“Wasn’t Zenora magnificent?” Glenda asked when I saw her the next morning. I’d stopped into the tasting room on my way over to Billsburrow Winery for our Thursday WOW meeting.
“Um, that’s one way to put it.”
“She’s confident the bracelet will soon be back on its owner’s wrist.”
That, or in Grizzly Gary’s possession if I don’t move fast.
“Yeah, me too.”
Thankfully the ringing in my ears had stopped but I wasn’t so sure about everyone else. With a few minutes to spare before trotting off to Madeline’s place, I touched base with Cammy. She was between customers and tidying up her tasting room table.
“If anyone shows up asking if we’ve seen a scarab bracelet, I’ll let you know.” Then she let out a laugh. “Think Zenora had anything else tucked in there?”
“I try not to think about it. Anyway, the bracelet’s safe with me until I figure out what to do with it.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything about Henry Speltmore and his relationship with Brewer. Or Boyd, for that matter. Madeline and Stephanie couldn’t wait to share what gossip they had.”
“Take copious notes.”
“Now you’re sounding like Lizzie.”
• • •
When I got to the WOW meeting on Madeline’s enclosed porch/patio room, everyone except Catherine had arrived. Theo was already munching on some of Madeline’s praline cookies and Rosalee Marbleton was fast at work piling praline and chocolate chip cookies on her plate. Stephanie, who was helping herself to some lemonade, must have given her a look because Rosalee said, “I lived through the Great Depression. You eat what and when you can.”
Meanwhile, Madeline sat and placed a pile of papers in front of her. “Good to see everyone. We’ll get started as soon as Catherine gets here. It’s not like her to run late.”
I took the chair next to Theo at the long rectangular table that overlooked Billsburrow’s vineyard and he whispered, “No, running late is something you usually do.”
“Very funny.”
At that moment, Catherine entered the room and gave her short brown hair a quick pat. “Forgive me, everyone, but this has been a very stressful week for me. Thank goodness Steven will be here by the end of next week. He may need to bail my husband and me out of jail by then.”
“You can’t be serious,” Theo said. “The sheriff’s office has no evidence that you were involved in Brewer’s death.”
Catherine wrung her hands and took a seat. “According to Deputy Hickman, the business card they found on Brewer’s body is tangible evidence. And when he interviewed our staff, everyone remembered hearing my husband and Brewer argue.”
“Any judge in his or her right mind would rule that out.”
“Oh my gosh,” Catherine gasped. “So you think we’ll be going in front of a judge?”
Theo shuddered. “No, no. That’s not what I meant.”
Madeline moved the pile of papers closer to her chest and cleared her throat. “Maybe we should get started with our meeting and then we can—”
“Find out if the Troberts are going to be in police beat?” Rosalee asked.
Stephanie looked my way and widened her eyes as if to say, “Do something, Norrie,” but I didn’t need any encouragement. I needed answers of my own and didn’t want to wait until the end of a mind-numbing meeting to get them.
“We can’t hold a meeting about winery events and party menus while we’ve got a murder on our hands,” I said. Then I looked at Madeline. “Can the pile of papers wait a little longer?”
“Of course. Why don’t we all take a deep breath and let Norrie talk.” Then to me, “You were going to talk, weren’t you?”
I nodded. “Uh, yeah. Look, I know the sheriff’s office is investigating Davis Brewer’s homicide, but face it, they always take the easy way out and go with the first piece of evidence they find. Then they try to make it fit their scenario. Frankly, I’d freak out if I was in Catherine’s place, too.”
Oops. I never should have said that because the next two minutes were spent with Catherine crying and everyone offering up napkins and tissues. Finally, when there was a break in her sobbing, I went on. “Lake View Winery wasn’t the only winery to have issues with Brewer. The Speltmores did, too. I found that out from Brewer’s new secretary at the cooperative office in Dresden. Issues over the seasonal worker contract. And that’s not all.”
For the next three or four minutes, I gave them the rundown about the fender bender, my theory about the driver, and my trek in the woods with Godfrey. I left out the part about Zenora. And for good reason. I needed to remain credible. “So,” I continued, “there may be a link between Boyd and Brewer and one way to start is to find out if any of you know anything about them. Or Libations, that chain liquor store that sells all of our wines.”
Rosalee shuffled in her chair. “I may be getting on in years, but you lost me completely.”
“Yeah, Norrie,” Theo said, “one thing at a time.”
I brushed a strand of hair off my brow and took a quick breath. “Okay. Everyone here knows that Eli Speltmore, Henry’s kid, was the one who found the body and told me. A few days later at the crack of dawn he picked up the phone to call his friend and overheard a conversation between his father and some guy who threatened him. Don’t ask me why, but somehow I’ve become Eli’s confidante. Or sucker. Either way. Anyhow, he was able to find the caller ID and I checked it out. It belongs to Libations. But who called Henry and why is anyone’s guess.”
