Death of a Bad Apple

by Penny Pike

  Crystal looked up when we came to a stop in front of her open tent.

  “Sorry, we’re closed,” she said when she saw us. Did she really think we were there to drink wine? At ten in the morning?

  “I see that,” I said, dismounting the scooter. I lowered the kickstand.

  Jake’s phone rang. He got off his scooter, tapped the kickstand, then stepped aside to take the call out of hearing distance.

  Crystal seemed surprised when she looked up again and saw me still standing there.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about something.”

  “Well, make it quick. I need to get back to the winery and at least try to get some kind of sales numbers today. Now that the festival has come to an abrupt halt, I’m losing money every hour.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” I said. “I wondered if you had heard anything more about Nathan’s death.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tiffany freeze at the sound of Nathan’s name. She shot her mother a look I couldn’t read.

  Crystal seemed to ignore her daughter. Instead, she ran her fingers through her brassy blond hair, revealing an edge of gray tinged with red. Time for a touch-up, I thought.

  “No—why would I? I’m not a cop; I’m a winemaker.”

  Tiffany fumbled a glass and it hit the soft ground. She quickly snatched it up and examined it, then tossed it in the trash.

  “Tiff, you gotta be more careful,” her mother said. “Those engraved glasses don’t come cheap.”

  Tiffany stared at her mom, her eyes narrow slits. She spun around and left the tent by the back entrance.

  Crystal sighed. “That girl. She’ll be the death of me yet.”

  “She seems lovely,” I said, slowly leading up to the bigger questions I was about to ask.

  Crystal smiled. “Yeah, she got my looks, thank goodness. Red’s not exactly George Clooney, with that wild red hair and freckles.”

  That was a little conceited. And harsh. Was Crystal trying to convince me that Red was her biological father?

  “Odd that she didn’t get his red hair,” I said pointedly.

  Crystal stopped packing and eyed me. “Recessive gene, I guess.”

  “Yes, I remember learning about red hair in my biology class. Doesn’t it take two redheaded parents to make a redheaded child? In fact, it’s a biological imperative, isn’t it? But you’re blond, so Tiffany only had a fifty-fifty chance of being a redhead.”

  Crystal patted her tousled hair self-consciously. “Yeah, the blond comes from my Norwegian heritage.”

  Or a bottle of Clairol to hide the fact that you’re a redhead too, I thought. Time to get to the point.

  “Crystal, I’m trying to find out what I can to help Honey get out of jail. Did your husband—ex-husband—did Red get along well with Nathan?”

  Crystal frowned at my bluntness. “I have no idea. You’d have to ask Honey about that, now that he’s taken up with her. Of course, it won’t be easy, since she’s in jail.” She gave a nasty little laugh.

  “Sheriff O’Neil said he heard Red and Nathan arguing one night at Honey’s place.” I decided not to mention Adam. “Any idea what they might have been talking about?”

  Crystal’s eyes narrowed. She seemed surprised to hear this. “No . . . Why? Are you suggesting—”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything, just wondering. Honey is a dear friend of my aunt’s, and Aunt Abby is sure Honey is innocent.”

  Crystal laughed again. “Honey is hardly innocent. The woman is a husband stealer, and now she’s most likely a murderer. I’ll bet she killed that guy from Eden Corporation who was staying at her inn because he wanted to take over her property. He probably set fire to the place, hoping to burn it down so she’d have nothing and would have to sell. I figure she must have found out.”

  “Then what about Nathan? Why kill him?”

  “Probably because he found out the truth—that she murdered Roman.” Crystal shrugged. “Listen, I don’t know. It’s none of my business. And I really have to pack up and get out of here.”

  I was getting nowhere. I thought for a moment, then remembered her argument with Nathan when she saw him with her daughter. “One more thing,” I said, Columbo-style. “Did Nathan and Tiffany have some kind of relationship?”

