Dandelion Dead (4 page)

“I know, but it's okay, really.”

I often counted on Lily, who was not only a talented
chef but a speedy and efficient server. Lily was sweet and lovely—a beautiful young woman inside and out—and I hated the way that Ivy had spoken to her. Obviously, Ivy thought that she was superior to everyone else. Amy, thankfully, seemed more enlightened.

While Lily cleaned up the mess, the rest of the guests enjoyed pairing glasses of Falling Leaves with the appetizers. Things were going smoothly again in our catering job, so I went over to talk to Jackson, who was with David and Simon near the entrance.

We chatted for a bit, and I complained about Ivy, but then David's father, Walter, and David's brother, Kurt, pushed open the door, and it hit the wall with a
thwack!

Both of them wore overalls with T-shirts underneath and boots crusted with mud. Neither had shaved, and they smelled of dirt, grass, and manure.

“What are you two doing here?” David said, pulling them aside.

Simon leaned over to us. “This is going to be trouble. Like I said, they fight, all the time.”

“Jeez,” Jackson said, “haven't we all had enough for one day?”

“I had hoped so,” I said. “But between Gerald and David and Ivy and Amy, this hasn't exactly been a relaxing event.”

“This isn't right, David,” Walter said, his loud voice booming across the hall. “You need to help your own family, not this place.”

“Listen to Dad,” Kurt said, and gave Simon a nasty look.

“We're in position to win this thing,” David said, “and after a lot of hard work here, I'm not coming back.”

“Our farm is going under,” Walter said. “But if we won the two-hundred-thousand-dollar prize, it would turn things around for us—for all of us.”

“Forget it.” David's voice dripped with disdain. “I'm not backing a losing horse. I'm riding a winner all the way to that prize. Besides, Dad, you should sell the farm, then at least we'll all get something out of it.”

“You take that back,” Kurt said, his hands balling into fists. “I mean it.”

“Shut up, Kurt,” David said. “With you around, no wonder Dad is going under.”

“You shut up,” Kurt said.

“Walter, I think you and your son should go now,” Simon said. “Or you're going to ruin our event. This is a big night for David, and Ivy, and me.”

“There are lives at stake here, why don't you go to hell!” Kurt said.

“Go,” Jackson said. “Now.”

Kurt sized him up just as Gerald Parker had and came to the same conclusion. “Okay, we'll go, but we'll be back. This isn't over.”

“Don't bother,” David said. “If you really want to do some good, stop by a real estate agent on your way back to the farm.”

Walter headed for the door, but as Kurt swiveled to go, he brought his fist up and clocked David in the nose.

David yelled, then held his nose as blood dribbled into his mouth. “You little bastard!”

“Kurt, that's enough.” Walter grabbed him by the arm and they quickly exited.

I grabbed a napkin from the top of the piano and handed it to David. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and dabbed his nose and face. “Fine.”

I examined his nose. “I don't think it's broken. But if it begins to really hurt, you should go to the emergency room and get an X-ray.”

Simon blew out a breath. “It's a good thing Nora Evans wasn't here.”

“Come with me and I'll get you some ice.” I led David toward the kitchen, while Simon and Jackson followed.

“Time to smooth things over,” Simon said, and when he reached the front of the hall, he announced to the crowd, “Sorry about that, folks. Emotions are running high since this is an important week for all of us in the East End wine business. Please forgive the disruption.” He looked around the room. “Now, if the servers could please make sure everyone has a glass of our latest vintage, I'd like to propose a toast.”

When we returned from the kitchen, where I'd given David a dish towel filled with cubed ice, the servers were circulating with bottles of wine. The three of us went over to Simon, and he handed David and me glasses of wine from the bar and gave Jackson club soda in a wineglass.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming today,” Simon said. “As most of you probably know by now, Nora Evans, the editor of
Wine Lovers
magazine, and Ramsey Black, head of the East End Wine Council, and the rest of the judges gave our new vintage Falling Leaves a very enthusiastic thumbs-up.”

