Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery (Natural Remedies Mysteries)

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “It is not welcoming,” I said. “I’m getting the creeps just standing here.”

  “Are you staying here for the afternoon?”

  “Yes. I have clients to see at four and five.”

  “I’m going to leave at six and go get the dogs from the ER vet. Want to come?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  By eight Wednesday night, we were back at Nature’s Way. The two dachshunds looked as if they’d had a makeover. Both of them seemed 100 percent better. We’d stopped by the Feed Bag, a natural-pet-food store, on the way home and picked up comfy beds, water and food bowls, blankets, pet food, flea and tick control, and, of course, plenty of toys and treats. When we’d reached Nature’s Way, Jackson parked his truck in the back and we carried the two boys up to my bedroom. First step, introduce them to Qigong.

  Jackson and I sat on the floor between the two dogs and Qigong so we could intervene in case they didn’t get along. This worry was completely unnecessary. Qigong took one look at the two dogs, ran over, and tried to play with them. The doxies were a little skittish, but within an hour, the three dogs were lifelong friends. The cats, however, turned up their noses and headed into Allie and Hector’s room for some private time. My two friends were in New York City, attending a lecture on a breathing technique called Buteyko.

  Jackson went downstairs to get the rest of the pet supplies and fun stuff while I watched the dogs. We’d have to figure out what to call them. Five minutes later, Jackson came back up the stairs with two bags, a frown on his face, and one Simon Jerome Lewis.

  Simon looked worse than he had this morning. He hadn’t shaved and looked thinner, almost gaunt. He was a shadow of the cocky, attractive guy he’d been just a few days earlier, before Roger had been murdered.

  “Look who I found,” Jackson said, putting the bags down. The three dogs ran over to greet him and bark at Simon.

  “What happened to you today?” I asked.

  Simon ran his fingers through his hair. “You saw, they’re harassing me now! They brought me in again for questioning because of the autopsy results. I wouldn’t answer those questions about the bathroom and the lavender bath oil without my lawyer, and when he arrived, he told me to shut up period, and they let me go. I need to know if you’ve made any progress.”

  I hesitated a moment, then told Simon about what I’d found at Tom’s house.

  Simon listened carefully, then said, “He actually cut Roger’s photo out and put his in? And he was blackmailing Roger because he cheated on Carly?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “Well, that explains why Tom is so eager to pin this on me,” Simon said bitterly. “Because he wanted Carly for himself, and he’s the one who offed his brother.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” Jackson said. “All we know is that Tom was blackmailing Roger. That doesn’t mean he killed him.”

  Simon nodded reluctantly. “I guess I just want this solved, and I know I didn’t do it.” He gave me a quizzical look. “Who is this Sarah? Have you met her?”

  “Yes, she’s MJ’s makeup person and she was my client yesterday. I saw her today and she was upset. Cassidy, the wardrobe mistress, said it was because Sarah was concerned about Tom at the funeral.”

  “So Sarah wants Tom, but Tom wants Carly? Have I got that right?” Simon sat on the edge of the bed, then saw Jackson give him a look and got up again.

  “We think so, yes.”

  “I want to go up there.”

  “When, now?” I said.

  “Yes. Carly says they aren’t shooting tonight because MJ is a mess. It’s the only opportunity we’ll have to look around.”

  “Not true. I can go anywhere in the house and I’ve seen most of it . . . except the upstairs bathroom,” Jackson added, almost as an afterthought. “The police have got it taped off.”

  “And Pierre may not have shown you everything,” I pointed out. “He only showed you the rooms they’re using for filming, right?”

  “We should go,” Simon said. “We need to know what the cops know. It could be our only chance. They’ll be shooting at night the rest of the week.”

  “You two are crazy,” Jackson said. “The answer is no.”

  “Maybe Willow and I can just go,” Simon said.

  “No!” Jackson and I said simultaneously.

  “I’m not going up there without Jackson.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

  “And I’m not going,” Jackson said. “That’s final.”

