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The next morning, Myrtle studied her pantry. She was feeling as if she should cook something for Julia. The poor young woman had lost her father and was likely working through some very challenging feelings. A special casserole would make life easier to sort out.
Myrtle’s pantry, however, was in sad shape. There was no cream-of-chicken (or mushroom or celery) soup. There was no rice to be had. And there was a meager number of canned vegetables. Myrtle supposed she could do something with canned asparagus and a box of instant potatoes, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that something might be.
She decided a trip to the store was in order. Ordinarily, when setting out on a big trip to the grocery store, she’d call Miles or Red to drive her. However, Miles might be cranky when asked to tote her around again today, and she certainly had no desire to spend more time with Red. She could only venomously hope Red was enjoying the gnome show she was providing in her front yard.
So Myrtle set out on foot with her cane and a recipe in mind. Pasha joined up with her halfway, loping along beside her as if to keep her company. Or, perhaps, to guard her from danger. There seemed to be plenty of it afoot, after all.
When Myrtle reached the doors to the store, she looked down at Pasha. Pasha gave her an inquisitive, feline smile. “You’re right, they should allow comfort cats in the grocery store. They’re not particularly enlightened, are they? Maybe you could wait for me and join up on the walk home.”
Pasha seemed to consider this seriously. Then she bounded off into a wooded area behind the Piggly-Wiggly after a squirrel.
By the time Myrtle was walking through the aisles, she couldn’t precisely remember all the things she wanted to purchase. She remembered the rice and the canned soup. But what vegetables and what protein? Did she have milk? She’d been distracted and hadn’t checked her fridge to see what she had. It was all very annoying.
She was standing there, scowling, when someone approached her in front of the meat counter. “Miss Myrtle?”
Myrtle turned to see Liv Anderson, staring at her in concern. “Is everything all right, Miss Myrtle?”
“Oh, it’s all just fine, my dear. I was just trying to dredge my memory for the ingredients I needed for a recipe. The dredging is a fairly arduous activity at my age, I’m afraid.” Myrtle peered closer at Liv. “I hate to mention it, but you seem rather out of sorts yourself. Are you okay?”
That was apparently all Liv needed to vent. “Julia moved up the deadline for me to get out of the winery. I had to crash on someone’s sofa last night. She told me to come back today and get all my stuff. It’s unbelievable.”
Myrtle’s frown deepened. “Heavens. Do you have a place to stay?” She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to offer to house a potential killer.
She was relieved when Liv said, “Now I do. I made some phone calls as soon as it was a decent time this morning. I toured a little apartment not far from here. It was okay. But I didn’t have much time to shop around, did I? If Julia had just allowed me to move out later, I could have compared different apartments. Instead, I’m stuck with that one.” She gestured to her cart. “And of course I have to set up a whole new kitchen. So I have to get all the basics to cook. Spices and the whole shebang.”
Liv certainly had a cart full. Myrtle couldn’t help but notice that there was quite a bit of alcohol in there. It was all beer, too, and no wine. It appeared Ben Foster was right, and that Liv wasn’t a fan of wine.
“What’s more,” continued Liv, intent on extending her rant, “the police are hounding me. Why on earth would I have wanted to kill Isabella? I didn’t even know the woman.”
Myrtle said sweetly, “Perhaps the police thought Isabella had seen something when Gerald was murdered. The killer would have wanted to eliminate that risk, of course.”
Liv threw her hands up in the air. “Well, I had nothing to do with it, regardless of what they think. I was at Greystone trying to collect my stuff, since Gerald’s bratty daughter changed the rules on me.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
“Nobody else was there,” said Liv. “Julia sure wasn’t. She didn’t want to see me any more than I wanted to see her. Maybe she was out murdering Isabella.”
“Still, that’s a pity that you don’t have a good alibi. That would really have helped convince the police you weren’t involved.”
Liv sighed. “I told them I hadn’t been over to Serenity Springs at all. I’d only met the woman once or twice. One time, Isabella showed up at Greystone to get advice on some vineyard pests or something. I went to find Gerald, and he was no help at all.”
“Were you surprised Gerald didn’t help Isabella out?”
Liv shrugged. “It was typical Gerald. He wasn’t the most helpful of guys. Plus, he thought Isabella was competition. He said something like it took him years to figure out how to run a vineyard and Isabella wanted it handed to her on a plate.”
