Dandelion Dead

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “Yes, we know.”

  “But poison—that’s really terrible,” Harrison said. “Amy was always my favorite member of the Lord family. I would have been at the funeral but I had an important meeting in the city with a top exec from Silicon Valley about a big deal, and I just couldn’t miss it. Not that Ivy and David and I were close, we didn’t socialize or anything, but I was still in touch with Amy. Still, I felt terrible for the family. I did send flowers.”

  “That’s what I’m wondering about, Harrison, the Lord family. I was talking to Ivy’s grandmother, Emily Lord, at the get-together at Salt after the funeral, and she told me that David and Amy were originally a couple, not David and Ivy. She seemed pretty sharp and it sounded like the truth. What happened?”

  Harrison turned to watch the dogs playing and didn’t say anything for a long time. “She is sharp, and she isn’t misremembering at all. But no one really talked about it. One minute, David and Amy were together, happily making wedding plans, and the next, it was off. By the next winter, he was with Ivy, and I have to say Amy didn’t take it well at all. It took her a long time before she was her smiling self again.”

  “Do you have any idea about what might have gone wrong? Emily Lord intimated that Ivy is used to getting her own way. Maybe Ivy decided she wanted David and pushed her sister to the side? Is that possible?”

  “It is, and it’s what I was just going to say to you. Ivy has a stubborn streak, always has since we were friends as teenagers. They had a second home, really a mansion, down the block from our summer house in Orient. If we all wanted to go to the beach at the end of the block, and she wanted to go to the ocean instead, guess where we went? There was just no arguing with Ivy. I think it was tough for everyone, especially Amy. Then, when the grandfather, Walter Lord, died in 2012, and his fortune went to Ivy, along with total control of the estate after providing for his wife, Emily, of course it just made things worse. Overall, it’s just a very dysfunctional family.”

  “With all that negative history and bad blood, it seems strange to me that Amy would choose to work out here with her former boyfriend and her sister.”

  “I think Ivy wanted her here, where she could keep an eye on her. She also had control of the finances, and I don’t think Amy was strong enough to strike out on her own. So Ivy got what she wanted, again.” Through the trees, I watched as Jackson slowly made his way down the path that crossed the cliffs, with the dogs running in front of him. “Looks like they’re having fun.”

  “We’re like you, Harrison, everything is better when the dogs are along for the ride.”

  “Why don’t you go catch up with them?”

  “Just one more thing. Did Amy ever mention that she was involved with the winemaker at Pure? His name is Gerald, and he seems pretty torn up about her death.”

  “Yes, she did, more than once, but when I asked her if something was going on romantically, she said she didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe she was afraid that if anyone—think Ivy—knew, she’d wreck it for her.”

  chapter fourteen

  After my conversation with Harrison, I felt more confused than ever. Was the motive for David’s almost murder and Amy’s accidental killing personal or business? On our way back to Nature’s Way, I filled Jackson in, while the dogs, now tired from their run, slept on the seat between us. The sun had gone down, and the temperature had suddenly turned colder, so I turned up the heat for all of us.

  “You’re right, the motive could be either business or personal,” Jackson said. “On the personal side, maybe Ivy wanted David out of the way to pursue a relationship with Ramsey. Business motive? She wanted to be in charge, although she’d still have Simon to contend with. Ramsey could have tried to kill David for her, or for the both of them. So that would be personal. Maybe the engagement ring was meant for her. But what does MP mean?”

  “Another personal-motive possibility? Gerald could have tried to kill David because he wanted to be free to pursue Amy without any chance they might get back together.”

  “But he could also have wanted David out of the way so he could take the credit for Falling Leaves and be head winemaker,” Jackson said. “So it could be business, too. Same goes for the Crockers, and maybe Derek Mortimer.”

  “True, all of them had access to poison-hemlock plants. And so did Ivy, Ramsey, and Gerald.”

  “Maybe Leonard Sims, the former owner, thought that by getting rid of David, Simon might sell,” Jackson said. “So that’s a business motive. But what about the Farmers? Would they really try to kill one of their own?”

