Garden of Death (18 page)

chapter twenty-one

Willow McQuade's
Favorite Medicinal Plants

KAVA-KAVA

Botanical name:
Piper methysticum

Medicinal uses: Kava-kava is an ancient remedy used by Pacific Islanders to treat nervousness and insomnia. It is often used in the islands ceremoniously as a religious ritual, to welcome guests (including Captain Cook in the 1770s) and to honor births, marriages, and business deals. Kava-kava calms the mind, heart, and body, and eases anxiety and mild depression without compromising mental clarity. Taking kava-kava before bed can help induce pleasant sleep and vivid dreams. Kava-kava is fat soluble, so when I prepare it as a tea, I add coconut milk to the steeping solution to help the infusion assimilate kava's compounds.

I couldn't quite make sense of Larry's answer. “What do you mean, that roll of microfiche is gone? Where did it go?”

Larry shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“How does a roll of microfiche disappear?” Simon wanted to know.

“Usually someone borrows it and doesn't put it back—or maybe puts it back in the wrong place. But I've searched. This one is gone.”

“When exactly did it disappear?” I asked.

Larry looked perplexed. “That's a good question. I don't know when it vanished. All I know is that for the last month or so, I've had a lot of inquiries about that lot—and a lot of people asking to see that roll of microfiche. And it's not there.”

“So it's been gone at least a month,” I said. “Great. I think we just hit another one of our blind alleys.”

With no microfiche to give us answers, we returned to the maps of each lot, scanning them for any new information. While we did, I told them about Rhonda and my theory about why she'd come back.

Half an hour later, not having had a Eureka! moment, we thanked Larry for his help and took the elevator back upstairs. The doors opened on the first floor and we found the mayor in a heated discussion with Joe Larson, without Arlene White.

“We've made a decision and were sticking with it,” Mayor Hobson said.

“Even though you're wrong,” Joe Larson said, giving us a hostile look.

“I think you'd better leave, Joe,” Mayor Hobson said. “We'll talk about this later.”

Larson yanked the door open and stomped down the stairs.

“He doesn't seem too happy,” I said, stating the obvious.

“He's not. He and several other prominent local businesspeople want us to change our minds about Fox's lot.”

“We know about that,” I said. “I hope you don't.”

“I think your garden is a great addition to the village, but I'm getting a lot of pressure to change my mind.”

“Stick with the side of the angels, Mayor,” Simon said, slapping him on the back. “You won't be sorry.”

We said good-bye and stepped outside, but the mayor waved Simon back in. While they talked, I quickly texted Jackson to see how he was doing.

He replied that Allie had given him a massage and he was feeling much better. This was really good news, because back problems can take a long time to resolve. I texted back that I had to go to the bank and would be back soon. I'd just put my phone away when Simon came out, and we headed back to Nature's Way.

“Spill,” I said. “What did he want?”

“He invited me to this club for local businessmen.”

“No women?”

He shook his head. “The mayor and most of the Village Board are members, along with people like Larson, he says. He thought it might be a good idea for me to attend.”

“Why? You're not a local businessman. You're a Hollywood producer.”

He shrugged. “I get the feeling that he's trying to help you. Maybe he thinks I can do that by going.”

•   •   •

We decided that Simon should
go to the meeting. Perhaps, in a relaxed setting like the club, he would be able to learn something to help us piece together the puzzle of Dr. White's murder.

Before we went back to Nature's Way, we stopped off at the bank and put the earring and the goblet into a safe-deposit box. I gave one of the keys to Simon. He went home and I returned to the store right before 3 p.m.

Merrily had finally shown up and was stocking the dry goods shelves with boxes of quinoa, a protein-packed grain that also contains iron and has a delightfully nutty taste. Wallace was in the kitchen, and four tables were full in the café, while several customers browsed our shelves.

“Hey, Willow,” Merrily said as she grabbed two packages of quinoa from the box at her feet. “How was the sale?”

“Interesting, Simon found a few things. How are you feeling today?”

