“That’s totally crazy,” David said. “I know my wife.”
Amy pointed the gun at David. “Clearly you don’t.”
“What is happening? I don’t understand.”
Amy smiled. “I killed my sister, Ivy, with the poison hemlock that I found last week during my walk through the fields. I garnished four of the scallop appetizers with it, and brought them to Ivy on my plate. I told her I’d saved them for her because that appetizer was almost completely gone. I knew she’d eat them without question, because she loves scallops.”
“And then we were talking and she offered me two of hers, because she knows I love them, too,” David said.
Amy nodded. “Yes, I didn’t cound on that. And then you offered one to me. Hilarious.” She smirked.
“But then I got that call from Nora,” David said.
“Yes, and you left your scallop appetizer on the table. If you hadn’t, you’d be dead by now, too.”
“But if you’re Amy—you ate it,” David said. “I saw you.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I knew it was poisoned, duh. It only looked like I did.”
“So when the poison killed Ivy, it’s because it had been on the appetizer she ate,” Jackson said. “That’s why they found it in her stomach.”
“Correct, but I threw out the remains of the poison hemlock on both of your plates so it could never be tested or traced to me. Not that anyone would have figured it out.”
“And after Ivy was dead, before you screamed at the party and we all ran in, you switched places with her—you became her,” I said. “But why? How? David told me that Ivy had a distinctive birthmark on her leg—how did you fake that?”
“Fooling all of you was easy. When we were kids, we’d often dress up as each other and fool people. We had different tastes even then. I loved pink and she loved purple. But as we got older, we kept doing it, even in college at parties and events if we were bored. As for the birthmark, I just didn’t sleep with David right away and went up the island to a shop and had a tattoo artist fake one. David never questioned it.”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean about switching identities when you were at college?” David said, aghast. “Was I engaged to you or Ivy when we were at BU?”
“That was all me.” Amy stepped closer and leveled the gun at David’s chest. “I loved you so much. The day we got engaged was the happiest day of my life. But, of course, my big sister, Ivy, ruined that.”
“What? How?”
“I know that Ivy sent you a letter before graduation telling you that I had been pregnant with a baby boy and ended it without telling you. She even went so far as to create a phony lab report from the clinic. And you believed her and broke off our engagement. But it was all a lie. I was never pregnant.”
“But that document looked so real, and when I talked to Ivy, she seemed so sure, like she was telling the truth.”
“She wasn’t.” Amy poked the gun at David’s chest. “And because you wouldn’t let me explain, no matter how many times I tried, I never had the chance to tell you the truth. The fact that you ended up engaged to Ivy—which is what she wanted, and we all know that she gets what she wants—destroyed my life. And when last week I found the letter that she’d sent to you, I decided you both needed to pay.”
Suddenly, I realized something. “You’re the one who sent that message to Ivy on her watch the day of the party about her being a bitch and paying for something she did.”
“Very good, Willow,” Amy said.
“Wait a minute,” David said. “You found the letter? I don’t remember keeping it.”
“Ivy did. Just to remind herself how smart she really was. But that was a mistake, because I found it in an old trunk in the attic at the Orient house when I was up there looking for a photo of my grandmother Emily to frame and put in the guesthouse. Ivy had managed to squirrel them all away and left none for me. Typical.”
“But you didn’t want a photo of your grandfather, too?” I said, stalling for time. Where were the police?
She gave me an angry look. “Of course not. Ivy was always Grandfather’s special little girl, the smart and talented one, the logical one, the one with a head for business. He always loved her the most, and I was pushed aside and ignored or, when I was noticed, pushed around. In college, for example, I wanted to go to BU’s management school so after graduation I could work in Grandfather’s hedge-fund firm in the city, like Ivy, but he insisted I enroll in fine arts instead because he and Ivy said I didn’t have a head for business. Eventually, I gave up and became who they said I was—the bohemian flake, always second best, Ivy’s little sister, the one she had to take care of because I couldn’t take care of myself. I did turn out to be a hell of an artist, though.”
