From Port to Rigor Morte by J.C. Eaton

Author:J.C. Eaton [Eaton, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: small town, amateur sleuth, Cooking, Women Sleuths, wine tasting, dog mystery, culinary mystery, finger lakes, labor dispute, food and wine
Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Bradley returned the favor with a quick squeeze on my knee. “I’ll park down the street this time and we can make our way to that garage from the other side. Best bet is to go through the neighbors’ backyards.”

“Harrumph. Sounds like this isn’t the first time you’ve done something of this sort.”

He chuckled. “We had to make our own entertainment as kids. Not a heck of a lot going on when you live in a small town.”

“Tell me about it. Penn Yan’s about as small as they get.”

He pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot and drove to where the street all but collided with Seneca Lake. “Now we’ll backtrack. I’ll park a few houses down. Make sure your phone’s on mute.”

“It is. Don’t worry.”

The only sound was the soft scuttle our feet made as they moved from pavement to grass. Thankfully the yards weren’t fenced in or we would have needed to double back. In a matter of minutes, we were behind the garage, now with its lights off. I could hear the woman’s voice but I had to strain to figure out what she said. Something about keeping it cool, or was she cold? I couldn’t tell.

Bradley and I edged closer to where they stood but still remained a good foot or two from the corner of the garage so as not to be spotted. The few feet made a difference and the voices were clearer.

“Do you have any idea what running an exclusive would do to our profits?” the man asked. “It’s not as if tawny port is released every day. Talk about obstinate. Time for a little more arm-twisting.”

“I didn’t drive all this way for business. Why don’t you follow me back to my place? It’s not that far.”

“You know why. Another time.”

“And another place for our poker games. At least till things cool down.”

“You know they won’t cool down until an arrest is made.”

I elbowed Bradley and leaned into his ear. “They’ve got to be talking about Brewer. They know something.”

He put a finger to his lips and nodded.

The man continued. “I suppose we should—”

And like that, his voice was drowned out by the sound of the Finger Lakes Railway Freight Service making one of its night runs to Geneva. Thank you, CSX, for mucking this up.

Between the blare of the horn and the locomotive engine noise, it was impossible to hear anything else. Apparently the couple under the tree reached the same conclusion because they darted across the street and into the Dresden Hotel’s parking lot.

“Too late now,” I said. “By the time we get over there, those two will be long gone.”

“Gone maybe, but not without spewing off about Henry and Brewer. I’m thinking the guy who wanted an exclusive release must have a liquor distribution business or a store at the very least.”

I fought hard to keep my voice low. “Libations. That has to be it. That’s the call Eli must have overheard. When he got me the caller ID,

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