Dandelion Dead Read online

  “We’ll see. You just need to get your head straight.” Walter pushed past David.

  “I need a drink.” David headed back to the wine-tasting table, where he grabbed two glasses of Crocker’s wine and slugged them down in rapid succession.

  “I think your friend might have a problem,” Jackson said. “Willow told me that he’s drinking at lunchtime.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Simon said. “He just likes Crocker’s wine. It’s my favorite, too, after Pure. Believe me, Jackson, David couldn’t function the way he does if he had a drinking problem.”

  “That’s a common myth, Simon,” Jackson said. “Many alcoholics are high functioning.”

  “No offense, Jackson, but I still don’t believe it. I have to pay for my lot. I’ll be back.” Simon set his glass at the table and headed for the cashier.

  “He doesn’t want to hear it, Jackson.”

  “I know, that’s pretty common, too.”

  “You’re here if he needs you, that’s all you can do for now.”

  As Simon walked off, Camille and Carter Crocker came up to us. “Hi, chérie,” she said, and kissed me on either cheek. “Comment allez-vous?”

  “I’m fine, and you?”

  “Bon!”

  “Good to see you,” Carter said, shaking Jackson’s hand.

  “Did you enjoy the seminar at Pure today, Camille?”

  “I did. It’s always fun to see what the other guy is doing.”

  Camille, a petite brunette originally from Paris, had met Carter, a big guy with a penchant for jeans, plaid shirts, and cowboy boots, and with a big personality, at a wine auction in NYC five years ago. The couple, both in their early thirties, had moved to the North Fork two years later and opened their winery in Mattituck, fifteen minutes west of Greenport. We’d met the couple last year at the grand reopening party at Pure, and Camille and I had quickly become friends, since we both shared a passion for organic gardening.

  “You guys did well tonight,” Jackson said. The couple had scored several bottles of pricey wines.

  “Sure did,” Carter said. “Although not as well as your friend Simon.”

  “Simon is enthusiastic about wine,” I said.

  “That’s an understatement.” Carter sounded somewhat annoyed. Simon had outbid him more than once.

  “But he’s done a great job revamping Pure,” Camille said, quickly smoothing things over. “It’s impressive.”

  “I’ll tell him you said so,” I said.

  “Terrible business about Amy Lord, though,” Carter said.

  “Yes, we feel so badly for Ivy and David,” Camille said. “Do you have any idea who did it, Willow?” She knew about my penchant for amateur sleuthing.

  “Not yet. In fact, it would be good to talk to you about the local vineyard scene to get some background. I also want to talk to several specific owners who were at the party.”

  Carter checked his watch and tugged on Camille’s arm. “I’d better pay, and then I’ve got to get home for that conference call.” Carter headed his own investment banking firm in New York, but spent most of his time out here. “Why don’t you stop by to see us? We’ll talk.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I said.

  Camille squeezed my hand. “Okay, chérie, we’ll see you soon.”

  • • •

  The Crockers left, followed by the Farmers, and Carla, Derek, Harrison, and Gerald. Ramsey Black had strolled down to the waterfront with Ivy.

  “Those two are being chummy again,” Jackson said. “Something is going on with them. Shall we walk down there and try to find out what?” He put his hand out and we headed in their direction across the cool grass. While we walked, I told him about the message I’d remembered from Ivy’s watch.

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “No, it’s not. Someone is obviously pretty upset, but who? It couldn’t have been David. You said he and Ivy were together in the corn maze,” Jackson said as we reached the dock pilings. “You’d have to get the watch to know for sure, and that’s tricky.”

  Now Ivy and Ramsey Black were less than three yards away and in a heated argument, contrary to their cozy conversation at the cocktail party.

  “Maybe it was a message from Ramsey. They don’t seem to be getting along tonight.”

  The night was clear, with no wind, so it was easy to overhear the conversation. “I thought you knew what you were doing,” Ivy said. “I can’t have him leaving, and spilling secrets.”

  “He won’t. I took care of it.” Black glanced in our direction. “But I can talk to him again. Try to smooth things over.”

