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Myrtle hurried inside, bolting the door behind her. Then she picked up her phone and called Serenity Springs.
Isabella answered right away. From what Myrtle could hear, it was very quiet in the winery. But then, it was a Monday in the early afternoon.
“Isabella? It’s Myrtle Clover, Elaine’s mother-in-law.”
“Mrs. Clover! Nice of you to call.”
Myrtle said, “Well, I had something of an ulterior motive. I thought I might come by tomorrow morning so that we could do our talk for the paper.”
“That would be perfect, Mrs. Clover. I’ll be here. Will you be taking pictures, too?”
Myrtle hadn’t really thought about this. But she had a phone that was supposed to take fairly decent photos. “Yes. Pictures will complement the article, won’t they? What time should I slide by?”
“Anytime. Like I said, I’ll be here.”
Myrtle said, “I’ll shoot for late-morning. See you then.”
The next morning, Myrtle had a big breakfast of grits, eggs, and toast. After a couple of cups of coffee, she worked on her crossword and the sudoku. She was trying to be very careful about calling Miles too early. She’d called him after she’d spoken with Isabella, and they’d made some rough plans. It was nine-thirty, and she was chomping on the bit to get started, regardless of telling Isabella that she’d be there in the late-morning. But Miles had seemed on the verge of cranky yesterday, and she wanted to make sure he’d had enough sleep last night.
Finally, Miles tapped at her door at ten-thirty. Myrtle was pleased to see that he appeared well-rested. He was wearing his customary khaki pants and a button-down shirt.
“Your carriage awaits,” he said with a grin.
Myrtle smiled back at him as they walked toward the car. She was relieved to see there was no sign of Erma.
Miles saw the direction of her gaze. “Were you able to rid yourself of Erma fairly quickly yesterday?”
“Not quickly enough. But I was able to eventually foist her on Tippy.”
Miles quirked an eyebrow as they got into his car. “What has Tippy done to you?”
“The kidnapping, remember? And the forced labor. I’m totally happy to sort clothing and volunteer, but doing things on Tippy’s timetable is annoying.”
Miles smiled. “I’m just imagining Tippy as a kidnapper.”
“She would actually make an excellent criminal mastermind. She’s very organized and thinks everything out. If Tippy were a murderer, we’d have a tough time getting evidence against her. Anyway, she’s very aggravating. I didn’t want to go over to the church.”
Miles started up the car. “On the upside, you were able to talk to Julia there. So perhaps Tippy did you a favor.”
“That was totally accidental. At any rate, Tippy is much better with Erma than I am. And she likely knows more about grass.” The last was a complete fabrication, but Myrtle was ready to talk about other things.
Miles said, “So the article you’re writing on Isabella is going to be a puff-piece, I guess.”
“Well, it’s certainly not going to be hard-hitting journalism. The idea is to get people over to Serenity Springs, poison or no poison. Elaine seemed very concerned about Isabella.”
Miles said, “For good reason. Isabella must have poured a ton of money into the winery. Not only that, but many hours of work. Now it feels as if it’s been tainted by this murder.”
“Clearly, the murderer was an opportunist. They didn’t care if the murder hurt Isabella’s business or not.”
“How did the murderer know Gerald was going to be over at Isabella’s, anyway? It does sound as if he might have just seized the opportunity to kill him,” said Miles slowly.
“The only problem with that is the fact they’d have to have been carrying strychnine around on them. That seems rather unlikely.”
“Not necessarily,” said Miles. “Maybe they’d just been looking for the right opportunity. They could have been carrying a small vial of poison on them for a while.”
Myrtle shook her head. “It seems more likely that Gerald talked about his plans to go to Serenity Springs with someone. Someone he shouldn’t have trusted. Then that person showed up, too, with their baggie of poison.”
Miles considered this. “But he apparently wasn’t even on speaking terms with his daughter. If it was Julia, how would she know?”
“Maybe she heard it from someone else. Or maybe she was stalking her father and looking for the perfect chance to stick rat poison in his drink.”
Miles pulled into the Serenity Springs parking lot. “Another thing I’ve been wondering is how the killer even got the opportunity to tamper with Gerald’s drink.”
Myrtle gave him an annoyed look. “You’ve been wondering about a lot lately.”
“It’s a sidekick’s job,” said Miles with dignity.
Myrtle sighed. “All right. Well, I’m assuming that Gerald wasn’t exactly watching his drink like a hawk. There were people coming and going around the firepit. Maybe he was even talking up Greystone Grapes at the same time. I can totally see Gerald saying, ‘Hey, if you think this garbage is any good, you’re really going to enjoy the wines at my winery.’”
“True,” said Miles. “I can imagine him doing that.”
“And then the killer, while he’s diverted, could have casually tampered with Gerald’s drink. I remember he had a glass of red wine in front of him. It could have hidden the bitterness.”
“Mm,” said Miles. He paused. “But doesn’t it seem like a huge risk for the killer? Tampering with a drink that’s so close to both Gerald and whomever is the distraction?”
“Perhaps the killer switched drinks with Gerald, put the poison in, and then switched them back.”
Miles smiled. “I think there was a Bugs Bunny cartoon that had that same scenario.”
“Likely where I pulled it from. Now, are we finally ready to go speak with Isabella? Or are we going to continue sitting in your car while you come up with all sorts of complications?”
“I’m ready,” said Miles.
They hopped out of the car. Myrtle had her notebook with her, as well as her phone. She was ready to voice record the interview in case she missed anything. The October leaves were just beginning to fall, and the morning air was crisp. There was something about fall that made a person feel a little more alive.
Myrtle and Miles walked up to the large doors. “I hope there aren’t many people here,” said Myrtle. “I mean, of course I want Isabella to have business, but it would be rather inconvenient for them to be there when I’m trying to interview Isabella.”
“The parking lot is empty except for our car and one other. The other one is probably Isabella’s.”
Myrtle said, “Yes, but more people might come in.”
“She was fully staffed on Saturday.”
Myrtle said, “That was a big day, though. I’m wondering if maybe she’s trying to handle the bartending herself during the week. It’s not as busy as the weekend, after all.”
When they walked to the door, there was a sign up that the winery would be closed until the upcoming weekend.
“Probably out of respect for Gerald and his family,” said Myrtle. “It makes sense.
Inside the winery, it was very quiet. And there seemed to be no sign of Isabella.
“Maybe she’s in the back,” said Myrtle.
“You got the day right, didn’t you? She didn’t want next week, did she?”
Myrtle gave him an irritated look. “Of course she didn’t. It’s today. Maybe she’s taking a phone call or something.”
But it just didn’t seem right. The big doors had chimes on them so the staff could hear when a customer arrived. And Isabella was expecting Myrtle, after all. Plus, it was just so very silent there.
Myrtle walked over to the bar. Miles frowned. “You’re not going to help yourself to a beverage, are you?” He apparently thought Myrtle was in the frame of mind to break all sorts of rules.
Myrtle glared at him but didn’t answer. Instead, she walked to the other side of the large wooden bar. There she found what she was worried she might. Isabella Montague, dead.