by J. C. Eaton
“Eli Speltmore was a veritable treasure trove of information,” I said to Bradley as soon as we were seated and had given our drink orders to the waitress. “But to get to the prize, it was like digging through a box of Cracker Jacks.”
“How old did you say he was?”
“Eleven or twelve. He still plays with action figures but has an uncanny knack of understanding exactly what’s going on with the adults around him. Anyway, he overheard a very telling conversation between his father and Brewer a few days before Brewer was found dead. According to Eli, Henry was about to dump Brewer’s seasonal worker cooperative for another one. One that, according to Brewer, was run by a crook. At least that’s what I could ascertain by putting the pieces together.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and took our order. When she turned away, I continued to talk. “That’s not all. He described Frank Liguori’s dead body in perfect detail. Complete with the puncture wound on the neck, same as Brewer.” I paused and stifled a laugh. “And to think Eli’s mother is concerned he might be traumatized. Traumatized, hell. He and his little buddy are one step away from applying for the next forensic examiner position.”
This time Bradley laughed.
“That’s not all,” I said. “He gave Theo and me a rather disturbing clue—said he smelled a yucky perfume odor near Frank’s body. From the description, and from what I found out from Davis Brewer’s new secretary, that perfume could belong to Barbara Stanowicz, Brewer’s former secretary. If that’s the case, those murders are linked.”
Bradley took a sip of his drink and tapped his teeth. “Hmm, two similar murders if the cause does turn out to be that puncture wound, and two men in the wine industry, but it’s really a stretch. I mean, Brewer ran a cooperative for seasonal workers and Frank Liguori was the regional manager for a large liquor store chain. I can’t fathom how they could possibly be connected.”
I reached for a garlic roll and tore off a piece. “Not all murders are business-related, even though those men fall under the same business umbrella. What if it was something else? Something far more personal that connected them?”
“Like a family matter or a romance gone sour?”
I nodded. “Exactly. Remember when you and I overheard that Coors drinker mention something about Brewer and his secretary? About things going south? Maybe they went south when she took up with Frank.”
“If nothing else, you’ll have plenty of fodder for your next screenplay.”
“Ugh. That’s one of the pitfalls with my profession. I want to turn everything into a romance or mystery. But the real mystery is what Henry Speltmore’s got to do with any of this. Or the Troberts, for that matter.”
“Good point. I’m sure the county deputies are wondering the same thing.”
At that moment our waitress appeared with a giant pepperoni pizza and all conversation ceased. Ten or fifteen minutes later, when we had done justice to the pie, I suddenly remembered about the Speltmores’ tawny port release gala. I was about to ask Bradley to be my plus-one when he put his hand on my wrist and said, “Marvin’s got another hellacious case going. This time in Rockland County. I hate driving down that way. I might as well go the extra few miles and wind up in Manhattan.”
“When? This week?”
“Unfortunately, yes. We’ve got a meeting with our clients on Thursday and I may get stuck working down there over the weekend. I won’t know until Thursday night or even Friday. Isn’t that the big tawny port hoo-hah?”
“Uh-huh. I was about to ask you when you mentioned Marvin.”
He gave my arm a squeeze. “I’ll put a firecracker under Marvin but no promises.”
“That’s okay. I plan to make an appearance and dart out of there as soon as I can. Besides, I’ll have plenty of company with Theo, Don, and the WOW ladies.”
“I’m sure it will be a memorable affair.”
I pictured Henry getting arrested and carted out of there along with the Troberts, but that wouldn’t have been as memorable as the events leading up to the Speltmores’ wine release.
Chapter 29
I knew I needed to backtrack in order to put the pieces of my widening puzzle together, and that meant having a conversation with Catherine. It was the last thing I felt like doing but I had little choice. I’d spent so much time focusing on the Speltmores that I hadn’t done my due diligence where the Troberts were concerned.
I dialed Catherine at her winery the following morning while I was still at home. It was a little past ten and I knew Mondays were notoriously slow. Especially early in the day. Catherine picked up at the second ring and sounded nervous and out of breath. Not unusual for her.
“Good morning, Norrie. Is everything all right? I heard the awful news about Frank Liguori from my husband. He was at the Elks Club Saturday night and found out about it from one of the workers at Speltmore Winery. I imagine word got out at your place, too. It didn’t make the news until last night and they didn’t say much other than it was labeled as a suspicious death. Didn’t even release Frank’s name pending notification of kin.”
Phooey. The one night I didn’t watch the news because I was exhausted when I got home from Uncle Joe’s.
“That’s pretty much protocol.”
“Shh, you didn’t hear it from me, but rumor has it Frank pressured Henry for an exclusive release on that tawny port. You don’t think Henry lost it and, well, oh, goodness, I’m worse than a tattling teenager.”
“I think Henry’s own publicist might have been pressuring him to give Frank that exclusive release.”
Oh my gosh. I’m as bad as she is. Worse, because of what I know from Eli.
I had to undo the damage and make it quick. “I don’t think Henry had anything to do with Frank’s death. I don’t think any one of us on the west side of the lake did. Anyway, I called to see how you were doing and if you had any news about Brewer’s murder.”
