Bitter Harvest: Finger Lakes Wine Mystery

By Don Stevens

This prequel to the Finger Lakes Wine Mystery series follows Investigator Deville as he begins his adventure into wine, mystery, and mayhem. Corey Johnston, a young entrepreneur, struggles to keep his sanity, while managing a winery and a distressed manor. Will the poison pen letters and threatening packages keep him from his passions? Or will the recent strange occurrences seal a tragic fate?

When Investigator Louis Deville falls into Rochester's Genesee River, a brave, agile woman saves him. To repay his debt, she asks him to investigate the strange goings on at the Blue Manor. As he struggles to keep his personal demons at bay, he faces a new dilemma which may not be an actual case, just yet. But when a new death turns up, he discovers a diabolical plan, and uncovers the truth before another life is lost.

This traditional detective murder mystery novel is in the style of Elizabeth George, Charles Todd, and Martha Grimes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Stevens
• Release date: Mar 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386573661

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

He could vaguely remember the sudden descent into the Genesee river. The cool water rushed around into his body, freezing him, but waking him from his fatigued state. His breath raced as his heart pounded, and he could feel death was near.

As he started to let his body sink due to exhaustion, the raging water slammed him into a shallower part of the river and he was up again, feeling the air dance on his face, catching a glimpse of Rochester’s lit skyline. He suddenly remembered what had happened now. He hadn’t jumped; he had fallen into the river. But how could he have let this happen?

Investigator Louis Deville began swimming toward the shore, scraping his feet across rocks and trying to catch his breath. The current continued rushing and moved him again, and he heard the sound of gushing water approaching. He panicked, realizing the falls were near. He desperately swam faster and summoned his strength to yell, hoping anyone would hear. However, he knew it was dark, and that in the wee hours of the morning, no one would be roaming about. No one, he thought sullenly, except for other drunkards like himself, who didn’t even know their own names right now.

He heard a splash. It was hard to tell which direction the splash came from because the darkness was overwhelming. The moon hid behind the clouds making it difficult to see which direction he was swimming, and the strong current kept him moving, like a dead fish in the water. He remembered other officers telling stories about bodies found in the river and he wondered if his would be the next.

The current pulled him into a deeper water and down he went, blackness was everywhere.

It was almost comforting, knowing this was how it would end.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure coming toward him. The eery shape, from what he saw, looked like a ghostly woman. The figure swam toward him with precision. She was slender, her long hair floated under the water, as if she were a mermaid. She grabbed him and started pulling him up. He moved his feet and together they made it above water.

Don’t let go, she shouted, swimming toward the shore.

He didn’t. She pulled him, and he wondered where her strength came from. He had heard that people had unbelievable strength when their lives were in danger, he heard. But where was his? Where was his superhuman strength to pull himself out of the river?

There now. Can you pull yourself up on these rocks? she asked.

As he did so, a gust of wind blew, making him shudder. She pulled herself up and sat next to him, asking him if he was all right.

His head pounded, but he nodded anyway.

I’ll call an ambulance, you need to get to a hospital.

He shook his head and found his voice. No, I will be fine. I just need to get out of these clothes. I’m freezing.

I don’t live far, how about my place? I’ll put a pot of coffee on?

That sounded wonderful.

An hour later, he was in her brownstone apartment in the East End neighborhood. It was comfortable and warm. She handed him a mug of coffee and sat across from him, sipping from a mug herself. She watched him, as if she had brought home a pet, curious about what he would do or say next. Deville thought she probably didn’t have many visitors. Her mousey brown hair was pulled back, showing a fresh face of someone in her late thirties. She had on jogging pants and a T-shirt with a decal proclaiming that wine was a hug in a glass.

He was in her robe, his clothes were drying.

So what happened? she asked. I was walking home and saw you fall in. Did you faint?

He didn’t want to tell her he had passed out. Yes, I believe I did faint. It happens sometimes, especially if I’ve been working on a case. How long was I in the river?

