THE HERBALIST (Books 1-5)

by Leslie Leigh

  “Most likely. But I have to say, this person, whoever they are, isn’t that bright.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, why would they so carefully wipe prints off of the bottle, then go looking for the bottle and leave full prints on several things?”

  “Like what things?”

  “Like the outside stair rail, an arm chair, the medicine cabinet, and the bathroom sink.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all they found. On the other hand, your prints were pretty much everywhere.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa said, blushing even though no one could see her.

  “I was trying to help her put everything back. The place had really been tossed.”

  “What? Melissa, you…”

  “Don’t even ask. It was just stupid. I’ll explain some time. So,” she said after some silence, “I’m getting a different picture.”

  “Go on.”

  “The place was really a mess. Drawers pulled out, items out of drawers, closets, cupboards standing open. Was he wearing gloves part of the time and not others? I don’t think so.”

  “Do you think perhaps the prints don’t belong to whoever tossed the place?”

  “I think that’s a possibility, but I also think it could have been the same person, but the person had possibly been a visitor earlier.”

  “Her mother?”

  “I guess we can’t rule that out.”

  “The prints aren’t on file. The only way they can get her prints is to arrest her.”

  There was a full minute of silence.

  “Melissa?”

  “You and I are just ordinary citizens, albeit concerned citizens. But I’m torn right now as to whether to tip the sheriff, so they can arrest her, putting her through a lot of hassle if they’re not hers—”

  “Or ignore it and let her get away with it?” Brian’s voice sounded incredulous.

  Melissa sighed deeply. “I don’t know. I need to sleep on it. I hired Kim today to work in the store.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Well, you would barely recognize her. It’s as if huge shackles have come off now that she’s not under her mother’s or James’s thumb. We had some pretty amazing conversations today. So, it may have been kind, but it was kind to me, too. I need help, and she seems pretty sharp. I also want to keep her close to me. There may be some rebound once the grief really sets in, and I want to be there to help her through it.”

  “Are you dodging the matter at hand?” Brian asked.

  “I guess so. Let me sleep on it. I’ll have an answer for you in the morning.”

  Chapter 13

  By the time she was finished with the Chelsea buns, Melissa had made up her mind that she needed to “leave no stone unturned” as she had told Brian was her usual modus operandi. She would have a talk with anyone who had come to either of their minds as a suspect before she reported anybody to the sheriff. She would start by calling Kim to find out who might have visited them.

  “Kim? Hi, it’s Melissa—”

  “Oh, Melissa! I’m so glad you called. I wanted to ask you to be the executor of Jim’s estate.”

  The request was unexpected, and Melissa didn’t know what to say. Her thoughts raced, and she realized that she would have reason to look into things more carefully if she agreed to the position.

  “I’m happy that you would ask me, Kim. I want to say yes—”

  “Good! I’ll let my lawyer know immediately then. But we will need to talk right away.”

  “That’s fine. I called because I want to talk to you, too.”

  “Can you come by now? I’m at the apartment, and I can actually fix you a cup of tea this time.”

  “Sure. I’ll be by in a few minutes.”

  # # #

  Melissa made a quick call to Brian to tell him of the most recent development—and of her decisions.

  “Is there anything I need to know about being the executor?”

  “There is a lot you need to know, but if you mean directly related to the case, it would give you an advantage to finding out what’s going on with the gallery and the paintings because, for one thing, it gives you the responsibility for safeguarding the paintings and any other assets.”

  “I see. Well, finding out more about what’s going on at the gallery is pretty much why I agreed to do it.”

  “Good. Maybe you should get a little aggressive on that track.”

  # # #

  “Has anyone talked to you about the results of the fingerprint dusting yesterday?”

  Kim shook her head.

  Melissa shared with her what Brian had revealed about the four sets of prints.

  “Do you think the fourth set would have been your mom?”

  Kim thought for a second. “I really doubt it,” she said. “I’m a neat freak, so I’ve dusted, polished, and scrubbed many, many times since my mother was here last.”

  “So, do you have regular visitors?”

  “No. We didn’t have any friends. Well, I didn’t, and we certainly didn’t have any friends as a couple. I think Jim probably made a couple of friends over at The Flying Pig. In fact…that’s right! Just a couple of days before Jim died, the bartender was here.”

  “The bartender at The Flying Pig?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which one?”

  “Oh. There’s more than one? Hmm…well, he was blonde, about your age, and a bit overweight.”

  “Derek Winslow?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know his name. Jim gave me ‘the look’ that said I needed to disappear, so I did.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe he might be the one who was giving Jim either the belladonna or the money?”

  Kim got a kind of faraway look in her eye. “I…I just don’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry that I was so afraid to ask questions.”

  “It’s all right, Kim. It is what it is. I’ll do some follow up. I’ll also do some follow up at the gallery.”

  “Oh, the gallery! That’s why I asked you here. One of the reasons I called you this morning was this,” she said, producing a letter in an envelope.