“It sounds like you have a lot of resentment,” I said. “Which is understandable. You never got the chance to live your own life. But not the killing, Amy. Not that.”
“I had to take control, finally. You can understand that, right? It’s very normal to want to be in charge of your own life, and I’d been denied that for too long.”
“Normal? I don’t think so,” Simon said.
“But wouldn’t it have been easier to take action and stay as yourself, as Amy, and not switch identities?” Jackson said. “If you want to find yourself, becoming your sister probably isn’t the best way to go about it.”
“You’re wrong. As Ivy, I became David’s wife, which gave me status in the community because of his meteoric rise in the wine business, not to mention that it made me the sole heir to the family fortune, head of the family trust, and hopefully the recipient of the prize money. It finally put me in a position of power, for once in my life. Really, once I thought about it, it only made good financial sense. It should have been my plan from the beginning, but I had to improvise when you just wouldn’t die.”
David went white. “Oh my God . . . no, I can’t believe it! That it’s really you—Amy!” He thought for a moment. “But that means . . . oh, dear God, no!”
“Yes, your dear Ivy is the one who is dead. Boohoo.”
“I thought you were acting strangely, but never . . . never this.”
“Honey, I was under a tremendous amount of pressure.” Amy smiled slyly. “I was living a lie.”
“And Ramsey? What was that about?”
“Ivy had been having an affair with him so I had to keep up the pretense. It wasn’t difficult since we used to be involved before I met Gerald, and he was a valuable source of information, especially when Gerald was thinking of leaving Pure, after I ended it with him a week ago Sunday, before the party. The same day that David broke it off with you, Lily.” Amy pointed the gun at her. “Anyway, it was all just getting too complicated. And if I’m honest, I’d started to fall in love with David again. At first, it was a charade, but as time went on, I wanted a marriage, the one I’d always deserved with David, so I ended it with Gerald.”
“And then you killed him,” I said.
“Things happened so fast on Sunday that I forgot that I stuck it to Ivy in my will by giving my share in Pure to Gerald. I had to improvise. But it all worked out.”
“Not for him,” Jackson said. “And who attacked David in the barn and the freezer? Who put him in that wine vat?”
“Ramsey and I both believe that it was the Crockers,” Amy said. “After David’s accident in the wine vat, I realized that I’d seen them before each ‘accident’ he’d had—at the barn when he was almost crushed, and in the freezer. We talked about it, and put two and two together. It was them. I think they really, really wanted to win and thought that getting David out of the way would affect the judges’ decision, or at least remove a talented rival winemaker.” Amy sneered. “I think they’re going to have to revoke that award.”
“That makes sense,” Simon said. “Even though you’re crazy, lady.”
“Maybe.” She smiled. “But I’m having a hell of a lot of fun.” She poked Lily with the gun. “Let’s go, little
girl. I need to get out of here. All of you start walking that way.” Amy pointed to the north end of the maze.
We walked up the maze and around the corner with Simon and me in front, followed by David, Lily, Tony, and Jackson. Amy, of course, brought up the rear and urged us along. Several times I turned around to check to see what Jackson was doing and noticed him motioning to Tony. We were almost to the end of the maze when we came to the bridge over the pool of dark water. I felt that if Jackson was going to try something, it would be here. It reminded me of Gerald’s accident scenario on the Mill Creek Bridge. To try to help distract Amy so they could make a move, I turned, looked at Jackson, and said, “Amy, one more question?”
“You are tiresome, Willow.”
“Do you know who rammed into Gerald’s truck with their car and pushed it”—I turned to look again at Jackson—“off the bridge?” This time he nodded, motioned to Tony, and secretly grabbed a post that was propped up next to the corn maze wall.
“I have to take credit for that one, too,” Amy said. “Because of the will, I just had to get rid of him. So I stole a car out of our neighbors’ driveway in Orient and went looking for him. I was even following you and Simon for a while on Saturday.”
“What kind of car did you use?” I tried to get Simon’s attention.
“Now what good will these questions do—really?”
“I’m just curious.” Simon looked at me and I mouthed, Get ready!
