“Well? Don’t just stand there. Come back in and read it to me. For all we know, the tidy obsessive-compulsive intruder who broke into my house might not have been so careful after all.”
The lab guy took a step inside and closed the door. I snatched the plastic bag out of his hand before he knew it and looked at the bold print on the top. “Yeah, it’s a Ramada Inn room memo pad all right, but any of the tourists on Seneca Lake could have written it. We just held the Wine and Cheese weekend. A zillion people. Give me a second.”
The lab guy shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Are you satisfied? Whoever wrote it underscored it with a lipstick. We can have a field day with that in the lab. Lipstick is one of those substances that absorbs everything it comes in contact with.”
One look at the lipstick and I froze. “I’ve seen that crimson color before. On the murder victim’s face. When she was alive.” Alive and accosting me at the winery. “Oh, my gosh. It had to have been written by Devora. That’s the dead woman. Did you read what it said?”
“‘Meet me at the watering hole’ or something to that effect.”
I handed him the bag and all but gave him a hug. “No doubt in my mind. This was written by Devora. The victim. Not a random tourist. Holy cow! Did you read it carefully? It says, ‘Agreed. Pick the time. It better be a scenic watering hole for a reshoot.’ Reshoot! Scenic watering hole! The Ipswiches’ irrigation pond! Whoever had Devora’s note in their possession is the killer. You have to call Deputy Hickman right this minute.”
“He’ll get my report. There are procedures, you know.”
“Look, whoever killed Devora lured her to that pond. She probably didn’t want anyone else in the film crew to know she was reconsidering the location for the shoot. She couldn’t say anything out loud so she wrote a note on a memo pad. Heck, everyone takes those things from hotel rooms. I think it’s included in the price.”
The lab guy rolled his eyes and started to say something but I kept talking. “Don’t you get it? Most likely the killer stuffed the note in a coat pocket and it fell out. Take a good look at it. It wasn’t wadded up like trash.”
“Uh-huh. I need to get going. I only gather the evidence.”
“If you must know,” I said, “Deputy Hickman and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. I think he considers me to be nosy and intrusive.”
The lab guy rubbed his chin and stared at me. “Uh-huh.”
“And he doesn’t like me speculating or theorizing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you’ll call him, right?”
“I’ll follow the protocol outlined by the Yates County Sheriff’s Office. Don’t worry, he’ll get a full report.”
On what? The brand of lipstick?
“You have to call him. Like now. Like right now. You need to compare the lipstick on that note with Devora’s. I guarantee it’ll be a match. Not many women can get away with wearing vampire red lipstick. Listen, I know Devora’s purse was in the van. It’s got to be in some evidence locker by now. Get the purse, find her lipstick, and do whatever it is you do in order to make the comparison. Hurry.”
“I’m the only technician in the lab today and right now my immediate concern is writing that report.”
“To hell with the damn report. Do something useful. Find the killer. Do I need to hunt you down and make sure you do that? ”
I’ve seen people run during all sorts of sprints and relays, but the lab guy had them beat by a mile. He raced to his car without even a simple, “See you” or “Bye.” In retrospect, I may have been a bit overly zealous.
I didn’t hold out any great hope that he or any member of the forensic department would immediately process the evidence, but I was sure of one thing—that note came from Devora Dobrowski and not her restless spirit, as Glenda would profess. Like it or not, that part of the puzzle would have to wait, unlike Godfrey’s discovery.
I picked up the landline and dialed his number, anxious to find out who was behind the wheel of that Mercedes and what possible connection they could have to Stefan. Drat! The call went to Godfrey’s voicemail, directing me to leave a message or to call the entomology department’s main line if it was an emergency.
What kind of emergency? Stink bugs in the pantry? Been there.
I groaned and, trying not to sound too whiny, asked Godfrey to please call me the minute he got my message.
Zenora wasn’t due for another couple of hours so I used that time to boil spaghetti for dinner, work on my screenplay, and review the suspect clock I had completed in the guest bathroom. Under Devora’s name I added, “Left cryptic note with time and place for killer.”
True, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was Devora’s note, but honestly, who else could have written it? Not Priscilla. Her shade of lipstick was more peachy. Pinkish even, but certainly not blood-spattering red. And as far as I could tell, none of the men were into crossdressing. It had to have come from Devora. Maybe Deputy Hickman would run a handwriting analysis but I didn’t count on it.
Meanwhile, I had to find an unobtrusive way for Zenora to read Priscilla’s tea leaves and find out if the actress was the one who snuck into my bedroom. And if so, who was she protecting and why? With the filming over, there was no reason for her to return to the winery, unless, of course, I could come up with one. And if I did, it would have to be convincing.
I added Ragu sauce to my spaghetti and opened one of Francine’s packets of soy-a-meal meat-like crumbles. I was too lazy to prepare a meal that took more than two or three steps, and I was way too tired to head back to the bistro. With enough sauce and grated cheese, the soy crumbles could almost pass as meat.