Myrtle said, “So you didn’t see Isabella aside from that?”
There was a fleeting look on Liv’s face that Myrtle couldn’t quite read. Liv shook her head.
“Do you have more thoughts on who might have done this?” asked Myrtle. “Now there are two poor souls gone. I’m sure one reason the police are speaking with you so often is they’re under pressure to get the bad guy behind bars. Who might that bad guy be?”
“Julia, of course. She’s the one who makes the most logical sense. She had the most to gain from Gerald’s death.”
Myrtle said, “Did you ever find out the contents of Gerald’s will? You were thinking he’d changed it, keeping Julia from inheriting much, if anything.”
Liv’s face darkened even more. “Julia rubbed that in my face right after she moved the deadline up. It sounds like Gerald made the appointment with his lawyer, but died before he could change it. Doesn’t that sound suspicious? If the cops had a lick of sense, they’d realize just how much motive Julia has.”
“And you think Julia killed Isabella, too?”
Liv shrugged. “I don’t think we have two killers running around. If she killed Gerald, she killed Isabella, too. Maybe Isabella spotted Julia at her wine tasting and realized later that Julia must have murdered her father.”
“Julia and Isabella weren’t friends?”
Liv glowered at her. “How do I know? Like I said, I didn’t know Isabella at all.” Liv’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, you seem pretty plugged into what’s happening around town. Gossip-wise, I mean.”
“I suppose.”
Liv said, “Can you tell me what people are saying about me around town? I want to know if I should plan for a long-term rental here or whether I need to think about getting a fresh start somewhere else.”
“Well, naturally, people talk. They’re not just talking about you, though. They’re talking about everybody.”
Myrtle had the feeling she’d given Liv the kind of bait that would make her ask more. Sure enough, Liv quickly asked, “What are they saying?”
“Just that you and Gerald were squabbling with each other often. That your relationship was somewhat on the rocks.”
Liv scowled. “It was probably that boy gossiping, the one who’s always mooning over Julia.”
“Ben Foster? The vineyard manager?”
“That’s the one.” Liv brooded. “He thinks I’m mean to Julia. He’d say anything to throw me under the bus.”
Myrtle played up the old lady role again. “How very sweet! A little romance in our midst. Does Julia feel the same about Ben?”
Liv snorted. “Julia feels the same about Julia. She’s someone who thinks more of herself than anyone else.” Liv narrowed her eyes. “Wait, didn’t you write an article for the paper on Gerald’s death?”
It was quite a late realization on Liv’s behalf. But then, Myrtle suspected she wasn’t much of a reader. She’d likely only gotten a copy of the newspaper because Gerald’s murder was on the front page.
Myrtle looked as innocuous as a nearly six-foot-tall woman could be. “I’m on the staff at the Bugle, yes.”
“You realize our conversation is completely off-the-record, don’t you?”
“Naturally, my dear,” said Myrtle, blinking innocently. “You can’t imagine a fine newspaper like the Bradley Bugle would ever stoop to publishing hearsay, surely.”
Liv looked as if she weren’t at all sure about that. “Just as long as we’re clear on that.”
“Perfectly. And now, I think I should finish my shopping trip. Very good seeing you, Liv.”
With that, Myrtle toddled off, looking as harmless as she possibly could, feeling Liv’s gaze on her back as she left.
The conversation with Liv had somehow managed to wear Myrtle down a bit. Perhaps it had been the vitriol in Liv’s voice when she spoke about Julia. Regardless of what it was, it didn’t put Myrtle in the mood to cook a casserole. Something happier was needed. Casseroles could be rather dreary-looking. Maybe cookies were in order. She hadn’t baked anything since the cookie exchange at Christmas and that had gone exceedingly well.
With this change of direction, Myrtle quickly gathered what she remembered as the necessary ingredients to make cookies. Then she set off back home with Pasha, who had indeed waited for her.
Pasha was apparently in the mood for a little something to eat. She padded in after Myrtle, looking fetchingly up at her as Myrtle put her groceries in the kitchen.
“Snack time?” asked Myrtle.
Pasha’s eyes gleamed as she gave Myrtle a feline grin.
Fortunately, Myrtle had remembered to pick up a few cans of cat food at the store, because she was completely out of tuna. Pasha didn’t prefer cat food over tuna, but she was very polite and ate every single bite.
