THE HERBALIST (Books 1-5)

by Leslie Leigh

  “I’ll talk to Kim, and I’ll encourage her to allow it.”

  “Thank you. That would be greatly appreciated.”

  “So the best expediting I can do is to try to get to the bottom of the loan repayment situation, and also to deal with the previously unknown brother. Of course, as his wife, in the absence of a will, the entire estate would revert to her. But, as you say, all this will take time.”

  “Would you mind walking over to the gallery with me to explain all this to Mr. Davis? Perhaps he will also be forthcoming about the details of the loan if he knows that Mrs. James most likely retains all claims.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I was afraid that Mr. Davis would just dodge my questions, but perhaps with the two of us, as well as the weight of the executorship, he’ll come clean, so to speak.”

  “What do I owe you for the tea and the medicines?” he asked.

  “I’d love to say they were on the house, but it could be considered some type of collusion over the paintings.”

  He chuckled. “I understand.”

  “I’ll write you up a receipt for $47.50—$25.00 for a consult, $20.00 for the two remedies, and $2.50 for the tea.”

  “Thank you.”

  He paid Flora at the register, and they proceeded to the gallery.

  Chapter 15

  “Mr. Davis,” Mr. Corbin began, “Ms. Michaelson has been appointed as executor of the James estate. She has some questions for you. May we sit down?”

  They moved toward the small grouping of leather, post-modern chairs with a matching glass-topped table in the midst of them.

  “Mr. Davis,” Melissa began, “I have a question regarding the twenty-four paintings that were to come to you in the event that Jim James defaulted on the loan you made to him.”

  The gallery owner was obviously surprised and a bit uneasy at Melissa’s question. “How many payments were made toward that loan over the twenty-two months since the loan was contracted?”

  “Well, there were n-no complete payments made.”

  “Let me rephrase the question then. Of the twelve-thousand dollars that Jim James borrowed from you, how much has been repaid?”

  “I would have to look at my books to know that.”

  “But you do agree that payments have been made?”

  Mr. Davis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could see that Melissa already had far more information than he had anticipated, and that he needed to proceed very carefully.

  He cleared his throat, and his glance flitted over their faces. “Yes.”

  “So, you contracted for twenty-four paintings each at five-hundred dollars in the event that the loan was not paid in full by the end of this year.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Then, if you have already received payments, why would you lead Mr. Corbin to believe that you had twenty-four painting coming to you.”

  Now, Mr. Davis looked vexed. “I think you misunderstood the terms, Ms. Michaelson. It was set up so that no matter how much was paid, if it wasn’t paid in full by December 31st that those twenty-four paintings would revert to me.”

  “Well, that hardly seems fair,” Melissa said.

  “Fair or not, those were the terms.”

  “So, when Mr. James died, you believed that the paintings would automatically revert to you.”

  He stirred uncomfortably, but he responded, “Yes.”

  “Why, because you assumed that his widow wouldn’t be able to pay for the paintings in full?”

  “His widow?”

  “Yes. The person you know as Kimmie Thompson is actually Kim James, Mrs. James Michael James.”

  Mr. Davis shifted again in his seat.

  It was Mr. Corbin’s turn to speak. It was a good thing he spoke gently because his words were anything but. “It seems, Mr. Davis, that you have made promises to me under false pretenses.”

  “I wouldn’t say false pretenses—perhaps simply under uncertain circumstances.”

  “Well, those uncertain circumstances amount to false pretenses, I’m afraid.” Mr. Corbin looked sad.

  “Why would you not wait until the estate had been settled, Mr. Davis?” Melissa asked.

  “I…I guess I didn’t think there would be much contest. No next of kin to deal with.”

  Melissa shook her head. “Not only is there a widow, but there is also a brother who has laid claim to the estate.” There were a few seconds of silence. “Come to think of it, I would have to check dates, but perhaps that’s one of the reasons James married Kim—to protect the paintings once he had taken the loan.”

