The snow had slowed down considerably the next morning, and if I didn’t know for sure spring storm Neville was on his way, I would have sworn we’d see crocuses and daffodils by midafternoon.
According to Deputy Hickman, the hospital was to keep Priscilla McCoy overnight for observation and then discharge her if she didn’t show any signs of a complication. Having been through similar situations in the past, I knew that hospital discharges take longer than the surgeries they perform. That meant I had enough time to get washed up, feed the dog, and drive to the hospital in order to offer Priscilla a ride back to the Ramada and find out what really happened.
I introduced myself to the Ontario County Sheriff’s deputy who was seated by her door and explained that I was an acquaintance of Priscilla’s. He asked me to spell my name and checked it off a list he had on a clipboard. “I’d knock first if I were you. Miss McCoy is adamant the press not be allowed in her room.”
As soon as he said that, I pictured the worst. Heavy bruises, a cut lip perhaps, swollen eyes, and mangled, tangled hair. What I saw instead was hardly cause for alarm. Priscilla’s ash-blond hair was fanned out on the pillow behind her head and gave me the impression I was looking at a celestial being instead of an actress.
There were no cuts or bruises on her face, although one of her hands was bandaged and there was an ice pack on her shoulder.
“Norrie,” she said the minute I entered. “You didn’t have to come here. That gruff-looking deputy told me the message I got yesterday didn’t come from you. I can’t believe I was such a fool as to get in my car and drive to your winery without calling you first. All of this could have been avoided. Now I’m saddled with a miserable headache and a bunch of bumps and bruises. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. It could have been so much worse.”
“Do you have any idea who ran you off the road?” I moved closer to the bed and sat in the chair opposite the machinery that monitored her vital signs.
“It was a blur. The car lights off to my right were blinding. Someone had their brights on and they aimed their car directly at mine. It was deliberate. Who drives with the bright lights on in a snowstorm? It makes the visibility a hundred times worse. What an idiot I was to get in that car, but when I got your message, well, the message, I simply had to find out for myself what you knew. Then to learn it was all a ruse . . . You can’t imagine what’s going on in my mind right now.”
“I may have some idea.”
“I doubt it. Want to hear the worst? Gordon came here late last night with Skylar and I heard them whisper to each other when they thought I was sleeping. Gordon was fit to be tied because Skylar and his two buddies were convinced I was the one who left the message with the desk clerk and . . . Can you believe it? That I fabricated the whole story about being run off the road in order to make it look as if I was the next victim in order to cover up my culpability.”
“Uh, yeah. That does seem a bit extreme.”
“Not if you follow their reasoning. Those camera guys are convinced I was the one who lured Devora to that pond, got into a tussle with her, and somehow managed to wrap my necklace around her neck, tug on it hard enough to kill her, and then give her a shove into the water. I’ll admit, I work out and I’m in good physical shape, but I’m no Holly Holm.”
The vital sign monitor made a strange beep and I jumped.
“It does that all the time,” Priscilla said. “At least it lets me know I’m alive. For the time being anyhow. Listen, this is a horrible thing to say but I doubt Skylar, Mickey, and Rikesh are all that broken up over Devora’s death. So even if they think I killed her, I seriously doubt they’ll want to seek revenge on her behalf. But someone wants me out of the way. Or spooked at least. Well, they got the last part right.”
“I don’t blame you. If they believe you killed her and you’re about to get away with it, they may be tempted to do whatever they can to make sure that doesn’t happen. Why? Because they’re suspects, too.”
“Gee. I never thought of it that way. Oh, my God. This really is my fault. I led them to believe I was exonerated. I brought this on myself.”
“Only if that other driver was one of them.”
“Norrie, do you have any idea how the investigation is going? I know you speak with that deputy all the time.”
“Oh, I speak all right. The trouble is, he doesn’t. I have no idea whatsoever.”
“I need to be in LA by Friday. Light-Star Pictures starts filming and this is the break I’ve been waiting for. Shh. Don’t say anything. I was set to be released this morning but I told the doctor on duty that my headache was a real pounder and got him to extend my stay by another day. They’ll run more brain scans. Meanwhile, if someone is trying to kill me, at least I’ll be safe in here for another day. After that I intend to lock myself in my room at the Ramada. That’s why I asked you if you knew how close those deputies were to finding the killer. I’m down to the wire.”
“It’s only Monday. You can always catch the red-eye to LA on Thursday night if the sheriff’s office returns your passport. The storm’s stalled for now but by then it will have done its damage and moved out of the area.”
“The storm, maybe. But unless that deputy apprehends the person who strangled Devora and then returns my passport to me, I may be stuck in Renee’s stable of romance actors until I’m too old to kiss.”
I stood and stepped back from the bed. “I should get going. Oh, before I forget, Renee asked me to review the footage from the filming. I invited the cast and crew to my house Wednesday around seven so we could all watch it together. Before you say anything, I already spoke with Don and Theo from the Grey Egret and they promised they won’t let you out of their sight. In fact, one of them even offered to drive you there and back.”