  “Please, we have to win on Sunday, and I don’t want him causing trouble for us.”

  “He won’t.” Black took her arm. “Let’s go.”

  We watched as the two of them headed away. “Now, what was that about—controlling Gerald?” I said. “What is he, some kind of ad hoc adviser? I don’t think that Simon knows about this.”

  “If Ramsey’s having an affair with Ivy, David probably doesn’t know either.”

  chapter eight

  We left the party early after Jackson got a call from one of his volunteers—someone usually stayed the night, especially with new arrivals—that one of the horses seemed sick. After Jackson called his vet, we headed to his house.

  Fortunately, the horse was only dehydrated and was put on IV fluids overnight. By Wednesday morning she was doing much better. The weather was glorious, slightly cool, with blue skies and amber light bathing the fields behind Jackson’s property. So after I did my yoga routine at the foot of Jackson’s four-poster bed, and while he took care of our dogs and the rest of his charges, I decided to go for a walk.

  I needed to get back to basics. I’d been up half the night thinking and reviewing what I knew so far. Finally, I’d realized that the simplest way to figure out who had poisoned Amy was to find out where the poison to do the deed came from.

  I didn’t know whether poison-hemlock was common on the East End. If it wasn’t, that would help me narrow down the field, which included Ivy, and perhaps even Ramsey if the two were involved, and Gerald, along with jealous vineyard owners, including David’s father and brother. Other suspects, too, might reveal themselves over time.

  I’d done some preliminary research about the presence of poison hemlock with the help of the East End Botanical website, which said that it could be found in fields usually in sunny areas, which wasn’t much help. But the plant was over eight feet tall and featured hairless hollow stalks with purple blotches and lots of umbrella-shaped flower clusters, so it would be hard to miss.

  Having often walked Jackson’s and Simon’s fields, I was reasonably certain they had no eight-foot poison-hemlock plants, but I had to check. Even though Lily and I had been super-careful and only foraged for safe plants, if it was here, somewhere, it might mean that someone close, such as Ivy or Gerald, had found it and tried to use it on David.

  Anyone could have procured the poison from anywhere, but I’d start here and go on from there. If the plants weren’t here, it might help Lily, too.

  Starting out at the west end, next to Jackson’s barn, I walked east, down the field toward Pure, making sure not to miss anything. Mostly, it was a combination of wildflowers, weeds, bushes, young trees, and my favorite: edible plants. Since I planned to lead another walk and workshop in two weeks—this weekend we’d be busy with crowds from North Fork UnCorked!—I’d brought a bucket along, and as I went, I scanned the ground for new edibles and plants for use in remedies.

  I’d only walked a few yards when I quickly spotted a dandelion patch. Because of what had happened, the plant I loved now seemed to take on a darker connotation. I bent down to examine it more closely. But it confirmed what I’d already known: Lily could not have mistaken this genial herb for an eight-foot-high poison-hemlock plant.

  Continuing on, I passed more dandelion patches, then a few yards away I spotted chickweed, a plant with small green leaves and del
icate tiny white flowers that sprouts in the fall. Small in size but mighty in power, the chickweed was chock-full of vitamin C, perfect for cold-and-flu season.

  I plucked up a few plants to experiment with before the next class, thinking it would make a nutritious ingredient for a tofu stir-fry, a salad, or raw soup. As a natural remedy the chickweed had anti-inflammatory properties, for a soothing salve. So I’d show the class how to make this cure as well.

  A few minutes later, I reached the other end of the field, by Pure’s corn maze, turned, and headed back to Jackson’s. On this pass, I quickly came upon the versatile malva. The plant featured a single white or pink flower with five petals and circular or kidney-shaped leaves. Malva leaves are anti-inflammatory and high in beta-carotene and are thus used in teas and syrups for coughs and sore throats, so it was also a good choice for the upcoming cold-and-flu season. The leaves can be eaten raw or added to soup, so I could combine it with the chickweed to make a raw concoction.

