Dandelion Dead (27 page)

“Good for you.” I opened the car door. “I'll be right back.”

Instead of taking the walkway, I stayed to the left of the door, so that Camille and Gerald wouldn't spot me. Fortunately, the door was partially open, so I could hear pretty well.

“So you can see what I mean,” Gerald said. “Things have changed for me. I think I'm better off staying put.”

“Maybe we could do something together,” Camille said. “Combine forces.”

“I don't know. I wouldn't even be here but you kept e-mailing me even though I said that I wanted to wait to make a decision until after the judging results tomorrow night, and then I found out about Amy's will.”

“I understand, but we really want you as part of our team. I certainly didn't mean to be intrusive.”

“For now, I need time to think,” Gerald said. “I'll be in touch if things change.”

“Are you sure?”

Before they could wrap up their conversation, I scurried back to the car and got in. Simon still had his head in his phone. “Camille wants to join forces with Gerald, but I don't think he's going for it.”

“That's nice. Nora put a photo of the tasting at Pure
that features a bottle of Falling Leaves on Facebook, too, and she tweeted that Falling Leaves is a winner and that David is a genius. I checked, and she hasn't given the other vineyards or their vintages the same positive buzz.”

“Congratulations. I'm going to wait for him to leave and go in to talk to her, so I think we should move the car toward the end of the lot.”

“Okay.” Simon stashed the phone in the glove compartment. He put the car in gear, backed up, and drove to the other end of the lot and slipped in next to a black Mercedes. He turned the ignition off, reached for the phone, and continued his search.

So while he kept his eye on social media, I kept an eye on the door to the Crockers' tasting room. About five minutes later, Gerald came out, got in his truck, and left. “I'm going in,” I said.

“Sounds good,” Simon said, still searching on his phone for mentions of Pure or Falling Leaves or the competition.

But when I got to the door, it didn't look as if Camille was still inside. “Hello? Anyone here?”

Moments later, Camille walked out from the back, holding two bottles of red wine. “Willow, what are you doing back here?”

“I need to ask you a few more questions.”

“Are you still working on your little investigation?” She put the wines on the counter and picked up a corkscrew.

“It's not a little investigation. Someone has been trying to kill David Farmer and has killed Amy Lord.”

She pulled out a cork and poured a glass of wine.
“Would you like to taste it?” She put the glass to her lips. “It's our entry in the competition and it's excellent.” She gave me a sly smile, as if she had a secret.

“No, thanks. I'm here because I'm wondering why you tried to hire David away when Simon bought Pure with Ivy and why you're trying to poach Gerald now.”

“That,
chérie
, is none of your business.”

“It is if you are hurting my friends, and Simon Lewis is one of my best friends, and if it's connected to this murder.”

“But before, you were lovers, no? How do you make that transition, is what I'd like to know.”

“It wasn't all that easy, but don't try to change the subject. Why are you trying to nab Pure's talent? Can't you make it on your own?”

“Business is business.” She downed the rest of the glass. “Now I need to get back to work.”

“Camille, what I really want to know is this. Would you go as far as trying to kill David to get what you want? Was Amy Lord just collateral damage?”

Just then, Carter Crocker, in full cowboy mode, came out from the back. “Kill David?” He put his hands on his hips and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm trying to solve Amy's murder and stop the threats to David's life. Someone threw him in a wine vat last night and he broke his arm in two places. You two were there last night.”

“Now wait a minute,” Carter said. “You are out of line, lady.”

“No, I don't think so. I'm trying to get to the truth.”

“Then I have no idea why you're here,” Carter
said. “We don't have time for this. We have a tasting tonight.”

“You'd better go,” Camille said. “I really thought you were better than this, Willow.”

“I feel the same way about you, Camille.”

•  •  •

Simon managed to take his
eyes off his phone and got back on the road, and we headed to Greenport. I told him about the conversation with Camille while I snapped photos of the vineyard signs. I'd taken one of Crocker Cellars and Derek Mortimer's St. Ives Estate Vineyards and a dozen others on both the North Road and Route 25. The Farmer vineyard would be coming up next.

