Dandelion Dead (8 page)

“How is he?” I said.

“Better,” Simon said. “He's in his element now, so it takes his mind off everything.” We watched as David smiled and chatted with the customers. Behind him, workers harvested the crop, stuffing succulent grapes into big yellow crates at their feet.

“What are they harvesting today?”

“They're working on grapes for the cabernet sauvignon, and then we're done for the fall.”

“Which is that one?” I said. “I can't keep them all straight.”

“It's a red wine with a nice black-cherry fruity flavor, along with licorice, black-pepper, and vanilla notes. It's a cross between cabernet franc and sauvignon blanc.”

“Red wines can give me a headache, but I guess since this is all organic, with no sulfites, it probably wouldn't.”

“Correct, no sulfites, or yeast nutrients or genetically engineered yeast. Organic is the way to go,” Simon said. “In fact, new research out of UC Davis shows that organic fruits and berries have up to fifty-eight percent higher natural antioxidants than nonorganic do.”

“Organic farming is really just so much better for the planet and people,” I said. “I'm proud of you for going in this direction, Simon.”

“You inspired me.” Simon smiled. “And it's paying off. If we can just figure out Amy's murder, and who's out to get David, it'll be smooth sailing.”

“Yes, that.” Jackson sounded a little bit impatient.
“To that end, can you please tell us what happened this morning? I need to get back to the farm.”

“Your wish is my command.” Simon walked over to the fire-engine-red barn door and pulled it open. “The scene of the crime is just inside.”

We went inside the barn, and Simon flipped on the overhead lights. It felt stuffy and warm and smelled of oak. Huge wooden barrels and even larger steel tanks were on either side of the barn, while bottled wines were on each end in massive racks on the cement floor.

We followed Simon to the south end of the barn, where police tape partitioned off a yellow forklift, a section of the wall with two ragged, gaping holes, a large wine rack that had been smashed into pieces, and shards of glass and puddles of wine on the floor.

“This is where it happened.”

“Walk us through it, Simon,” Jackson said. “Give us the details.”

“Okay, David was picking out a few bottles for a customer, and he had his back to the rest of the room. But when he heard the forklift coming, he turned around. He said a guy in a white jumpsuit with a hard hat, wearing large sunglasses, was the one driving. David yelled at him to stop, but whoever it was kept coming at him. Luckily, David managed to move out of the way, and the forklift went right into the wine rack, the bottles, and the wall, and missed him by inches. Then, whoever it was jumped off and ran out of here.”

“Could he identify who was on the forklift?” Jackson said.

Simon shook his head. “Nope. It happened too fast, I guess.”

“Could it have been Leonard Sims?” I said. “After all, he was here.”

“No, he arrived afterward. I saw him pull in.”

“And you also escorted him out,” Jackson said. “When did the police get here?”

“Around nine, a little while after it happened. It was just Detective Coyle; he said that Detective Koren was busy working on something else.”

“Glad I missed him,” Jackson said. “So what did he say?”

“David went through the series of events and then said he had to start his talk. After he went, I mentioned to Coyle that I thought that the two-hundred-thousand-dollar prize for the competition was a good incentive for a rival vineyard to want to hurt David, and that maybe one of them did this and was behind those nasty texts and e-mails as well. Of course, I didn't mention David's love life.”

“So you think that could be a factor, too,” I said.

“Definitely.”

“Okay, and what did Detective Coyle make of that?” I said.

“Not much. But he did ask if Lily had been around when it happened.”

“So they're zeroing in on her to the exclusion of any other theories or suspects,” Jackson said. “Sounds about right—neither of them is very good at big-picture thinking.”

“I know Lily didn't try to kill David or do this,” I said.

“Was she at work this morning?” Jackson said.

“No, she has the day off.” I suddenly felt my
stomach drop. Despite my instinct that Lily was no murderer, I felt a frisson of doubt.

“Don't do that.” Jackson put his arm around me. “Just because she has the day off doesn't mean that she did this.”