  Jackson eventually gave in. Before we left, we locked the dogs in my bedroom and the cats in Allie and Hector’s bedroom to keep them safe. We hopped in Jackson’s truck and stopped at Simon’s house to pick up a skiff he owned and put it in the back. The plan was to go to Laughing Water beach, which was directly across the water from the Bixby estate, to see if there was a police presence. If not, we’d climb into the boat and row across.

  Thirty minutes later, Jackson rolled his truck to a stop at the end of the Laughing Water road. It was a beautiful night, with a clear, dark velvet sky. Pinpricks of starlight and the almost full moon shining overhead were reflected in the inky black water below. We got out and carried the lightweight skiff across the sand to the western end of the beach. When we saw that the lights in the mansion were out and no cops were on the beach, we got into the skiff, and Simon and Jackson paddled across the inlet.

  On the other side, we pulled the skiff onto the beach and started to walk up the steps. There, surprisingly, we found Rick, holding a big, fat cigar in one hand and an antique lighter in the other, talking to Amanda.

  He pointed his cigar at the piece of paper in her hand. “So just make those changes and then e-mail it to everyone, so they have it tonight, okay, darlin’?”

  Amanda put the piece of paper in her clipboard. “Right away.” She took off and walked across the grass toward the production trailers.

  “What are you all doing? Out for a midnight paddle?”

  “It’s a beautiful night,” I said. “This is one of my favorite beaches.”

  “Sorry about this whole mess, Simon.” Rick clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re getting a bum rap, brother.”

  “Thanks, man,” Simon said.

  “So what are your thoughts on who killed Roger?” I asked.

  Rick shook his head. “Nah, don’t know. I’m not a detective, and I’m up to my eyeballs in production matters.” He jabbed his cigar in Simon’s direction. “But from what Carly told me, and after meeting you, I don’t think you have it in you to kill. Maybe some weirdo just came on up here and knocked him off.”

  “Unlikely,” Jackson said, then changed the subject. “So, what are you doing out here, Rick?”

  “Just enjoying this excellent cigar. It’s my reward for getting through this hellacious day. MJ is still very upset. Not to mention, now we’re behind. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. We just finalized the new call sheet. Amanda will distribute it tonight.” Rick lit the cigar with the lighter and blew several smoke rings.

  “Nice lighter,” Simon said. “Vintage?”

  “It was Roger’s. He got it from Max. Old Mr. Bixby used to use it when he frequented speakeasies in New York, back in the twenties.” Rick took a short puff and pointed the cigar at the sky. “Now, Roger, that boy was different, God rest his soul. He treated his body like a sacred temple, for all the good it did him. He’d sooner fight a rattlesnake than smoke, so he gave it to me.”

  Rick went silent for a moment, then said, “Roger was my best friend. Known him for ten years. You know we met at Jerry’s Deli in Studio City in California? He was sitting next to me, reading the Hollywood Reporter. I commented on the cover story about Steven Spielberg, we starting talking, and ended up taking a three-hour lunch. Instant friendship. He could be a prick, but I sure do miss him.

  He glanced at his watch and said, “Well, I’m all in. Time for bed.” He walked over to a golf cart that was a few yards away. He pointed the cigar at us. “H
ave a good evening. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow. We start at eight, Spade. See you then.”

  “Okay, now what?” Simon asked as Rick walked away.

  “We go inside and start at the top and work our way down,” Jackson said. “Good thing I’ve got a key.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “Aren’t you glad you came?”

  Using small flashlights, we crept silently through the first floor, found the staircase, and headed up to the third-floor bathroom, where we slipped under the yellow police tape. Black powder was everywhere, including the old-fashioned claw-foot tub. The room had the faint smell of lavender.

  “Okay, we’re here. Let’s take a look around, although it’s unlikely we’ll find anything that Koren and his team haven’t,” Jackson said. “Don’t forget your gloves.”

  We all put on the latex gloves that Jackson had insisted we bring so that we wouldn’t leave prints.

