Garden of Death (20 page)

chapter twenty-four

Willow McQuade's
Favorite Medicinal Plants

LEMON BALM

Botanical name:
Melissa officinalis

Medicinal uses: An official herb of many an apothecary, lemon balm was widely used in ancient Greece and Rome. Avicenna, the great Arabic physician (980—1037), said that lemon balm caused “the mind and heart to be merry.” You'll find bees buzzing around this important member of the mint family. Out of the garden, this handy herb calms the heart, eases anxiety, boosts energy, improves concentration, cleanses the liver, improves chi circulation and sleep, and lifts the spirits.

German studies indicate that lemon balm's essential oils help protect the brain from excess external stimuli. Research also shows that lemon balm's citral and citronellal volatile oils help to calm nervous exhaustion and stomach distress. Inhale this essential
oil several times daily to ease mild depression. A delicious tea, it can also be used as a culinary herb. I like adding it to salads, soups, and smoothies for a tangy lemon flavor.

None of us knew what to make of the Roman numerals in the painting, but we hoped it would make more sense later. I thanked Simon for his help, and he went home to write, while Jackson and I strolled back to the store. There was a pleasant salty breeze that helped offset the humidity in the air. The streets were buzzing with people, who had been at the fish fry and were now window shopping or going on to a bar or restaurant to have a drink. The village seemed alive, and full of promise. Despite the light rain that had begun to fall, the Maritime Festival was kicking off the tourist season in a big way.

But when we arrived at Nature's Way, any hopeful or idyllic notions I'd had were crushed. There, in the front yard, were Qigong, Rockford, and Columbo, wandering around, alone in the dark. I never left them outside without supervision, day or night, and everyone knew this. Something was clearly very wrong.

“What are you guys doing out here?” I said, opening the gate and stepping inside the yard. They rushed to me and wagged their tails. From what I could tell, they hadn't been hurt, which was a relief. I hoped that the cats, Ginger and Ginkgo, were also okay.

Jackson looked at the front door, which was wide open. “Either someone left your bedroom door and the
front door open, or you've had a break-in. I'm going to call Tony, in the garden.”

He pulled out his phone, dialed, and put it on speakerphone. “Tony, it's Jackson. We just got home and the front door is wide open. Have we had a break-in?”

“Yeah, you did.” Tony spoke in a low voice. “I was patrolling in the garden and about five minutes ago I heard noises coming from the house. I'm inside now. Come in, but be careful. I don't think anyone else is in here, but I haven't searched the whole place yet.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“Not yet. My first instinct was to just get in here and catch the creep, and if I do—” Tony, the night guard, was in his early sixties and another ex-cop. I knew he worked out, and I knew he carried a gun.

Jackson turned to me. “You'd better stay out here with the dogs while we check things out. And, I hate to say it, but you'd better call 911.”

“I'm worried about the cats.” Suddenly, I felt cold, and shivered in the damp night air. “They were looking for the treasure, weren't they? They obviously didn't know that we gave the sword to Dr. Gillian, and put the goblet and earring in the bank.”

Jackson shrugged. “Could be. Just call the police and wait here. I'll look for the cats.” He set off for the house at a run.

I pulled out my phone and sighed. The last thing I wanted right now was another visit with Detectives Koren and Coyle. But before I could call 911, my phone rang. It was Jackson.

“Listen,” he began. “The cats are fine and whoever was in here is gone. I can't tell if anything is missing—they trashed the place pretty badly. They were definitely searching for something. Explain all that when you call 911. Tony and I are going to take a quick look around the outside of the store. We'll meet you inside.”

“Okay,” I said, and made the call. My hands were trembling.

“What's your emergency?” the operator asked.

“It's not an emergency, it's a break-in,” I replied, and gave her all the details.

“Well, it's going to be awhile before we can send anyone over,” she told me. “There was a big fight near the brewery tonight—locals and out-of-towners. Everyone in the station was called out.”

I thanked her and hung up. Then, with the dogs following me, I started toward the store, bracing myself for whatever was inside.

But before we reached the door, Rockford ran over to the fence that ran parallel to the driveway and the garden and started to bark frantically.

“What is it, boy?” I followed him over to the fence. The other two dogs shot ahead of me, and within seconds all three of them were barking.

I pulled the flashlight from my purse and shone it on the fence and around the garden. There! Someone raced through the garden toward the front gate, opened it, and let it clang shut. I ran over to the fence at the front of the yard and yelled. “Hey, I see you! Stay out of my garden!” The person—who was dressed all in black
with a black rucksack—dashed up Front Street and into the night.

I heard the sound of running, and then Jackson and Tony were at my side moments later. “What happened?” Jackson asked.

“Someone was just in the garden. The dogs started barking and he ran out. He was dressed in black and wearing a black backpack. I think it was the same guy.”

“You stay here,” Jackson said. “I'm going to take a look.” He grabbed his flashlight and headed over to the garden.

I watched him and the beam of his flashlight travel from the entrance to the back wall of the garden.

“Nothing,” he reported as he came back to us. “Not even a footprint.”

“Do you think the person who broke in and the guy I saw are the same person?”

“That would be my guess,” Tony answered. “Unless you have two or more people working together. Maybe one guy took the garden and someone else took the store and house.”

“Let's get these dogs inside.” Jackson picked up Columbo. “I'll take this guy upstairs if you can help Rockford.”

I picked up Rockford, and he licked my face. “What I want to know is how they got downstairs. Qigong could do it, but two dachshunds? They'd be too scared to go down three flights of stairs.”

“Uh, that was me,” Tony confessed. “When I saw the door to the store was open, I raced inside. The dogs were barking like crazy, and I knew I had to search the
place, so I took them out—just in case there was still someone up there. I didn't want them to get hurt.”

