It was a little before two and I decided to look over some paperwork in my office before traipsing home to pick up where I left off with Kisses on a Sandy Beach. I had just perused the ordering sheet for the bistro when I heard loud voices in the foyer. Loud children’s voices. Both male, and one of them oddly familiar.
“It’s like really, really important,” one of them said. Presumably to Lizzie. Then the other one added, “Life and death important.”
Then I heard Lizzie. “You can’t bring those bicycles into the winery. You need to leave them outside.”
“Someone will steal ’em,” the first voice said. “They’re BMX bikes.”
“I don’t care if they’re XYZ. You need to leave them outside.”
Not wanting to let the commotion continue, I got up and stepped out of my office. Sure enough, I recognized the skinny blond kid. It was Eli Speltmore, the son of Henry Speltmore, president of the Seneca Lake Wine Trail Association. Eli was ten or eleven when I last made his acquaintance in the fall and it wasn’t under the best circumstances. The kid tagged one of our wine barrels and would have faced unmentionable consequences had I decided to call his father. Instead, we made a deal and so far, so good.
Now, he and another eleven- or twelve-year-old boy were standing in our lobby, their hands firmly fixed on their bikes.
“Bring those bikes into my office,” I said, “and if there’s any dirt from their tires, you’re sweeping it up.”
The chubby redhead with freckles nodded and immediately walked where I pointed. Eli followed suit and I mouthed a thanks to Lizzie. Once inside, I closed the door and glared at the boys. “What’s this all about?”
“You gotta help us,” Eli said. “You know what dead bodies look like.”
“Huh? What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
Then the other kid spoke. “Eli told me you knew all about dead bodies so we came here right away. Peddled really fast, too.”
I motioned for them to leave the bikes and sit down. Then, I pulled my chair from around the desk and moved closer to them. “Start at the beginning. You said you came here right away. From where? Where were you?”
“Across the road from Lake View Winery. By the big rocks on the other side of the railroad tracks,” Eli said.
I was stunned. That wasn’t a safe place for biking. “And your father lets you ride your bike there?”
The kid turned ashen. “He’d kill me. That’s why we came to you. Well, that and because you know about dead bodies.”
Will I ever live this down? I want to be known for writing romantic screenplays.
“And I can’t tell my parents either,” the redhead chimed in. “My dad will pitch a fit and my mom will start crying and moaning. Then I’ll get grounded for life.”
Eli gave the kid a nudge and shrugged. “Chill, Stuart, will ya? I get grounded for life all the time.”
“Okay, boys. Again, start at the beginning. One at a time.”
Eli swallowed and took a breath. “We heard there might be pirate treasure washed up on the lake so we wanted to find out for ourselves.”
“Pirate treasure? Seriously? Where did you hear that? This isn’t the Caribbean or the Canadian shores of Nova Scotia. It’s a lake. A lake! No pirate ships.”
I lowered my voice and looked at the expressions on their faces. Maybe they were closer to eleven than twelve. And very gullible. “Okay, keep going.”
“I told my mom that Stuart and I were going to ride our bikes on the path behind our winery but we went down to the lake where the big rocks are.”
I widened my eyes. “You rode your bikes on Route 14?”
“We were off to the side,” Stuart said.
“That’s so dangerous. I’d ground the both of you for life, too. Never mind. Go on.”
This time Eli spoke. “When we got to Lake View Winery, we waited until there was no traffic and crossed the road and the railroad tracks. After that we stashed our bikes on the rocks and looked around. When we didn’t find anything, we thought maybe it was hidden in that spot with the overgrown bushes and trees.
“Yeah,” Stuart added. “That’s when we saw the thing.”
“You mean, what you thought was a body?”
“Uh-huh. The body.”
“Are you sure?”
The boys looked at each other and then at me. “That’s why we came here,” Eli said. “Um, uh, it might be a body but we’re not sure. It looked like a big hairy arm. We didn’t want to get too close.”
Stuart poked Eli in the arm. “You didn’t want to get too close. You were worried about germs.”
“Fine. Fine. Where was this arm or thing exactly?” I asked.
“In the wooded bushy area.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Not really. But we can find it real easy. Like really, really easy.”
The last thing I needed was to endanger those kids by following them or taking them to some spot across from Catherine Trobert’s winery. I tried again. “Uh, if you were going back, how would you find the spot?”
“We crossed the road in front of that big Lake View Winery sign. We didn’t walk too far into the bushes and woods,” Eli said.
I tried not to groan. “Suppose you describe that hairy arm for me. Maybe it was a big tree limb that fell.”
Both boys shook their heads. “Not a tree limb.”
