudged him with my elbow.

  Next thing I knew, Priscilla and Gordon were sitting at the edge of the bed. I felt a bouncing movement as someone’s weight sank into the mattress. It was followed by the next person’s weight and a rocking motion. It didn’t take Zenora’s psychic abilities to figure out their vertical embrace was now horizontal.

  I didn’t want to be close to the edge of the bed in case Priscilla decided to slip off her shoes and tuck them beneath the bed skirt so I used my arm to shift my weight, but the end result was that I was practically on top of Godfrey.

  He pressed an arm on my shoulder and rolled me forward, but not so far as to be free from the proximity of his body. The citrus scent got stronger as I heard the movement above me and realized Priscilla and Gordon were no longer talking.

  Unfortunately, my attention boomeranged back to Godfrey, and in an instant I was afraid we’d be doing the same thing under the bed that those two were doing on top of it. I tried to take slow, deep breaths but all I managed to do was inhale an intoxicating scent of lemons and oranges.

  Just then, the room phone rang and Gordon and Priscilla were off the bed as if someone had shouted “Fire!”

  By now it felt as if every muscle in my body was about to spasm and it took Herculean strength to remain still. It didn’t help matters that my bag was still underneath me, causing me more physical anguish than a medieval rack. I held my breath and listened as Gordon took the call.

  His voice couldn’t possibly have been any louder. “You’re kidding? She wants the screenwriter to review the footage? Seriously? Did she say anything about sending a barrister our way? Priscilla’s on thin ice in case no one bothered to notice. Her necklace was the murder weapon and her prints were found on Devora’s eyeglasses. What? Yeah, I know. Someone could have planted them, but right now she’s the patsy.”

  There was silence for a second or two and then Gordon continued. “Fine. Downstairs in ten.”

  I heard the receiver thud back in its cradle before Gordon spoke. “Sorry, sweetie, but that was Stefan. We need to go over a few things. Look, I’m sure they’re not going to place you under arrest any time soon or they would have done it. The evidence isn’t strong enough.”

  “They think the evidence is strong. The coin on my necklace had her fingerprint on it when the damn witch just had to come over and see for herself what coin of the realm it was. If I had known I was going to lose that necklace and it would wind up being the murder weapon, I would have wiped that coin clean with professional solvent.”

  “Try to relax. I won’t be long. We can talk things over at dinner. Everything appears to be walking distance from here and the sidewalks are clear even if the snow is piling up.”

  “Last thing I feel like doing is eating. I’m going to lose my role with Light-Star Pictures and some up-and-coming bimbo will probably walk off with it and an Oscar.”

  Then she broke into hysterical sobbing while I tried to remember if chiropractic care was included in my health plan.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Gordon and Priscilla left the room. Godfrey and I remained under the bed for a good two or three minutes just to be on the safe side in case one of them returned.

  “I look like Lurch,” Godfrey mumbled when he got up from under the bed. “If they ever do a remake of the Addams Family, I’ll be hired on the spot.”

  “Not if I beat you to it. My body’s so stiff it’s like rigor mortis set in. And talk about the fear factor. I was petrified we’d be outed.”

  “Oh, I’ll talk about the fear factor all right.” He rubbed his arms and legs and shook his head. “Do you have any idea the kind of insects that are found in hotel carpeting? Fleas, dust mites, bed bugs, carpet beetles, and the occasional spider.”

  “Ew. That’s disgusting.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to make a quick exit and call it a day.”

  “Are you kidding? And miss out on our only opportunity to search the room? I guess I should have mentioned that sooner, but honestly, this is our chance to see if we ca
n find any incriminating evidence Gordon may have stashed away.”

  “I hate to tell you, but the sheriff’s office already has the evidence they need.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. If Gordon lied about his plane flight, what else is he covering up? How about you open the closet and check the pockets of his shirts, pants, and jackets while I do the same with the drawers?”

  Godfrey ran a hand through his wispy hair and walked to the armoire. “Like I have a choice.”

  “Ugh. This is too much information,” I said. “The guy wears Hanes boxers in assorted colors.”

  “Hey, this was your idea. Keep going. So far I’ve pulled up zilch.”

