Dandelion Dead (20 page)

“That may be true,” Jackson said. “But I think it's best that you go, and keep your distance from now on. You've stated your interest.”

“More than once,” I said. “But I'm curious how you'd intend to pay for Pure or any other vineyard like Crocker Cellars when you've had big money problems in the past.”

Sims narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that? Probably Carla Olsen, that gossip.”

“I can't say.”

“I may have had problems before, but I'm more than solvent now, thank you very much. Would you like to check my bank statement?”

“That won't be necessary,” Jackson said. “And Simon will be in touch if anything changes here.”

Fuming, Sims walked off.

When we went back inside, Simon waved us over.

“He's gone,” Jackson said. “Hopefully, he won't bother you again.”

“Good. Things are winding down a bit,” Simon said. “If you can stick around, I'll try to get you back into Gerald's office.”

Jackson checked his watch. “If we can, I'd really like to catch the rest of the jazz concert in Mitchell Park.”

“You will. Just stay for a bit longer. I need you.”

“Yes, you do.” Jackson nodded in the direction of
the door, where Lily, wearing a jean jacket, a polka-dot blouse, and tan cords, had entered and made a beeline for David.

•  •  •

We told Simon that we'd
run interference, again, and while he talked to a new distributor for Pure's wines, we went over to talk to David and Lily before things got out of hand. Already, Ivy, who was in a confab with Ramsey Black and Gerald, was shooting daggers in her direction.

“David,” Lily said, “I need to talk to you.”

“Not now, Lily.” He walked across the room to get another glass of wine. Lily started after him, but I stopped her.

“Lily, no.” I took her arm. “Didn't you get my text?”

“I'm okay, Willow. I just want to apologize to David for last night.”

“Time for some tough love, Willow,” Jackson said.

“You're only making things worse for yourself, Lily,” I said. “If the police find you here, it will just reinforce their thinking. Simon talked to Shawn, your lawyer, just a few minutes ago, and the police think you tried to kill David because he left you. You have motive, means, and opportunity. You're their primary suspect.”

Her face went white, and she sucked in a breath. “I knew it was serious, but they let me go today. I thought . . . I hoped that this was all going to go away. Because I didn't do it, Willow. No way. I'd never hurt him.”

I put my arm around her. “We know that, but you need to leave.”

“If I could just talk to him . . .”

“Not now,” I said firmly. “Jackson, can you walk her out to her car? I'll keep an eye on things here.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Be right back.”

After they left, I went to find Simon, who was with David and Scott Peters, outside Gerald's office. “Where's Lily?” David said, slightly slurring his words. “I love that girl, you know.”

Unfortunately, Carla Olsen and Derek Mortimer were tasting wine at the nearby bar. She wore a purple fleece jacket with jeans and boots, and he had on another conservative three-piece suit. Carla turned around, gave David a disdainful look, and said something to Mortimer, a man she supposedly disliked. He laughed.

“Sure you do, David, but she had to go,” Simon said as he took David's wineglass away. “You need to cool it, man.”

“I think that's a really good idea,” I said. “David, why don't we go into the kitchen and I'll make you some coffee? Anyone else want some?”

“No, thanks, Willow. Some of us are sober,” Carla said.

Mortimer touched her arm, said something, and they both laughed. Obviously, it had been difficult for her to hear David express his feelings for Lily. “Besides, I have to get into town. The Blue Crab is featuring my wines in a pairing tonight.”

“Fab, darling. I'll go with you,” Mortimer said, and turned to David. “Lovely talk, David. Your futures are,
well, rather interesting, but frankly I don't see any contenders like Falling Leaves.” The two of them headed for the door.

“We'll see about that, Mortimer,” David said. “You hack.”

Mortimer turned, gave him a smug look, then made a pointed gesture with his hand and laughed, again. So much for civility.

“David, coffee?” I said.

“No, thanks, Willow. I just want to get some fresh air.”

He walked out of the barn, stopped under a spotlight, and lit a cigarette. Scott Peters followed him out and they started talking.