  “Mr. Davis, I want to go ahead with the showing because I believe it can generate a lot of interest in James’s work. However, understandably, I’m interested in the collection as a whole, so I won’t purchase it until the estate is settled.”

  Mr. Davis was upset, jumping out of his chair. “I’m out a huge amount of money over this installation, and for what?”

  “Under certain circumstances, Mr. Davis, I would probably share some of the expense with you, but you truly lured me with the promise of something to which you had no sure claim.”

  “Well, maybe you should have asked for more proof.”

  Mr. Corbin’s eyes widened. “You may be right, Mr. Davis, but actually, the burden of proof lies on the one making the claim to own the property.”

  Mr. Davis set his jaw. Melissa watched the exchange.

  “Well, I could just not finish the installation.”

  Mr. Corbin waved dismissively. “You could do that, but the quicker we garner interest in the work, the quicker you will get your cut once the estate is settled. You are out, what, twelve-thousand dollars right now. Do you realize that if you wait until the estate is settled, if I am able to purchase the entire collection that your seven paintings will be worth around two million dollars to you?”

  Mr. Davis’ eyes bulged, and then he said, “And what if I just sold you the seven I have right now?” Mr. Davis looked disgusted. “And what if there were no more collection. What if it all was just a figment of Mr. James’ deranged mind, and this is all that exists?”

  Melissa intervened. “If you two wish to discuss this between yourselves later, that’s fine. I have other things requiring my attention right now,” she said, standing and preparing to take her leave. “I just have one more thing for you to think about, Mr. Davis. Mr. James was not deranged. He may have been suffering from a light psychosis, but Mr. Corbin has actually hit the nail on the proverbial head. Mr. James’ paintings were influenced by nightshade.”

  Both men showed surprise at that. Mr. Corbin was surprised and pleased, while Mr. Davis was both surprised and even more irritated.

  Melissa continued, “So, if you thought you could bamboozle everyone into thinking he was simply a nutcase who had given you his collection in a fit of despair, you’re sorely mistaken. We have every reason to believe that James’s death was neither suicide nor accidental, nor was he murdered by a beleaguered spouse. Good day, gentlemen.”

  She didn’t wait for Mr. Davis’s reaction that time. She simply turned and walked out.

  She walked down the street, just a little way to her house. She had a headache by the time she got there. She got a drink of water, then sat down on her couch, leaning back and closing her eyes. Sweet Pea jumped up beside her. She opened one eye to look at her, and the cat was looking at her questioningly and compassionately. She curled up with her back to Melissa, purring as she rubbed herself on Melissa’s leg. Then, turning onto her back, she stretched up with her paws, pawing the air as if beckoning Melissa.

  “Awww…you’re so sweet,” Melissa said, rubbing the kitty’s tummy.

  She allowed herself to rest like that for several minutes until she could feel the headache beginning to recede. Then, she opened her eyes and picked up her phone.

  “Melissa! Bring me up to date,” Brian said immediately.

  She told him about the brother, the loan, and the possibility of Winslow being invol
ved.

  “I’m pretty sure I can handle dealing with the brother and the loan stuff, some of that is just paperwork, but I really need to go out to The Flying Pig, and it’s only Wednesday.”

  “You may be able to deal with the brother on a legal basis, but have you given any thought to the fact that the brother could have been the one to break in?”

  “No. Why would he do that?”

  “I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t completely rule out that possibility, either.” A moment of silence ensued as they both processed their thoughts. “I’m afraid either you or Kim or maybe even both of you could be in danger considering all that’s just been uncovered. I’m coming down.”

  Melissa felt immediate relief. “I’d be really grateful for that, Brian. When do you think you’ll come?” she asked.

  “Tonight,” he said. “I’ll leave here in less than a half hour.”