And to find out if Steven’s really coming.
“My husband and I are still under scrutiny and Steven’s flight won’t get in until late on Sunday. I won’t have any fingernails left by then. Deputy Hickman informed us that we are persons of interest. Can you imagine?”
“Did he give you a reason? Other than that argument your husband had with Brewer over the seasonal worker contract.”
“Aargh. My husband and I have been over and over this. Brewer refused to budge. Wouldn’t yield an inch, even though it was a decent contract. My husband tried to convince him to accept the terms but Brewer wouldn’t hear of it. Then my husband said something he probably shouldn’t have.”
“He threatened Brewer and everyone heard him?”
“No, he threatened to take his business elsewhere. Said there was a new player in town who offered more lucrative terms for wineries.”
“Hmm, that might explain the business card they found in Brewer’s possession.”
“Deputy Hickman believes the note on the back of the card refers to a business arrangement gone bad and a motive for murder, even though my husband insists it was about dropping Brewer’s business and going elsewhere.”
Yeesh. That’s the kind of stuff juries consider during murder trials.
“From what I understand, your winery wasn’t the only one that had issues with Brewer.”
“You mean the Speltmores?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Henry and my husband chatted from time to time. Both of them felt that Brewer’s salary and compensation demands were out of line with winery profit margins, but that’s hardly cause for murder. If you ask me, whoever murdered Brewer had a much more personal reason. Look, we’ve been dealing with seasonal worker negotiations for decades, and sure, people walk away with ruffled feathers, but their wings are still intact, if you know what I mean.”
Then she sighed. A long sigh that morphed into a moan. “Too bad the local sheriff’s office doesn’t see it that way.”
“Maybe new evidence will come to light and they’ll leave you alone.”
<
br /> Who am I kidding?
“I can only pray. At least there’s good news. Steven will be here in less than a week and you can finally reunite.”
Or search for a hari-kari knife . . .
“Uh, sure. Well, nice talking with you. Try to have a good day.”
I wanted to gag the second I ended the call, but in all fairness, I had gotten what I wanted out of that move—a new suspect for Brewer’s demise. None other than his competition, whoever that turned out to be.
I spent the next few hours writing and rewriting scenes for Kisses on a Sandy Beach. I hadn’t given it much attention since Friday and it felt as if I was starting all over from scratch. That happens to me when I’m away from one of my screenplays for longer than a day or two.
I phoned Cammy during one of my stretching breaks to see if they needed any help but thankfully they were covered. I told her I’d stop by around four to help with the late tastings and cleanup. If nothing else, it would give the employees some break time.
By two thirty I’d had enough of Wellfleet for the day and called it quits. I took another gander at my murder map and came to the inevitable conclusion that I really needed to track down Barbara Stanowicz to see what she could tell me about Brewer.
Armed with my usual Facebook account, I was about to see if I could connect with Barbara when my cell phone buzzed and I saw that the incoming call was Bradley’s.
“Hey,” I said, “everything okay?”
“Better than okay. You can thank me later. Grab a pen or I can text the info to you.”
“Huh?”
“Remember my roommate from Kingston? He tracked down those license plate numbers for us.”
“That’s fantastic! I’ve got a pen and paper right here. Go for it.”
“The car we saw in the Dresden Hotel parking lot with license GNS 6934 is registered to a Clyde Simms on Wager Hill Road in Penn Yan. He’s got a farm out that way and drives a school bus for the district. Clean record according to my buddy. Probably one of the good old boys who enjoys the occasional poker game. Good thing bus drivers have to have their prints on file, huh?”
“What about the other one? The white SUV that Godfrey and I spotted?”
“That’s registered to Sally Lynn Confree, and you lucked out as far as having fingerprints in the system.”
“She’s got a record?”
“No, she teaches elementary school in Dundee. Clean as a whistle.”
“She and her cohort can’t be that clean. It still begs the question as to what she was doing in the woods where Brewer’s body was. And I’ll bet money that scarab bracelet belongs to her.”
“She could have lost it during a previous hike. Unless she was somehow connected to Brewer, which may be tough to prove.”
“I’ll look up friends of friends. I’m getting pretty good with online searches. Listen, please thank your old roommate. I intend to personally thank you when we get together again.”
“You’ve got a deal. I can’t stay on the phone. I’ve got a three o’clock meeting with a client.”
“Have fun. And thanks again, Bradley. You’re the best.”
It was still awkward ending phone calls with Bradley. I couldn’t very well say “love you” or “kisses” because that would sound so juvenile. “See ya” wasn’t much better, so I was stuck. At least until our relationship crystalized some more. If it would go that far.
Two Witches didn’t expect me until four so that left me about an hour to see what I could dig up on Sally and Clyde. I was spiraling deeper and deeper into a pit of suspects with no clear way out.