There was a tap at the door, and Myrtle opened it to reveal Miles, looking particularly well-rested. She was glad she hadn’t woken him up that morning to accompany her to the store.
Miles gave Pasha a leery look. He’d had some warm moments with Pasha, but still considered the cat quite unpredictable. “How are things going over here?” he asked.
Myrtle said cheerfully, “They’ve been excellent. I’ve already been to the store to buy ingredients for my next masterpiece.”
Now Miles seemed even more troubled. “What sort of masterpiece?” he asked with some foreboding.
“Cookies for Julia. I’ve been quite remiss in not bringing her any food. The poor thing lost her father, after all. I know the two of them weren’t close, but his death is probably giving Julia all sorts of conflicting feelings. Cookies are sure to help.”
Miles winced, which Myrtle didn’t notice because she was looking into the mixing bowl where she was dumping butter and sugar. Miles said, “Doesn’t Julia have a lot of leftovers? That funeral reception had gobs of food. I’m guessing she went home with it.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t have something sweet. I’ll admit that I was originally looking to make Julia a casserole. But then I decided cookies might be nice. Something sweet might make life seem a little brighter.”
Miles looked very doubtful about this.
Myrtle continued, “Besides, it’s fall. Baking is important in the fall.”
“Aren’t cookies sort of complex to make?”
“What a question, Miles! Of course they’re not. They’re easy-peasy.”
Pasha glided into the room. Her beautiful eyes narrowed as she saw Myrtle adding eggs and liquids to the dry ingredients in the bowl. She pulled her ears back.
Miles frowned at the bowl. “I haven’t baked cookies in a while, but I’m not absolutely certain you’re doing this right.”
“Have you ever baked cookies? That seems rather out of your wheelhouse.”
Miles said, “I was a very hands-on dad. I did participate in Christmas cookie baking. However, I believe I remember creaming the butter and sugar together.” He gave her a nervous look. “Do you have a recipe?”
“In my head.” Myrtle tapped her noggin.
“I’d feel a lot better about this endeavor if there was a recipe in plain view.”
Myrtle sighed. “For heaven’s sake.” She puttered over to the cabinet and pulled out an ancient cookbook. Thumbing through it, she found a spattered recipe and pointed it out to Miles.
Miles studied it while Myrtle continued stirring the concoction in the bowl. “This says to use brown sugar.”
“Well, I didn’t have any of that, so white sugar it is.”
Miles frowned into the mixing bowl. “Myrtle, that’s powdered sugar.”
“Which is white.”
Miles knew by this time when arguing was pointless. He bit his tongue and ignored his rising tide of panic. When the cookies were done, Myrtle stacked them immediately on a plate, despite the fact that they should have cooled first. Miles decided he’d just disavow any part of the cookie caper when they arrived at Julia’s.
“I assume you’d like a ride to Greystone Grapes,” said Miles when Myrtle had carefully wrapped the still-steaming plate of cookies with plastic wrap.
“Yes, please. Of course, I do want to speak with Julia again. I’d like to hear more about her thoughts on Isabella and find out where she was when poor Isabella perished.”
“Of course,” said Miles, repressing a sigh. “Although we can’t guarantee that Julia will be there. It’s likely a workday for her.” He grabbed his keys, and they walked out of the door and toward Miles’s car.
“She might have taken bereavement leave,” said Myrtle.
“You mentioned before that Julia was a pet groomer. It might not be the type of career that offers much leave.”
“True. Although she might already have handed in her notice for that. After all, she’s apparently in line to receive the vineyard,” said Myrtle, climbing into the car.
“Is that a sure thing? I thought there was some doubt about that.”
Myrtle said, “There was. But then I saw Liv at the grocery store this morning. She said Julia claimed the will stated she was inheriting Greystone Grapes.”
Miles frowned. “I suppose Gerald must not have followed through on his threat to write Julia out of his will.”
“I believe Liv said that Gerald had an appointment with an attorney, but he died prior to it.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. “That seems convenient. And it makes Julia’s motive even stronger.”
“I believe so. Of course, there are others with fairly decent motives, too.”
Miles said, “I might be in need of a suspect recap. It’s hard for me to keep track.”
“Well, we have Liv to start out with. We’ve heard that Liv and Gerald’s relationship was quite volatile. Liv denies any issues, but Ben Foster said Gerald was always in a terrible mood following an encounter with Liv. She was said to fling allegations of infidelity at him.”