“My talk with Camille really didn't accomplish anything,” I said. “Except to make me pretty sure that she and her husband could be behind this. I don't know how we were ever friends.”

“You bonded when she came to take that tour of the medicinal garden this summer, but you haven't spent much time with her, between your book and the store and Jackson, and hanging with me, of course. You're not friends. How much do you really know about her?”

“I guess you're right. . . . Hey, slow down. I want to take a photo of the Farmer vineyard sign. Can you pull over?”

Once he stopped the car, I got out and went up to the sign, which was battered, faded, and worn and had a
CLOSED
placard tacked to the bottom. The
vineyard had also seen better days—the house and the barn looked run-down, and no cars or trucks were in the driveway, but several wrecked vehicles had been pushed out into the field. Winning the $200,000 would give them a new lease on life, and a fighting chance to stay open. Stepping back, I took a few shots from both sides.

Before I left, and since no one was home, I circled the house and the barn, checking for poison hemlock. I found it behind the barn on the edge of the vineyard. I snapped a photo of it, too, and headed back to the car.

Simon wasn't surfing sites, though; he was on the phone. “So how much is it?” He listened for a bit. “Fine, fine. Just let Rick know. He'll take care of it.”

I mouthed,
Shawn?

Simon nodded. “Okay, we'll look for her release in the morning. Thank you, Shawn.” Simon put the phone down. “Lily can post bail. The judge asked for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, so we just need to come up with ten percent or twenty-five K, and as you heard, I'm taking care of it.”

“Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate it. You're a good friend.”

“I know.” He laughed. “No, really, it's okay. Glad to do it. Where to next?”

•  •  •

I needed to get back
to Nature's Way since tonight was Halloween and we usually had a good-size crowd of kids and their families for trick or treat. The kids got organic candy, and the adults got free samples of
organic products we carried, so it was fun all around, not to mention the hot cocoa and cookies that Merrily provided.

That Tad Williams had agreed to come in was great, but they would need my help as well. So we headed back to Greenport, stopping to take a photo of Carla Olsen's Sisterhood Wines sign on the North Road before switching back to Route 25.

But when we got to the Mill Creek Bridge, on the way into Greenport, it became obvious that something had gone terribly wrong there. Cop cars blocked the way, along with an ambulance, and a policeman put his hand up for us to stop.

“What's going on here?”

“Pull down there,” I said, “so we can get out and take a look.”

Simon waved to the cop, quickly took a right, and turned down the road that ran past the seafood restaurants that were directly on the water. We got out and walked back to the bridge. That's when we saw Gerald's truck bobbing in the gray-blue water.

•  •  •

Fortunately, Gerald had survived and
was being hoisted onto a rowboat that would head to shore. When he arrived there, the medics rushed to him with blankets and helped him into the ambulance. After they checked his vital signs, the ambulance took off for ELIH. Traffic had backed up, with drivers taking the same route we had, but circling back to Route 25 and taking a different way to Greenport village.

“David is a talented winemaker and there have now been four attempts on his life,” I said. “What are the odds that someone tried to bump Gerald off for the same reason?”

“Excellent point,” Simon said. “Who could we ask?”

I spotted a patrolman I knew, Matthew Hart, and waved to him. Tall and lanky, Matt had been born and raised on the East End and had dated my friend Allie, the masseuse, last year. After two months they had broken up when she couldn't deal with his straitlaced ways and he couldn't deal with her go-with-the-flow attitude. “Hey, Willow, you shouldn't be here. Detective Koren will be here any minute. And you two do not mix.”

“I know, Matt. But what happened to Gerald Parker? Is he going to be okay?”

Matt ran his hand through his hair. “From what we can tell, someone ran him off the road at a very high rate of speed. He's going to be okay, we think, but whoever did it took off. So we've got a lot of work to do.” Car doors slammed shut and Matt turned around. “He's here. You'd better go. I'll see ya.”