  The other dresser drawer held two sweatshirts and a gray cardigan and the only items in the nightstand were Bibles. I walked to the counter/desk and opened the long drawer. Pens, a pad, and a thick envelope from the hotel with Gordon’s name and room number on it. My first thought was that it was a copy of his bill, but they don’t put bills in envelopes, they shove them under the door the night before checkout. Besides, it was too thick for a bill, unless the guy ordered nonstop room service and indulged in more than one spa treatment.

  “I may have something,” I said. “Hang on.”

  The envelope had already been opened so it wasn’t as if I was tampering with mail. And is it really mail if it’s not delivered by the postal service? I pulled out the contents and stared at a fax.

  “Godfrey! Check this out. It’s a fax from Renee, our producer. It’s dated two days ago, after he arrived here.” I flipped the pages without reading her note and realized I was looking at a contract. Then I went back to her note. “Gordon, I’ve emailed you the full contract. Sign and date the electronic facsimile and return it to me ASAP. As discussed, it’s a three-movie deal for the Edna Lowery Librarian Mysteries, to be filmed outside Toronto with one sequence in the Caribbean. The series is our most lucrative to date, and although the contract was originally assigned to Devora, we are confident your direction will exceed our expectations. Hope the local authorities can wrap up that nasty matter soon. Any questions, reach out to me. Best, Renee.”

  I handed Godfrey the envelope and he studied it for a minute before he spoke. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, Gordon got himself some job security for at least a year or so. Not to mention beach time in the Caribbean. Too bad the protagonist in the Edna Lowery Mysteries is in her sixties. That leaves Priscilla out of the game unless, unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless she gets a role in one of the Edna Lowery movies. In fact, if she loses out on that Light-Star production, I’ll bet the farm Gordon casts her in one of his. You saw how cozy they were.”

  “I didn’t see anything and neither did you. We were under the bed. Hell, the fleas, ticks, and carpet beetles probably had a better view.”

  “Ticks? You never mentioned ticks.”

  “I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Oh. And like fleas or mites wouldn’t upset me?”

  “Forget the siphonaptera and ixodida for a minute and think. You said Gordon lied about his flight. Now you have a motive for murder. What if he wanted, or needed, to direct that Edna whatever series.”

  “Lowery. Edna Lowery.”

  “Okay, fine. Her. Edna Lowery. Suppose he wanted that three-movie deal and the only way to get it out of Devora Dobrowski’s hot little hands was to make sure it never got there in the first place.”

  “Oh, my gosh. I was so wrapped up thinking about his movie deal that the whole evidence thing blew by me. If Lizzie ever found out, she’d make me reread the entire Nancy Drew Handbook again. Of course, we can’t pin anything on Gordon. It’s a contract, not a smoking gun, but it does make him one heck of a suspect.”

  “It gives him motive. But you’ll have to figure out how he came by the means, and what opportunity he had. The film crew certainly would have mentioned seeing him.”

  I folded the contract and put it back in the envelope. “Not if he kept his distance. And not if he was working with one of them.”

  “Hurry up. Put the envelope back and let’s get going before we overstay our welcome. We can have this conversation in your car or mine.”

  “Mine,” I said. “It’s closer. You lost your good parking spot when we got back from Walmart.”

  “Yeah. No good deed goes unpunished.”

  Neither of us said another word as we closed the door behind us and took the stairwell down to the main floor. No sense taking chances. A crowd of tourists entered the hotel as we left, making it easy for us to blend in. Once outside, we wasted no time getting into my car, and I wasted no time pulling out of there.

  “I know a quiet spot where we can talk,” I said. “Rosinetti’s Bar and Restaurant. Cammy’s family owns it.”

  “Good. That means they serve hard liquor.”

  Chapter 32

  Rosinetti’s had been a Geneva fixture since the end of the Second World War. And while its décor had changed over the years, its ambience didn’t according to Cammy. With ever-changing posters and mirrors on the walls, a long wooden bar, rectangular tables that sported red, white, and green tablecloths, and dim lighting, the place exuded a combination of warm hospitality balanced by a certain amount of privacy for its patrons.

