Sauvigone for Good Read online

  Can Norrie stop a murderer’s reign of terroir?

  The descent of winter on the Finger Lakes means it’s time for the Wine Trail Association’s Chocolate and Wine Extravaganza. Unfortunately, for screenwriter-turned-reluctant-vintner Norrie Ellington, her Two Witches Winery is co-hosting the festivities. Norrie’s duties include wrangling the three international chocolatiers featured at the event—bitter rivals and industry influencers who can make or break Two Witches.

  But the heated competition among the celebrity confectioners soon spills out of the professional arena, and before the Extravaganza is over, one of the cocoa pros is dead, last seen sipping a Two Witches’ Cabernet Sauvignon. With spirits souring at the Extravaganza and her winery on the line, Norrie must hustle to find the uncorked killer before Two Witches’ reputation is crushed once and for all.

  Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Books by J.C. Eaton

  The Sophie Kimball Mysteries

  Booked 4 Murder

  Ditched 4 Murder

  Staged for Murder

  Botched 4 Murder

  Molded 4 Murder

  (coming March 2020)

  Dressed Up 4 Murder

  And available from Lyrical Press

  The Wine Trail Mysteries

  A Riesling to Die

  Chardonnayed to Rest

  Pinot Red or Dead

  Sauvigone for Good

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Sauvigone for Good

  J.C. Eaton

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Books by J.C. Eaton

  Sauvigone for Good

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Dressed Up For Murder

  Chapter 1

  Meet the Author

  Copyright

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by J.C. Eaton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: December 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0950-0 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0950-3 (ebook)

  First Print Edition: December 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0951-7

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0951-1

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Mary Jane Sbrocco,

  You will always be in our hearts, and your kindness will never be forgotten.

  Acknowledgments

  Not a day goes by without my being thankful for our incredible support team of friends and family who give their time so willingly to ensure our books are “reader worthy.” These tireless folks continue to push us forward, lend open ears, and rescue us when our technology goes on the blink. They scrutinize our every word and encourage us every step of the way. Writing is a long and thoughtful process. Having their support makes all the difference.

  Thank you Larry Finkelstein, Gale Leach, Susan Morrow, Fran Orenstein, and Susan Schwartz all the way in Australia. And special thanks to the “Cozy Mystery Crew” of authors who work together to support one another. We’re glad to be part of this crew. You’re the best: Bethany Blake, V.M. Burns, Sarah Fox, Lena Gregory, Jody Holford, Jenny Kales, Tina Kashian, Libby Klein, Shari Randall, Linda Reilly, and Debra Sennefelder.

  Our agent, Dawn Dowdle from Blue Ridge Literary Agency, and our editor, Tara Gavin from Kensington Publishing, have been with us every step of the way. Without them, the Wine Trail Mysteries wouldn’t exist. We thank our lucky stars that these amazing professionals have taken us on.

  And to the phenomenal staff at Kensington Publishing, we owe you tremendous thanks. Your hard work and attention to detail make all the difference.

  Lastly, we thank the booksellers, librarians, and readers for giving us a reason to boot up the computer each day.

  Chapter 1

  Two Witches Winery

  Penn Yan, New York

  I pulled the quilt up to my neck and tried to ignore the incessant sound emanating from my cell phone. Why did I ever pick such an annoying ringtone? Judging from the light in my bedroom, I couldn’t tell if it was dawn or mid-morning. January winters in New York’s Finger Lakes region boasted one kind of sky color—gray.

  My fingers fumbled on the nightstand but I finally grabbed the phone and mumbled hello, only I forgot the o.

  “Hell of a morning to you, too, Norrie. What’s keeping you? Catherine Trobert’s driving me insane. I don’t know why I ever agreed to be on this subcommittee in the first place. It’s not as if the two of you couldn’t work out the details. By the way, I ducked into our tasting room kitchen to make this call. I told her I was getting some more cookies. Hurry up and get over here before I lose it completely.”

  “Oh my God! Sorry, Theo. I totally forgot to set my alarm clock and since I left kibble in Charlie’s dish last night, he didn’t bother to slobber me with those smelly Plott Hound kisses of his. I’ll be right over. Give me five minutes to throw on some clothes and brush my teeth.”

  “I’ll give you ten. Brush your hair, too. Oh, and go slow when you head down the road to our place. It’s pretty slick. Even the sign in front of the Grey Egret seems to be
iced over. Ugh. I hate winter.”

