Death Drops

by Chrystle Fiedler

  That sounded like Aunt Claire. Taking precautions, sort of. Like the hidey-hole in the floor. But unfortunately, she didn’t take them far enough.

  “Okay, I’ll look into it,” I said. “Right now, I’ve got to make a call.”

  “We just thought you should know.” Merrily got up and headed to the door. “I hate thinking she did this, but no one else was around. Unless it was a customer,” she added, and raised her eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s going on.” And put a nice pair of handcuffs on light-fingered Miss Janice.

  She nodded and the two of them went back into the store. I scrolled through Aunt Claire’s iPhone for McCarty’s number and called him. When he answered, I told him what I’d found.

  “This is great! You’ve found the stolen formula,” he exclaimed.

  Not so fast. “No, I don’t think so. These notes weren’t written by Aunt Claire. They were written by Neville. But I do think he might be trying to sell his research. Right now, he’s at a dermatology conference in Chicago; I thought you could send your man to check him out.” I gave him Neville’s hotel address. Penny had been only too happy to oblige.

  “Right away. And, Dr. McQuade, thank you.”

  chapter twenty

  Dear Dr. McQuade,

  I’ve heard that yoga can help keep you young. Are all forms of yoga good for this, or are some more helpful than others?

  Signed,

  Looking for the Fountain of Youth

  Dear Looking for the Fountain of Youth,

  All forms of yoga are beneficial to mind, body, and spirit. But if you want to try something new, consider laughter, or hasya yoga, created by an Indian doctor, Madan Kataria, MD, which is gaining in popularity in the U.S., India, and other countries. It not only boosts immunity but also helps depression. Research shows that twenty seconds of a good belly laugh equals three minutes on a rowing machine! Visit www.laughteryoga.org for more information. Laughter is indeed good medicine!

  Signed,

  Dr. Willow McQuade

  Before I could head upstairs, I got a return call from Mr. Matthews. I told him about Janice’s visit.

  “She just delivered a copy to me,” he said. “This is definitely going to delay settling the will. And I know you have operating expenses.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I need the estate to be settled so I can pay for the roof and keep this place going.”

  “Let me talk to her lawyer and see what I can do,” he said. “Try to remain calm.”

  I put the phone down and took a few deep breaths. I’d missed my yoga and meditation practice this morning. I decided to head upstairs and do some light stretches to try and focus. I also wanted to check on Nick.

  I found him sitting in the lotus position, facing the window that overlooked the bay. The low afternoon sunlight glinted off the water. People walked their dogs in Mitchell Park. A small boy flew a kite with his dad. The Shelter Island ferry plowed through the water, headed for the Greenport dock. Life as usual. But life without Aunt Claire was anything but.

  “Oh, Willow. Hi, honey.” Nick untangled his long legs, stood up, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  As I hugged him, I tried not to let my imagination get the better of me, but I definitely smelled liquor on his breath. His eyes were red-rimmed and rheumy-looking, and he seemed suddenly old, which made me sad. “Nick, you okay?”

  “I don’t think you could say that, no.”

  “You’re having a hard time, I know.” I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d seen Polly at his house or overheard their conversation.

  He sighed. “I could have done more.”

  I felt the knife twist. “We all could have done more.” I could easily go to the dark side myself, but I’d been focused on finding answers. Now that blackness threatened to descend again. Going to bed seemed like a good idea, but I didn’t have that luxury.

  Nick sat in the lotus position again. “I’d like to be alone if you don’t mind, Willow.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “Okay, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”

  I left him, thinking about how I could help him, and headed upstairs, as I told Hector I would.

  The bedrooms had been transformed. Allie’s work space was now bright and inviting, with her massage table pushed up next to the window that overlooked the harbor. She’d lit several candles, and the scent of magnolia blossoms filled the air. Miniature yellow roses bloomed from the vase Hector had found. The pink-and-yellow-flowered rug on the floor and the pink love seat fit in perfectly.

  “Oh, Allie, this is a treat,” I said. “It’s so you! Are you happy with it?”