  The rich aroma of herb-infused tomato sauce coupled with the lingering odor of beer hit our nostrils the moment we set foot inside the doorway. It was late in the afternoon and most of the tables were full. Godfrey and I grabbed the nearest one by the doorway and perused the menu while we waited for the waitress, a college coed who looked as if she was still in junior high.

  “Cammy’s aunts are probably cooking back there,” I said. I pointed to the kitchen while I let my eyes adjust to the dimness of the room. “Sometimes her brother bartends, when he’s not on duty with the fire department,” I added.

  Godfrey’s eyes never left the menu as he spoke. “I didn’t even realize this place existed. Wow. Three-cheese calzone with sausage. And look—garlic calzone with olives.”

  “Guess we might as well order a calzone, huh? And like I was saying before, you need to get out of your office more often.”

  “Um, speaking of getting out, isn’t that Gordon Wable sitting at the bar?”

  “Oh, my God! It is him. And Stefan’s the guy to his right. Oh, my gosh. I’ve got to send a text to Cammy.”

  “Huh?”

  “It has to be a text because I can’t speak out loud. Cammy knows all the bartenders. She needs to tell whoever is on duty to listen in to Gordon and Stefan’s conversation. Then they can tell her and she can tell me.”

  “And it will all be lost in the process. Like that old game of telephone we used to play when we were kids. Look, we’ve got his room bugged and you’ll be able to hear his conversations on your phone. That’s what we set out to do in the first place, wasn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “Crime solving is an evolving process.”

  At that moment, the waitress arrived and took our order for a sausage, garlic, and cheese calzone. It sounded heavenly and I was thankful I wasn’t seeing Bradley that night or I’d have to forgo the garlic and sausage. The following weekend was another story. We’d made plans to dine in Skaneateles and poke around the town, figuring Neville would be long gone by then.

  For some reason, nerves most likely, I fidgeted with the two jars of parmesan cheese and dried peppers that were on the table, and that’s when something occurred to me. Something that didn’t register earlier.

  I shoved the jars away from me and leaned closer to Godfrey. “Stefan’s phone call to Gordon. You heard Gordon, didn’t you? He complained about having to show the footage to me. Renee got my message and came through. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  This time Godfrey picked up the two jars and shook them. His voice was as dry as the Sahara. “An impending disaster with Zenora. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Gordon will slip up by then and you’ll hear the conversation. That is, if he
had anything to do with Devora’s murder and if he talks about it while he’s in his room.”

  “What I can’t figure out is why he’s at the bar elbow to elbow with Stefan. Stefan had decent alibis for that Mercedes business and the break-in. Gordon’s whereabouts are sketchy at best, but you can’t lie about an airline ticket stub.”

  While we waited for our calzone, I went over my suspect list with Godfrey, pausing now and then to gauge his reaction. It ranged from lukewarm to tepid with one exception—Priscilla.

  He made a weird clicking noise and finally sighed. “Of all the players, she had motive, means, and opportunity. She could have easily convinced Devora to scope out the Ipswiches’ pond, and, well, you know what happened from that point.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think Priscilla had the brute strength to overtake Devora. Even if she caught her off guard.”

  “Maybe you’re not looking close enough at Priscilla. Did you see those calves? Every muscle is toned. And her arms, too. That woman’s no slouch.”

  Muscle tone? Calves? Hmm, maybe insects aren’t on the top of his list after all.

  Just then, a scalding hot calzone with a peppery aroma was headed to our table. In the minutes that followed, there was no discussion about suspects, calves, Zenora, or spring storm Neville. In fact, the only sounds emanating from our table were the not-so-subtle chewing noises followed by a few mmms and ahhs.

  Lucky for us that Gordon and Stefan were still deep in conversation at the bar, because they never noticed us when we paid the bill, tipped the waitress, and exited Rosinetti’s. We walked back to my car without saying much of anything. Then Godfrey groaned. “I know how this is going to turn out. It always does. The reading of your wine distributor’s will a few months ago . . . that catastrophic chocolate extravaganza . . . and now the aura reveal. I might as well brace myself. When did you plan to launch the Hindenburg?”

  “If you’re referring to my Grand Reveal, Zenora wants to hold it on Wednesday. So much for earlier in the week. She has a quilting class on Tuesday and doesn’t want to miss Monday’s TV lineup. So you’ll be there, won’t you?”