  “I’m not sure how long it’s been in my mailbox. It was postmarked about ten days ago.”

  “Who’s it from?” Melissa wanted to know.

  “From Brandon James, or I should say, from Brandon James’ lawyer. Apparently, Brandon is Jim’s younger brother.”

  Melissa took the envelope from her, scanning the contents. It was a statement to Kim about the brother being Jim’s next of kin and, thus, entitled to the proceeds from any of his work.

  “Apparently? You have never heard about this brother?”

  Melissa looked up at Kim’s face. She shook her head. “Everybody’s getting their finger in the pie,” she said. “The gallery owner, and now this Brandon.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Kim. As long as you can produce a legal marriage certificate, there will be no contesting your rights as next of kin, but I’ll have to see how this revelation impacts the estate. I don’t suppose Jim left a will.”

  Kim shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Did you ever find those receipts?”

  “Oh, I forgot to look. I can check right now.”

  She left and came back into the room looking through a sheaf of papers and receipts that she had in her hands.

  “Well, it looks like this is partly how he paid the rent anyway. Here are seven receipts where he sold them to Mr. Davis for five-hundred-dollars each.”

  She handed the receipts to Melissa and opened a folded piece of typing paper. Her eyes went wide, “Oh, my gosh,” she said, looking back and forth up and down over the paper—as if to be sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  “It says here that Jim borrowed twelve-thousand dollars from Mr. Davis, leaving security of twenty-four of his paintings if the debt was not repaid by,” she turned it over to look on the back, “December 31st of this year.”


  Melissa felt a little cold rush in her stomach. She thought, Does this implicate the gallery owner in some way in Jim’s death? Or is this why he asked the art dealer to come to town so quickly after his death?

  “When is the paper dated? I mean, when was the loan executed?” Melissa asked.

  “Two years ago. Again, shortly after we were married.”

  “Does it have any repayment terms?”

  She handed the document to Melissa.

  “Five-hundred dollars a month for twenty-four months. Wow. That’s pretty steep. Do you think he was paying it?” Melissa asked.

  “I can’t imagine how.”

  “And you have no idea what he would have used the money on?”

  “No, unless it was simply to pay our monthly expenses.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense if he had to pay it back at five-hundred a month. Whatever reason Jim did this must have been either desperation or the feeling that it would somehow bring him more money. Let me think on this and talk to Brian,” she said.

  Just then, Melissa’s phone rang. It was Vivian telling her that Mr. Corbin was waiting for her at the market.

  “I’ve got to run, Kim,” she said. “Believe it or not, I have an appointment with the art dealer. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Chapter 14

  As Melissa walked the short distance to the market, her head was spinning. So much new information—so much to sort out. She still had not found the whereabouts of George Hall, she didn’t know what was up with Mr. Davis and the art, she hadn’t talked to Debbie, and now two new complications—a never-before-heard-about brother, and, of all people, Derek Winslow.

  She had decided hours ago that she was going to talk to everyone and get it all sorted out, and after one conversation it was even more complicated. She felt stressed by the time she stepped into the market and realized she needed to center herself before she talked with Mr. Corbin.

  He was standing with his hands in his pockets when she came in. “Mr. Corbin!” she said. “I’m so glad you came. Can I get you some tea?”

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Do you have a particular type you’d like?”

  “Do you have an oolong or how about a nice, smoky Lapsang?” he asked.

  “Ah, a man with exquisite taste. I love Lapsang Souchong. Coming right up.”

  Melissa used the tea-making as an opportunity to breathe and center herself. She made them both a tall cup. Lapsang was an excellent sipping tea and would deepen her calm. By the time she brought the tea to the table, she felt more centered.

  “Were there any particular circumstances that seemed to exacerbate the anxiety?” she asked.

  “I had just turned 58,” he said, “and everything in my life just seemed to turn upside down. The things that I had formerly thrived on now seemed to overwhelm me completely.”

  “How old are you now?” Melissa asked.

  “I turned 60 this year.”

  “Fifty-eight is a difficult year for anyone,” she said. “It’s known as your second Saturn-return. It happens the first time at 29, and then again at 58. However, it usually begins to lighten up by the time 59 comes along.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Things did get better at 59, but it seemed like the health problems and the anxiety were perpetuated even after the circumstances ceased.”

  Melissa nodded. “Something created a major imbalance for you that simply needs some assistance to be restored.”

  She walked over to the Hyland’s display and chose a small bottle of Natrum Phos. She then went to the back to titrate and succuss a bottle of Quercus. Then, she returned to the table and sat down across from him.

  “The Nat Phos,” she said, holding up the small Hyland’s bottle, “is a cell salt designed to restore your homeostasis of health back to what it was before this began. This,” she continued, “is Quercus. It is designed specifically for spleen disorders. My instructions for how to take it is on the bottle—and just take the cell salt according to the printed instructions. I don’t know how familiar you are with the concept of homeopathy, but if I have somehow misdiagnosed you, it won’t harm you; it simply won’t work. However, I believe that you will find considerable relief in just a few days or two weeks at the most.”