Miles said, “The idea is that Liv got mad at Gerald and got rid of him?”
“That’s right.”
Miles frowned. “With poison? I can see Liv lashing out in anger at Gerald, but it’s hard to picture her putting strychnine in his wineglass.”
“Gerald could be very vituperative. Besides, Liv seemed to think she might benefit from Gerald’s will. She said something at the reception about Gerald wanting to provide for her.”
“That sounds like wishful thinking to me,” said Miles.
“Perhaps. Then we have Ben Foster, the manager and winemaker of Gerald’s vineyard. He felt very strongly that Gerald was taking the vineyard in the wrong direction. They’d been arguing about the issue. Ben felt Gerald was too focused on developing the vineyard into a large, commercial production. Ben was more interested in quality and small batches.”
“Again, though, can we picture Ben poisoning his employer? That seems a rather harsh reaction to the problem,” said Miles.
“But there’s more to it than that. Ben is also completely smitten with Julia. Gerald has been treating Julia horrendously. Perhaps Ben decided to take things into his own hands.”
“I suppose,” said Miles. “Poisoning still seems particularly harsh. And isn’t it a woman’s weapon?”
“Or an excellent weapon for anyone who wants to walk away from the crime scene before the victim dies. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes. Frank Hayes.”
Miles said, “He seemed rather innocuous the times I’ve met him. Although I don’t think he was fond of Gerald.”
“He certainly wasn’t. Frank blamed Gerald for pushing his mother into selling family-owned land that she’d cherished. He thought that her regret over that sale made his mother spiral, resulting in her move to Greener Pastures.”
Miles considered this. “It seems like quite a stretch.”
“Yes, but you’re thinking clearly. Frank clearly isn’t. His emotions are making him see things differently. He was also angry with Gerald for hosting such loud gatherings on his property. Bands, crowds of people, and whatnot.”
Miles said, “That would annoy me, too. You think you have a nice, quiet place to live and then there’s basically a circus next door.” He paused, thinking. “I suppose the last suspect is Julia Greystone.”
“Right. And she has an excellent motive. Julia was eager to live at the vineyard. She basically said it had always been her happy place. That she’d never pictured herself anywhere else. Then her father banished her from Greystone Grapes. What’s more, he acted as if she was too incompetent to run the family business.”
Miles shook his head. “I can’t imagine where he came up with that. I’ve only briefly met her at the service, but my impression was very good.”
“Well, we’re about to spend more time with her in a few minutes.” Myrtle paused. “Going back to why Gerald thought Julia couldn’t run the vineyard. Maybe Gerald was angry Julia was closer to her mother than she was to him. Julia told me when her parents divorced, she’d definitely have stayed with her mom if it hadn’t been for the vineyard.”
Miles said, “Was Gerald the type of person to hold grudges? Or to be very petty? Because that’s pretty petty.”
“I think he was the sort of person to hold grudges, yes. And it sounds as if he had the capacity for pettiness. But Julia wasn’t just upset with her dad for not allowing her to live at the vineyard. She might also have been alarmed at Gerald’s threats to change his will.”
Miles said, “That would have been such a vindictive thing for Gerald to do.”
“Yes, but it’s in line with his character. And Julia wanted that vineyard. It certainly constitutes a motive.”
They pulled into the long driveway leading to Greystone Grapes. The wind was gusting, making the trees around them sway.
“We’re not supposed to have a storm, are we?” asked Miles, frowning. He wasn’t much of a fan of storms, particularly when he needed to drive in them.
“In October? That would be out of character for Bradley. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” Myrtle stepped out of the car, carefully balancing the plate of cookies. She didn’t seem to notice that the cookies, not having been allowed to cool, had clumped together. And, with the shifting of the car, some of them had fallen apart.
They walked into the Greystone Grapes tasting room. It was completely different from the Serenity Springs one. When Myrtle and Miles stepped inside, they were greeted with clean lines, minimalist décor, and a cool toned color palette. There was abstract art on the walls. Myrtle gave a small shiver. It seemed very cold and clinical. She wondered if Julia had plans to change it up.
A staff member walked out to greet them, and Myrtle asked to speak with Julia. Soon, Julia joined them, smiling as she strode up. Despite the smile, Myrtle noticed Julia seemed exhausted. There were lines around her mouth and her eyes looked bloodshot.