  But I still hadn’t spotted any poison hemlock. So I continued along the field, walking back and forth until I finally reached the forest’s edge opposite the barn, and beyond that Long Island Sound. As I headed back toward Pure for the last time today, I kept my head down and my eyes sharp, looking for edibles and poison hemlock. But when I reached the far end of the corn maze, I hadn’t spotted any.

  Since I was there, I decided to check in with Simon and David, but as I turned to go, I noticed a hole in the ground at the edge of the trees. The hole was empty except for a crisscross of roots and leaves that had fallen inside. What had been here? I stood up and moved around in a tight circle to try to find any indication of what had been planted here and removed. At first, I didn’t notice it, but then it seemed impossible that I’d missed it at all. But once I followed the scattered leaves, branches, and roots from the now-gone plant, it led me to another poison-hemlock plant growing less than two feet away.

  Sucking in a breath, I considered the implications of my find. Since I believed Lily was innocent, this had to mean that someone else, someone who knew or looked for and found the tree, had taken it and used it to try to kill David. However, the police weren’t going to think that. No, they’d surmise that Lily had found the plant and used it to do the same thing.

  • • •

  I called Jackson but he didn’t answer, so I walked over to Pure to tell Simon what I’d found, and what I hadn’t found because someone had taken it. Inside Pure, it was quiet, but I texted Simon to tell him I was here. When he didn’t answer, I wandered into the tasting room and, finding no one, continued on to the storage barn. As I was passing the bed-and-breakfast, my pal Allie, a tall, energetic redhead, our resident masseuse at Nature’s Way, came out the door. Seeing me, she smiled, leaned her massage table against the porch railing, and came over to me.

  “Hi, honey.” She gave me a hug. “How are you? I just can’t believe what happened to Amy. Are you investigating again? The police need your help.”

  I’d known Allie since college, and she and her best friend, Hector, had moved out from NYC shortly after Aunt Claire’s death to set up shop in Nature’s Way, to support me and expand their client base. Allie knew all about my adventures as an amateur detective.

  “I don’t think that the police would like hearing that. But Simon asked me to investigate. We think that someone wanted David dead and killed Amy by mistake.” I explained how David had offered one of his poisoned scallop appetizers to Amy.

  “If it’s about another woman, it might be Ivy taking revenge,” Allie said. “I’m not just saying that because I don’t like her. David really runs around, and right under her nose.”

  “She’s right about that,” Hector said as he joined us. Hector was a gifted acupuncturist, and a wonderful human being, sweet and kind. Jamaican, his skin brown like a cocoa bean, he was fit and handsome, with a shaved head that made him look like some kind of superhero. If he hadn’t been gay, he and Allie would have been a couple long ago. They kind of were, without the sex, since they lived together and did most things as a twosome.

  He pulled me in for a hug. “Are you doing your investigating thing again, sweetheart?”

  I nodded. “Have to. Simon asked, and I couldn’t say no.”

  “That’s because you are friends now, better than lovers, right?” Hector smiled.

  “Yes, much better. So you both have seen David sneaking around?”

  Hector nodded. “More than once I’ve seen him meeting women inside.” He gestured to the bed-and-breakfast.

  “And that’s not all,” Allie said. “We’ve seen him at the bar at Harry’s Half Shell on Main Street near our house with other women, too, multiple times. He doesn’t even seem to worry about being caught.”

  “Maybe it’s because Ivy is cheating on him, too,” Hector said. “One time, I was called in to do a treatment very early, during the week, and I heard her next door with someone.”

  “Do you think it could have been Ramsey Black?”

  “Who’s he?” Allie said, her forehead crinkling in thought.

  “He’s the head of the East End Wine Council, and I think something is going on between them.”

  “I did see a man outside afterward, when I was done with my appointment. He went into the barn, and a few minutes later Ivy came out and followed him. So maybe that was him?”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Very handsome, and well dressed—if I had to guess I think he was straight because he didn’t check me out.” Hector laughed.

  “I believe it,” I said.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Hector said. “So they both went in, but I had to leave so I don’t know what happened next.” He checked his watch. “Allie, we’d better get going. We have appointments at Nature’s Way.”

