Dandelion Dead

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “What did you find, McQuade?”

  “I’ll be right in.”

  I closed the safe, twisted the dial, put the picture back in place, placed the contents in my pocketbook, and headed back downstairs. Then I saw Gerald through the window. He was standing outside the cottage and talking to Ivy. What was going on here?

  I stepped back into the kitchen so they couldn’t see me, and tried to hear what they were saying. I noticed Ivy’s watch on the kitchen counter. Maybe she’d done some cleaning in the cottage and taken off her watch. I wasn’t sure how to operate it, but it could be helpful in solving the case if I could access her e-mail and text messages.

  Outside, the conversation seemed to be heating up, though I could only catch snatches of it.

  “I mean, I’m grateful, but also very confused,” Gerald said.

  “I know. But I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “Not if I don’t get some of the credit for Falling Leaves before the judging. I mean it, Ivy.”

  “Gerry, you need to look at the big picture, instead of getting caught up in the minutiae. And now that you and I are good friends, I’m positive that we can make this a win-win situation for everyone. Don’t worry.”

  Ivy said something I couldn’t hear, but it sounded as if they were walking away from the cottage. I snuck a look out the window and saw them by the other corner of the house.

  It sounded as if Gerald and Ivy might know about Amy’s will. She’d died on Sunday, and it was almost a week later, so her lawyer might already have contacted him about being a beneficiary, and Ivy as well. I glanced out the window again—Ivy and Gerald were still talking. The best course of action was to tuck away thoughts about the will for the time being and focus on the watch instead. After a few moments, I managed to get into the texts and the e-mails, but I didn’t have much time to look around.

  I went for the e-mails first, since there wasn’t much correspondence between Ivy and Ramsey on the laptop in her office. Luckily once again, Ivy hadn’t used a pass code for her e-mail account. Plenty of correspondence was on the watch, but it was going to be super-difficult in this time frame to find e-mails that might be incriminating. Quickly, I ran through them and spotted one where she complained about the possibility of Gerald’s leaving Pure. I kept scanning, looking at the subject lines, but nothing popped out at me.

  I switched to the text messages and zeroed in on the ones to and from Ramsey. But the conversation thread between the two of them had repeatedly been erased and didn’t make much sense from one section to the next. However, she had written Ramsey a text an hour earlier that said:

  A has gone and done it.

  There will be no way to get rid of G now.

  I

  You don’t know that.

  You may be able to work with him

  to take control of Pure. Turn

  lemons into lemonade.

  xo RB

  True. We are SO much smarter than him.

  We could use him and he wouldn’t even know. . . .

  Or I could contest it and keep him tied up in court

  for years. Maybe it’s not the end of the world. I

  There you go! See you tonight. xo RB

  “What are you doing in here?” Ivy said as she came in the door. “And what are you doing with my watch?”

  Quickly, I switched to the main menu, turned the watch off, and put it back on the counter. “Oh, I thought this might be yours. I was just admiring it. Simon has one, too, and I was thinking about getting one. Is it expensive?”

  She gave me a look as if she didn’t believe me, grabbed the watch, and switched it on. “No, not at all.” She glanced at the screen and put it back on her wrist. “Who told you that it was okay to come in here?”

  “David did. Jackson, Simon, and I are looking into the attempts on David’s life and Amy’s death. He told me I could come back here and look at Amy’s house.”

  “Did he, really? Well, I think the police have things in hand. In fact, I heard that your precious assistant, Lily, was arrested this morning.”

  “That may be. But we believe, and David does, too, that she is innocent.”

  “As I said before, David is not exactly objective about her.”

  “Listen, she was having an affair with your husband. No one would expect you to have warm and fuzzy feelings about her or even maybe to give her the benefit of the doubt. But we think someone else did this.” I headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  • • •

  Back in the living room, I found Simon, Jackson, and David discussing the events of the past week over cups of coffee. Simon sat at the end of the couch that David was lying on, while Jackson sat opposite them.

  “Hi, hon, how did it go?” Jackson pointed to his cup. “Fresh coffee for those brain cells.”

  “Have a cup, Willow.” David motioned to the carafe on the coffee table. “It’s cruelty-free kopi luwak. That means it’s from the droppings of free-range civet cats, not caged ones, who eat only the ripest coffee cherries. You should appreciate that.”