“That won’t be necessary. Gordon already told me and I made him swear he’d be my bodyguard for the duration. I should have mentioned it.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you Wednesday night. Our bistro chef is preparing the food so no one has to worry about my cooking, or the storm, for that matter. It isn’t expected until after midnight.”
At that moment, a nursing assistant stepped into the room and I slid the chair away from Priscilla’s bed. “Um, guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Get some rest.”
“I will when I’m on that plane to LA.”
• • •
The next two days were an absolute bust in terms of getting any further with my so-called investigation. Other than constant phone tag games with Stephanie, Theo, and Godfrey, not to mention quick conversations with Cammy, all we were left with were the same two questions:
“Did you hear anything?”
“Was anyone arrested?”
Stephanie was chomping at the bit to be part of Zenora’s aura reveal but understood that my kitchen and living room could only hold so many people. “Besides,” she said when I spoke with her from my winery office, “I can’t leave Derek and the boys in the house if that storm decides to sock us in tonight. Not only will the place look as if a demolition crew showed up, but they’ll stuff themselves full of frozen pizzas, pop, and more candy than most manufacturers can produce in a year.”
I told her it was a good thing Brouse Candies was moving into the area when I literally had an epiphany and rushed to end the call so I could phone John Grishner. It was right in front of me all the time but I never gave it much thought. John had mentioned ordering Concord grape root stock in December and being one of the last vineyards to do so. That meant the other wineries must have known the candy company was a done deal. And if so, Gerard Dobrowski had to have used his and Devora’s monies to finance that venture. It wasn’t only the fortune he wanted to acquire, but the one he used without Devora’s knowledge. Even more reason to get her out of the picture.
“John, it’s Norrie. Listen, remember when you said you were the last vineyard manager to order Concord root stock? Well, do you know who the first one was? It’s important. I need to find out how they knew the candy company was coming long before everyone else did.”
“They didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“Not them. The CEO of Brouse Candies. Can you find out?”
“Give me a few minutes to sift through the papers on my desk. By the way, we’re bringing Alvin into the big barn this afternoon in case Neville dumps too much snow for us to handle. Alvin hates the barn but we’ve got a nice stall all fixed up for him and he can ride it out with the farm equipment we’ve got stored. Your brother-in-law was insistent we have a backup plan for his goat in case of emergencies.”
Heaven help the farm equipment. That goat will spit all over it.
“Um, good idea.”
John cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah. The root stock. If I remember correctly, someone mentioned it late last summer during a Cooperative Extension meeting. I’ve got those notes in one of these piles. Hang on and I’ll call you back.”
Less than forty minutes later I had my answer, only it wasn’t a winery that knew about Brouse Candies relocating to the Finger Lakes well before the rest of us, it was our own Cooperative Extension. It seemed Brouse Candies had contacted them regarding the availability of Concord grape juice in the coming years.
My original theory began to take hold. Gerard Dobrowski paid someone on that film crew to murder his estranged wife. That’s why he was in the area, not to check on a manufacturing plant location that he already had in place. But who did he pay off ? Who was the conniving rat on that film crew? And how did Priscilla fit into any of this?
I crossed Gordon off my list even though he lied about his plane flight. For all I knew, he could have been canoodling with another woman in Toronto before rekindling whatever was going on with him and Priscilla. No matter what, he was off the hook as far as Devora’s note was concerned. Whoever Devora responded to had obviously approached her about a new location for the shooting and it certainly wasn’t Gordon. That left the usual suspects—Gavin, Stefan, Skylar, Mickey, and Rikesh. It was enough to make my head spin.
I shook my head and stared at the blank screen on my computer. Then I decided to have another look-see at all the players. I perused their Facebook and Instagram pages until I developed an annoying twitch in my left eye. I closed the laptop and was about to chat with Fred regarding tonight’s refreshments when something occurred to me. It was regarding a photo I’d seen before. Call it instinct, call it a gut feeling, but whatever it was, I was pretty certain I knew who killed Devora and why.
The only way I could be sure was to set a trap. And if I expected it to work, I couldn’t very well tell the whole world about it. So I decided to share my devious little plan with the two people whom I knew wouldn’t blow it—Don and Theo.
“It’s kind of risky if you ask me,” Don said. “Kind of like waving a red cloak in front of a bull.”
“If you mean my plan is going to set the killer in motion, you’re right. But we’ll be on guard. Poised to watch every move that’s made.”
“Do you think we need to worry about Glenda and Zenora?” he asked.
I gulped. “I always worry about those two but they’ll be safe. They don’t pose any threats.”
Don’s voice sounded softer but maybe it was the phone connection. The wind had picked up a bit and that always did a number to landline reception. “I hope you’re right about this, Norrie. I’m already wishing the night was over and it hasn’t even started yet.”