“He's right,” Simon said. “And I didn't see her anywhere.”

“That's something, I guess,” I said.

“Did Detective Coyle say anything else?” Jackson said.

“He asked if we'd found Amy's cell phone, but I told him no, and he told me that they had no info yet about the texts and e-mails, and then he left to talk to Ivy as well, since she entered the barn right after the accident.”

Something Simon had just said prompted a thought about Ivy, but I couldn't quite grasp it. I let it go, hoping that it would come back if it was important.

Simon continued, “The crime-scene people were here for about an hour after he left. But I don't know what they found.”

“So no tox screen yet?” Jackson asked.

“Not that I heard. Coyle wasn't exactly sharing information.”

Jackson checked his watch. “I need to get going. I have a vet coming at twelve thirty for two of my new rescue horses, but first, I need to talk to a horse rehab expert from the Farm Sanctuary in Watkins Glen.”

“Are they going to be okay?” I always worried about the state of the animals that Jackson rescued. But I also knew that if anyone could bring them back to health, it was Jackson and his team of vets and volunteers.

“I think so, with some tender, loving care. I got them from a horse farm that's being investigated for abuse. It was bad, really heartbreaking. The rest of the horses went up to the Farm Sanctuary.”

Animal abuse, especially when done for money and higher profits—think puppy mills to supply pet stores, horses and greyhounds for racing, and farm animals for food—upset me more than any other issue. But I tried to be productive with my anger by going vegan, offering delicious vegetarian and vegan dishes at Nature's Way, and helping Jackson as much as I could.

“Okay, I know that's important, you need to go—but what's our next step in terms of investigating?” Simon said.

“I think we focus on the wine auction tonight in Mitchell Park,” I said. “All of the most prominent vintners will be there, and it might yield a few more suspects.”

•  •  •

After Jackson left, Simon and
I went to his office to discuss the case. On the way upstairs Simon took a call from his contractor to discuss a new covered pavilion for the back lawn that Simon was planning for next season. Once it was done, guests would be able to listen to live music on the weekends while sipping a Pure vintage.

We entered the office, Simon finished the call and went over to his desk, and I walked over to the window in the office that faced the east side of the property. From there, I could see David move up and down the
rows of vines as he gave his class, while workers continued to harvest grapes around him.

“He doesn't seem upset at all now.”

“I told you.” Simon sat down in his desk chair and put his feet up. “He's in the zone.” He pointed to his phone. “Oh, by the way, I found a tech guy in the city to go over David's texts and e-mails. So far, he hasn't found the source, just like the cops.”

“Did your tech guy say whether there were calls from other women, besides Ivy, on the phone?”

Simon put his phone down on the desk. “No, but I can ask him. What are you thinking?”

“I talked to David last night, and I asked him about other women and he denied it, but you said that wasn't true. Who exactly is he seeing—Carla from Sisterhood Wines?” I decided to leave Lily out of the discussion for now.

“That's been going on for a while, but there have been others. Last summer, he had a new woman every weekend.”

“Does Ivy know?”

“Hard to say, but she's supersmart, so it's very probable.”

I wondered if Ivy knew about Lily. “Do you think that Ivy could have tried to kill him out of jealousy or maybe one of his disgruntled lovers did it?”
Not Lily
, I thought,
please don't let it be Lily
.

“Carla was at the cocktail party, not to mention . . .” Simon's voice trailed off.

I walked over to the desk and drilled him with a look. “Not to mention who, Simon?”

He blew out a breath. “Your assistant, Lily. They spent
a lot of time together in the time leading up to the party. I hate to say it, Willow, but I got a definite vibe that their relationship didn't end when the workday was over.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“You knew?”

I shrugged. “She told me last night and said he ended it on Sunday. But, of course, the police don't know.”

“Sure, because if they did, she'd be in jail right now since she prepared the appetizers.”