  Allie hugged me. “Yes, yes! I’m so glad to be here. Hector is, too.” She took me by the hand and led me next door. Hector’s space was equally as inviting, with the mellow green walls, his treatment table, the new desk, a tan throw rug, and a vase filled with hot-pink gerbera daisies. Outside the windows, the canopy of trees infused the space with even more green.

  Hector smiled. “This is just perfect. Thank you, Willow, for the opportunity to practice here.”

  “I’d say this calls for a celebration,” Allie said. “Vine Bar, anyone? My treat.”

  That sounded like a great idea. But I needed to make a stop first. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Polly’s Peaceful Yoga did look peaceful. A class was in session, led by Polly, but I didn’t see Janice. Summoning up the nerve to confront her, I crossed the street and walked up the steps. As I entered the store, the class ended and Polly headed to the back of the studio. I craned my head around the corner. Gavin Milton, wearing a Powerhouse Gym T-shirt, stood at the back door, along with Dan Polumbo. Connection made.

  Polly went over to them and they began talking. I expected fireworks between her and Gavin, but the conversation seemed amiable, which was surprising considering their contentious divorce. Now everything seemed hunky-dory between them. Polly, who wore a skintight purple leotard that emphasized her breasts and butt, twirled her ponytail on the tip of her finger and gave him a big smile. Gavin leaned over and said something, then kissed her, and the two men left. A quick but telling visit.

  Polly spotted me, frowned, and came over to the counter. Along with herbs and supplements, I noticed that she also sold bee-based products, mostly soaps and candles. I wondered if she got them from Helen’s Organics. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  I’d been surprised to see Polly and Gavin acting so friendly. “I thought you two were divorced.”

  “So that means we can’t be friends?” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “Besides, it’s really none of your business.”

  I moved on to my next question. “So Gavin and Dan Polumbo are friends?”

  “That’s none of your business, either, but yes, they’re friends. They met at the gym when the Polumbos moved out here a few years ago. They were big fans of your aunt Claire. Until she almost killed their son.”

  “That was not her fault,” I said.

  “Of course you’d say that,” Polly replied, rolling her eyes. “But if it wasn’t for Gavin, Sue would have given up on natural remedies entirely. He made her a convert, despite what happened with Tad.”

  I wondered if Gavin had taught Sue well enough so she’d known how to poison the flower remedy that killed Aunt Claire.

  “So what do you want?” Polly said, impatient. “I’m busy.”

  The yoga studio was empty, and she had no customers. Okay.

  “I want to talk to Janice.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought she came over to see you this afternoon.”

  “She did. This is about something else. Where is she?”

  She shrugged. “Her shift is over. She went to the Vine Bar. But she’s not going to want to talk to you, I can tell you that.”

  I headed for the door. “I’ll take my chances.”

  When I reached the Vine Bar, Allie and Hector had already commandeered a table outside on the patio. The place had
a really nice energy despite the fact that Janice sat at the end of the bar. Rich reds and rustic browns dominated the decor, along with lots of green, leafy plants and flowerpots on the windowsills. Along the walls were framed colorful labels from various wineries, including brands from California and New Zealand. Of course, East End brands were represented, too, everyone from Pindar to Bedell Cellars to Paumanok.

  Outside, the patio featured black wrought-iron tables and chairs surrounded by a white picket fence covered in vines and twinkling white lights. Before it became the Vine Bar, the place had been a shambles, a house long since fallen into disrepair, but had been reborn, as many businesses in Greenport had been, thanks to the economic boom years past. Now tourism kept things going.

  Allie and Hector, who had staked out a large table on the patio, spotted me and waved. I waved back and walked over to Janice, who nursed a large glass of red wine.

  I ordered a glass of local pinot noir and sat down. “Janice.”

  She groaned. “I’m trying to relax. I don’t want to talk.”

  “We have a problem at the store.”

  “Another one? I’m surprised it’s still open, given that you know nothing about running one.”