“I'm okay,” Merrily said as she shoved the packages onto the shelf. She wore the typical Nature's Way uniform of a white shirt, green apron, and khakis, but her hair, which was usually up in neat tufts with colorful rubber bands, looked frizzy and flyaway. She was also chalk white, and had purple-black smudges under her eyes.

“Wallace said you had a migraine yesterday, and that's why you went home.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “I'm better now.”

“But you don't look well. Merrily, are you all right?”

“I'm fine, Willow, really. I just had a hard time sleeping last night.”

“Because of Nate?”

“No,” she snapped. “We're good.” She put three more packages onto the shelf and picked up the empty box.

Since I'd known Merrily, she had never lost her temper, so this surprised me. “It's just that you seem upset and distracted, and I'm wondering if it's because of your new relationship with him. Things are kind of crazy right now and with the murder and—”

“I'm not distracted,” she said, interrupting me. “It's just like you said—there's a lot going on. I'm focused, don't worry. In fact, I just made three new apple pies. Do you want a slice? Jackson had two.”

“Are you trying to get me to change the subject?” I asked.

Merrily looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. “Willow,” she said patiently, “I told you about the pies for one reason: you love pie.”

“True,” I admitted, feeling sheepish. “Especially your pies.”

“There's one on the counter. I'll be right back. Just have to put this in the recycle bin.” She carried the box to the back.

It seemed obvious that she didn't want to talk about what was going on. I decided to leave it alone, for now.

The pie was, of course, delicious, but I was too worried about Merrily to really enjoy it. When I was done, I went upstairs to check on Jackson.

I found him in the chair I'd placed by the balcony, with his binoculars trained on the garden. Qigong, Rockford, and Columbo had been sleeping, but immediately ran over to me, tails wagging. I petted each in turn, and went over and gave Jackson a kiss.

“Hi, hon.” He put the binoculars on his lap.

“Something interesting must be going on down there.”

“Nate's been on his phone almost the whole time you've been gone. That's when he's actually in the garden. He also left for a half an hour twice. I think we need to let him go.”

Frowning, I said, “That's a shame. He was such a good worker when he started this spring.”

“When he's supervised, he works but complains. And when he's alone, he's completely nonproductive. Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I'm worried about how Merrily will take it. I just spoke to her and she's irritable and doesn't look well at all. Maybe we should talk to him first, give him one more chance?”

Jackson picked up the binoculars and trained them on the garden again. “I guess we'll have to. He's gone again.”

•   •   •

I updated Jackson on my
progress investigating and checked to make sure he had what he needed before heading back downstairs to work in my office. But when I got there, Merrily was gone again. I went into the kitchen to talk to Wallace, who was busy cleaning the display cases. The man was a marvel.

“Hey, Wallace. Where's Merrily?”

He shrugged. “Nate came in and she left with him.”

“Does this happen often?” I poured myself a cup of organic coffee and added half-and-half and two packets of Truvia, a natural sweetener.

“All the time. Don't get me wrong, I think Merrily is great, but lately . . .”

“I know.” I walked over the bay window and looked out, but she wasn't there. “I don't see her. Can you ask her to speak to me when she returns? I'll be in my office.”

I settled in at my desk, took a sip of coffee, and opened my e-mail. Most of the messages were confirmations of orders that Wallace had placed, for things like supplements and body-care products.

I still couldn't get over how much easier my life was ever since Wallace arrived. He'd taken over the bulk of the management duties and went above and beyond whatever else was needed. It was because of him that I'd been able to even consider creating the garden.

Merrily, on the other hand, was a shadow of the worker she had once been. She'd been sick with Lyme, yes, but that hadn't even been much of a problem when it came to her productivity. No, it wasn't until Nate arrived that the problems started. I decided that I would have to let him go, without delay. She might object, and be upset, but once he was gone, maybe things would go back to normal.

Of course, she could still see him outside of work, but it might help to put some distance between them. And if things didn't improve, much as I hated to consider it, I might have to think about letting her go as well.

I finished going through the rest of my e-mail, then turned off the computer and headed outside to the garden to check on things.