Sally taught fourth grade and was about as virtuous as they come—organizer for the local food bank, Boys & Girls Club volunteer, and the piano player for her church. It didn’t get more Mary Poppins than that. Still, I had to wonder what she was doing in the woods around dusk when Godfrey and I were there. I made a mental note to either call her or pay a little visit to Dundee. Zenora or no Zenora, I couldn’t afford to wait around and see what the supernatural realm would deliver.
Sadly, all I managed to pull up on Clyde was his real estate tax information. Another Boy Scout. Everything had been paid up to date. I began to feel as if Bradley was right. I couldn’t find anything that linked either of them to Brewer, or to Frank Liguori, for that matter.
Besides, I had other, more viable suspects, like Barbara, but it was ten minutes to four and I promised I’d be in the tasting room. With kibble and a fresh bowl of water for Charlie, I raced out the door and power-walked my way into the winery. Glenda must have been eyeing the door, because the moment I stepped inside I was face-to-face with her.
“Zenora sensed an energy wave in the air and she’s positive it’s emanating from the connection between that bracelet and its owner.”
I took a step back and tried to focus on Glenda’s words. “Can she narrow it down to a delivery time?”
“The psychic world doesn’t work that way. She told me to tell you to have patience.”
“I’m holding on to evidence in a murder. I really need to turn that bracelet over to Deputy Hickman along with the bungie cord.”
“Can you put it off until the weekend? Zenora’s usually right about energy waves.”
“Fine, but if that bracelet’s owner doesn’t come waltzing in here soon, I’ll have no choice but to surrender it.” And pray I don’t get locked up for interfering with an active investigation.
“Don’t worry, Norrie. I, too, sense the energy flux in the air. It’s building up and that means we all need to be very careful these next few days.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I relieved Roger from his table as soon as I slipped away from Glenda. I hoped to have a word with Lizzie but all I got was a quick nod as she rang up a sale. While the afternoon wasn’t exactly bustling, it was still pretty active. Sam all but gave me a bear hug when I told him to go take a break.
“I’m starving,” he said. “One more minute and I would have eaten those fake grapes on the gift rack.”
Next, I rescued Cammy, allowing her to take a decent break and grab a bite to eat. I was midway through a tasting with a small group of seniors from one of the local living centers when my cell phone vibrated. The caller ID said Eli Speltmore and I all but dropped the wineglass I had been holding.
“Excuse me a moment,” I told my group, “I need to take this call. Enjoy our Cauldron Caper. I’ll be right back.”
I stepped away from the tasting room table but kept an eye on it. I didn’t want our patrons to get restless. Then I took the call. “I’m in the middle of a tasting. This better be important. And please don’t tell me you found another body.”
“No, not the body but the stinky perfume. And the woman who was wearing it.”
“Where? Was it one of Mrs. Landrow’s friends who stopped by Stuart’s house?”
“Heck, no. It was inside that crummy-looking house across from the Dresden Hotel. The one with the big garage out back.”
The poker spot. Darn it. I meant to see who was on the assessor’s list for the taxes on that place.
“What on earth were you doing there? And didn’t I tell you to stay close to Stuart’s house?” Yikes. I have now officially become my mother.
“This was close. It wasn’t like we went down the road on our bikes or anything. Stuart thought that house might be haunted so we thought we’d peek through the windows. They were all open. And we could see and hear everything.”
“And that’s when you saw the woman?”
“Smelled her first. And we were all the way outside by the window. That smell was gross. She was dressed up like my mother when she goes to one of those church socials. Only my mother doesn’t wear clothes that tight. And her hair isn’t all that fancied up either. She was with two guys and one of them was the one we saw yesterday. The fisherman from the dock. He was probably used to fish smells because he wasn’t gagging from her perfume.”
I tried not to laugh. “Go on.”
/> “The other guy might have been the guy that my father yelled at. The one dressed like my principal.”
“Did you hear what they were saying?”
“Mostly. The woman said she thought they would have rented out the apartment already but one of the guys said only the upstairs. Said not a problem because more workers were coming.”
“Is that it?”
“The woman said something about a return on her money and the fisherman guy said it was her idea in the first place and that she financed it for payback. Then the stiff-shirt guy told them he did enough of their dirty work and that he had to watch his own back because, because . . . hold on a sec.” I heard Eli say to Stuart, “Do you remember what that dude with the white shirt said about watching his back?”
I couldn’t hear Stuart but Eli was quick. “Said something about his hands being dirty.”
The seniors at my tasting table seemed pretty content chatting among themselves but I couldn’t afford to make them wait. “Listen,” I said to Eli, “they were probably talking about a business deal. Sounds like the woman may be the owner of that building and she’s renting it out. It’s a good thing they didn’t catch you snooping or—”
“That’s just it,” Eli said. “They did. They saw us. It was Stuart’s fault. He sneezed. Loud, too. Then they looked and saw us by the window. We ran our butts off to get home.”
“All the more reason to stay home. Look, you have no idea who these people are. For all anyone knows they might have had something to do with those dead bodies you managed to find.”
“Are you saying that to scare us?”
“No. But until the Yates County Sheriff’s Office does find the killer or killers, all of us are much better off not taking chances. Understood?”