  She took out her prescription pad and continued, “The Nat Phos can be purchased at pretty much any health store. The Quercus, you will either have to find a homeopath when you return to L.A., which I would definitely recommend, or you can go to a compounding pharmacy and give them this.”

  He nodded his head. “What do I owe you?” he said.

  “Actually,” she replied, “it would be most valuable to me if you could answer a few questions.”

  “Certainly,” he said. “Any way I can be of help.”

  “When did Mr. Davis first contact you about Mr. James’s work?”

  “I believe it was a little over a month ago now.”

  “And a busy man like you was able to accommodate him so quickly?”

  “Well, after James died, he felt it was urgent that I look at them before something happened to them.”

  “What could have happened to the ones he had in his possession?”

  “I think he was more concerned about the entire body of work.”

  “And what did he lead you to believe the entire body of work consisted of?”

  “At least twenty-four more paintings.”

  “At least?”

  “Well, he believes there are more, but he said he would have clear title to twenty-four more.”

  “Can you give me an idea what twenty-four, or no, thirty-two pieces of James Michael James’ work might be worth?”

  “Well, of course I haven’t seen them, but if they are of the same quality as the ones I’ve seen, I would say around ten million dollars.”

  Melissa had to stop herself from gasping. “With no provenance?”

  “Believe me, Ms. Michaelson. I know genius when I see it.”

  “And if you discovered there were a hundred more, would that devalue the collection?”

  “It depends. If they were distributed around like candy, yes, considerably. But if they were all together or in one or two private collections, no. I can’t even begin to tell you what the entire collection might be worth if I were able to acquire the whole thing.”

  He suddenly cocked his head to look at her. “Why, Ms. Michaelson? Are you aware of any such collection?”

  “So, is this a speculative market, Mr. Corbin?”

  “Not really. I am a very trusted expert in contemporary art. Basically, if I put my stamp of approval on a collection and write it up in a few magazines, it’s as good as money in the bank.”

  “So, even if something had no artistic merit, just your say so would make it worth a lot?”

  “Please, Ms. Michaelson. Don’t insult me. I would not do that. My artistic credibility would be on the line. I may be sixty, but I’m not looking to retire anytime soon. I love what I do, and with your good healing, I hope to be able to continue. What’s this about, Ms. Michaelson?”

  She wondered how much to reveal to him. She wasn’t really good at this sleuthing thing and was always upfront and open with everyone. She didn’t like to think about what she should or shouldn’t reveal to someone when it seemed in everyone’s best interest.

  “I realize you are probably in the dark on a lot of this. Perhaps everyone only has pieces of the whole. For instance, I don’t know whether you realize that Mr. James is barely cold in his grave, and someone has called you to appraise the collection. The estate is far from being settled, and there seems to be more than one claim to it. It’s not even clear what Mr. Davis owns and what he doesn’t.”

  Mr. Corbin was visibly disturbed at the revelation. “You are absolutely correct that I knew none of that.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I’m still glad we are setting up the art opening to begin to generate interest. I have invited prominent collectors from all over Arizona to come this weeke
nd.”

  “The only part that Mr. Davis rightfully owns is the seven pieces he has in his gallery. The twenty-four pieces are still in question. He loaned Mr. James twelve-thousand dollars which has to be paid by December 31st this year or he takes twenty-four paintings, less than a quarter of what remains.

  “Perhaps he felt that with Jim’s death, the twelve-thousand would not be forthcoming, and therefore the twenty-four paintings might revert to him immediately. There were payment arrangements, but the widow only discovered this loan yesterday and has not had time to find out how many payments may have already been made.”

  “His widow? I thought they were just living together.”

  “No. They were secretly married two years ago, but they told no one fearing her mother’s reaction.”

  “Oh, well, this certainly complicates things.”

  “Yes, and to complicate things further, a brother has written to lay claim to the estate. He also must have had no idea that James and Kim were married. Oh, and the reason I have been suspicious in all of this is that Kim and James’s apartment was broken into a couple of nights ago, and no one is completely clear what the perpetrator was looking for. I feared perhaps it was the paintings.”

  “Do you know Mr. Davis well, Ms. Michaelson?”

  “I don’t, really. I know him from the Catalonia Chamber of Commerce, but we haven’t had occasion to get to know each other.”

  “Just from this last couple of days, I think the only thing which he might be guilty of is over-eagerness. When there is a large amount of money at stake, people always become either anxious or over-eager.”

  “Perhaps then you can simply purchase his seven paintings at the time being and wait till everything settles out.”

  “What attracted me was the possibility of thirty-one paintings, and now that you suggest there could be even more, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to purchase the seven until I know how everything else is going to pan out. If the estate is not settled, that can tie things up for a long time.”

  “Yes. And since I have been named executor of the estate, it’s my obligation to see that the paintings remain secure.”

  “Might I be allowed to see them?”