“He's had one rough night,” Simon said.

“He sure has.”

Simon glanced inside Gerald's office. “He's going home if you want to take another look. I'll cover for you.”

We watched as Gerald, Ivy, and Ramsey Black headed for the door. Most of the guests had left by now or had gone out to the Halloween maze, so it could be a good time to snoop.

“But I don't have his computer password,” Simon said. “So we can't check his e-mail.”

“I had an idea about that. What if it's something simple, like ‘Amy'?”

“Makes sense. Go for it. I'll tap three times on the door if you need to get out.”

After I checked to see if anyone was watching, I slipped inside. The lights were off, but the computer screen glowed blue brightly. First, I checked the files on
the desktop. The four new documents were the lineup for tonight's barrel tasting, the growing plan for next season's vintages, an order for supplies for such things as nutrients and fermentation acids, and a PDF of an elaborate new winepress.

Simon stepped in the room. “Anything new?”

“Not yet. You've got to keep watch.”

“Okay.” He went back outside and I clicked on Gerald's e-mail. The computer asked me for his password. Holding my breath, I inserted the letters
A-M-Y
. The screen flickered, and the e-mail account opened. Technically, I was hacking his account, but I wasn't looking for proof for the police but a clue to point me to a killer. I was okay with that.

Simon stepped in again. “What about now?”

“I'm in the e-mail account. Pay attention to what's going on out there, not in here, okay?”

“It's boring out here. I want to know what's going on.”

“I know. But do it, Simon, please.”

“Okay, stop nagging.”

He stepped out again, and I quickly scanned the in-box looking for anything that was connected to the Crockers, other wineries, his dissatisfaction with his job at Pure, or Amy Lord. Halfway down, I spotted an e-mail with the subject line “CA Job Offer.” I clicked it open and scanned the message, but it was from a vineyard in Napa Valley. Was he really considering moving back to the West Coast? The e-mail was marked read, but when I checked the sent folder, there was no reply. However, in the middle of that group of messages, I did spot a reply to Crocker Cellars.

Gerald Parker To: Camille Crocker

Re: Offer

Hi Camille—It was a pleasure meeting with you and Carter this week. Thank you for your offer of employment. I can certainly make time to meet with you to discuss the details. However, I am still considering all my options and will not be making a decision until after Sunday's judging. I hope that this is acceptable. Best, Gerald.

From: Camille Crocker [email protected]

Sent: Thursday, October 29, 2015 2:38 PM

To: Gerald Parker

Subject: Offer

Dear Gerald: We would like to hire you for the position of head winemaker at Crocker Cellars. Our compensation package, including salary, benefits, and bonuses, is extremely generous. Please let us know the level of your interest and when we can set up a time to meet and discuss the details. Best, Camille

Simon came back in. “Anything?”

“Yes, a vineyard in Napa Valley and Crocker Cellars are interested in hiring him.”

“Crap!”

“But he's not making a decision until after the judging on Sunday.”

“Of course not. If we win, he wants to use that to up his asking price. That bastard. Like I need this right now.”

“I know, Simon. But try to remain calm. I want to check one more thing, and I'll be out. Is Jackson back?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, go.” Simon went back out again, and I focused on Gerald's in-box. I pressed find and put in the word
Amy
, but I wasn't prepared for what I found. The messages kept scrolling until at final count there were 256. I didn't have time to go through all of them so I went to the first one, which was sent a week ago, last year.

Amy Lord To: Gerald Parker

Re: Today

Not yet. I'll go see him at lunchtime. Please switch to phone messaging. Ivy seems super-suspicious. Love, Amy

From: Gerald Parker [email protected]

Sent: Thursday, October 23, 2014 9:32 AM

To: Amy Lord

Subject: Today

MP: :D Did you talk to Ramsey yet? Let me know. Love, G

Jackson walked in. “Lily is on her way home. You need to finish up in here. There are still people wandering around.”