  # # #

  For the next hour, Melissa busied herself marinating tuna steaks, washing freshly picked romaine, and doing small household tasks as she waited for Brian. When he pulled up, she saw him through the door which was open to let in the warm Indian summer evening.

  She opened the door for him. He was laden with market bags, but he set them down and swept her into an embrace. She loved the feel of his larger frame around her smaller one, and the familiar light scent that was Brian.

  He had brought wine from AJ’s—along with Greek olives, yogurt, and pita bread.

  “Perfect!” she exclaimed. She pulled a cucumber from a basket on her kitchen counter, shredded it, pressed three cloves of garlic, and stirred it all into the yogurt. She toasted the pitas in the oven while Brian heated the grill. She assembled the salads, now the main dish instead of the side, layering the romaine with fresh tomatoes, more cucumber, generous slices of feta, and olives. She topped the salad with freshly ground oregano, then sliced the toasted pita into triangles and served it up with the yogurt dip.

  She handed the tuna steaks to Brian with instructions to sear them on both sides quickly on the hot grill, and in less than ten minutes, he was pouring wine, and they were sitting down to eat.

  “This looks fabulous,” he said.

  “No self-respecting Greek would eat lettuce with their Village Salad,” she said, “but I wasn’t about to let that succulent romaine go to waste.”

  “Ohhh,” he said, taking a bite of tuna. “Heavenly.”

  “It’s my favorite entrée, the healthiest, and the quickest and easiest thing I could possibly do.”

  “I don’t think I’ve had grilled tuna before, other than in a sushi roll. This is really great.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Secret’s in the sauce,” she said, and they both laughed at the quote from Fried Green Tomatoes.

  She couldn’t help steal glances at him as they ate. He is so handsome! His dark auburn hair, blue eyes and cleft chin. Brian Byrne. I bet that at one time the family name was O’Byrne.

  “Do you originally hale from Boston area?” she asked.

  “No, Canada, believe it or not.”

  “My great-grandparents immigrated, and they just kept coming south until they came to Arizona. There were a lot of Welsh and Irish here in the nineteenth century.”

  “And Byrne, what does it mean?”

  “Some say it’s ‘Son of Bran’ which it most likely is, and some the son of the bear, which is likely the same thing. Bran as historical figure as well as mythological was said to be a ‘bear of a man.’”

  “Hmm...,” she said. “You seem to have lost the bear look.”

  “Wait till you see me sometime with three or four days’ worth of beard on my face. You might change your mind.”

  She laughed.

  “So what’s your plan,” he asked.

  “First, I’m going to call Kim’s mother and suggest that she voluntarily have herself fingerprinted—in order to eliminate her as a suspect.”

  “All right. So, supposing she agrees, and is eliminated, then what?”

  She paused, wine glass in hand, and said, “Then, I think the next thing to do is to talk to both Debbie and Derek Winslow and ask them to do the same.”

  “That might be a slightly harder sell,” he said.

  “I’m aware of that, which is why I asked you to go with me.”

  “When do you want to do that?”

  “Tomorrow, midday? The Flying Pig doesn’t seem like the kind of place that would serve breakfast, but we’ll have to get there either before or after lunch.”

  “Oh, yes, because there was such a rush the last time we were there for lunch.”

  She laughed again, this time doing a mock punch on his bicep. He did a slow-mo reaction as if he was going to fall from his chair.

  “I’m glad you came tonight,” she said, “I wouldn’t have been half as entertained.”

  He smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I’ll call Kim’s mother right after dinner. Or, better yet, I’ll call Kim and have her call her mother. She might do it for Kim where she might be more resistant to a request from me.”

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “Have you ever found George Hall?”

  “I haven’t been by his place for a week or so.”

  “We can get out the computer tonight and do a little recon on Brandon James. Where is he from?”

  “The letter was postmarked from Indiana.”

  “Indiana. Another place where Jim’s art would have been highly undervalued, I’m sure.”

  “Most likely.”