  Crystal’s face colored and she frowned. “Heavens, no! Where did you get an idea like that? Sure, they were friends, but that’s because Nathan was a friendly guy, and my Tiffany happens to be nice to everyone. Tiff would never really be interested in a man old enough to be her father. Now, if you want to know who Nathan Chapman was involved with, go ask that Paula woman. They looked pretty hot and heavy the last time I saw them.”

  Was she telling the truth, I wondered, or just trying to distract me?

  I spotted Jake still talking on his cell phone and headed over. He looked deep in conversation with someone on the other end, and figuring it was the lawyer he’d sent to help Honey, I was dying to hear what they were talking about. I waited, glancing around the area, and saw J.J., Dillon’s friend, exiting the cordoned-off hay maze. He was looking at something on his cell phone. A picture? Of the crime scene? Kids seemed to take pictures of everything these days to post on the Internet. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I called to him, but he didn’t appear to hear me. I was about to head over to see if he might know something more when Willow appeared and he joined her. As soon as Jake ended his call, I asked, “Was that your lawyer friend?”

  Jake shook his head. “That was Murph. He’d just finished talking to Red.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Did he find out anything more?”

  “He said he confronted Red about the infertility issue. Red confirmed that he didn’t learn about being infertile until he went for the prostate exam last year. But he’d suspected Tiffany wasn’t his when she didn’t turn up with red hair. He knew Crystal colored her red hair blond, but didn’t know it was red underneath. She’d been bleaching it since high school, saying she always hated red hair. When he had his prostate exam and found out the truth, he decided he couldn’t live with Crystal anymore. He figured she’d been lying about other things, not just about Tiffany.”

  “Wow,” I said, taking it all in.

  “The sheriff said Red suspected Crystal might have had an affair,” Jake continued, “but when he confronted her, she swore to him she’d had herself artificially inseminated. When Red asked who the father was, she said she didn’t know—the records were sealed. He still doesn’t know if she told the truth or not.”

  “How would he be able to find out?”

  “I suppose he could go to the fertility clinic and get a court order to see if they have a record of the sperm that impregnated Crystal. Then get a DNA test. But even that would be difficult.”

  I wondered if Dillon had found anything more. Surely he’d call when—and if—he did.

  Jake went on. “Crystal told Red she’d only lied because she knew how much he wanted children and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Sounds weak to me, but that’s apparently what she told him. She knew Red had had the mumps when he was a kid and when she didn’t get pregnant after a while, guessed maybe he was infertile. She told him she went to the sperm bank and got artificially inseminated and never told him the truth.”

  “But why would she do that?”

  Jake shrugged. “Who knows? People get weird ideas all the time. Believe me. That’s one of the reasons I decided not to get back into practicing law. Too many strange lawsuits.”

  “Does Tiffany know the truth?”

  “Red said Crystal begged him not to tell her because it would be devastating for her to learn he wasn’t her biological father. But he was so uncomfortable with the lie that he pretty much avoided seeing Tiffany after he left Crystal.”

  My cell phone chirped. Dillon was texting.

  “S’up?” I answered.

  I got in, Dillon texted.

  I took in a brea
th. “Find out who Tiffany’s real father is? Someone we know?” I glanced at Jake, my eyes wide with excitement.

  Yep, Dillon texted back. Crystal’s baby daddy is—was—good old Nathan Chapman.

  Chapter 23

  “I’ve got to talk to Crystal,” I said. “I want to see her reaction when I tell her I know that Nathan is Tiffany’s father.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Darcy?” Jake asked. “What if Tiffany is there with her? You don’t want her to find out like this, do you?”

  That stopped me for a moment, but then I had an idea. “Jake, maybe you could distract Tiffany? That way I can confront Crystal without her overhearing or walking in on us.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Jake said, frowning. “I don’t even know her.”

  I thought for another moment. “How about this? Tell her you’re helping the sheriff and he asked you to check out the hay maze to see if anything was left behind as a clue. You don’t know your way around in there like she does, so you need her help to guide you in and out.”

  Jake shrugged. “That could work,” he conceded. “But you be careful. What if Crystal is the killer? If she thinks you’re a threat, you could end up like Nathan and Roman.”