With the dishes done, I returned to my screenplay and waited it out for Godfrey’s call and Zenora’s visit. Outside, wet snow began to fall with more intensity than it had during the earlier part of the day. It was that heavy, yucky stuff that called for studded snow tires, or at the very least newer treads. I figured by Sunday we’d be socked in if the hype about Neville turned out to be true.
Sometimes we’d get forecasts predicting record snow, only to wind up with a few inches and feeble excuses about changes in the jet stream. I wondered if Neville would hold up.
I returned my gaze from the window back to the laptop when two things happened at once. I heard a weird screeching noise from the front of the house at the exact moment the phone rang.
“Probably an owl,” I said to Charlie as I got up and walked to the landline. No sooner had I answered than the outside noise got louder.
“It’s Godfrey. Are your bird-in-distress machines running, because I can hear them in the background.”
“Um, I hear it, too, but it’s not our machines. We only run those during the harvest to prevent anything with feathers from eating the grapes before we can pick them. Give me a second. It’s still light out. I’ll take a peek and see what’s going on.”
I put the receiver on the table and walked to the front window. A few yards away, a woman clad in a long yellow cape with bizarre renderings of suns, moons, and stars was circling the house, lifting her arms in the air and spreading them out as she continued to walk around the building. She paused at intervals and assumed what looked like yoga warrior poses.
That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the chant. It sounded like a combination of keening, screeching, and yowling. I stood by the window with my mouth wide open until I remembered Godfrey was still on the line. I hurried to the phone and took a breath. “It’s Zenora. Glenda’s friend. Doing a ritualistic house cleansing. Apparently she decided to start outside.”
“Yeesh. Zenora. I remember her from that reading of your wine distributor’s will. Is her hair still whirling around her face like a giant tumbleweed?”
“I can’t really tell. She’s wearing some sort of bizarre head covering. Looks like a turban that started to unroll.”
“Why on earth is she there in the first place? You don’t believe in that stuff.”
“True, but Glenda wouldn’t let it go so I figured what would be the harm to have Zenora come over.” Just then, the most horrific, bone-chilling wail cut through the walls of the house like a blade. “Hang on, I better go check this out.”
Back to the window I went, only Zenora was out of my sight line. I ran to the kitchen window, and sure enough there was Zenora, only this time in a pose that would defy the most accomplished yoga instructor. I opened the door and shouted, “What happened?”
Zenora rose from the ground and walked toward me. “The darkest energy field imaginable. I need to complete my protective circle before I can enter your house.”
“Okay, but can you do it quietly? Alvin’s not too far away and he has a tendency to go berserk when he hears strange noises.”
Zenora nodded and returned to her position on the snowy ground.
“Everything’s fine,” I told Godfrey. “Protective chant, that’s all. Tell me, who owns that black Mercedes? How did you find out?”
“The car’s owned by Brouse Candies out of Toronto. Good thing you were able to get the plate number. I contacted a friend at the agricultural department and asked him if he knew anything about a visit from Brouse Candies. Honestly, Norrie, I really wasn’t up for sifting through all that boring departmental correspondence.”
“Did he know who was in the car?”
“He works with food additives, not law enforcement. The only reason he knew the car belonged to Brouse Candies was because they have to register the license plate number with security so they can park the car in a reserved section on campus. All my friend did was call and confirm that the car was on campus the day you spotted it. He already knew that Brouse Candies had meetings with representatives from the agricultural department and told security as much.”
“Then the rumors were true. About Gerard Dobrowski being in the area during the time of Devora’s murder. I can’t put it off any longer. I’ve got to force the truth out of Stefan and get him to admit why he was in that Mercedes. It wouldn’t surprise me if Gerard paid him off to kill Devora. Gerard certainly didn’t want his estranged wife to get her hands on his candy fortune. What better way than to use someone she trusted?”
“I’ll give you this much, money and greed are strong motivators, but how would Stefan have managed it?”
“The note! The note was meant for him!”
“What note? You lost me.”
“Oh, my gosh. So many things keep happening at once that I’m losing track myself. I need to add a time line to my suspect clock.”
“Suspect clock? Now I’m really baffled.”
I inhaled, relaxed my shoulders, and proceeded to tell Godfrey about the lab tech and the murder notes that had now taken over the guest bathroom. When I finished, the only thing he could say was, “Whoa.” Well, that and “Let Deputy Hickman deal with it. If Stefan is the killer and you go after him, you’re likely to be his next victim.”
“You sound like Bradley and Theo,” I said. “The three of you should team up. I wanted to confront Stefan days ago but everything else got in the way. I can’t put it off.”
“Aargh. Francine warned me about how impulsive you were. Look, if you must speak with the guy, make it a public place. Better yet, a crowded public place. And maybe you shouldn’t go alone.”
“Is that an offer to help?”
“It’s an offer to keep you out of trouble. Don’t do anything rash without calling me. Fair enough?”
“Uh-huh. And thanks, Godfrey. I really do owe you.”
Just then I heard three raps on the door followed by a singsong wail, “It’s meeeeeeeeeee.”
Unless banshees had moved to the west shore of Seneca Lake, it had to be Zenora.