  “Depends on how deep the hatred and anger goes. Anything is possible.”

  “I guess we should check and see if they had access to poison hemlock as well.”

  I nodded. “You know, Carla Olsen could have a business and a personal motive to try and kill David. She wants to be number one and she also seemed pretty upset when Lily showed up last night. Let’s stop by and see her. It’s coming up.”

  • • •

  When we pulled up, Carla Olsen, petite, with curly red hair, was sitting on the steps of her tasting room, smoking a pipe, wearing overalls over a T-shirt and red high-top sneakers, while two cats lounged on the deck behind her. “You’d better stay here with the dogs,” I said to Jackson. “She’s got cats, and most dachshunds see cats as prey.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Jackson pulled Zeke onto his lap and grabbed Columbo’s and Rockford’s collars, so I could open the door. “These three would go absolutely nuts.”

  Qigong was super-mellow, and when I said, “I’ll be right back, Qigong, stay,” he snuggled up next to Jackson and promptly went back to sleep. “Same goes for all you guys.”

  Now that Jackson had the dogs under control, I walked up to Carla, who said, “Back so soon?”

  “We were just at Harrison’s Vines and Canines walk and thought we’d stop by on the way back. But we have three dachshunds that I think would go crazy over your kitties.”

  “I’m sure they would. So please don’t let them out.” She tapped her pipe out and went inside her tasting room, which looked like a log cabin both inside and out. A roaring fire was going in the fireplace, with seating provided by two comfy-looking overstuffed chairs, and her vintages were featured on a rustic-looking bar in the back of the space.

  She had several prints of her vineyard on the wall, and a whole table full of marketing paraphernalia, from slickly produced four-color brochures with her on the cover to an expensive-looking catalog of her wines. I’d heard she had a background in PR and marketing in book publishing in New York.

  “You’ve really done a lot to promote your winery. Not everyone is up to this standard.”

  “It’s what I do.” She pulled out a bottle of wine and poured two small glasses. “Would you like to try my latest vintage, Drunken Vines? It’s the one I’ve entered in the Wine Lovers magazine contest.” She held up the bottle. “I went for an antique-vintage vibe.” The label featured a quirky painting of the tasting room with its bright red roof, and a stylized rendering of the name of the vineyard in gold letters.

  “Very nice, and, yes, I’d love to try it.” I picked up the glass and took a small sip. “It’s very good. I’m partial to white wines myself.”

  “Me, too.” She put the cork back into the bottle, but left it there. “So what’s up, Willow? I know you didn’t stop to talk wine. Is it about David . . . or Lily . . . or both?”

  “I guess both. You probably don’t know, but Lily is still in jail, although she’s expected to be released.”

  Carla shook her head. “That girl is crazy.”

  “Crazy crazy, Carla? Or just crazy over David?”

  Carla blew out a breath. “David, I guess. But there’s no need, as you heard last night. David and I were together, but now we’re just friends.”

  “Excuse me, but you seemed pretty annoyed at Lily last night if you and David are just friends.” I took another sip of wine to be polite.

  “Okay, maybe
he ended it and I’m still not happy about it, but I’m trying.” She put her finger on her cell phone and spun it around. “I just needed to talk to him last night is all, but between his best-bud bodyguard and his teenage lover, Lily, it didn’t go well.”

  “You wanted to talk to him to see if you could get back together, right?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, okay. I was trying to start things up again.”

  “With a guy who is married and has a girlfriend? Doesn’t sound like there is much left over for anyone else.”

  “Probably not, but I’m used to crumbs, I guess. But after last night, I’m out. It’s too much of a mess, and David has got to get his head straight. Between Lily, and that bitch of a wife, Ivy, and Amy dying, he’s pretty messed up.”

  “I’m actually looking into Amy’s murder for Simon and David.”

  “Yeah, I know, he told me. I don’t know what you think you can do, though.”

  “For starters, I’ve been visiting other vineyard owners like yourself, and I’ve found something interesting.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that you and Derek Mortimer and the Crockers all have poison hemlock on your vineyards. That’s what was used to kill Amy.”