  “Some money was stolen from the register. We noticed it after you came in.”

  Her face twisted into a frown. “Well, I didn’t take it. I don’t steal what’s not mine. Unlike you.”

  “The store is mine. This is what Aunt Claire wanted.”

  Her face became beet red as she shook with fury. “It’s my store! Stop saying that!”

  “I won’t, because it’s the truth. And you have to accept it.”

  “Accept this!” she said as she spilled the wine all over my jeans. She got up and stormed out.

  After I got a towel from the owner and dabbed off my pants, I went outside and updated Allie and Hector. They decided food was the answer and ordered a cheese platter, with bleu, Camembert, goat-milk Gouda, and crisp crackers. Eventually, I was able to relax, and talk turned to our future plans for the business. Yes, Janice, Aunt Claire’s murder, and the missing formula were still at the forefront of my mind, but just for a moment I wanted to put it aside. I tuned in to what Allie was saying.

  “I’ve put our new location on Facebook, so people can ‘like’ us, and on LinkedIn,” Allie said. “And I’m tweeting about it, too.”

  “We can do a YouTube video about our services at Nature’s Way as well,” Hector said. “It’s easy to do.”

  “Great,” I said. “On the low-tech front, I think we should go to the local chamber of commerce meetings.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Hector said. “We need to get to know everyone here.”

  We talked about the services they wanted to provide. Hector would be offering traditional acupuncture, which balances yin and yang and unblocks chi, the vital life energy. Acupuncture is also effective at reducing pain, inflammation, stress, and chronic conditions and even elevating mood. Allie had been trained in Swedish massage, developed in Stockholm hundreds of years ago and known to be fantastic for boosting the level of oxygen in the blood, releasing toxins, and improving circulation.

  “I’d also like to offer clients deep-tissue massage for knots and chronic muscle tension,” Allie said. Deep-tissue massage uses strokes across the grain of the muscles, rather than with the grain, as in Swedish massage. “It really helps to tamp down inflammation and eliminate scar tissue.”

  She sipped her cabernet. “I can do trigger point and hot stone therapy, too.” Trigger point massage therapy focuses on a tight area that refers pain to other parts of the body. A trigger point in the back, for example, can cause pain in the neck. Trigger point massage gets rid of toxins and releases those feel-good endorphins, which helps decrease pain. Hot stone therapy reduces muscle tension and stiffness and boosts circulation. Not to mention it feels so good.

  “I think this all sounds excellent for one Mr. Jackson Spade. I’m convinced you two can help him get better. You’ll just need to talk him through it, although he’s obviously open to the alternative healing route.”

  “I want to tell him about that new study in the Archives of Internal Medicine last year that showed acupuncture helps back pain better than pain meds and physical therapy,” Hector said. “It will give him more confidence in the method.”

  “Good thinking, Hector,” I said. The door to the patio opened and Jackson appeared. He headed down the stairs and over to us, looking a little less hunched but still uncomfortable.

  “We were just talking about how we can help you,” I said.

  “I hope you can,” Jackson said as he sat down next to me. “Merrily told me where you’d be.” He flipped open his pad.

  I looked at all his scribbling. “You’ve been busy,” I said. “Would you like a drink? Soda, seltzer?” The minute I said it, I realized my mistake. I knew Jackson was an alcoholic thanks to Mike. But he didn’t know I knew, and he probably didn’t want anyone else to know, either.

  But he just kept his head down and flipped through the pages. “I’ve still got more work to do, but from what I can tell, all of our suspects are still viable: Janice, Gavin, Polly, the Polumbos, Helen, Dr. Neville. The time of death was between ten and twelve last night. You dig up anything new?”

  I told him about the possibility that Janice was a thief and my visit to Polly’s Peaceful Yoga, where I saw Polly and Gavin together. “They may be divorced, but they aren’t enemies.”

  Jackson chewed the end of his Bic pen. “It’s possible they were working together to drive Claire out of business. When that didn’t happen fast enough, they killed her. And stole the formula.”