  Simon pointed to his cup. “It’s the most expensive cup of coffee in the world. A single cup runs from thirty-five to eighty bucks, and a one-pound bag of beans costs from one hundred to six hundred dollars. I always keep it on hand. Ivy turned us on to it.”

  “On second thought,” Jackson said, putting his cup down. “You may want to skip it. Even though it’s cruelty-free.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” I said. “Any news about Lily, Simon?”

  “Shawn is at the jail, but since Detective Koren won’t drop the charges, he’s working on getting her out on bail, which I told him I’ll be paying for.”

  “Thanks, Simon,” David said. “Ivy is being very unreasonable.”

  “I guess that’s understandable,” Simon said. “You did say you were in love with her, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” David adjusted his arm on the pillow. “So, Willow, did you find anything out there?”

  “Yes, Gerald Parker.”

  “What the hell?”

  “What was he doing out there?” Jackson said.

  “It was kind of creepy. He said he missed Amy. I guess he feels closer to her out there.”

  “That is weird,” Simon said. “Was he looking for anything?”

  “Not that I could tell. But I found a few things in the safe.” I sat down next to Jackson, pulled the contents of the safe out of my bag, and showed them the photos, the cash, the passport, and the old wedding invitation.

  David leaned over and picked up the wedding invitation and examined it. “I can’t believe she kept this.” He put it down and picked up the sheaf of photos. “These are all from when the girls were little.” He held up the photos of the girls posing in the garden and on the beach that she’d used for the paintings that were now in the living room and the guesthouse. “I remember when she picked these out. She used these photos for her final painting project at BU. I remember she got an A.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s more.” I pulled the will out. “I found Amy’s will and . . . it’s strange.”

  “How so?” Jackson pushed his coffee cup away.

  “Because Amy left everything to Gerald.”

  David’s eyes went wide. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  Simon shook his head. “This can’t be happening. Amy owned a quarter of Pure—a gift from Ivy, actually; she did it for tax purposes—but now we’re going to have to contend with this joker?”

  “Gerald told me that they were very much in love,” I said. “So I guess it makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” David said. “Not at all.”

  “Listen to this,” Jackson said. “There’s a clause that says that if either Ivy or Gerald predeceased the other, the survivor would get the bulk of the estate. So if Gerald gets knocked off, Ivy gets his share.”

  “Now wait a minute. That’s crazy,” David said. “My wife is not a k
iller.”

  “Okay, David, but you didn’t know about the will?” Simon got up and started pacing around the room.

  “No, does it sound like I knew? I wonder . . .”

  “What, David?” Simon said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it’s possible that Amy did this less out of love for her new boyfriend, Gerald, than to get back at Ivy and me. You know, for what happened after college.”

  “You mean the fact that Ivy stole you away from Amy?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” David said. “We had our problems.”

  “I talked to Grandmother Lord after the funeral and she seemed to think that whatever Ivy wants, Ivy gets.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m not someone who can be manipulated that easily. I did what I wanted to do, and that was marry Ivy.”

  “Are you sure?” Simon said, and leaned over the couch to look David in the eye.

  “That’s enough.” David turned away from him. “Stop it. All of you.”

  “It’s possible that Ivy and Gerald could align against us and take control,” Simon said. “Damn!”

  “No, Ivy would never do that.”

  “Really? I overheard Ivy talking to Gerald outside Amy’s cottage. I got the feeling that she knows about the will and was trying to make some kind of deal,” I said. “Maybe the estate lawyer or even Gerald told her.”

  “But she didn’t tell you, David,” Jackson said. “That’s gotta make you think.”

  “I want to be alone, now.” David grabbed the chenille throw and put it over his legs. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Okay, buddy,” Simon said. “We’ll leave you alone.”

  When we got out into the hall, Simon said, “What a freakin’ mess. If Ivy goes with Gerald, and I have no problem seeing her do it, we’ll have a real problem at Pure. Even if we do win tomorrow.”

  “Don’t panic,” Jackson said. “Not yet. Willow always comes through in the end.”

  “True, but first, I’m going to have an expert look at the will. Just to see if there are any loopholes in it that might help us maintain control.”

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said. “It’s her will. You can’t change it.”

