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Authors: Chrystle Fiedler

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BOOK: Dandelion Dead
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I glanced at Ivy. “I guess that comes from being twins. She must miss Amy so much, even more so than a regular sibling.”

“They loved each other, for sure. Even though they didn't always get along.” David sipped his wine. “They were just very different people—personality-wise, the way they acted, even the way they dressed. Ivy's more uptight, Amy was more easygoing. It rubbed both of them the wrong way at times.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I'm going outside for a smoke. I'll see you in a bit.” He squeezed my hand, smiled, and headed for the door.

Jackson came over to me. “How's it going, McQuade? Learn anything new?”

“Not really. Besides Gerald, and his father and brother and whoever is sending those messages, he can't think of anyone who would want to hurt him, but I'm not sure if he's being completely honest about his love life or his marriage. I'm going to talk to Ivy next.”

“Okay, but go slow. You don't want them to know exactly what you're up to.”

“But I'm investigating for them.”

“You're helping Simon, a friend. We really don't know David, and Ivy, especially, all that well.”

I kept his warning in mind as I made my way across the room to Ivy, who had finished eating and was talking to Gerald. But as I walked over, Gerald stepped away.

“I'm
very sorry about your loss,” I said. “This must be a really difficult time for you.”

“It's a terrible shock. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do without her.”

“I just wanted you to know that Simon asked me to help out with the investigation.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I don't understand. I thought you were some kind of holistic doctor and ran this health food store, certainly not a detective.”

“Actually, I do both. I got involved in amateur sleuthing when my aunt Claire Hagen was murdered, and I've solved several cases since then, with Jackson's and Simon's help.”

“Really?” She gave me a look as if she didn't believe me.

I ignored her tone and plowed on through. “Besides Gerald and his family, does David have any other enemies?”

“I think it's one of the rival vineyards, which is what I'll tell the police when they interview me.”

“So you and David are good, I mean, after your fight yesterday morning?”

She stared at me. “Eavesdropping is an ugly habit, Willow. But if you must know, my husband and I are just fine.”

•  •  •

By ten o'clock Monday night
all the guests had gone home—along with Merrily, who was exhausted. Jackson was upstairs with the dogs, and Lily and I were left alone to finish the cleanup. This wasn't a coincidence.
I'd sent her uncle Wallace home as well, since I wanted to talk to her about David Farmer.

Merrily had cleaned up the kitchen before she left, and Lily and Wallace had cleared and reset all the tables in the café, so the only thing left to do was to move the rest of the furniture on the lawn back inside.

We were setting up the last table on the porch when I said, “So what's going on with you and David Farmer?”

Upon the mention of David's name, Lily, startled, dropped four settings of silverware on the floor. As it clattered, she sucked in a breath. “How did you know?”

“I'm a pretty good observer and I noticed that you two didn't seem very comfortable around each other. In my experience, that usually means something is going on or something's over.”

She went pale, and I pushed back a chair and helped her sit down. “It started when we began planning for the party for Pure. Remember, I had to go up there a lot?”

I sure did. There was plenty to do to get ready, from the list of whom to invite—which Ivy supervised and scrutinized and changed constantly—to planning the menu, to hiring extra help, to, even, the playlist for the pianist. Since I'd been busy in the medicinal herb garden, Wallace was managing the store and serving customers, and Merrily was cooking in the Nature's Way kitchen, I'd often send Lily up to Pure.

“David was usually there and we started talking and, over time, we got, well, close, and then . . .”

“You slept together.” So much for David's protestations about being faithful to Ivy.

Lily looked embarrassed. “I knew it wasn't a good idea to sleep with a client.”

“No, it's not.”

“I'm so sorry, but he kept pursuing me. Finally, I gave in.”

“What are you saying?” I sat down opposite her and took her hand. “Lily, did he force you to have sex with him?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all. It was mutual, for sure.”

“And the fact that David was married didn't bother you?”

She shrugged. “Before we got together, he told me how unhappy he was with Ivy, that his marriage was a sham and that they didn't even share a bed anymore. Then he told me that I understood him in a way that she never could.”