  I threw the quilt into a giant wad and scrambled into the bathroom. Of all times to oversleep. I pictured poor Theo stuck listening to Catherine drone on and on about heaven-knows-what. At least she wasn’t trying to fix him up with her son, which she’s been doing with me since I arrived at our family winery last June. That was right. Last June. My sister, Francine, caught me at a weak moment and begged me to oversee the winery for a year so she could join my brother-in-law, Jason, an entomologist with Cornell’s Experiment Station, and chase after some godforsaken insect in Costa Rica as part of a grant. Notice they never offered you grants to write novels in Paris or sample beers in Germany, but insects? The sky was the limit.

  Not that I was expecting a grant. I earned a fair amount of money as a screenwriter for a Canadian film company specializing in romances and mysteries. Not bad for someone in their twenties with no real “life plan.”

  “All you need is your laptop and a landline,” Francine told me, insisting “the winery practically runs itself.” I guess I should have paid more attention to the word “practically.” In the last six months, I’d dealt with a dead body in our newly planted Riesling section, one across the road at Rosalee Marbleton’s place, and one halfway between Two Witches and the Grey Egret. It was a wonder I met my deadlines and managed to keep my script analyst happy. Anyway, I had another six months before my tenant’s lease ran out for my tiny apartment in Manhattan, so I was virtually stuck here. Besides, a promise was a promise. Same deal with that ridiculous subcommittee I’d said I’d join.

  I threw on my heaviest socks and jeans, along with an old, lumpy, mohair sweater that belonged to Francine, and headed out the door to Theo and Don’s tasting room for the subcommittee meeting.

  All the wineries on Seneca Lake belonged to the Seneca Lake Wine Trail, an organization that promoted tourism along with our wines. That was over thirty wineries and a heck of a lot of businesses to promote. To further the cause, our neighboring wineries started a small, more casual group so we could support each other. Under the name of WOW, or Wineries of the West, we meet twice a month to discuss important topics of interest or, as my mother used to say, “Chew that gossip as if it was a piece of gum.”

  Except for Theo and Don, who ran the Grey Egret, all the other wineries, including ours, were represented by women–Rosalee Marbleton at Terrace Wineries, Stephanie Ipswich at Gable Hill Winery, Madeline Martinez at Billsburrow Winery, and Catherine Trobert at Lake View Winery.

  It was one of those women, Catherine to be precise, who thought we needed a subcommittee for WOW to handle the arrangements for our role in the wine trail’s upcoming Valentine’s Day promotional event, Chocolate and Wine. Our six wineries were selected by the Seneca Lake Wine Trail Association to showcase the three international chocolatiers flying over from Europe to give demonstrations of their craft and compete in the first ever Chocolate and Wine Extravaganza at the prestigious Geneva on the Lake resort. I figured the only reason our wineries were selected was that we were closest to the resort.

  The grand prize for the winning chocolatier was an obscene amount of money, in addition to full-feature articles in Food & Wine, Chocolate Connoisseur, and Wine Enthusiast. Not that those artisans hadn’t been featured in food magazines, but the scope of it would be enormous according to the WOW members. If you asked me, though, the real prize was a segment on Good Morning America and some sort of book deal. Madeline Martinez explained the details at last month’s WOW meeting, but I was too busy checking my Facebook status. Then, to make matters worse, I got a terrible itch on my back and when I raised my hand to scratch it, she thought I’d volunteered to be part of the subcommittee, along with Catherine. Once trapped, I gave Theo a subtle kick in the ankle and he agreed to join the subcommittee as well.

  Now I was hustling to get to our first meeting. Normally I’d hoof it down the road since it was less than a mile, but it was freezing outside and I was already late. Thankfully, my well-weathered Toyota started right up and I was down the driveway in seconds. Our driveway was really the upper portion of the hill with the Grey Egret at the bottom. We shared commanding views of Seneca Lake and the Route 14 traffic that those views brought.

  Theo and Catherine were seated at a small table at the rear of his tasting room and, from the look of things, they had already finished a platter of cookies. Only crumbs remained.

  “Good Morning, Norrie,” Catherine said. “Don’t worry about being late. Theo and I had a wonderful conversation about Steven’s latest trial. That law firm of his certainly keeps him busy.”

  My God! Not even one foot in the door and she has already managed to bring her son into the conversation.

  “Um, that’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, he really enjoys living in Maine, but he was so disappointed things didn’t work out for Christmas. Of course, there’s always April. He’s bound to get a vacation then and the two of you can reconnect.”

  Reconnect? More like wave hello and goodbye. Just like our high school days.