Just a few moments. When you didn’t hear me calling, I ran over and jumped right in.

It was only a few moments? he asked.

She nodded. You’re a police officer? she asked, excitedly.

He nodded. Investigator, actually.

Like a detective?

Yes, but I actually prefer to be called Investigator. He took a sip of tea and looked around her apartment and half listened to her rambling. His head was sore and in a few hours he had to go to the station. She was going on about some letters.

I didn’t think of anything when the letters came, but after the accident in the vineyard almost killed his uncle, well, then I thought there might be something.

Excuse me? Accident?

She nodded. The accident in the vineyard, yes. You see he owns a winery, and the accident almost killed his uncle. Well, after that, I thought there might be something to the threats after all. Weren’t you listening? Do you have a concussion?

Who is being threatened?

My boss, Corey Johnston. He’s getting threatening mail. He’s being blamed for the tragedy. She gave him an encouraging smile, but it did nothing for Deville, who was still trying to figure out what had happened in the past hour. She continued, Don’t you see? It’s fate that I saved you.

"Saved me?" he repeated.

Well, yes. You would have drowned in the river if I hadn’t come along. She reached over and took his hand. You can help Corey with this matter.

You need to call the police. I can give you the proper people to call.

She took her hand away. But you are the police. You need to investigate this before he goes completely mad!

Deville thought for a moment, looking out a nearby window at the sunrise. He tried to piece together the night before. He had been thrown out of a bar but didn’t know why. Could he have gotten into a fight? The last thing he needed was a new case. However, he thought, as he turned back to look at her (he didn’t even know her name), maybe this was exactly what he needed. Plus, the thought of this woman blabbing about his drunk escapades made him shudder. He needed to appease her somehow.

All right, I’ll take a look at what’s going on.

Her eyes lit up and she beamed as she took his hand again. Wonderful! I knew you would take the case. You have a sincere face.

He gave a slight smile. Sure, he thought. Not handsome, nor rugged, but sincere. No wonder he’d never been lucky with the ladies. I do need more info, he said.

Sure, anything, she said, with an air of excitement.

Let’s start with your name, he said.

Heather, she said. Heather Rivers.

CHAPTER TWO

Corey Johnston could not get past the memory of losing his wife in the Great Blue Hole. The popular diving spot off the coast of Belize, frequented by reckless adventurists, draws many daredevils into its mysterious circle of dangerous depths, often taking lives. The watery hole lured its victims with its haunting beauty. The menace is perfectly circular in shape, over a thousand feet in diameter, and over four hundred feet deep. Formed as a limestone cave system during the last glacial period, the sink hole was once a cave of an underground tunnel and is now part of a larger barrier reef system.

It was the limestone within it that had interested Corey in the first place. When considering a destination to go for their honeymoon, he had suggested it to Malaya, his newfound wife.

We talked about diving spots, he said, lying in bed, waiting to officially consummate their marriage. Plus you love the tropics.

They had met in a bar, where he noticed Malaya reading while she sipped on a glass of wine. She was alone. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her notice him. He remembered when she’d peeked up from her book, noticing her long, beautiful eyes. Funny, he thought, now that she was gone he didn’t even remember what she had been reading. Most of the night they’d talked about wine and she had longed to go wine tasting, but she wasn’t very social. Between her studies and reading, there wasn’t enough time. She’d lit up when he offered to take her wine tasting in the Finger Lakes.

He remembered her brushing her thick hair on the night of their impromptu marriage. They were discussing diving spots. She stared at him from the mirror she was sitting in front of. The Blue Hole? Why there?

We’ve taken all those diving classes together, Corey said. Don’t you want to dive somewhere exotic, and not just our humdrum swimming holes?

She gave him a thin smile, Well, that is not very exotic for me. I grew up in the tropics. After a moment, she said, Let me think about it. We’re not doing anything until you become a certified expert. She sighed, The last thing you need is for my family to go after you if I drown.

Corey laughed and went to her.