“A man after my own heart,” I said. “He thinks of the dogs first. Thank you, Tony.”

Once we were inside Nature's Way, we put the dogs down and they scampered around, checking out the smells in the store. I went over to the checkout counter. Someone had pulled everything off the shelves beneath the register. “This is a mess.” It felt invasive that someone had done this, without any concern for how it would make me feel.

Tony gave me a sympathetic look. “So is your office, I'm afraid.”

The office had indeed been ransacked. The desk drawers were open and askew, papers were scattered on the desktop and all over the floor. Books had been pulled from the shelves and the cushions had been removed from the couch and ripped open; stuffing was everywhere.

My space had been invaded, and it would take hours to make it right. It felt like the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, but I wouldn't, couldn't let it. Still, my hands began to tremble again.

Jackson stuck his head in the door. “You don't even want to see the third floor. As far as I can tell, nothing's missing. Unfortunately, the bedroom's a disaster.” Seeing that I was upset, he pulled me into a hug. “But, listen, Willow, it's going to be okay. We'll fix it.”

“I'm just glad that the animals are safe,” I murmured into his shoulder. I lifted my head up and looked at him. “Are you sure that Ginkgo and Ginger are really all right?”

“They're fine. They were sleeping on the beds in Allie and Hector's old place. But their offices and your bedroom are a wreck. Whoever broke in really wanted to find that stuff.”

“I hate this,” I said. “I hate having the store—and my home—violated this way. I have to start cleaning up or at least putting things back in their places.”

Jackson put a hand on my arm. “You can't. It's all one big crime scene. You have to leave it for the police.”

I called 911 and spoke to the operator again, who told me that the police were still sorting out the disturbance by the brewery. It would be hours before anyone could respond to a nonemergency call.

“I don't think they're coming tonight,” I said after I hung up. “What if we just clean up the bedroom? I don't think I can sleep in it the way it is.”

“How about you let us take photos first?” Tony asked. “That way we can at least document what we found.”

“That's a good idea,” I admitted, calming down a little.

Jackson and Tony took photos of the mess that was the bedroom. The thief had opened all the drawers, pulled everything out of the closet, taken the cushions out of the chair. He even tore the sheets and blankets off of the bed. We did a bit of straightening in Allie and Hector's offices, but I wasn't looking forward to telling them what happened. I'd have to clean up my office in the morning, which also wouldn't be an easy task.

The only bright spot was that when I was putting things back into the bedroom closet, I discovered several old journals that had been Aunt Claire's. So, after
we finished cleaning up, I made myself a cup of chamomile tea, got into bed, and began to read them. One of the journals chronicled the early years of Nature's Way. Others were filled with photographs and doodles of her favorite herbs and flowers, the germs of new book ideas, her goals, her feelings, her dreams, and even a travel journal, which I hoped contained notes about her trip to London's physic garden.

I'd had no idea that she had been so dedicated to writing about her life. But now that she was gone, these books felt like a gift, a second chance to learn more about her. This, to me, was real treasure, and I knew absolutely that she would want me to read them all, especially now, when I needed answers.

My dearest wish was that I'd find some clue to her intentions for the future of the business. Would she have lobbied for the lot as I had, or would she have stepped aside when the process became so contentious, especially with Dr. White? And what would she think about everything that had happened since then? Claire was no pushover, but she'd had gift for—how did she put it?—calming troubled waters. It was hard to imagine that she would have let things get so antagonistic. And dangerous.

My tendency was to dig in my heels and fight, and I wondered now if this had been the wrong approach. However, perhaps it was this aspect of my personality that enabled me to find answers when it came to murder.

Still, if I could find something to indicate that she would have approved of the direction I'd taken, I'd feel a whole lot better about everything.

•   •   •

I fell asleep before I
could read all of her journals, and woke up the next morning at seven thirty-five, with Jackson's arms around me and the books on the floor. The rain, which had started out as a drizzle, was now a downpour, and I immediately worried about the tender, new plants in the medicinal garden.

On another front, it was Friday, and every merchant in Greenport knew that this rain would be the deciding factor as to whether the Maritime Festival this weekend was a washout or a success. Of course, I had other more sinister factors determining my fate.

So while Jackson and I ate a breakfast of oatmeal and blueberries at the window table in the café, I took out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking the weather for this weekend. I'm worried about the garden.”

“Isn't rain good for plants? Or am I missing something?”

“Some rain is good, but a torrential downpour could wash out plants that aren't firmly established. That means more work and more money to replace them.” I brought up the weather site and put in our zip code and got the forecast for the weekend.

“What does it say?”

“It says there'll be rain all day and tonight with clearing tomorrow, supposedly by noon. Sunday looks like a beauty, though, with sunny skies and temperatures in the midseventies, perfect weather for the last day of the festival.”

I put the phone on the table. “At least it won't last for days, but I'm still worried.” As I said this, the rain began to come down in sheets, completely obfuscating the view. “Is Bob here now?”

“He was supposed to come in, but he may not. He'll let me know. It's unlikely anyone is out there in this weather anyway. What are your plans for today?”

“I want to talk to Kylie about Harold, Maggie, Ramona, and Rhonda, and find out what they're really up to.”

“What makes you think she'll talk to you?”

“Because I think she trusts me since we talked the day of the art show. She saw that I did what was right in awarding her first place, regardless of whether she was helpful to me in the case or not. I think she wanted to tell me about Sandra and her problems with Dr. White, but because Sandra was a friend, she held back.”

Jackson gave me a skeptical look. “So what's different now?”

“I just don't think she's as close to Harold and the rest. She may open up to me this time. Anyway, I have to try. I also think we should tell Detective Koren about Dr. Gillian and the sword, the break-in, and our suspicions about Harold and the rest. It may get him on our side and off of your back.”