The garden was beautiful; late-afternoon sunlight streaked through the trees and dappled the grounds. But as I made my way down the path, it became clear that something was wrong. Spades and clippers had been abandoned on the path, while a bag of mulch had been pushed into a flower bed and was partially empty. I took out my phone and quickly texted Jackson:

Something wrong in garden. Is someone here? That guy in black?

I waited for his response. It took a few minutes, so I guessed that he had gone back to bed. But moments later, he returned my text:

Think Nate is hurt . . . by pavers. M there. B careful . . . Shd I call cops?

I texted back:

Let me check out first . . .

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and yelled, “Merrily? Are you out here?”

“Willow?” Her voice sounded tenuous and strained.

“I'm coming. Is Nate hurt?”

“Yes, he needs help. Hurry!”

chapter twenty-two

Willow McQuade's
Favorite Medicinal Plants

GREEN TEA

Botanical name:
Camellia sinensis

Medicinal uses:
It's the polyphenols, a type of flavonoid containing catechin and proanthocyanidins with antioxidant properties, that have earned green tea such a well-deserved reputation for imbuing good health. I try to have at least a cup each day, especially when I need an energy boost. Green tea helps to lower cholesterol levels, keeps blood sugar levels moderate, stimulates the metabolism, and can help with weight loss.

The other thing I like about green tea is that it contains one-third to half as much caffeine as coffee, and because of its makeup, the side effects—jitteriness, irritability, and, after the effect has worn off, fatigue—are minimal compared to other caffeine sources. This may explain why Zen monks rely on green tea to help
them remain alert yet calm during long periods of meditation.

One of the widely researched components in tea is the alkaloid theanine, an amino acid that has been found to decrease anxiety, aid in sleep, and promote mental focus. In folkloric traditions tea is burned as an incense to attract prosperity and carried to impart strength and courage. Green tea extracts can be taken in capsules and are sometimes used in skin products. Leaves from the
Camellia sinensis
plant are brewed to produce green tea. Why not have a cup right now?

I ran down the path and found Nate and Merrily by the unfinished teahouse. Nate lay on his back, in the dirt. Around him were several newly dug holes, and a shovel lay next to him on the ground. He had a nasty bloody gash across his forehead. Merrily was kneeling over him.

“What happened? Why didn't you call us?”

“He didn't want me to,” Merrily said, crying. “But I can't get him up by myself.”

I leaned over Nate. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

His eyes fluttered open. “I don't know . . .” His eyes closed.

“Nate, what happened to you?”

He opened his eyes, and said, “I—I was moving another paver over and I lost my footing and landed face first on the patio.”

I went over to the patio. “Where did it happen?”

“Over there. I don't know.” He closed his eyes again.
Chances were good that he had suffered a concussion. If so, we needed to stop him from going to sleep.

“Merrily, keep talking to him. Keep him awake!” Quickly, I examined the immediate area but didn't see any blood or signs of an accident. The fact that there were freshly dug holes and a shovel, though, made me question his story. Was he lying? Had he been looking for artifacts now, too? Did the man in black attack him?

“Nate, wake up!” Merrily yelled.

“He needs to be seen at the emergency room. Help me get him to his feet,” I said as I went over to him and grabbed his right arm. Merrily took his left arm, and slowly we got him to his feet. But he was as wobbly as a newly born fawn.

I worried that he might have a severe concussion and maybe even brain damage. I sucked in a breath. I hated the thought of an employee of mine being injured. After all, it was my fault he had been in the garden in the first place.

“Nate, we're going to walk you over to the bench by the entrance and I'll stay with you while Merrily gets her car.”

So for the second time in as many days, I helped and injured man out of the garden. I'd have to put firing Nate on hold, for now.

•   •   •

After a restless night's sleep,
I woke up Thursday morning just before seven and headed down to the yoga studio for my daily practice. With everything that had happened, I really needed to clear my mind.

The night before, Merrily had called from the ER to say that Nate
had
suffered a concussion and needed several stiches in his forehead. The doctor had released him with the caveat that he not be alone, so she was taking him home and staying the night.

