Deadly Offer (7 page)

“What are you saying?” Darby felt her pulse quicken.

“She was concerned.” He kicked the dirt with a work boot and sighed. “She started looking at security systems.”

“For protection?”

Dan gave her a level gaze. “Selena believed that someone was trying to destroy Carson Creek.”

———

Vivian Allen parked her rental car next to a beautifully restored Karmann Ghia with California plates and sauntered up to the door of the tasting room of Carson Creek Estate & Winery. “Hello?” she called out. “Anybody home?”

She opened the heavy oak door and stepped in. A curving bar dominated one part of the room; a small gift shop the other. “Hello?” she called out again.

Footsteps came from another part of the building and a door opened to reveal a stout man with curly black hair and bushy eyebrows. “I’m sorry—we aren’t open,” he said.

“Carlos?” Vivian’s face broke into a big smile. “Are you Selena’s brother Carlos?”

He nodded, puzzled.

“I’m Vivian, Vivian Allen,” she announced, striding toward him and extending her hand. “Selena told me all about you! You’re a photographer in San Francisco, right? She gave me your website and I’m dying to have a look. She went on and on about how talented you are.” Vivian clasped her hands in front of her and beamed. “And I can’t wait to tell Selena that her description of you was dead on.”

Carlos put a hand through his hair and shook his head slowly. “Selena … is …” his breath caught. “She passed away on Thursday.”

“What?” Vivian Allen gasped, leaning against the bar for support. “But I just spoke to her on Wednesday! How can that be? What happened?”

“We are not sure yet, but she may have had a heart attack. We are about to go and see her doctor.”

“Oh my God,” Vivian’s head sunk in dismay. “Carlos I am so, so, sorry. Your sister was—well, we’d become very good friends. I know our friendship would have continued even after I’d purchased the vineyard.”

He gave her a quick glance. “You were going to buy Carson Creek?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m sure you knew that it was for sale. Selena was lucky enough to receive several offers, but I was the fortunate one she’d chosen to be the new owner.” She pulled some papers out of a voluminous pink pocketbook. “I’d be happy to show you …”

Carlos peered at the papers. “Maybe you’d better come into the farmhouse and meet my brother,” he offered.

“Enrique? I’d like to see him, although I would have preferred to have done so under happier circumstances. I’m in shock, I really am. Selena was such a fabulous woman! With so much more living to do!” She followed Carlos out the oak door and down a curving path leading into the main house. “There’s the pool,” she said, pointing a graceful arm in the direction of the cabana. “And she loved soaking in that hot tub.”

Carlos gave her a pained look but said nothing.

The pair entered the farmhouse living room where Enrique sat leafing through a file of papers. He stood up as his brother and Vivian approached.

“Rico, this is Ms. Allen. She’s one of the bidders on the property.”

ET regarded the tall redhead. “Please, sit down,” he said.

Vivian draped her tall frame on a nearby couch and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

“I’m so sorry to be barging in here! I had no idea this had happened. I explained to your brother that Selena and I had become quite friendly. I’m going to miss her tremendously.”

ET nodded. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“Rico,” Carlos interjected. “Selena was planning to sell Carson Creek to Ms. Allen. She has some documents …”

“Yes, they’re right here.” Vivian pulled a stack of white papers out of her pink pocketbook. “We spoke on Tuesday and agreed that my price was acceptable. I’m buying the vineyard right after the holidays.”

ET looked sharply at his brother and then at the stack of papers. “You know that there were other offers …”

“Oh yes, in fact I told Selena from the beginning that I would do my best to match the highest one.”

Carlos’ head jerked upward. “You did?”

Vivian nodded. “Owning a vineyard has been my dream for years, and when I saw Carson Creek, I absolutely fell in love with it. I’m a financial analyst, but a few years ago I had a significant health scare.” She gave a rueful smile. “Cancer. That was when I said to myself, ‘Carpe diem!’ and I started to look seriously for a property.” She sighed. “Your sister and I often discussed the fragility of life. I think my personal story resonated with her. After all, she was fighting her own health battles.”

ET gave a quick inhale. “She told you about her illness?”