“I know,” I said, flummoxed by the messages. “But I just found 256 messages between Gerald and Amy dating back over a year ago.”

“So they
were
involved.” Jackson read the e-mail.

“Not only that, those initials, MP, are the same ones that were on the inscription on that ring in Ramsey's office drawer.”

“Looks like Amy was seeing Ramsey, then became involved with Gerald.”

“Right, and here.” I pointed to the screen. “Gerald is asking Amy if she broke it off with Ramsey yet, using the MP moniker, and after that he added a smiley face. Maybe as an inside kind of joke.” I began to scroll through the other e-mail messages as fast as I could.

“It's obvious she ended it because the engagement ring is still there, in Ramsey's desk.”

I nodded. “First, Ivy takes away Amy's love, David, and marries him.”

“But that's not enough for Ivy. After Amy breaks up with Ramsey, Ivy wants him, too. I just thought of something. Is it possible that Amy dumped David—not the other way around? That would make her less of a victim since she was making the choices first with David, and then Ramsey. Basically Ivy was taking her leftovers.”

“Not from what Grandmother Emily Lord said. She seemed to think that Ivy had manipulated the situation so that she got what she wanted. It's possible she did the same thing with Ramsey. I really think Ivy's the bad guy here.”

“She's certainly not very likable.”

“No, she isn't.” I scrolled down and scanned another e-mail. “The rest of the e-mails seem to be just back and forth about their daily lives and how much Amy and Gerald care for each other. But obviously she didn't
want Ivy to know what was going on because she told him to switch to texting on their phones.” I logged out of the e-mail account and made sure the desktop was as I'd found it.

“There might be a clause whereby employees can't get involved, so maybe Gerald needed to keep it secret, too.”

“Maybe, but Amy was Ivy's sister, one of the owners. I'm thinking she could break the rules if she really wanted to. Now, as for the recent chain of events . . .”

“If Gerald did try to kill David, out of jealousy or whatever, and killed Amy by mistake, it would have been devastating.”

“He seemed wrecked, but he's still able to look for new employment,” I said. “So it's hard to tell if he's just mourning her death or feeling guilty about it.”

“People do handle grief in different ways, you know.”

“True, but I tried to talk to him at Salt after the funeral and he wasn't forthcoming. So I don't know how to find out what's going on.”

“We could ask Ivy,” Jackson said. “Or Ramsey.”

“I don't know if we'd get answers from them either.”

Jackson pointed at the computer. “By the way, how did you get into the e-mails in the first place? We didn't do that last time we were here.”

“I decided to try something simple for the password.
A-M-Y
.”

His eyes opened wide. “Now, that's good thinking, McQuade.”

“I thought so.” It felt pretty good.

But any self-congratulations stopped when Simon
ran into Gerald's office, panting and out of breath. He stopped in front of the desk and doubled over. “He, he's gone!”

“What do you mean? Who?” Jackson said. “David?”

Simon stood up and nodded as he sucked in breaths. “He's missing, and we have to find him!”

“Simon, slow down a bit
—what are you talking about?” I said. “We just saw David outside with Scott a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I just saw him. He was in front of Pure,” Jackson said, looking around. “We'd better get out of here.” He herded us out of Gerald's office and closed the door. “Okay, tell us what happened.”

“David told Scott he was just going around the corner to make a call and he'd be right back,” Simon said, bending over again, hyperventilating.

“Probably calling Lily,” Jackson said.

“Yes, but when Scott went to look for him a few minutes later, he was gone.”

I put my hand on his back. “Simon, breathe, slow down and breathe.”

“We've got to find him,” Simon said. “He got that message on his phone, and now this.”

“Did you look in the main room, the tasting room, the bathrooms, and all the offices, even the B and B?” Jackson said.

Simon stood up and put his hand on his chest. “Checked, or being checked. So far, no David.”

“What about the Halloween maze?” I said. “That would be a good place for him to hide.”

“Or for someone to stash him,” Jackson said. “We'd better have a look.”