The crowd clapped.

“So, if you'd raise your glasses, I'd like to propose a toast to Nora, Ramsey, and the rest of the judges,
and to David for creating such a magnificent vintage.
Salud!
”

Everyone raised a glass, and for a moment the mood felt buoyant and light, like a real celebration, which was what we'd all hoped the party would be. But then a bloodcurdling scream shattered the air.

•  •  •

The scream came from the
tasting room. Jackson, David, Simon, and I ran in, and in front of the bar we found Ivy, standing over the body of her sister, Amy, who was lying on the floor, her face pasty and white, her big blue eyes sightless, her bright red lips pursed into an
O
, as if she'd been surprised. Next to her, her wineglass was smashed to pieces and the amber liquid pooled under her hair.

“Is she . . . ?” I said, not believing what I was seeing.

Jackson knelt down and felt Amy's pulse. He shook his head. “I'm sorry, she's dead.”

Jackson called the police, and
twenty minutes later my favorite duo, senior Detective Koren and his junior partner, Detective Coyle, arrived. I had a contentious relationship with the two men, in large part because I had a knack for solving murders before they did. Since Jackson and Simon helped me in my investigations, the detectives didn't like either of them much either. So when they walked into Pure and found all three of us, they were not pleased.

“You three . . . again?” Detective Koren said.

“The Three Stooges, right?” Detective Coyle laughed.

We all ignored him, but Detective Koren said, “Show some respect, Coyle. A woman is dead.”

“The body is in there.” Jackson pointed to the tasting room. “I'll show you. Your coroner is already here.”

Jackson and I followed Simon and the detectives back into the tasting room, where the coroner was hunched over the body. We were joined by David and Ivy, who was pale and trembling, and Simon made introductions.

“I'll
have questions for both of you, so stay put. That goes for you three as well.” Detective Koren gave us a pointed look. “Now, has anyone been in here since you discovered the body?”

Jackson shook his head. “No, I've been here since it happened, until the coroner arrived.”

“Playing cop, huh, Spade?” Detective Coyle said. “Having fun?”

Jackson was no longer a cop, but he still had a cop's instincts and was better at it than Detective Coyle or Detective Koren could ever be. “No, Coyle. A woman is dead. I don't think anyone is having fun right now.”

“Shut it, both of you,” Detective Koren said, snapping on gloves. “Everyone step back. Okay, Bob, what have we got here?”

Ivy began crying hysterically, so David led her out of the room to the backyard. Through the window I could see him giving her a hug, then offering her a cigarette, and both of them started smoking.

Inside, Bob, the coroner, spoke with the detectives, then jotted down notes, while Detective Koren began examining the body. He checked her hands and opened her mouth, stopped for a moment, and asked Coyle for an evidence bag.

Detective Coyle handed him one. “What've you got?”

The two of them put their heads together, and from my vantage point at the edge of the room, I couldn't make out what he'd found. But whatever it was, Detective Koren thought it was worth bagging. Detective Coyle stepped back, and his partner plucked something
out of the body's mouth with his gloved fingers and slipped it inside the evidence bag.

“What did you find?” Simon said.

“None of your business, Lewis,” Detective Coyle said.

His partner finished looking at the body and signaled to the coroner, who bagged her hands and then with his assistant lifted her body onto the gurney and pushed it toward the entrance.

“Can you take her body around back instead?” Simon said. “I'm afraid it will really upset our guests.”

“I'm not having her body taken out over some rutted field and possibly losing trace evidence,” Detective Koren said, pointing in the direction of the hall. “Life is tough, Lewis, or didn't you know that?”

“He doesn't know about that, he's from la-la land.” Detective Coyle smirked.

I could see the color rise in Simon's face; he was angry now.

Jackson noticed it, too, and grabbed his arm. “Stay cool. Don't complicate things.”

“Fine,” Simon said through clenched teeth.

The coroner's assistant pushed the gurney into the hall, where guests huddled together at tables looking upset and scared. Upon seeing the body, several gasped, and a low murmur of whispers followed it as it traveled to the door.