  “That stuff is all over the place, Willow, not just here. I spray for it, but it grows back.” Carla pulled the cork out and poured herself more wine. “As for the Crockers, and Derek Mortimer, I could tell you some interesting things about them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Derek Mortimer is a pretentious dandy who thinks he knows more about wine than all the rest of us put together. But given the fact that he almost went into business with Leonard Sims, he’s not too bright.”

  “When was this?”

  “When Sims was about to lose Pure, or as it was then, Vista View Vineyards, he needed help, and he went to Derek. He knew him from the East End Wine Council meetings. Derek seriously considered it, but before he did anything, he checked Sims’s financial records and found out that he was deeply in debt, and his house was in foreclosure. He even owed money to several loan sharks in New York, which is how he ended up here in the first place. He was running away from his past. So the deal was off.”

  “So that’s what Derek Mortimer meant when he said that Sims would never approach him again.”

  “Exactly. No way.”

  “And the Crockers?”

  “Right before Sims sold the vineyard to Simon and David, or should I say to Simon and Ivy, Camille and Carter tried to lure David away. They offered him really good money, bonuses, the works. It would mean getting away from her, and more time for us—we’d just met then. But Simon matched it all, and more, so he stayed. Now, I hear that the Crockers’ current winemaker just quit.”

  “Yes, she told me that. Who are they trying to hire?”

  “Camille would love to get David, but she knows that he won’t leave Pure, so she’s going for the next-best thing, Gerald. But don’t ask me how they’re going to pay for it. Rumor is they had a lousy season last year, lots of expenses, mucho debt, and now Carter wants to pull the plug.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  Carla smiled. “I heard it through the grapevine.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s very active out here.” She tapped the phone. “I’m on this all day. You can’t keep a secret for long.”

  • • •

  On the way back to Greenport and Nature’s Way, I told Jackson about my conversation with Carla. We both agreed that, yes, she was hung up on David—they had been an item for some time—but neither of us were sure that she had it in her to kill. Both of us found it interesting that Carla and probably most of the wine community out here knew about the Mortimer-Sims deal, and the Crockers’ troubles. Jackson was just pulling into the back of Nature’s Way when I got a text notice.

  “Lily?”

  “Yes, she says she’s been released and is going home. No charges.”

  “It might be a good idea to text her back and tell her to stay away from David. It’s only hurting her.”

  I quickly tapped out a text. “How about this?” I read it to him: “ ‘Please stay put and rest. DO NOT have any contact with David, until Amy’s murder is solved, otherwise it will continue to draw the attention of the police. We are doing everything we can to clear you. I will update you tomorrow morning at the store when you come in. xo Willow.’ ”

  “Sounds good.”

  I pushed send, but then began to worry. “I really hope that she listens to me, and she doesn’t show up at David’s talk and barrel tasting at Pure tonight.”

  “What’s that about?”

  I pulled up the North Fork UnCorked! website on my phone and scrolled to the Friday-night events. “David is giving a talk in the barn at seven o’clock explaining Pure’s gravity-fed winemaking process, natural vineyard yeast fermentation, and how wine is barrel aged. Sounds pretty dry and technical.”

  “Yes, it certainly does.” Jackson parked the truck.

  I scrolled down. “Hey, Pure is also having a haunted Halloween maze for kids and adults. I forgot about that. It could be fun, right?”

  “Sure, but I did want to try and catch the jazz concert in Mitchell Park.” Jackson turned the ignition off, and the dogs started barking, wanting to go inside.

  I picked up Zeke and helped Qigong to the ground, while Jackson took care of Columbo and Rockford. “We can do both.”

  When we got to the back door, he said, “Okay, if you really think we need to go to Pure.”

  “Yes, I think we should.” I stared at the screen, waiting for the message to show that Lily had read it. But she hadn’t. “We may need to run interference.”

  • • •

  I had to hand it to David, when he talked about the technical and creative aspects of winemaking, he was in his element. Pure had drawn a good-size crowd—almost a hundred people—in the winemaking barn Friday evening, considering all the options in Greenport and at various wineries tonight, and David, in a denim shirt, a burgundy-colored tie, black cords, and loafers, held them rapt with his almost-poetic rhapsodizing about how grapes become wine.