I wondered just how many married men had used that approach on prospective lovers. But I didn't say anything except “Are you still seeing him now?”

“No, he broke it off on Sunday, before the party.” Her eyes started to mist up. “We were together for almost three months and then he just tells me it's over. It was pretty devastating. I'm still upset.”

Would being dumped make Lily into a murderer? I doubted it, but I had to ask. “Lily, you didn't do anything you regret, did you?”

“Try to poison him, you mean?” She stood up and pushed the chair back. “No, of course not! How can you even ask me that?”

“Because I'm investigating Amy's murder, and it
looks like there was a mix-up between the dandelion greens and some type of poisonous plant.”

“I'm angry over what he did, but I could never do that. No, Willow, never.”

“You're going to have to tell the police about you and David, you know.”

“But they're already suspicious of me after they found that poison hemlock. Willow, I can't! They'll think I had a motive to kill David and put me in jail! I couldn't handle that, not at all.”

“But if it comes out later, Lily, it will look worse for you.”

“I don't know, Willow.” She wiped away tears.

I went into my office and grabbed a box of tissues and brought it back out to her. She grabbed a few and wiped her face.

“I talked to David about his love life and he said that he was faithful to Ivy.”

“That's a lie. And I wasn't the only one either.”

“Carla Olsen?”

Lily nodded. “Even though he told me he wasn't seeing anyone else after we slept together. I just don't know what to believe anymore.”

Me either. Already the circle of possible suspects had widened beyond rival vineyard owners, and I wondered if a jealous lover or even Ivy had tried to kill David and killed Amy instead.

chapter six

Tuesday morning the weather was
crisp and clear, a perfect fall day. Jackson left Nature's Way early to take care of the morning feeding of his animals and took all the dogs with him, so I did my yoga routine in the second-floor studio, then showered and dressed in jeans, a lime-green Nature's Way tee and matching hoodie sweatshirt, and vegan sporty sneakers, then headed downstairs for breakfast.

Luckily for me, Merrily had just baked a tray of gluten-free blueberry muffins, so after I fed the two cats, Ginger and Ginkgo, I grabbed a muffin and a cup of organic Fair Trade coffee and went into my office to catch up on some work, including writing blog posts about cures from my new book for my publisher's website.

After that, I went over my agenda for my 10:00 a.m. Edible Plants Workshop, featuring the calendula and yarrow that we had harvested on Sunday. Both herbs were versatile, and I was looking forward to teaching my class how to make calendula and yarrow teas; a calendula, yarrow, and oatmeal facial; and other beauty and health treatments.

I gathered all my materials, including the plant cuttings from Sunday that I'd stashed in the oversize fridge in the back of the kitchen and previously dried flowers, and set up a table in front of the counter. Even though I was teaching a class, customers would still be able to shop for groceries and eat in the café.

At nine forty-five, all but two of the people who had attended the foraging workshop had arrived, and by ten fifteen we were all in the kitchen and I was teaching them how to make freshly brewed calendula tea, one of my favorite natural remedies.

“Calendula is pretty amazing. It has anti-inflammatory
and
antiseptic properties.” I poured boiling water over dried calendula blossoms. “Even a simple calendula tea can be used to treat lots of common complaints like a sore throat, or a urinary-tract infection or indigestion, along with minor wounds and burns, skin irritations like insect bites, acne, athlete's foot, itchy scalp, and even flea bites and hot spots on pets. Just keep in mind that the correct ratio is a tablespoon of petals to one cup of water.” I finished pouring the water and put the teakettle back on the stove.

“Now, we'll need to let this steep for at least fifteen minutes, but I've also got a batch that is ready to go to the next step.” I pulled a saucepan off the stove and grabbed a mesh strainer. “First, we'll need to use this strainer to catch the blossoms and other parts of the plant.” I poured the warm brew through the strainer and into a clear glass bowl. “And that's it. You can use it warm or cold, but it does have a short shelf life, so be sure to keep it in the fridge and to use it within two days.”