  “Not out here in front of the other vendors who are still packing up,” I argued. I glanced at the little old lady in the Apple Sauced booth directly across from Crystal. I doubt she’d be able to come to my rescue, but there had to be others within hearing distance if I started screaming. “I’m pretty sure I’m safe. But you should be careful too. It could even be Tiffany who’s behind all this.”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “That’s a stretch, don’t you think? She seems so timid.”

  “You never know,” I said. “And we’ve seen her temper erupt.”

  The phone rang. I checked the caller ID—Aunt Abby.

  “Aunt Abby? Are you all right?”

  “Of course, Darcy,” my aunt answered. “Wes is taking good care of me.” I could almost see the adoring smile on her face.

  “Did you learn anything from Adam Bramley?” I asked.

  “Who was it said ‘Everyone has secrets’?” she answered coyly. “Was it Shakespeare? Or am I thinking of Maroon Five?”

  “I think everyone’s said that at one time or another,” I said. “Now, what did you find out?”

  “Well, I noticed that Adam kept looking at Honey when he was over the other night. Before that Paula woman started flirting with him. I had a feeling there was something behind those looks, so I outright asked him. And guess what? I was right.”

  “You mean, Adam has feelings for Honey?” I asked, flabbergasted at the news.

  “Apparently Adam and Honey went out after Honey’s husband passed away. Adam even went so far as to ask her to marry him, suggesting that they merge their farms. But she refused. When he kept asking, she finally admitted she was in love with someone else, but he was already married. He later learned Honey was actually seeing this married guy in secret.”

  “A married man?” I took in a breath. “Do you think it was Red? Were they having an affair before he left Crystal?”

  “That’s my guess,” Aunt Abby said.

  “Did you find out if Adam has any connection to Roman or Nathan that would make him a suspect?”

  “No,” Aunt Abby answered. “He said he only met Roman for the first time that night when he stopped by the inn. And he said Roman never tried to buy his property from him.”

  “That’s because he had Paula to do it,” I offered.

  “Poor guy,” Aunt Abby said. “He’s still bitter about how Paula led him on. He needs to let go of these women who aren’t interested in him.”

  “I wonder if he was bitter after finding out Honey wouldn’t marry him because she loved someone else—in fact, one of his good friends—Red.”

  “Oh, Darcy, do you really think he’d go to the trouble of trying to frame Honey if he still had feelings for her? Wouldn’t he go after Red instead?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he wanted to hurt both of them. Remember, Honey and Red both were victims of fires. Maybe he set those fires to threaten them or destroy their farms.” I paused for a moment, thinking. “But, then, why would he kill Nathan?”

  “Wes looked up Adam’s background before we got there to see if he had a police record,” Aunt Abby said.

  “And?”

  “No record. But Sheriff O’Neil said Adam and Nathan got into a fight one night several months ago over a woman after closing down the local bar. They were both drunk. The sheriff locked them in the drunk tank overnight and let them go the next morning when they were sober. No charges were filed, but they were given warnings.”

  “Who was the woman?”

  “The sheriff said neither of the guys could remember her name. They were pretty drunk. She was probably just some local gal.”

  “So at least it wasn’t Honey,” I summarized. “Great job, Aunt Abby. Thanks for the info.”

  “I wish I had more,” Aunt Abby said, “but Adam clammed up after telling us that much. He’s a sad man. I feel sorry for him. And with his half brother dead, he seems to be a mess.” She sighed. “Did you learn anything on your end?”

  I filled her in on Dillon’s news. “I was just about to confront Crystal about Tiffany’s paternity and watch her reaction. Maybe she’ll reveal something more about Nathan that will help.”

  “All right,” Aunt Abby said. “Wes and I are going to the jail to talk to Honey about Adam. Maybe she’ll have something to add that Adam didn’t choose to share.”

  I was going to say “Be careful” again, but knew it was just habit. Aunt Abby was going to visit her friend in jail, accompanied by a detective. What could go wrong?

  With Aunt Abby, anything.