  Melissa called Kim, and she said she’d call her mother right away, and that she would gladly accompany her to the sheriff’s office tomorrow if she agreed.

  “Okay,” Melissa said, disconnecting the call and turning to Brian. “One less task for me.”

  “Wanna do dueling laptops?” he asked.

  “Sure!” she said. “We’ll cross-reference, so we’re not searching the same databases.”

  They retreated to the living room, each with a glass of wine and their laptops.

  “Let’s start with Google,” he suggested. “If the letter came from Indiana, chances are he’s in Indiana.”

  “I keep seeing reference to one who is a wrestler, but it looks like—”

  “He weighs 120 pounds and is 14.”

  “Oh,” she laughed. “Not likely him.”

  After ploughing through several pages in which Brandon James became and first and middle name instead of first and last, they decided to try something else.

  “Let’s try a couple of the databases,” he said. “The ones I usually use are Intelius and Pipl—p-i-p-l.”

  “You take the first, and I’ll take the latter,” she said.

  After twenty minutes of silence, they both looked up. “Nothing,” they both agreed.

  “Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way,” he said. “Let’s see if we can come up with James’s birth records, then maybe we’ll have a clue to Brandon’s.”

  “Where in Indiana?”

  “I think the letter was posted in Gary, but that doesn’t mean that’s the place of birth.”

  “Can you call Kimmie?”

  “Kim,” Melissa said, as she put in Kim’s number.

  “Oh, Kim. Okay.”

  “No wonder we can’t find them,” Melissa said after a brief conversation. “Jim was born in Vermont, a little town named Middlesex.”

  “Let’s start by finding out what county that’s in. Okay. So, let me look in the county records. Birthdate?”

  “September 12, 1989.”

  “Ah, a Christmas baby.”

  “In September?”

  “Conception, dear, conception.”

  She laughed. “Did you figure that out that fast, and why?”

  “I had a sister who was one. The most stubborn Virgo I ever met. My mom and dad used to joke that too much Christmas cheer could lead to a lifelong headache.”

  “Oh, that’s hilarious,” she said.

  “Found him! James Mich
ael James, born to Ted and Rita James.”

  “So see what you can find about Brandon.”

  “Won’t be so easy. I matched Jim up by birthdate. I don’t suppose we have any such info on the brother.”

  “No. We don’t even know whether he’s older or younger.”

  “Well, we can go back to the databases now that we have Vermont as another place to look.”

  Just then Melissa’s phone rang.

  “Melissa!” Kim said, excitedly. “Oh, first, my mom said no problem about the fingerprints, but in digging for more info on the loan, I found Jim’s will!”

  “Fabulous!” Melissa emoted. “What does it say?”

  “It leaves everything to me—his sweet and longsuffering wife,” she said, breaking in with a sniffle.

  “That’s what it says? Those very words?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Awww. He must have known what he put you through, Kim.”

  “Anyway, this makes it easier for probate, right?”

  “Absolutely. Anything the brother gets will be at your sole discretion.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said. “Talk to you soon.”

  “I got the drift of that conversation,” Brian said, “so I ran through the obits. Both his parents are deceased. They died in a car accident seven years ago, and are survived by their sons Brandon and James, both of Sterling, Ohio.”

  “So, in the ensuing seven years, then, one brother ended up in Indiana and the other in Catalonia.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Okay. Also, did you get that Kim’s mom will go for fingerprinting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to drive by George Hall’s tonight and at least see whether there is a light on in his house?”

  “No, I think that’s enough sleuthing for one night,” he said, setting his laptop on the coffee table and closing the lid on hers. “I have better plans,” he said, sliding over next to her.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, they met and headed to Nogales. Melissa had left the store in Flora and Vivian’s capable hands. Vivian had said that Kim was doing very well as a new employee, and that she would help pricing new stock the next time she came in. Melissa let her know Kim was taking her mother for fingerprinting in Nogales and that it could be an all-day affair.