  “Exactly.” I sipped the pinot noir. “Plus, Polly gets the extra bonus of ending up with Nick. At least in her own mind.”

  Jackson pointed to my wrist, still in the cast. “Whoever it is, now they’re after you. The note telling you to get out, hitting you on the head, cutting the brake lines, running you off the road, even that fish in the box. You’re going to need to continue being careful. We don’t know what’s going on here. Nichols may have been behind all of this or just some of this. So don’t let down your guard. Period.”

  “He’s right,” Allie said, taking a swallow of her wine. “You shouldn’t be alone. Ever.”

  The front gate opened and two men entered. One of them was the unpleasant man from the puppy store, and the other was a rough-looking guy who seemed vaguely familiar. I lowered my voice as they walked past us. “This guy should be on the list, too. We had a kind of run-in the other day. They’re trying to open a pet store, and Aunt Claire and her friends were against it.” We watched as the two men went inside the bar.

  “Stay here,” Jackson said. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Allie nodded toward Jackson as he walked away. “Not to repeat myself, Willow, but yum-my.”

  She was absolutely right, of course. His butt looked fantastic in his jeans, and his broad shoulders were to die for. I felt a buzz of electricity as I watched him climb the stairs and go inside. Allie gave me a pointed look and I felt myself blush. “He’s very helpful. And very nice.”

  “He’s nice all right,” Allie said, and drank some of her wine.

  Hector nodded and gave me a knowing smile. “Yes, very nice.”

  We continued our discussion about the ins and outs of our new business venture until Jackson returned five minutes later carrying a glass of what looked like seltzer and lime.

  “That was quick,” I said as he sat down again.

  “They gave me lots of attitude but no info,” Jackson said. “I’ll have to go another way.”

  “Another way?” I asked.

  “Let me worry about it,” he said.

  I was about to say that I’d shared all my info with him and he needed to reciprocate so we were on the same page when Simon rounded the corner.

  “Willow!” he yelled as he came through the gate. Dressed in a Greenport T-shirt, khaki shorts, and Jack Purcell sneakers and wearin
g retro Ray-Bans, he made a beeline for our table, carrying a thick sheaf of papers. His nose was black-and-blue and still swollen, but he seemed in good spirits, surely due to the painkillers he was taking. He dropped into a chair on the other side of me, pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, and put the manuscript and a copy of the New York Times and Newsday down on the table.

  “You come here to work?” I said. “Starbucks seems like a better idea.”

  “That’s what you say,” Simon said. “This is more fun.” He said hi to Allie, whom he knew from her visits to L.A., then looked at Hector and Jackson. “So, introduce me.”

  “Simon, this is Hector Solo and Jackson Spade,” I said, gesturing to them. “Jackson’s helping me look into Aunt Claire’s murder.”

  “Oh, that again,” he said. “I hope you can convince her it’s not her job to get involved. She doesn’t know anything about running a store, let alone solving a murder.”

  “I think McQuade can do whatever she sets her mind to,” Jackson said.

  I savored the gooey, warm feeling his compliment gave me. The fact that he believed in me was definitely a huge plus in his favor.

  Simon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to like it at all. Instead of responding, he pointed to the newspaper. “That cop Koren told a reporter that they didn’t think the events were random and that there was a personal motive. He said that the public shouldn’t be alarmed. That they had it all under control. It sounds like they know what they’re doing.”

  “We’re not sure about that,” Jackson said. “As a former cop—”

  “You said it, buddy, former, as in not now,” he said in a snarky tone. “You two better leave it to professionals.” He opened the wine menu. “So, what are we having, kids?”

  I pointed to my glass of wine. “We’re all set. And I’m not sure you should be drinking while you’re on those painkillers.”

  He waved that suggestion away and called over a short, stocky busboy with a peach fuzz beard who was clearing an adjacent table. His name tag read Tad and I wondered if this was Dan and Sue’s son. I’d pictured him as a young, innocent boy, but he was anything but. He looked dark and brooding, menacing even.