“Not the nitty-gritty details.” Her voice grew softer. “We discussed how difficult it was to tell other people—even people we loved—that we were sick.” She looked down at her hands. “People treat you differently when they know you have a chronic illness. They mean well, but still—it’s very difficult.”

ET cleared his throat. “Carlos, would you mind going out to the vineyard and finding Darby? I would like her to meet Ms. Allen before we head to St. Adina.”

Carlos nodded, rose, and headed out to the fields.

Six

Darby’s first impression of
the tall woman with wavy auburn hair was that she looked vaguely familiar. Her second thought was that she was working very hard to assure ET and Carlos that she had been chosen as the purchaser for Carson Creek.

“I asked your sister whether Dan would be interested in staying on,” she was saying as Darby entered, “and Selena thought that was a distinct possibility. I know that would be very helpful for us as we get going in this business.”

“Us?” Darby inquired. “Do you have a partner?”

She shook her head emphatically. “It’s just me and my cocker spaniel. He’s such a good companion that I do think of us as a team. It’s silly, I know, but the little guy has been my salvation.” Vivian Allen gave a nervous giggle. “You must be Darby.”

“Yes. May I take a look at your contract for the sale of Carson Creek?”

“Of course.” Vivian handed her the papers and turned back to ET and Carlos. “Anyway, what do we need to do to finalize things?” She stopped, slapped a hand over her mouth, and exclaimed, “Forgive me! Of course you have some arrangements to make, now that Selena has passed away.”

“That’s right.” ET nodded gravely. “We need a little time, Ms. Allen, but we will look over these papers carefully and figure this thing out. Just give us a few days.”

“Of course.” She scooped up her pink pocketbook. “You can keep those—I have another set of copies. And my phone number is right here.” She handed ET a card. “Please keep me posted.”

Darby raised a finger as if to ask a question.

“One quick thing, Ms. Allen. Your offer to Selena Thompson isn’t signed.”

“Of course it is! My signature is everywhere.”

“I mean, it isn’t signed by Selena.”

“Well, that’s right, I guess. We agreed on the phone. I thought I’d bring the papers to her in person.” She frowned. “I know she had every intention of signing.”

There was an awkward silence as Vivian Allen left the room.

———

“Your sister did not have a heart attack,” stated Jenna Yang, steepling her hands together as she regarded Carlos and ET. She peered over blue-framed glasses at them, her angular face sharp-boned but pretty, in a severe kind of way. “I apologize for being blunt, but I’ve examined her body and conferred with the county coroner. The autopsy revealed no damage to the heart muscle.” She paused, as if to let the words sink in. “Myocardial infarction was not the cause of death.”

Darby Farr sat in the back of Jenna Yang’s office in a brick building in downtown St. Adina, willing to give moral support but not wishing to intrude on the brothers’ time with the physician. They had driven over together in Darby’s Karmann Ghia as soon as Vivian Allen departed, hoping to glean more information about Selena’s unexpected death. Now Darby watched as ET and Carlos absorbed this startling news, their faces a mixture of pain and confusion.

“If she did not have a heart attack, then how did my sister die?” ET’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Dr. Yang pursed her lips. “Her lungs were full of water, indicating drowning. I imagine that it happened quite peacefully. I believe she simply fainted and then slipped under the water.”

“Fainted?”

The physician nodded. “Perhaps when she was getting out of the hot tub. Her blood pressure dropped as she stood, causing her to lose consciousness.”

Carlos’ hand slammed down on his chair’s wooden armrest. “She should never have gotten that thing! I told her they were dangerous, that they breed diseases, but she wouldn’t listen to me!”

“Hot tubs can be hazardous, Carlos,” the doctor said gently, removing the blue frames from her face. “But your sister knew the risks. Keep in mind that warm water was also very therapeutic. It helped her cope with the pain when nothing else could.” She rose and walked around her desk. Putting a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, she said, “I knew your sister well. She was determined to live life to its fullest, illness or no illness. I very much admired Selena, and I will miss her tremendously.”

The brothers rose from their seats. “
Gracias
,” ET whispered to Dr. Yang. “Thank you for your kind words.”

Darby waited a moment until the brothers were out of the office before asking her questions.

“Doctor, did Selena have low blood pressure?”