The situation in the garden had gone from bad to worse. I didn't know whether to believe Nate or not, but my gut told me that something untoward had happened to him in the garden. Perhaps whoever was looking for pirate treasure had become bolder, or maybe more desperate, since he or she was searching the garden and attacking people in broad daylight instead of waiting until dark. I could see no other solution but to close the garden until this person was caught and the case was closed. I didn't want to open myself to a lawsuit.

How did such a good idea become such a nightmare? I could feel my stomach churning with sadness, fear, and flat-out dread. It was definitely time for yoga. I took a deep breath and began a series of sun salutations. I was just about to move on to the warrior pose when my cell phone buzzed.

It was an e-mail from Professor Russell:

Good morning, Willow—I'm planning on coming over to Greenport for the yard sale and antique show today. Are you free? No word on the sword yet, but I have some books about pirates on the East End you might find interesting, which I can bring along.

After what Juliette had said, I definitely wanted
to question him further about Dr. White, so I quickly e-mailed back.

Sure, how about 11? I'll meet you at the entrance. Bring the books! Thanks!

He replied:

I'll see you then!

Twenty minutes later, I'd finished my practice and gone back upstairs, where I found Jackson getting dressed.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Better.”

“I was thinking that we needed to close the garden, at least for now, after what happened to Nate.”

“That would be admitting defeat, don't you think?” He grabbed his work boots and went over to the bed to put them on.

“Maybe. But I'm worried about someone suing us if something else happens. I can't afford to have anyone else injured in the garden.”

“You've got a point,” Jackson said. “But I still think we need to finish what we've started—and I definitely want to finish that teahouse.”

“That's the last thing we have to worry about right now. There's no way it's going to be completed by the end of the festival. Too much stuff has come up this week. The real question is, how do we keep the garden safe?”

Jackson didn't hesitate. “I say we put a twenty-four-hour guard on it to keep any interested parties out.” He laced up his boots, but not without difficulty, and then slowly got to his feet.

“Jackson, do you really think it's a good idea to work in the garden today? You look like you're still recovering.”

“I think I can get Bob to help out in the garden. Since he retired, he works part-time with his son's construction company, so he knows what he's doing. I'll ask him to find someone else to help guard the garden while he's at it.”

“But what do we do about Nate?”

“We wait until he's better then talk to him. Maybe give him a second chance, considering what's happened.”

“Okay.” My phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. “Hello?”

“This is Michael Yard. You may remember me from Dr. White's wake?”

“I remember you.” Why was Arlene White's attorney calling me? I quickly put the phone on speaker so Jackson could hear him.

“I'm calling on behalf of my client Nate Marshall.”

I stared at Jackson. “Your client?”

“Yes, Mr. Marshall sustained serious injuries yesterday when he was in your employ, and he's suing you for damages.”

“I don't want to minimize what happened, but I was told that it was a concussion and he had a few stiches on his forehead.”

“It was a severe concussion, Ms. McQuade, and he's likely to suffer long-term neurologic damage. He's dizzy and disoriented. You're his employer, you're responsible.”

“Believe me, I feel bad about what happened, but a lawsuit isn't the answer.”

“We think it is. I suggest you contact Mr. Lewis, Ms. McQuade, and ask him to find you a good personal injury lawyer.” I could hear him shuffling papers around on his desk. “One more thing. I'll be bringing suit on Mrs. White's behalf as well.” He hung up.

I looked at Jackson. “What are we going to do?”

He came over and gave me a hug. “It's going to be all right. Knowing Nate, he's exaggerating his injuries. We'll get our own doctor to examine him to confirm what he's saying. For now, call Simon immediately.”

“What about Mrs. White?”

“Let's solve the murder first. If she's guilty, she won't be suing anyone.”

•   •   •

At eleven o'clock, Jackson and
I crossed Front Street to meet Professor Russell in Mitchell Park. But I left Nature's Way feeling uneasy. Merrily had texted me to say she needed to stay home and take care of Nate. She said nothing about Michael Yard and the fact that Nate was suing me.

The fact that Merrily was again not available meant that Wallace would have to handle the store and the café on his own. He told me that he'd call his niece,
Lily, who worked at another café in town, to see if she could fill in.