I heard a blip and Simon pointed to his wrist and a watch with a bright blue band. “It's my new Apple watch. It's got a stopwatch and a heart-rate sensor, and a bunch of other stuff. Pretty cool, huh?” He turned it toward me and I read a text from Kate, at Salt:
Supplier is out of bay scallops for Wed dinner. Change menu?

Suddenly, I realized what I'd forgotten.

But before I could tell Simon, his watch rang—a weird phrase, but in this case accurate. He punched a button, said, “Simon,” and listened for a few moments. “Yes, I got your text, don't panic. We'll figure it out. I was planning on swinging by today anyway. I'll be down in a few.” He said good-bye and signed off.

“Kate's super-busy right now,” he said. “I'm hosting the reception after the funeral, too, so she's got her hands full.”

In addition to buying the vineyard, Simon had last year purchased a seafood restaurant, located at the end of Preston's dock in Greenport, renamed it Salt, renovated the interior and exterior, revamped the menu, and reopened to great reviews.

The place was always packed, and Jackson and I only were able to get a table because we knew the
owner. Wednesday night, Simon was hosting a sold-out event at Salt that featured his vintage Falling Leaves and Kate's signature dishes. We would be there, but first I needed to tell him what I remembered.

“Like I said, cool, right?” He pointed to the watch. “I really like this thing.”

“Very, but—”

He grabbed the keys to his Mini Cooper. “Walk me out?”

“Wait a minute. When you got that text, I just remembered what I had a glimpse of in the barn before.”

“Go. Lay it on me.”

“You're not the only one with that kind of watch.”

“Right, Ivy has one, too. The black-and-gold one. I looked at that, but I like this sporty model better.”

“Simon, focus?”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“So the other day when I overheard them in the corn maze, I noticed a message on Ivy's watch, just like the one you just got.”

“From who?”

“I don't know, but the text on her watch said, ‘You bitch! You'll pay for this!' ”

“Really?” Simon's eyebrows arched.

“Really. Obviously, David isn't the only one who is getting nasty messages.”

•  •  •

When we reached the main
floor, I spotted my late aunt Claire's longtime boyfriend, Nick Holmes, dressed in his usual garb of polo shirt, yoga pants, and
purple Crocs, come in the door, followed by his students, who held yoga mats, straps, and blocks. Nick taught popular yoga and meditation classes at Nature's Way and a program here called Yoga on the Vine.

Nick had trained in various places in the UK and USA, including the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health, and his goal was always to provide a safe and welcoming place for beginners and longtime practitioners. He encouraged students to above all enjoy the practice while they learned how to awaken untapped resources, including calmness, creativity, compassion, and vitality. He felt the benefits, too. Nick had just turned seventy-two, but was still fit and in excellent health and looked at least ten years younger than his calendar age.

“In the meantime, I wonder if Nick has any insights into Amy's murder,” I said to Simon, whose cell rang a moment later.

“Good idea. Ask him. I have to take this—it's Kate, again.”

While Simon talked to his chef, I followed Nick into a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows to the right of the tasting room and the twins' office. It had a spectacular view of the vines, which spread from this building to the main road.

“Hi, sweetie!” Nick gave me a warm hug. “Are you okay? I heard about Amy. How awful! I thought she was a nice girl.”

“I'm fine, but I'm helping Simon figure out who killed her.”

“So you're on the case, good! Those cops need your help.” He beamed at me like the proud uncle he was.

“They don't seem to think so.”

“Ignore them, but be careful. If there's any danger, take that wonderful boyfriend of yours with you. But fill me in, what exactly happened here?”

I told him, then asked, “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill David?”

Another gaggle of students came in the front door in yoga attire, holding sticky mats, and came over to Nick. “
Namaste
. Make yourselves comfortable.” He gestured to the other women and men spreading out mats and doing warm-up poses. “I'll be right with you.”

He took my arm and we stepped outside the room. “I'm afraid I can't be of much help, honey. David is a bit of a charmer, though. He likes women and they seem to like him. As for Amy, she seemed sweet, exactly the opposite of Ivy, who was just awful to her, and all the employees here. She's actually not very nice to me either.”