  “I just want someone on our side to see it.” Simon pulled out his phone. “I’ll get my lawyer working on it. Not Shawn, another lawyer in the firm, Rick Connelly. He specializes in wills, trusts, probate, and estate law, and he’s just as good. He handles all my financial and estate planning. He’ll know what to do.”

  “You’ll need to do it on the way,” I said. “Gerald is on the move, and I think we need to follow him.” I pointed at Gerald, whom I’d spotted through the back door, heading across the field and north to Skippers Lane.

  “You two go,” Jackson said. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on David, and Ivy.”

  I gave him a quick kiss. “We’ll report back. Stay safe.”

  “You, too.”

  • • •

  We took Simon’s car and quickly headed back down West Bay Avenue to Village Lane and headed north toward Main Road. As we approached Skippers Lane, Gerald pulled out in front of us, driving a beat-up blue Dodge truck.

  “Don’t get too close,” I said. “He’ll spot us.”

  “Are you kidding? All he’s thinking about are dollar signs thanks to Amy’s crazy will. This could really be a big problem.”

  “It could also be a big motive. Maybe he killed her to get the share.”

  Gerald got to the end of Village Lane and took a left onto Main Road.

  Simon waited a beat, then turned, too. “So we follow him and hope he’ll lead us to some answers?”

  “This is what’s been presented to us, so, yes, we follow him,” I said. “If that doesn’t pan out, we also need to check the vineyard signs to see if someone from one of the vineyards has been sending David those nasty texts and e-mails.”

  “Plus, tonight is the biggest night for wine tastings at all the restaurants, including Salt. Everyone will be out and about.”

  “Yes, and I’m counting on that. If we don’t find answers this afternoon, we have a good chance of nailing something down tonight.”

  Gerald Parker headed to Crocker Cellars in Mattituck, most likely to discuss the job offer they’d made, although in his e-mail to Camille he’d said he wouldn’t make a decision until after the competition results. Perhaps Amy’s will had changed his mind.

  chapter twenty

  Simon waited until Gerald had pulled in, parked, and headed inside before turning into the parking lot. But as we did, a silver BMW pulled out, and the driver, Nora Evans, the editor of Wine Lovers magazine, rolled her window down, took off her designer sunglasses, and gave Simon a dazzling smile.

  “Simon, darling. What are you doing up here? This isn’t your neck of the woods. You should be back at Pure making more of that fabulous wine. You haven’t sold it all yet, have you? I hope not. I want to put in my order, after the judging, of course.”

  Simon, ever the charmer, smiled back. “Nora, for you, anything! It’s great to see you. This is my friend Willow McQuade. She owns Nature’s Way in Greenport.”

  “Oh, that charming health food store on Front Street. I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

  “Please do,” I said. “I’d love to show you around, anytime, really.”

  “Just so you know, it won’t affect my judging.” She smiled even more broadly, then put a finger in front of her lips. “But just between us, Pure is the favorite to win.”

  Simon practically jumped out of his seat. “Really? I mean, I knew we had a good chance, but I wouldn’t presume to know what . . .”

  “No false modesty, Simon. Falling Leaves is a winner. No doubt about it.”

  “So what are you doing here,” Simon said, “if you’ve already made up your mind?”

  “I said you were a favorite, not that it was in the bag. Crocker Cellars has a nice vintage, too. But I am sharing my findings on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter.” Nora put on her blinker. “Gotta run. See you at Southwold Hall tomorrow night!” She zoomed out of the driveway, hit the road, tires squealing, and took off in a dirt-filled cloud.

  “Damn!” Simon said. “I thought she was saying we had it.”

  “Simon, you know she can’t do that. But she’s obviously impressed.”

  “That doesn’t mean we won.” He made a face, gunned the engine, and parked next to the walkway that led to the entrance. He shut off the engine and picked up his phone. “I’m going to check her postings on social media. Maybe that will give me a better idea of what she’s thinking.”

  “Don’t forget why we’re here.” I pointed to the Crocker Cellars window, where we could see Camille talking to Gerald. “We’re following him to try and figure out who is trying to kill David and who killed Amy.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. You go spy. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “While you have your head in your phone.”

  “I can do both.”

  “Simon, this is important. We need answers.”

  He pointed at his phone. “This is important, too. We got a like from Nora on Facebook and she says we’re the one to beat.”

  “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 m
ean 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.”