“But you didn’t see the rest of the body? Just the arm?”
Eli nodded. “We didn’t want to get too close. Can we show it to you? You’ll know if it’s a dead person.”
So much for my screenplay. Unless I want to start a new one entitled The Hairy Arm on the Beach.
“You know I can’t drive you there. Your parents would have me arrested.” And I’m already on shaky ground with Deputy Hickman from the Yates County Sheriff’s Office. “And don’t tell me you’ll meet me there. If anything happens to you, I’ll be arrested and locked up for life. That’s worse than being grounded for life.”
“So you’re going to do nothing?” Stuart asked.
“I didn’t say that. I’ll go over there and check it out. Meanwhile, the two of you should head back home. And don’t go out on Route 14. Take the wooded path behind my house until you reach Billsburrow Road. Then you can take the one that leads to the back of Eli’s property. Got it?”
“How are we going to find out if it’s a dead body?”
“If it’s a dead body, you’ll know, all right. The sheriff’s office will send a deputy to your homes. Then your secret won’t be safe. They always want to get a statement from the person who finds the body.”
“Can I get your cell number?” Eli asked. “I can call you.”
He held out a phone and I widened my eyes. “You have a cell phone? You’re not even a teenager.”
“Heck. Stuart’s seven-year-old brother has one. It’s no big deal.”
Tell that to my service provider.
Stuart furrowed his brow. “Can’t you tell them you found the body and leave us out of it?”
I shook my head. “I can’t very well tell them that for no rational reason I took a walk in a bushy wooded area and came across a dead body. Nope, finders keepers in this case.”
Eli and Stuart looked as if they might cry.
“Hey,” I said. “Maybe it’ll turn out to be a branch after all. And if not, everyone will be so busy with the discovery, they’ll forget about punishing you.” Like that would ever happen. “Meanwhile, the two of you should go home. But before you do, I’ll get you some bottles of water and a few cookies. How does that sound?”
“Good to me,” Eli said. “Thanks.”
I motioned for them to wait in the lobby and walked over to our bistro for the water and cookies. In the background I heard Eli saying, “I told you she was really cool.”
Really cool. Tell that to Deputy Hickman if I do find a body.
Eli and Stuart devoured the cookies as if they hadn’t eaten whole food in decades. With a mouthful of cookie still in his mouth, Eli asked if they could visit with Alvin on the way out.
“He’s the neatest goat in the world,” Eli said. “I love how he nuzzles my face and gives kisses.”
“Yeah,” Stuart added. “He especially likes it if you rub under his chin.” Then he turned to Eli. “Why don’t your parents get a goat for your winery?”
“My mother said the dog is enough.” Then to me, “It’s okay, then? If we see Alvin before we go home?”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll spit on you?”
Eli looked at me as if I stepped out of a spaceship. “Spit? Heck, no. He rubs and cuddles against us.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Every time I went near that goat, he spat at me. And not little bits of spit, mind you. Enormous mounds of the stuff he had brewing in his mouth. My sister and brother-in-law thought having a goat would be a wonderful addition to the winery. Family-friendly entertainment and all that.
Alvin was a Nigerian dwarf goat and the size of a small camel. His fenced-in area was adjacent to the tasting room and included a nice-sized house complete with a ramp and some wooden structures for him to stand on. The unfortunate vineyard crew got stuck feeding him and cleaning his pen. Oh, and walking him into the large barn whenever there was a severe weather threat. As far as I was concerned, Alvin was the threat.
He hated loud noises and had busted down his fence on a few occasions. Once, he even got inside the tasting room and wreaked havoc. I shudder when I think of all those broken wine bottles. However, he seemed to enjoy children and was quite gentle with them. I hated to think it was just me he despised.
When the boys left the winery, Lizzie gave me a wave. “What was that all about?”
“Probably nothing. The taller kid is Henry Speltmore’s son. Remember? The graffiti artist?”
“Indeed I do. Best not remind Franz. He’d want to draw and quarter that kid.”
“He and half the other winemakers on the lake whose barrels were tagged with graffiti. Eli, that’s the kid’s name, thought he might have seen a dead body and wanted me to check on it for him. Yikes. I must have some reputation around this lake.”
“Are you going to do that? Check, I mean.”
“I suppose I’ll have to. Let Cammy know, will you? Once I’m done playing amateur sleuth, it’s back home to work on my real job. A dead body. Good Grief. Next time a vote comes up for year-round school, I’m telling Francine to say yes.”
Lizzie smiled. “Have a nice day, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember to take notes. Nancy Drew always took copious notes.”
And her white gloves. But I won’t be taking them either.