“It was a black Jeep Grand Cherokee from the Cavendishs’ garage on Skippers Lane. It’s common knowledge that they always leave the keys in the ignition.”
Simon, David, Lily, and I had now crossed the bridge, but Jackson and Tony waited, blocking Amy’s way. “What are you doing? Move!”
“Now!” Jackson yelled, and he swung the post at Amy’s head and connected.
She screamed, dropped the gun on the ground, and sank to her knees. “I should have killed you when I had the chance. You and your girlfriend.” Amy reached around for the gun, but Tony got to it first.
She managed to get to her feet and lunged for Jackson, but he stepped aside, and she went over the railing and fell into the shallow black pool, hitting her head on a large rock. Jackson waded in and checked her pulse. “She’s alive. Simon, help me drag her out. Tony, keep a bead on her.”
“We’ll take it from here,” Detective Koren said as he came through the opening in the maze at the north end, with two patrolmen and Detective Coyle.
“Glad to see you, finally,” Jackson said.
“We got your message, and a call from Ivy Lord, too, which directed us to the house in Orient. But when we got there, she wasn’t there, so we doubled back to Pure. We heard the shots and double-timed it across the field.” Koren turned to Tony. “I’ll take the gun.” Koren took it and handed it to one of the patrolmen. “Now, is anybody hurt?”
“Minor injuries, but overall, I think we’re okay,” Jackson said. He and Simon got Amy to her feet. Her red dress clung limply to her body, but the red lipstick had stayed on, and her pale face shimmered in the moonlight now that the clouds had cleared again. “Amy hit her head, and she shot Lily and Tony.”
“Amy Lord? What?”
“Detective Koren,” I said, “this is actually Amy Lord, and she killed her sister, Ivy, and Gerald Parker.”
“We found his body on the beach behind Southwold Hall,” Detective Koren said to Jackson. “Thanks for the call. You sent the Farmer fax as well, didn’t you?”
“No comment.” Jackson smiled at me.
“Well, I have to admit it was helpful,” Detective Koren said. “Now, will someone please tell me what in the hell is going on here?”
• • •
We didn’t get back to Jackson’s house in East Marion until after five o’clock on Monday morning. The story was, to say the least, complicated, with lots of moving parts, and four perpetrators. Kurt Farmer had accommodations in the jail for the menacing messages he’d sent, and Amy for killing Ivy Lord and Gerald Parker. Amy did her best to be uncooperative, and once she called her family’s lawyer, one of the most prominent practitioners in the United States, she didn’t say another word.
The police picked up Camille and Carter Crocker as well for a possible connection to attempts on David’s life, and by the time their lawyer got there, it was a full house with Kurt Farmer, Amy Lord, the Crockers, and their legal teams.
Meanwhile, the coroner had been dispatched to Southwold Hall’s beach to recover Gerald Parker’s body, and forensic teams had been sent to Pure, to Ivy’s office, the tasting room, and the crawl space in the barn, along with the Mercedes that was stuck with a flat behind the bed-and-breakfast, not to mention the Cavendishes’ Jeep in their garage in Orient.
When Jackson and I pulled into the driveway next to his house, the dogs went nuts, barking, howling, and barking some more. Jackson had asked one of his volunteers to check on them at nine o’clock, and again at midnight, but they were still pretty darn happy to see us. After we gave them a few treats, we took them outside into the corral so they could sniff and do their business.
The air outside smelled fresh and sweet—of grass, trees, plants, and the damp ground—and as the sun began to rise, it felt exhilarating to be alive, especially after last night.
“I’m still wide-awake,” Jackson said, putting his arm around me. “Want to take them for a walk in the fields before we go to bed?”
“That sounds really nice. Being out in nature sounds like the best possible remedy for what just happened. But I’ll need a sweatshirt and my Crocs. It’s a bit chilly, and it will be tough to walk in these sandals.”
After he came back outside, with a sweatshirt and yellow Crocs for me, and leashes for the dogs, we followed a well-worn path across the fields and through the tree line and to the edge of the Sound. The cliffs here were much less foreboding, and it was easy to follow a path that led from the top of the bluff to the beach below.