Stephanie broke off a small piece of the chocolate chip cookie she held and spoke before she popped it into her mouth. “Those stores are all over the Finger Lakes and it’s our distributor who gets the wines to them. It would be impossible to figure out which store or which person. And besides, maybe Eli got it wrong. Kids are always exaggerating. I should know. The twins are notorious for that.”
“Stephanie’s right,” Madeline added. “But if you think it’s a concern, maybe you should call Deputy Hickman.”
I cringed. “That would be my last move. In the meantime, if any of you hear anything, let me know.”
Then Theo gave me a nudge. “Are you going to pass around the license number from the SUV?”
“Oh my gosh. My mind is getting so befuddled lately. Can all of you write this down? I’ll also email it to you later.” I took out my phone and went to the Notes app. “It’s the license plate number Godfrey got from the white SUV that took off from the woods. Maybe you can keep an eye out if you spot a white SUV in any of your parking lots.”
“I’ll let my staff know,” Rosalee said. “They’re always going on break outside in this warm weather.”
A chorus of “yeah, sure” and “fine” followed.
“Is that all?” Madeline asked. “I really wanted to talk about the Speltmores’ release event.”
“Um, one more second.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the scarab bracelet. It was still wrapped in a Two Witches gift towel only now it was in a Ziploc bag. “I’ll pull the towel out and you can see the bracelet. Keep it in the plastic bag.”
With that, I extricated the fuchsia and mauve towel, leaving the bracelet at the bottom of the bag. Then I passed it along to Stephanie first.
She took one look and gasped. “This is exquisite, Norrie. Exquisite and expensive. Those are real gems. Looks like the clasp came undone but the little safety chain is still on. Hmm, whoever wore it must have a tiny wrist or it wouldn’t have fallen off.”
The bracelet made its way around the room, and with the exception of Rosalee and Theo, everyone else oohed and ahhed.
“Our tasting rooms are mega busy so I seriously doubt any of our employees would remember seeing anything like this, and even if they did, they’d be hell-pressed to remember the person who wore it. Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask,” I said.
Madeline shuffled the papers in front of her and looked around. “Now, can we get on with the meeting? Unless of course you wanted to talk about Emerson Boyd. I always have time for enlightening information.”
Or down-and-dirty scuttlebutt.
“I’m trying to figure out if he would have had a motive for killing Brewer. Who else besides you and Stephanie know anything about him? I mean, other than the fact he’s a wine publicist out of Rochester.”
“An officious wine publicist out of Rochester,” Stephanie said. “Derek and I met him at a chamber of commerce event in Geneva a while back. He went on and on about the new summer lake house he bought on Keuka Lake’s bluff. Not only that, but he showed us photo after photo on his cell phone. Hard to get out of my mind. Commanding views of both sides of the lake. Said he spent a fortune on these special light-sensitive windows that adjust for all hours of the day. Impossible for anyone to look in. Like that would matter to Derek and me. All they’d see were the kids’ toys scattered all around. Anyway, he’s quite renowned and if he promotes a wine, it’s all but bound to be an income generator. Still, his prices were way out of the Gable Hill Winery budget.”
“You can find out for yourself,” Madeline added, “at the Speltmores’ reception next Saturday night. They’ll be introducing that tawny port of theirs with enough fanfare for a royal wedding. My eyes glossed over after reading the invitation.”
“Invitation?” I froze. “Not an email?”
Madeline shook her head. “Not this time. You should have received that invitation weeks ago. He sent them to all of the wineries.”
I turned to Theo and gave him a look. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “I thought you knew. It’s no big deal. New wines are introduced all the time.”
“But not with a string quartet from Ithaca College,” Stephanie said.
Catherine, who had been unusually quiet up until now, wrung her hands and looked down. “It would have been the perfect venue for Norrie and Steven to reunite, but Steven’s flight is scheduled for the following day.”
Let the gods be praised.
“Um, do you know who’s on the guest list?”
Madeline nodded. “According to Delia, who I spoke with a few weeks ago, they’ve invited all of the winery owners on Seneca Lake, a number of wine magazine editors, the local press, and the owners of Belhurst Castle, Geneva on the Lake and so forth. Ah, and naturally their publicist. The reception is being catered by Creative Caterers out of Rochester. They have an impeccable reputation and a five-star rating from clients.”
Poor Eli. They’ll probably ship him off to Aunt Doris so he’s not in the way.
Suddenly I remembered that stack of mail I had on my desk that I was going to get around to reading but instead moved from one corner to the other. “Was I supposed to RSVP?”
“Yes,” Madeline said. “By tomorrow.”
I was pretty certain the Speltmores weren’t about to turn me away if I missed the deadline but it was nice to know I didn’t screw up completely. Then I glanced at everyone around the table. “So that’s it? No one knows anything else about Boyd?”
A second or two of silence followed my question. And then, out of nowhere, Rosalee lifted her head and looked at all of us. “His mother happens to be a royal pain in the patootie. Always was. Always will be.”