The class clapped.

“Thanks. Now I'll teach you how to use calendula in specific skin-care products, like for diaper rash, for example. All you'll need to do is add coconut oil, beeswax, and zinc oxide powder to make a salve. Let's try that first, and then we can move on to wound-healing salves. First we'll put coconut oil, which is solid at room temperature, over a low heat to liquefy it, then add the calendula and let it infuse.” But as I reached for the coconut oil, my phone buzzed.

“Excuse me.” I pulled out my phone. It was Simon, probably calling to discuss the strategy for our investigation, but maybe not. “I need to take this, but I'll be right back. Grab a blueberry muffin and coffee if you like.”

The class eagerly dug in.

I stepped outside the kitchen. “Simon?”

“Willow?”

“Yes, I'm teaching a class. Everything okay?”

There was a long pause. “No, I'm afraid not. There's been another attempt on David's life.”

“Is he all right?”

“He's pretty freaked out.”

“I'll bet.” David was already anxious about his safety after Sunday; now this. “I just have to finish up my class and I'll be right down.”

•  •  •

An hour later, after I
left a message for Jackson to meet me at Pure, I headed east. On a normal Tuesday in October at eleven twenty-five in the morning, Pure's
parking lot would be sparsely populated, but thanks to North Fork UnCorked!, it was almost full for today's scheduled events. David would be giving a walk and talk among the vines about making organic, biodynamic wine, and Ivy was teaching a seminar about tasting and purchasing the right wine, preferably one of theirs.

Jackson, wearing jeans and a faded long-sleeved orange
LIFE IS GOOD
T-shirt and boots, was waiting for me at the door, watching as Simon escorted the former owner, Leonard Sims, to his car. “What's going on with Simon and Leonard?”

“Sims returned with an even better offer this morning, but David told him that Pure wasn't for sale at any price. He then accused him of trying to kill him to get Pure back. Simon had to intervene.”

“Between David's near miss and Sims's visit, it's been quite a morning. Did Simon tell you exactly what happened?”

“No, he wanted to wait for you. But he did tell me that the wake for Amy Lord will be Wednesday afternoon and evening, and the funeral is Thursday morning.”

“Okay, I'll go with Simon to provide support, and check things out,” I said.

“Probably a good idea. I don't think I can get away.”

“He knows that you're busy. We'll report back.”

Sims drove away in his black Jaguar, spewing up dirt with his tires as he went, and Simon walked over to us, wearing khakis, a long-sleeved denim shirt, a dark blue bow tie, and faux-suede driving shoes.

“Hey, thanks for coming, you two.” He shook
Jackson's hand and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “David is a mess. When he started attacking Sims, I had to take control, although Leonard kept insisting that everyone had their price. I hope that's the last we see of him.”

“I hope so, too—you have bigger problems to deal with,” I said. “So what happened to David?”

“I'll show you. Follow me.”

We went through the tasting area, where we found Ivy giving a seminar to potential customers, who were rapt with attention, including Camille Crocker, which was curious since she owned Crocker Cellars, a rival vineyard. Various vintages in shades of gold and amber were already poured into glasses that lined the counter.

“Okay, now everyone pick up a wineglass, but don't drink it just yet.” Ivy smiled. “We need to go over the basics of wine tasting. First, we check out the color, opacity, and viscosity. Next, we use our sense of smell to pick out aromas.” Ivy and the participants put their noses into the glasses. “You'll notice fruit, herb, and flower notes.”

Ivy seemed better today, although I knew from experience that grieving was messy, which I'd experienced when I lost Aunt Claire. One was prone to peaks of “I'm feeling better” and plenty of valleys—such as not wanting to get out of bed. Ivy nodded to us as we rounded the bar and headed out back to the barn.

Next to the bed-and-breakfast, we found David among the vines, giving his talk on grapes and the growing cycle, along with biodynamic and organic farming methods in living soil. He was one of many
vineyard owners who were doing the same type of talk this week.

BOOK: Dandelion Dead
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