“No, quite the contrary. She suffered from hypertension. But the temperature of the water and the alcohol in the wine would have caused her blood vessels to dilate, decreasing her blood pressure.”

“And that was enough to cause fainting?”

Dr. Yang sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

———

The ride back to Carson Creek Estate & Winery was quiet. Darby let her eyes wander over the rows of vines, thinking about Selena’s last moments in the hot tub. Hopefully it had been a peaceful death, a mere slipping from one reality to the next.

Dan Stewart met them at the door of the farmhouse with a red folder. “I think this is what you’ve been looking for,” he said, handing the folder to ET. “I found it in Selena’s desk in the office. I believe you’ll discover three offers to purchase Carson Creek inside.”

ET thanked him and motioned to Darby. Taking her out of earshot, he gave her a frank look. “Carlos and I talked. We’d like to sign a contract with you to handle the sale of the vineyard.”

“You know I’m happy to help you, ET, but are you sure this is what you want? There are plenty of good realtors here.”

“I know, but we want you.” He paused. “Not only do I know firsthand what an exceptional agent you are, but I appreciate your kindness to my sister.”

Darby looked puzzled. Had ET forgotten that she and Selena had never met?

She waited while he continued.

“A few months ago, I asked you for fifty thousand dollars, and you did not inquire as to why I needed it.” He took a few seconds to compose his thoughts. “Darby, that money was for Selena.” He looked heavenward, as if for answers, and continued. “Perhaps I should have asked her why she needed such a large sum, but I didn’t want to pry. Now I have the chance to pay you back through the sale of this property. Choosing you as the broker means Carlos and I can give you something for helping my sister.”

Darby nodded. “I see.” She looked over the rows of vines and then back at her friend. “It’s a gorgeous property, ET, and you must know I’d love to sell it. Let me think about the logistics before I say yes.”

“Fair enough. I for one would like to wait on all this until after Selena’s mass, but Carlos is of a different mind. Will you join us to look over the contents of the folder?”

“Of course. Depending on what we find, you may not even need
a broker for Carson Creek.”

“Perhaps not.” He sighed. “I have one last favor to ask of you.” He glanced down at his well-manicured hands. “Will you stay until Selena’s service on Monday? You’ve been so helpful to me. I don’t think I could sort through all this without you, and you’re one of the few people Carlos will listen to.”

Darby sensed that ET liked having her as a buffer for his hot-tempered brother, and she did not mind playing the role. As an only child, Darby was intrigued by siblings and their relationships, however rocky.

Darby squeezed her assistant’s shoulder. “I’m happy to stay, ET.” She pictured her suitcase’s contents. The few casual items of clothing she had grabbed before leaving Mission Beach were hardly adequate for a funeral service.
I may need to make a quick shopping trip,
she thought. A little voice inside added:
There are worse things in the world.

———

“Who the heck is this Fritz Kohler, outside of being buyer number three?” Carlos waved one of the offers in the air, a puzzled expression on his fleshy face. He lifted a glossy brochure advertising a series of workout DVDs and frowned. “And how in the world can he be a yoga instructor? He’s immense! He looks more like a boxer than some guy who can twist himself into a pretzel.”

“His discipline is called power yoga,” corrected ET. “It’s a blend of yoga, body sculpting, plyometrics …”

“Plyo-what? Oh never mind!” Carlos tossed the papers on an empty pressed-back chair. “I don’t get it. All three offers are unsigned, and all are for the same amount. Nine million dollars. It’s as if she told them the price and they matched it.”

“That may indeed be what happened,” Darby said. “Selena knew
what she wanted to get when she sold, and she wasn’t taking any less.”

“Could she have gotten more?” Carlos twirled a pencil, deep in thought.

“Perhaps. We don’t know how much she played the three buyers off against one another. The question is, are any of them willing to pay any price?”

“I think you will find that the answer is yes, at least where one of the buyers is concerned.” The smooth voice of Harrison Wain
field slid through the room like butter. “I knocked, but no one
answered.” He glided across the floor of the dining room and gave a tight little smile. “Forgive me for intruding. I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.” He glanced at the offers spread out on the table. “It certainly seems my timing is impeccable.”

“You’ve got that right.” Carlos stood and shook the realtor’s hand. “We’ve got three offers here, all the same price. For some reason, my sister selected one of them, but who knows why.”