  Included in the crowd were a bored-looking Ivy, Ramsey Black, Gerald Parker, Leonard Sims, and surprisingly Camille and Carter Crocker, Derek Mortimer, and Carla Olsen. Fortunately, Lily had stayed home. Except for David’s family, all our suspects were here. For this reason, Jackson and I stayed in the back to watch out for late arrivals and any trouble that could ensue.

  By eight o’clock David had already covered gravity-fed winemaking, and how natural vineyard yeast fermentation worked, and was finishing up with the barrel-aging of wine. He walked over to the barrels that were stacked along the wall.

  “Oak is an essential aspect of winemaking—from the type of barrel that is used to the size, age, grain, and treatment of the oak barrel, it all affects the way the finished wine tastes. And we have the Romans to thank for this.

  “Before this, way back to the ancient Egyptians, clay amphorae were used to store and transport wine.” He took out his phone and pulled up a photo of an ancient clay pot and showed it to the crowd. “But as the Roman Empire marched north into Europe, this process didn’t work so well. But then they met the Gauls, who used oak barrels to transport their beer.” David’s phone rang.

  “Excuse me.” David flipped a toggle. “Sorry, I should have put that on vibrate.”

  The crowd laughed.

  “Back to the Gauls. Now, not only was the oak tree easy to find in Europe, oak was softer, easier, and faster to bend, and waterproof because of the tighter grain. It also made the wine taste much better, giving it a smoother texture and imparting accents of spices like cloves and cinnamon, and flavors such as vanilla. The longer the wine remained in the barrels, the better it tasted. This fact transformed the way wine was made and enjoyed. Any questions?” David went to put the phone into his pocket, but something stopped him.

  “What do you do to give Pure’s wine a dist
inctive flavor?”

  David kept staring at the screen.

  Finally Simon said, “David?”

  “Uh, I can’t give away all our secrets.” David handed the phone to Scott Peters, his bodyguard, who stood behind him. “But I can tell you that the principles used by the Romans are very much in use today . . . I don’t know why someone is doing this. . . .” David stepped back.

  “Let’s go,” Scott said, and took David by the arm and led him toward the door.

  chapter fifteen

  After Scott and David walked out, Jackson and I began to move through the crowd to the door, and Simon conferred with Ivy. Moments later, she reluctantly stepped in front of the crowd, dressed impeccably in a luxe-looking crème cashmere sweater, pearls, and velvet pants. “Hi, everyone.” She smiled. “Not to worry. David, Simon Lewis, and Pure’s winemaker Gerald Parker will be happy to answer your questions one-on-one after a short break. In the meantime, Gerald will pour barrel tasting samples, and you can also enjoy our current line of wines.” She gestured to a large bar with several current vintages on top, a bartender ready to serve.

  Gerald went over to a barrel and picked up a long syringe. “This is a new cabernet sauvignon for next season that I think you’ll find very exciting.” He extracted or “stole” a few ounces of wine at a time and poured it into a shimmering crystal glass that reflected the lights overhead and handed it to Camille Crocker, who was the first in line.

  She thanked him, smiled, and took a sip. She obviously immediately found it impressive, but she only said, “Nice, Gerald. Thank you.”

  As Jackson and I got closer to the door, Gerald continued to serve each in line, all the while chatting about the grapes chosen, the special blend, the concentration, the age of the wines, and Pure’s criteria for the vintages created. He wasn’t as charismatic as David, but he still put on a good show. I could see why the Crockers might want to steal him away.

  “Our new wines will be bottled typically twelve to eighteen months from now. Our stock is always limited, and in high demand, so buying futures tonight will ensure you can add our new vintages to your cellar at a reduced price point,” Ivy said. “It’s an exclusive opportunity to taste tomorrow’s wine today. So enjoy.” Ivy stepped to the side to confer with Ramsey Black. But Jackson, Simon, and I skipped the tastings and went after David and Scott.