We took his advice and headed back to Simon's car and took the long way back to Nature's Way.

•  •  •

By eight o'clock Saturday night,
Nature's Way was buzzing with activity, like the rest of the town, since, yes, it was Halloween, but it was also the last night before the judges' choice for the winner of the
Wine Lovers
magazine competition would be revealed. The Nature's Way exterior looked fun and festive, and
inside all the tables were full of kids and their families enjoying hot chocolate and organic cookies, along with the treats of organic sweets and free samples of organic soap, moisturizer, toothpaste, shampoo, and conditioner. Some of the adults even took the opportunity to pick up wants and needs from the shelves. Tad was a lifesaver, and between him, Merrily, and me, we managed to take care of everybody and everything in a timely manner.

Jackson arrived around eight thirty with Qigong, Rockford, Columbo, and Zeke, happy and frisky as ever, and I went over to the door to greet them all. “Hi, hon.” I gave Jackson a kiss and petted the dogs. “How did you get away? Who's watching David?”

“I managed to get in touch with Tony, the cop we used to guard the garden last year, and he's watching him. I knew that you wanted to do some investigating tonight, especially about Gerald's accident, and I didn't want you to go alone.”

“Thank you, I do.” I'd already updated Jackson over the phone about the trip to Crocker Cellars, seeing Nora Evans, my confrontation with Camille and Carter, and Gerald's accident. Jackson told me that Ivy had left right after Simon and I had gone to follow Gerald, and we both wondered if either she or perhaps Camille and/or Carter Crocker were responsible for Gerald's accident.

I went back over to the counter and picked up the packet of photos I'd taken and had developed and the brochure of North Fork UnCorked! activities and handed both to Jackson, along with a small bone for each dog, which they eagerly gobbled up. “I thought
you could look at these in my office while I change and take a look at what's on for tonight. We need to decide where to focus our energy. I'll be right back.”

By the time I'd changed from my Nature's Way uniform into a gray wool sweater and gray jeans and boots—which matched Jackson's outfit of a gray zip-up fleece and black jeans—and returned to the office, the dogs were asleep on the couch and Jackson had a plan.

“I think we should go to Harry's Half Shell first because the Farmer wines are featured in a pairing and they'll be there, then move on to the Oyster Bar because Gerald is doing a tasting for Pure, if he's up to it. Have you checked on him?”

“Yes, he's been released, and I checked on Wallace, too, of course, and he's stable and feeling better.”

“That's good news at least.”

“Sure is. Where else?”

“After that, we go to Whitman's, for the Crocker Cellars tasting, and end up at Salt and check in with Simon, David, and Ivy. Of course, if we spot anyone doing something interesting as we walk around, we can check that out, too.”

I picked up the photos. “Did you spot anything interesting here?”

He shook his head as he zipped up his fleece. “I didn't see any sign that matched the one in the photo that was sent to David.”

•  •  •

Harry's Half Shell on Front
Street, located a block before Main Street, had a big crowd inside, most of
them with North Fork UnCorked! bracelets, so Jackson and I had to wait our turn to get to the tasting at the oversize mahogany bar.

The restaurant had no real seafood feel, but the food here rated four stars in the foodie guidebooks. At the bar, a smiling and clean-shaven Kurt Famer, dressed in a suit and tie, poured wine into glasses and passed them around. A menu in a laminated frame on top of the bar itemized the dishes that featured Farmer wines.

Jackson pointed to my bracelet. I'd bought one for each of us more to support the cause than to sample wines. “You want to taste the wine?”

“No, I want to stay sharp. There's just too much at stake.”

“Look who's here,” Jackson said, after surveying the crowd. “Nora Evans, and she's talking to Walter Farmer.”

Nora and Walter sat at the end of the bar drinking wine and chatting amicably. “If we move in closer, we may be able to hear what they're saying,” Jackson said, taking my hand and moving toward them. When we got next to them, Jackson picked up a glass of wine and handed it to me. “Cheers, McQuade.”