Detective Koren went to the front of the room and broke the silence. “I'll need everyone here to stay put. No one leaves without being interviewed and leaving contact information.” He turned and looked at me, Jackson, and Simon. “I'll start with you three.”

•  •  •

While Detective Coyle secured the
crime scene and supervised the guests' statements being given to uniformed officers, Detective Koren herded us up to Simon's office for an interview. Simon sat behind his desk, while Jackson and I sat on the sofa.

Detective Koren remained standing and paced around the room as he talked. “Now, tell me, how is it that you three are involved in what looks like a murder again?”

“We're not involved,” Simon said. “This was a party to kick off North Fork's UnCorked! week, and to welcome the editor of
Wine Lovers
magazine, and the head of the East End Wine Council, and do a tasting. That's it.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Then it all went very wrong.”

“Well, why don't you tell me exactly how that happened.” Koren pulled a slim notebook and a pen out of his inside jacket pocket.

Jackson took Detective Koren through the chain of events, starting with what happened at the party and ending with our discovery of the body. When Jackson finished, the detective said, “So who do you think did this?”

Jackson shrugged. “No idea.”

I'd already reviewed the events in my mind and couldn't come up with a solid suspect either. If David had been the victim, instead of Amy, I'd have plenty, starting with Gerald Parker and ending with his wife and brother, Kurt.

Detective Koren closed his notebook. “Okay, we'll
take it from here. I may have more questions for all of you, though, so stay local.”

He turned to go, but stopped when he reached the door. “And if you have any ideas about playing detective again, especially you, Ms. McQuade, forget it. You've caused enough trouble already.”

“She's solved three cases,” Simon said. “That's causing trouble?”

“Maybe she helped us get there, but she's no cop.” Detective Koren looked at me, then at us. “I'm warning you to stay out of it. All of you.”

•  •  •

Despite what Detective Koren had
said, Jackson and I discussed the case into the wee hours of the morning. Jackson didn't want me to get involved, but I had a sneaking feeling that Simon would want our crime-fighting team—the Three Musketeers, as he called us—to reunite and solve the crime. Especially if it had the potential to impact his new business venture.

Monday morning, I slept in, and it was almost eight thirty by the time I got back to Nature's Way, did my yoga routine, took a quick shower, and made it downstairs, as Qigong trailed behind me. He took off for the office, where he'd left a bone under a couch cushion yesterday, while I made my way down toward the kitchen and the smell of organic coffee and freshly baked bread, scones, and muffins.

With the success of Nature's Way and the sales of my aunt's popular Fresh Face cream, along with royalties from all her bestselling natural health books, over
the past year and a half I'd been able to update the kitchen and spruce up the store and the café.

I'd hired a local contractor to add a large picture window over the sink—so that I could see the medicinal herb garden—and a new farmhouse sink, spider-burner stove, and industrial-size refrigerator, and I'd hired the local flooring company to put in new counters and an eco-friendly bamboo floor.

Once that was done, Jackson and I painted the kitchen a nice buttery yellow, and the rest of the store and the café a vibrant Tuscan orange, with lime-green, black, and purple accents. It was funky, but it worked. The store felt comfy and cozy, just the place to linger over which natural remedy to try or what natural foods to eat.

What hadn't changed were the aisles packed with natural cures and natural foods, and in the middle of the store, a center checkout area that also featured lip balms, organic chocolate bars, and natural health magazines.

Jackson had installed bookshelves opposite the counter, and now they groaned under volumes of vegan cooking, country home remedies, yoga, and superfoods, and my first book,
Cures from Aunt Claire's Garden: 28 Medicinal Plants to Know, Grow, and Use
, which had been released in May.

The book had sold well both locally and all over the country, and since its publication in the spring, I'd held numerous book readings and workshops in the store and in the garden to promote it. It had been fun to talk about my first book and to autograph it for interested readers. I pulled a few copies off the shelf and placed
them on the counter within easy reach for customers, and went into the kitchen.