Jackson had been able to reach his friend Bob, our nighttime guard, and told him the situation. Bob had arrived before we left. The plan was that he would watch the garden until a friend of his, Tony, another retired cop with time on his hands, came in at seven that evening to take over. Until things returned to normal, they would switch off every twelve hours. When Jackson was working in the garden, Bob could help him out, too.

Because we needed a guard on duty before I could give tours, I told Wallace the situation and that we hoped to have the tours running again on Friday. To compensate for any inconvenience, I decided that anyone who bought a ticket for a garden tour could bring a friend along for free.

When Jackson and I got to the entrance of Mitchell Park, Professor Russell was waiting for us. He wore a black backpack, which reminded me of the one the intruder wore, but this one probably held the books he'd mentioned.

“Morning, Professor,” I said. “How was your ride across?”

“Lovely,” he said. “I always enjoy the view of Greenport when I'm on the ferry.”

“Has there been any word about the sword?” Jackson asked.

“No, not yet, I'm afraid. Dr. Gillian did tell me that it could take some time. We'll just have to be patient. In the meantime—” He took off his pack and pulled out several books. “All of these focus on pirates who
frequented the East End in the seventeenth century. Their indices make no mention of Greenport. Still, you may find some helpful information.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the books as we started toward the green. “So, are you looking for anything specific today? There's going to be a huge amount of stuff at the yard sale and antique show.”

“That's what Harold said.”

“Harold?”

“Yes, Harold Spitz. The two of us chatted a bit after my lecture at the Maritime Museum, and then he called me the next day—when I was on my way over on the ferry to see you, in fact. He wanted to know if I might be interested in one-of-a-kind items from the seventeenth century, since that's my field of interest. He also suggested that I come over for his yard sale.”

“What kind of items? Like pirate treasure?”

He laughed. “No, Ms. McQuade, of course not. More like antique furniture and interesting objets d'art. I've just moved into a new house with a lot more space, and I need to fill it. Anyway, I told him yes, and he said to find him when I came over for the sale today.” He looked around the green.

“Do you see him?”

While he kept looking around, I glanced at Jackson and I could see that he was also thinking about what this might mean. Were Professor Russell and Harold working together? Was Professor Russell helping him find treasure, specifically whatever might be in my lot? Had the whole trip to East Hampton to see Dr. Gillian been just a ruse to get us out of town?

I looked around the green and spotted Harold at a table near the docks. “He's over there.”

“Oh, good, I'll go over and say hello. Do you want to come?”

“We wouldn't miss it,” Jackson said. “Let's go.”

We began to walk across the green, but Martin Bennett intercepted us, and he looked angry. “I need to talk to you, Willow. Alone.”

Professor Russell gave us a quizzical look.

“Why don't you go ahead, Professor?” Jackson said. “We'll be right there.”

“If you say so.” He walked off, but not without giving us a puzzled backward glance.

“I need to talk to her, not you,” Martin told Jackson.

“I'm staying,” Jackson said. “Get on with it.”

“I want you to stop bothering my wife. She was very upset when she got home yesterday. She said you and your friend Simon bullied her into talking to you—demanding answers to questions about who her doctor was, and the pending lawsuit, and even her relationship with her friends. What makes you think that this is any of your business?”

“Because we're trying to figure out who murdered Dr. White,” Jackson said.

“That's what the cops are for,” Martin said, pointing his finger at me. “You need to back off.”

“It happened on my property, Martin,” I said. “And it's causing me a lot of trouble. I can't afford to wait until the police catch the killer.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. You're the amateur detective who can't resist a new case. Are you having fun investigating?”

I tried to hold my temper. “This isn't a game
for me.”

“Or for Sandra,” Martin said. “You can do as you like, but leave my wife alone. Understand?”

“Why don't you just hold off on the threats,” Jackson said. “We're going to do what we need to in order to solve this, but we'll try not to involve your wife, if we can.”

“You'll do more than try. I'm warning you.”

I was getting really tired of this. “Martin,” I said. “Your wife had a motive for wanting Dr. White dead. She's a legitimate suspect. The cops may want to talk to her as well. You won't be able to stop it.”