  Theo shoved a large mug of coffee at me. “It’s still hot. I brought it over a few minutes before you walked in.”

  The aroma hit my nostrils and, for the next ten seconds, I completely forgot about Steven Trobert, not that it was difficult. I barely knew the guy in high school and I was sure he wouldn’t even remember who I was.

  “Yum. Chicory flavor, right? This coffee is phenomenal.”

  Theo smiled. “Don’s idea to try new blends. Of course, now with the Chocolate and Wine Festival coming up, we’ll need to add cocoa blends.”

  Catherine brushed some loose strands of hair from her eyes and leaned into the table. “Speaking of which, we might as well get started. To tell the truth, this whole thing has gotten me in a tizzy. Sure, we have festivals all the time, but the wine trail has never hosted an international event with world famous chocolatiers. Allete Barrineau was in last month’s issue of Martha Stewart Living and Stanislav Vetrov made the front cover of Saveur. I can’t believe they’re actually going to be giving presentations in our wineries.”

  “I can believe it,” Theo said. “Don even talks about it in his sleep. Mumbling about bonbons and truffles.”

  I shrugged. “Guess I’m the only one around here who’s fine with a Three Musketeers bar or some M&Ms. Francine was into gourmet chocolate until she discovered health foods. Now we’ve got a pantry with dark chocolate bars that are one step away from qualifying as laxatives.”

  Theo laughed. “Seriously, we need to focus on the schedule so the rest of the WOW group doesn’t have our heads at next week’s meeting.”

  I nodded. “So, what exactly are we supposed to do?”

  Catherine pulled out a small notebook from her bag and opened it. “We’re supposed to figure out how to maximize the time we have with the three chocolatiers at our wineries. They’ll be arriving the week before the extravaganza and staying at Geneva on the Lake. Essentially, they’ll be available to do small weekday demonstrations at our wineries, except for Friday. They’ll need Friday and Saturday to prep for the Saturday night event.”

  I pinched my shoulder blades together and took another sip of the coffee. “I thought they were preparing the chocolate, not making it.”

  “They are,” Theo said. “They’re not chocolate makers, they’re chocolate artists. The block chocolate has been donated by Puccini Zinest from the Netherlands. I imagine Teuscher from Switzerland, and our very own Scharffen Berger, are kicking themselves in the pants for not beating Puccini Zinest to the punch.”

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  “I live with Don, remember? He practically oozes this information.”

  Just then, Catherine slipped me a piece of paper entitled, “Seneca Lake Wine Trail Chocolate Extravaganza, Important Information for Winery Owners.”

  “You should have gotten a copy of this, Norrie. It was sent out weeks ago. I
t has all the pertinent information on it.”

  I glanced at the paper. “Uh, I’m sure we did. It’s probably with our tasting room manager.”

  “The important thing to keep in mind is the chocolatiers will need a workspace in your kitchens and, except for Belgium’s Jules Leurant, they’ll need someone to be their assistant before, during, and after the demonstrations,” she said.

  “Huh? Why doesn’t this Jules guy need one?”

  Theo leaned back and groaned. “According to Don, Jules is a regular prima donna and a bona fide germophobe. He won’t make appearances anywhere without his assistant.”

  “Well, he won’t want to make an appearance at our winery once he sees our goat, Alvin, hanging over the fence by the side of the building. And I don’t even want to think what would happen if Charlie trounced over to him.”

  “Good,” Catherine said. “We’ll assign Jules to two of the other wineries. Each chocolatier will be assigned to only two wineries. That way they can get used to the setup. Less stressful for them.”

  Yeah, but what about us?

  Theo immediately responded. “Better keep him away from Gable Hill. Stephanie’s twin boys will have their little sticky fingers over everything.”

  “Give him to Rosalee,” I said. “And Madeline. That should be germ-free enough.”

  Catherine took copious notes for the remainder of our meeting, while Theo and I rolled our eyes at each other when she wasn’t looking. We managed to assign each chocolatier to two wineries for the demos and agreed on how we were going to use social media to promote it.

  Suddenly Catherine turned ashen and put her notebook down. “Oh dear. Oh dear. We haven’t even discussed which wines each of us will be pairing. We don’t want to overlap if at all possible. Of course, it really shouldn’t matter since it’s a food pairing and not a wine demo, but still…we want our visitors to get a good sampling of what we produce in the Finger Lakes.”

  “Merlot,” Theo said. “What about you, Norrie? Your winemaker must have shared that info with you by now.”