When we got to the water’s edge, as Qigong, Columbo, Rockford, and Zeke sniffed the seaweed and sand in between the stones, Jackson reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the ring he’d given me the night before. “I thought you’d want this back.”
“I definitely do.” I put it back on my left middle finger.
But then he dropped to one knee and looked at me, and I felt my heart flutter with excitement. “Remember what I said to Simon? That the ring was an appetizer and that the main course was coming?”
I nodded.
He pulled a small box out of his inside jacket pocket. “I just can’t wait any longer to make this permanent.”
“Because of what happened last night?”
“Yes. But mostly because I really love you and want to share the rest of my life with you.”
“I feel the same way, Jackson.”
He cleared his throat and smiled at me. “Willow McQuade, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes! Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.”
He pulled me into an embrace, and as the cool water from the Sound lapped at our feet, we kissed.
epilogue
Eight Months Later
Jackson and I decided to go with tradition and get married on the third Saturday in June. Mostly because I wanted to have the ceremony in Aunt Claire’s medicinal herb garden when it was at its most beautiful with the flowers in bloom, with a lovely rose bower over our heads.
We’d started planning for our special day way back in November, and after we’d decided to have the wedding in the garden, we chose to have our reception on the outside deck at Salt, Simon’s restaurant, with a view of Peconic Bay and Shelter Island. After all, it was our favorite seafood restaurant on the East End. Besides, as Simon told us repeatedly, it was the only logical choice because he wanted to host it, and it was on him.
There was Amy’s trial and the fact that she planned to plead insanity. According to Simon, who’d heard it from an insider, the rumor was that Amy’s defense lawyer intended to argue that
Amy wasn’t able to determine right from wrong because of the mental and emotional abuse she’d endured as a child. She’d been under the total control of her sister, Ivy, and her grandfather, Walter, all her life and it had turned her into a sociopath with no regard for people’s feelings. Trying to kill David, and killing Ivy and Gerald Parker, was her way of seeking love and trying to be in control of her life for the first time as an adult.
I wouldn’t buy it either.
Camille and Carter Crocker were charged with the three attempts on David’s life and both sent to prison, while Kurt Farmer spent only two months in jail with a year’s probation and counseling. It helped that David had put in a good word for him with the judge. David had also joined AA and was now sober and doing well.
Wallace Bryan, my manager at Nature’s Way, had recovered and, thanks to a vegan diet, made incredible strides in improving his heart health. And the best news of all? All the murder charges against Lily were dropped, and she was now in love with Lucas, twenty-five, who worked part-time at Salt as a waitperson and was studying art history as a graduate student at New York University. Lily was also Salt’s new sous-chef.
Speaking of happy couples, Simon and Sara were still going strong. They divided their time between the East End and Pure, and his producing duties on a new drama series about a family winery in Napa Valley—Bitter Grapes. He liked to say it was like Dallas, only with wine.
Meanwhile, back on the East End I was busy running Nature’s Way, although I left most of the managerial duties to Wallace and Merrily so I could focus on the medicinal herb garden, teaching classes, writing books, and assisting Jackson at the animal sanctuary. Tad Williams was home from college and suggested we hire his friends Ron and Tabatha, so we were staffed for the summer season. My major focus was preparing for the wedding, and that included finding a vintage wedding dress and formal attire for Jackson. After looking locally, in New York, and online, I’d found the perfect dress and an outfit for Jackson.
Right now I was up in my bedroom at Nature’s Way getting ready, while Ginger and Ginkgo, Allie, my maid of honor and masseuse at Nature’s Way, and Hector, my dear friend and my acupuncturist, lounged on the bed. Allie looked fab in a vintage sky-blue sleeveless cocktail-length dress with tiny lemon-rose appliqués on the skirt, a tapered neckline and bodice, a pleated waist, and a tulle underskirt, while Hector looked downright dashing in a custom black tux, purple suspenders, and a black cravat.
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