  After I told Jake what my aunt had said, we headed over to Crystal’s tent. She seemed to be nearly finished with her packing. Sealed boxes were piled around her, with only two remaining open. Tiffany stood behind her, looking at her cell phone.

  Jake stepped up. “Hi, ladies,” he said cheerily. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m an attorney and I’m trying to find out more about Nathan’s murder to help the sheriff.”

  Good call, I thought, mentioning he was a lawyer but not specifying any details. And it sounded so official, I doubted Crystal would argue with his upcoming request.

  Crystal studied Jake. Her face was creased with worry lines—or was that stress? Or annoyance?

  “I don’t see how we can help,” Crystal said. “I’ve already told Murph everything I know, which is basically nothing. As soon as my daughter and I finish these last boxes, we’re heading back to the winery, so if you’ll excuse us . . .”

  Jake turned to Crystal’s daughter. “Tiffany, I wondered if you’d take me through the maze to where they found Nathan’s body. You know the layout of the maze, and I’m sure I’d get lost going by myself. Could I just borrow you for a few minutes to show me the way?”

  Tiffany looked at her mother. Crystal made a face, then shrugged. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then we’re leaving, so make it fast.”

  Tiffany nodded, then tucked her cell phone into her jeans pocket and silently followed Jake toward the hay maze.

  As soon as they were out of sight, I turned my attention to Crystal. I didn’t know whether to lead up to my question or just blurt it out. I finally decided not to beat around the bush. “Crystal, I understand Tiffany isn’t Red’s biological child.”

  She reared back, looking at me as if I’d slapped her face. “What?” She glanced around to see if anyone had heard me. The only person nearby was the elderly woman across the way. “Of course she’s Red’s daughter! How dare you say something like that! That’s how ugly rumors get started.” She took a menacing step toward me.

  I took a step back. “Listen, Crystal, I know you’re very protective of your daughter. That’s why I had Jake take her into the maze—so she wouldn’t hear this. But I’m guessing she already knows her real fathe
r. And I’m going to do what I can to help clear Honey, and I think you’re connected in some way.”

  “That bastard,” Crystal mumbled, and then her eyes narrowed. “Did Red tell you this? He promised that if I didn’t take every last penny from him—including the farm—he’d never breathe a word to anyone. It’s bad enough Tiffany knows now, without the whole town finding out.”

  “No, Red didn’t tell me.”

  Crystal stared at me curiously. “Then how did you find out? No one else knows. No one.”

  “I can’t reveal my source,” I said, pulling out the classic reporter line, “but I also know who Tiffany’s real father is.”

  Crystal went pale. “You couldn’t possibly . . .”

  “It was Nathan Chapman.”

  Crystal’s eyes teared up. She turned away, but I saw her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand.

  I suddenly felt sorry for her—and a little guilty. This was the first time she’d shown any vulnerability.

  “When did you find out Nathan was her real father?” I asked gently. I glanced around, worried Tiffany and Jake might be back before my conversation with Crystal was over, but there was no sign of them.

  “Last year, by accident,” Crystal said, sniffling. “I was at the local bar with a friend, and Nathan came in. He was drunk. He’s always drunk. He started hitting on my friend, and I told him to cut it out. He got mad and began bragging about all the women he’d had—and even some he’d had and didn’t even know it.”

  I frowned, puzzled.

  Crystal shook her head. “Like I said, he was drunk, not making any sense. I asked him what he meant. He told me he used to be a regular at the Cryo-Baby clinic, donating his sperm twenty years, so he could ‘spread his seed like Johnny Appleseed.’ He actually said that.”

  “And you were a client at the clinic about that time.”

  She nodded. “How did you know?”

  I ignored her question. “What did you do?”

  “I freaked out, of course. I had this sudden horrible idea that his sperm might have been used to conceive Tiffany. After I thought about it, I was convinced. She had his hair color, his smile, his eyes. I went to the clinic and demanded to know the truth. It took some convincing—and the threat of a lawsuit—to get them to confirm it. Nathan was the father.”