  I stared at the bathtub and shuddered. Roger had been killed here, and Daniel Russell before him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay in this room. “Let’s do this quickly,” I said.

  Simon put his hand on the wall and leaned over to look inside the tub. “Ow!” He pulled his hand from the wall and looked at it. “I got a splinter!”

  “Will you shut up, Simon?” Jackson said. “Do you want the entire estate to hear you?”

  I quickly examined Simon’s hand. Sure enough, a good-size wood splinter had gone right through the latex glove. I went over to the medicine cabinet, where the beam of my flashlight picked out tweezers and Band-Aids. “You got lucky.”

  “Hurry,” Simon pleaded. “It really hurts.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Simon, you wouldn’t last a day in prison.”

  “That’s why we’re here, Spade. So I can stay out of prison!”

  “Cool it,” I said.

  Simon stripped off the glove and I pulled a one-inch splinter out of his hand. I took a small bottle of tea tree oil from my pocketbook, and used a few drops to disinfect the wound, then topped it off with a Band-Aid. I put the tweezers and box back inside the cabinet and tried to close it. But the door to the cabinet wouldn’t shut. I picked up my flashlight and directed it to the back of the cabinet. I could see a small gap and something else. It wasn’t the wall—it was metal, almost like a second, smaller cabinet behind the one I’d opened. I tried to pull off the medicine cabinet’s false back, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “I think I found something.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” Jackson said, as he peered into the cabinet. He pulled the false back off easily and set it on the floor. Behind it was a three-foot-by-three-foot square box inserted into the wall. Jackson flipped open its metal lid and directed his flashlight inside.

  He gave a low whistle. “Look at this.”

  Inside was an old-fashioned rotary dial phone, along with a series of switches with small, worn placards below them. I read the placards aloud: “ ‘KITCHEN, DINING ROOM, DOWNSTAIRS BATHROOM, BEDROOM 1, BEDROOM 2, BEDROOM 3, AND BEDROOM 4.’ ”

  “It looks like some sort of control panel,” Jackson said.

  “It is,” Simon said. “I saw something like it on TV once, I think on Columbo. It’s like an early version of special effects. You can use it to make a house seem haunted.”

  Jackson gave me an I-told-you-so look.

  Simon pointed to the switches. “These control all the lights.” He picked up the telephone receiver. “And this is connected to a system of pipes that carries sounds throughout the house.” He put the receiver down again. “Now, if they wanted to make a ghost appear, they would just need a sheet of glass and lighting to illuminate the person playing the spirit.”

  “Maybe Max used it during his séances to impress his guests,” I said. “Mrs. Florrick said he was into that.”

  “And now Rick could be using this to make MJ seem like a star,” Jackson said. “It’s a way to get sound effects into the show when MJ does a reading, like those whispers you heard, Willow. Remember, Amanda did disappear during the shoot.” He ran a finger along the inside of the cabinet. “It’s not dusty so it’s been used recently.”

  I didn’t want to admit to the possibility that MJ was a fake, but the evidence pointed to trickery—or at least enhancement.

  Simon gazed around the room. “This house looks like it was built in the twenties.” Besides being a TV writer, Simon was an architecture buff. He used to swoon every time Architectural Digest came to our L.A. apartment.

  “So?” Jackson said.

  “So that was right around Prohibition,” Simon said. “This system we’re looking at could have started out as a means of communication when a shipment of illegal liquor was due.” He pointed to the window next to the cabinet. “Someone could stand sentry here and, when a boat flashed its lights, give the signal to someone else to go out, meet the boat, and get the booze. I’m guessing that later Max adapted it to entertain his friends.”

  “Maybe. Let’s keep looking.” I walked over to the closet at the foot of the tub and opened the door.

  “Looking for another false back?” Jackson asked.

  “You read my mind.” I knocked on the wall behind the shelves of towels. “It sounds hollow.” I used my flashlight to examine the wall.

  “What are you doing?” Simon said as he came over. “Did you find something?”

