Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 124, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 757 & 758, September/October 2004

“I called the sheriff yesterday. He claims not to know a thing about it.”

“It’s always the same?” Leopold asked. “The helicopter makes a single pass over the vineyards?”

“That’s right, but at different times. The others were all between ten and midnight.”

“What else is there? Sarah said that was one of the reasons you needed help.”

She spoke up. “The previous owner has contacted us. He wants to buy the place back.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult. Tell him he can have it for twice what you paid.”

Mark shook his head. “He’s already offered pretty close to that and I said no. Sarah and I love this place. We’re not about to sell it.”

“Who is this previous owner?”

“A man named Wade Southby. His parents had a vineyard in France before the war. They fled to America just before the Nazi occupation, bringing along enough money to buy this place. When they died he tried to carry on the family business, but within a few years he was forced to lay off his employees and shut down. That’s when he put it up for sale.”

“And now he wants it back.”

Mark nodded. “You’ll get to meet him tomorrow night. He’s coming here for dinner. He insists he’s making a serious offer and he begged me to hear him out. I agreed to do that, but I held out no hope for him.”

“Is that everything?” Leopold asked.

Mark and his wife exchanged glances, but it was Suzie who spoke up. “There’s Jerry Wax, our vineyard manager.”

“What about him?”

Suzie deferred to her employers and Sarah spoke with some reluctance. “Well, he suddenly seems to have lots of money. He bought an expensive new SUV and a new Rolex watch. Mark asked him if he’d come into an inheritance and he said he’d had some luck up at the Turning Stone casino.”

“He’s never been a gambling man,” Mark added. “He comes from a strict Amish family.”

“People change,” Leopold pointed out.

“We think he might be stealing from us,” Sarah said. “Suzie saw him putting a big bag of something in his car trunk one night and when she asked what it was he got very nervous. He might be stealing wine from us but we can’t prove it.”

“You believe his Amish upbringing would keep him from gambling but not from stealing?”

“Well—” she began and then fell silent.

“Perhaps I can meet him in the morning,” Leopold suggested.

It was later, when they were about to retire, that he heard the familiar thumping of the helicopter’s return. Leopold hurried downstairs and found Mark on the back porch, staring into the darkness. “It’s the first night he’s come back.” Even in the dim light Leopold could see his face was pale with fear.

In the morning, before the others were up, Leopold found Molly’s brother alone in the kitchen. “You’re up early. Been outside?”

Mark Calendar nodded. “I went to check the vineyards, the grapes we haven’t yet harvested.”

“Find anything?”

“No. Nothing visible.”

“You think that helicopter comes over at night to spray them, don’t you?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “The wrong chemicals could ruin our entire harvest.”

“Who’d want to do that?”

He shrugged. “Someone trying to force us off the property. The previous owner, maybe.”

“Mr. Southby.”

“Perhaps.”

“Let’s see what happens at dinner tonight.”

Mark readily agreed. “There’ll be eight of us. In addition to Southby I’ve asked Jerry Wax and Suzie.”

“Why Wax?”

“I just want to see how he acts around Southby. He worked in the vineyard when Southby owned the place, but Southby fired him.”

“That’s seven. Who else?”

“A woman from Seneca Falls named Pauline Fitzgerald. She’s an old friend of Southby’s, and when I suggested the dinner party he asked that I invite her. He had to ask what we’d be serving because she doesn’t eat meat. Sarah was already planning filet of sole so there was no problem.”

After breakfast, while Molly and her brother chatted, Leopold went for a walk in the vineyard. The section nearest the winery had been stripped of its grapes, but the mechanical grape pickers were still operating at the other end of the vineyard. He walked out that way until he spotted a stocky young man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. He had a soft indoor face but seemed to be in charge. “Are you Jerry Wax?”

“That’s me,” the man admitted without taking his eyes off the grape-picking machine. “What can I do for you?”

“My name’s Leopold. I’m Mark Calendar’s brother-in-law, visiting for a few days. I wanted to ask you about the helicopter we heard last night.”

“Yeah, Sarah told me it came over twice after dark. I have a room with an Amish family on Route 414. Didn’t hear a thing over there.”

“Is there an airport near here?”

“Sure, a little one on Martin Road. Never saw a helicopter there, though.”

“Do you think someone in the copter could be spraying the vines to damage the grapes?”

“Doubt it,” he answered with a shrug. “They look fine to me. A good harvest this year.”

Leopold smiled and started walking toward the adjoining field. “I guess we’ll be seeing you later, at dinner tonight.”