ET shot his brother a warning look. “Carlos, we need to discuss this privately first.”

Carlos barked out a laugh. “I know you, Rico. You’ll discuss it to death. There’s nothing to talk about, anyway. Selena picked Vivian. This place is already sold, right?”

Like a shot, ET sprang from his chair and confronted his brother.
“Listen to me, Carlos. We have a sister to bury. Selling her real estate is hardly our first priority.” He turned to Harrison Wainfield. “I ask you to leave us now, so that we can talk privately.”

“Of course.” He spread his hands in an understanding gesture. “Anything I can do to help, please call.”

Darby rose as well. “I’ll be outside,” she murmured. She met ET’s anguished eyes and gave a small nod, hoping he knew that she believed he was right.

———

Harrison Wainfield lingered outside the door of the winery. “Tough situation,” he commented, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth. The scent of spearmint wafted on the late morning air. “What did Carlos mean when he said Selena picked Vivian?” He frowned. “You’ve got to wonder whether the poor thing was in her right mind, making such important decisions. One could argue that she wasn’t mentally capable.”

Darby remained silent, fighting the urge to punch Harrison Wainfield in his pompous nose.

He continued, blissfully unaware of her strong feelings. “Between you and me, the Contentos will pay just about anything to get this vineyard, and they’ve got the resources to do it.” He frowned, fishing in his pocket. “Did I give you my business card?”

“I don’t need it.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“The Gomez brothers have asked me to handle the sale of Carson Creek. We’ll be working out the details of Selena’s estate, and then contacting the buyers. You might want to advise the Contentos to make their best offer at that time.” She whirled and left Harrison Wainfield standing in the dust, his business card in his hand.

———

Dan Stewart was standing by a battered yellow tractor in the old barn. Darby took one look at his wild expression and her anger at Harrison Wainfield melted away.

“What’s up?” The post-and-beam structure smelled of hay mingled with lavender. “You look homicidal.”

“That’s because I am, and it all has to do with that daughter of mine. I tell you, Darby, raising teenagers is murder.” He held up a bottle of wine. “I found this in here, hidden over in the corner. I went and picked up Sophie and asked her point blank if she put it there. She did!”

Darby couldn’t help but smile. “At least she’s got good taste, right? She’s sticking with the Carson Creek label.”

Dan managed a weak grin. “It’s one of our best pinots, to tell you the truth. Selena’s pride and joy.” He frowned. “The other day Sophie tried to wear this ridiculously short skirt to school, and now this. These are the times I absolutely hate being a single parent.”

“I imagine it’s tough, for both you and Sophie.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “When Natalie died, I decided to put all my energy into raising our daughter. And that’s what I’ve done. There hasn’t been time for much else, between running vineyards and keeping an eye on her.” He looked at the bottle of wine again. “I’m starting to think that I did it all wrong. Maybe I should have concentrated on finding her a mother instead.”

Darby watched him leave the old barn, the bottle gripped in one hand. Dan Stewart had his hands full with the harvest, Selena’s death, and an impending sale. Now he had to worry about underage drinking as well.

She turned to leave, her eyes falling on an old scythe leaning against the barn wall. It was a beautiful hand-crafted tool, with a wooden handle smooth from years of use.

Her gaze swept the floor of the barn, noticing a small piece of paper just a few feet from the scythe. Curious, she knelt and picked it up. It was a crumpled receipt from a store. Darby scrutinized the address.
Save-All Pharmacy, St. Adina, California
, she read. She shrugged and, without bothering to study it further, put it in her pocket.

The air outside the barn felt fresh and clean against Darby’s face. Wishing to give ET and Carlos some space, she found herself wandering into the fields among the straight rows of vines. She marveled that the russet earth and dry air were able to produce such bounty.
It’s so different from Maine
, she thought, remembering the lush greens, tall pines, and dark brown soil of the island on which she’d been raised.

At the far edge of one field was a small shelter, barely more than a lean-to, and Darby marched toward it. She was about to continue past the structure when she heard a sighing sound.

Startled, she peered inside the shelter.

Sophie Stewart was sitting on the wooden floor, her chin on her denim-covered knees.