“When can you have them here?”
“I have no idea.” I realized my voice was sounding a little testy. And decided I didn’t much care. “If I can find anyone, I’ll let you know when they’ll be able to come. You’re welcome to make the arrangements yourself if you prefer.”
She muttered something. I didn’t catch more than a few words, but most of those would have been bleeped out on TV.
“I beg your pardon?” I said.
“That would be satisfactory,” she said, with a superficial smile. “At least I haven’t already checked out of that wretched hotel.”
With that she picked up her purse and an overstuffed black tote and turned to leave.
“Where can I reach you if I find someone willing to do the work?” I called after her.
No answer. I gave chase.
“Heading for the parking lot, I think,” I said to Mother as I passed. “Let the chief know.”
I caught up with Genette well before she reached the parking lot. She was walking fast—half running, really—but I was an inch or two taller, in better shape, and not hampered by stylish pointy-toed boots with four-inch heels.
“If you want me to contact you if I find some workmen, you need to tell me where,” I said.
“I’ll be at my hotel,” she said.
“Which one?”
“The Caerphilly Inn. Actually, maybe I should give you my cell number. Heaven knows if anyone in that wretched place will bother to take a message.”
She rattled off a cell phone number. I pulled out my notebook and managed to jot it down, then scrambled to catch up with her again.
“Let me make sure I’ve got that right,” I said, and repeated the number back.
“Yes, that’s it.”
Was she deliberately trying to lose me? Under other circumstances, I might have been favorably impressed by her long stride and fast pace, especially given the impractical boots. But since I was trying to do her a favor, I didn’t appreciate having to run after her.
“I’ll try to negotiate as good a rate as possible,” I said, to the back of her head.
“I don’t care what it costs. I just want to get out of here.”
We were at the edge of the parking lot now.
“One more thing,” I began.
“What now?” she snapped. “Why won’t you just let me leave in peace?”
“I beg your pardon—I thought I was helping you leave.” I realized I had used what my brother, Rob, called my “Mother voice,” a tone of icy precision that left most people in no doubt whatsoever that they had committed some unspeakable faux pas. To my surprise, it actually worked on Genette.
“Oh, yes, and I am soooooo grateful.” She turned around and favored me with a smile that showed a lot of teeth but never got near her eyes.
“Do the workmen need to have any special skills?” I asked. “For example, are your electrical and sound systems complicated?”
“I can’t imagine they are,” she said. “Brett set it up, so it can’t be that complicated, and taking it down should be even easier.”
“Okay,” I said. “Are all the packing materials there or do you have some back at the hotel? And do you want to come back to supervise or just have the workmen do it?”
“It’s all there at the booth,” she said. “And yes, just have them pack it and send it. Do you think I’d ever want to come back here, after someone tried to kill me?”
“To kill you?” This was news. “When?”
“Last night,” she said. “And they got Brett instead, and I need to get out of here before they try again.”
“I can understand how you’d be upset about his death,” I said. “What makes you think they were trying to kill you and got him instead?”
“He was wearing my hoodie.” She yanked her tote open, rummaged in it, and then pulled out a black hoodie with splotches of mustard yellow and bubble-gum pink. She held it up and shook it out to reveal her winery’s logo, silk screened on both the front and the back of the hoodie.
“We had them made up for the fair,” she said. “We had them on sale, but I guess people didn’t realize it because we haven’t sold any yet. I was wearing one yesterday at the booth, and I had Brett put one on so he could wear it around and drum up interest. They must have thought he was me.”
It wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. I remembered seeing them embrace—she’d been wearing heels, like today, and they’d been eye to eye. Brett was bulkier, but it had been a dark and foggy night. The killer could have been mistaken.
“Why do you think someone would want to kill you?” I asked aloud. Not that I doubted there were people who did. Given enough exposure to Genette, I could become one of them myself. But I was curious to hear her take on the subject.