Free Dandelion Dead by Chrystle Fiedler Page B

Ivy could have tried to kill him out of jealousy or maybe one of his disgruntled lovers did it?” Not Lily , I thought, please don’t let it be Lily .
    â€œCarla was at the cocktail party, not to mention . . .” Simon’s voice trailed off.
    I walked over to the desk and drilled him with a look. “Not to mention who, Simon?”
    He blew out a breath. “Your assistant, Lily. They spenta lot of time together in the time leading up to the party. I hate to say it, Willow, but I got a definite vibe that their relationship didn’t end when the workday was over.”
    I nodded. “Okay.”
    â€œYou knew?”
    I shrugged. “She told me last night and said he ended it on Sunday. But, of course, the police don’t know.”
    â€œSure, because if they did, she’d be in jail right now since she prepared the appetizers.”
    I heard a blip and Simon pointed to his wrist and a watch with a bright blue band. “It’s my new Apple watch. It’s got a stopwatch and a heart-rate sensor, and a bunch of other stuff. Pretty cool, huh?” He turned it toward me and I read a text from Kate, at Salt: Supplier is out of bay scallops for Wed dinner. Change menu?
    Suddenly, I realized what I’d forgotten.
    But before I could tell Simon, his watch rang—a weird phrase, but in this case accurate. He punched a button, said, “Simon,” and listened for a few moments. “Yes, I got your text, don’t panic. We’ll figure it out. I was planning on swinging by today anyway. I’ll be down in a few.” He said good-bye and signed off.
    â€œKate’s super-busy right now,” he said. “I’m hosting the reception after the funeral, too, so she’s got her hands full.”
    In addition to buying the vineyard, Simon had last year purchased a seafood restaurant, located at the end of Preston’s dock in Greenport, renamed it Salt, renovated the interior and exterior, revamped the menu, and reopened to great reviews.
    The place was always packed, and Jackson and I only were able to get a table because we knew theowner. Wednesday night, Simon was hosting a sold-out event at Salt that featured his vintage Falling Leaves and Kate’s signature dishes. We would be there, but first I needed to tell him what I remembered.
    â€œLike I said, cool, right?” He pointed to the watch. “I really like this thing.”
    â€œVery, but—”
    He grabbed the keys to his Mini Cooper. “Walk me out?”
    â€œWait a minute. When you got that text, I just remembered what I had a glimpse of in the barn before.”
    â€œGo. Lay it on me.”
    â€œYou’re not the only one with that kind of watch.”
    â€œRight, Ivy has one, too. The black-and-gold one. I looked at that, but I like this sporty model better.”
    â€œSimon, focus?”
    â€œOkay, go ahead.”
    â€œSo the other day when I overheard them in the corn maze, I noticed a message on Ivy’s watch, just like the one you just got.”
    â€œFrom who?”
    â€œI don’t know, but the text on her watch said, ‘You bitch! You’ll pay for this!’ ”
    â€œReally?” Simon’s eyebrows arched.
    â€œReally. Obviously, David isn’t the only one who is getting nasty messages.”
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    When we reached the main floor, I spotted my late aunt Claire’s longtime boyfriend, Nick Holmes, dressed in his usual garb of polo shirt, yoga pants, andpurple Crocs, come in the door, followed by his students, who held yoga mats, straps, and blocks. Nick taught popular yoga and meditation classes at Nature’s Way and a program here called Yoga on the Vine.
    Nick had trained in various places in the UK and USA, including the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health, and his goal was always to provide a safe and welcoming place for beginners and longtime practitioners. He encouraged students