  I said good-bye to them and took a quick look inside the barn, but no one was there. Simon was probably at Salt, but where were David, Ivy, and Gerald? I headed back outside, and this time when I walked past the bed-and-breakfast, the door was open. Inside, one of the maids was cleaning the room in front.

  “Help you?” she said as I walked inside. A pretty petite brunette, she was dressed casually in black pants, sneakers, and a rose-colored shirt with three-quarter sleeves. Her name tag read ZOLA.

  “I’m a friend of Simon’s and I was wondering where he was. Do you know?”

  “I haven’t seen him today.” She pulled the comforter and the sheets off the bed and deposited them into a bin on the cart.

  “What about David or Ivy or Gerald?”

  “I don’t know.” Zola pulled the pillowcases off. “Ivy was here earlier telling us what to do, but then she left. As if we don’t know by now what needs to be done.”

  “So she’s hard to work for?”

  “Always, and now since Amy is gone, she’s even worse. Yes, a death like that is really hard, but she is not the only one with problems.”

  “Have you ever seen Ivy staying in one of the rooms, maybe with a friend?”

  Zola arched an eyebrow. “You ask a lot of questions. Who are you?”

  “I’m Willow McQuade, and Simon has asked me to look into Amy’s death.”

  “You’re a detective?”

  “No, I’m not a cop, I’m an amateur sleuth. Simon and I have worked together before.”

  “You find killers?”

  “Yes, we find killers.”

  “That’s amazing. Good for you.”

  “Thank you. We have a theory that someone was trying to kill David and killed Amy instead.”

  “Oh my, that’s terrible, but why, how?”

  I explained the switched appetizer scenario.

  “So maybe someone had the grudge for David?” Zola put fresh sheets on the bed.

  “Yes, and what we’re wondering is, if maybe Ivy was having an affair. We have heard that David was pretty busy with other women.”

  “You could say that. Half the time I am covering up for him, and half the time for her. I like him better.” Zola laughed.


  “Me, too. There is one man I’m wondering about in particular. His name is Ramsey Black and he’s French, very handsome and well dressed.”

  “Oh, yes, I know Mr. Black.” Zola explained that while David had various lovers—she described one woman who sounded like Carla but no mention of anyone who looked like Lily—Ivy used the bed-and-breakfast to meet Ramsey Black, and only him, usually early on weekday mornings. Ivy must have been meeting Ramsey the day Hector overheard them next door.

  Simon had still not returned, or anyone else, so I called his cell phone, but had to leave a message. After stopping by to pick up the dogs from Jackson, I headed back into town and took them all for a walk on the village green. Once they were tuckered out, we headed back to Nature’s Way, where I helped all four dogs onto the oversize couch with lots of comfy blankets, in front of a faux electric fireplace that I’d put in last winter, thanks to money from Aunt Claire’s royalties. She was taking care of all of us, even now. Zeke had quickly been assimilated into the pack and fell asleep with his head on Qigong’s neck, while Columbo and Rockford lay back-to-back, like two tofu hot dogs in a bun. The two cats, Ginger and Ginkgo, came in to check the scene out but quickly scampered off upstairs.

  While all the dogs took a nap, I put the investigation into Amy’s death on the back burner for a bit and turned my attention to bills that needed to be paid and ordered natural products, including supplements, gluten-free breads, and cruelty-free vegan beauty products. By the time I’d finished and had lunch, I still had not heard back from Simon, so I called him, again. I wanted to find out where he was, and also to make arrangements to meet him at Amy’s wake, which was to take place tonight from 5:00 to 7:00 p.m. He didn’t call back.

  • • •

  Finally, at six thirty Wednesday evening, I left Simon a message that I’d meet him downtown at the funeral home. But when I got there, police cars were on both sides of the street, so I went around the corner, parked, and quickly walked back. I got there just in time to see David’s brother, Kurt Farmer, being led out in handcuffs, while David, Ivy, and Simon stood outside the door. Simon spotted me, and I waved him over.