  I began taking the towels off the shelves, stacking them on a vanity. Then Jackson pulled the empty shelves off the wall. He took a step closer and used his flashlight to examine the wall again. Finally, he pushed on the right side. He pushed again, and this time, with a noticeable click, a door opened.

  “Yes,” I said, finally answering Simon’s question. “We found something.”

  “It’s a secret passage.” Jackson stared at me in disbelief. “I’m beginning to think you really are Nancy Drew.” He shone his light inside. “And there’s a staircase.” He pushed away the fraying cobweb at the top of the stairs and stepped down.

  I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him down. The house still spooked me but not quite as much, now that I knew that some of what I had experienced were special effects. I was in a Gothic mansion, following a secret passage. This was almost fun.

  Simon trailed behind us as we continued down a gray-brick staircase that twisted and turned. The walls were also made of brick and looked medieval. The steps were worn and slippery, so I gripped the metal rail at every turn. The air was musty and dusty and I started coughing. As I descended, I could hear what sounded like mice or rats skittering ahead of me. Okay, I thought, not so much fun.

  Jackson stopped and directed his flashlight to the step in front of him. “I think someone was here before us. It’s a footprint. See?”

  I pointed my flashlight at the step. There, in the dust, was the faint outline of a shoe. “That’s a good clue.”

  “Could be. I’m thinking we should go back up so we don’t ruin the rest of the evidence if there is any.”

  “Wait a minute.” I pointed my flashlight at the metal rail and a feeling of dread swept through me once again. This was definitely not fun. There on the railing was a tufted piece of cerulean-blue thread. I sucked in a breath. “This is how they got Roger’s body to the beach. That’s the same color as the shirt that he was wearing.”

  At midnight, Jackson pulled his truck into a spot behind Nature’s Way and we got out. As I climbed the steps, I noticed that the large spotlight was on behind the Curious Kitten, the shop I had just visited on Monday. When I got to the deck, I looked over the fence. Arthur and Agatha Beasley were unloading boxes from a white truck. Several boxes were already by the back door.

  “Kind of late to be doing business,” I whispered to Jackson.

  “Let’s see if we can hear anything.” Jackson pulled me down so they couldn’t see us. Luckily, we could peer through the slats on the deck.

  Arthur reached into the truck and said, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” He glanced around nervously and carried a box to the bac
k door. He set the box down, opened the door, and put a trash can in front of it so it would stay ajar.

  “Oh, grow a pair, Arthur. It’s too late to turn back!” Agatha was carrying a smaller box. “This stuff is going to be worth a fortune, so stop your whining!”

  “Okay, okay.” Arthur pulled out another box, put it on the ground, and pulled down the rear door of the truck. The two of them went inside their store.

  “That was weird,” I said, opening the back door of Nature’s Way.

  “They’re obviously up to no good,” Jackson said, following me in. “But I’m not a cop anymore, and they’re not our problem. Let’s forget it for tonight. I want to see the dogs and go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “Good idea.” But, first I put the Beasleys on my suspect list.

  chapter fourteen

  Dr. Willow McQuade’s Healthy Living Tips

  Tea tree oil is a must-have for your natural remedy aromatherapy tool kit. It contains terpenes and other phytochemicals that are effective antiseptics and antifungals and are absorbed into the skin. You can use it diluted (pure tea tree oil can be irritating to the skin). Just mix it with an equal amount of water and use it to clean wounds, stings, and burns. In addition, it’s effective at treating fungal infections in the toes and fingernails. It’s also an important component in ointments, creams, and salves for treating athlete’s foot, acne, ringworm, jock itch, and shingles. For sinus and respiratory problems, such as sinus infections, cold, and flu, just inhale tea tree oil as steam. If you have dandruff, look for a shampoo with tea tree oil or put a few drops in your favorite shampoo.

  Yours Naturally,

  Dr. McQuade

  Thursday morning, while Jackson, Qigong, the doxies, Ginger, and Ginkgo stayed in bed, I threw on my yoga clothes and padded down to the yoga studio on the second floor.