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

by Chrystle Fiedler

  Rick was back on-site within the hour. I knew this because he radioed me at the cottage and asked me to bring him a smoothie, since he was finding it difficult to eat. When I arrived back at the big house, Jackson had just arrived with the doxies, and they were running around the front lawn with Qigong, happy to be outside. Jackson was talking to Amanda and Rick, who now sported a bandage on his nose.

  I handed Rick the smoothie. “How are you feeling? That looks pretty bad.”

  “They took X-rays—it’s definitely broken—and gave me painkillers, which help. I owe Tom one.” He took a sip of the smoothie. “Hey, there’s MJ. She’ll want to see your dogs, Jackson.” Rick pointed to the golf cart in the distance. It looked as if Lucas was driving. “Then we’ve got work to do.”

  A few minutes later, MJ climbed out of the cart and went over to Rick. “You look awful, honey. Are you okay?”

  “The ER doc says he’ll look worse tomorrow,” Amanda said.

  “I’m okay,” Rick said. “But I don’t know what we’re going to do about Tom.”

  “He seems determined to self-destruct,” Jackson said. “That’s not easy to stop.”

  “Jackson’s right, honey,” MJ said. “But I don’t feel good about just cutting him loose. Then he might really do something desperate. I’ll talk to him about getting into treatment, though I don’t know if he’ll listen.” She looked at the dogs. “And who do we have here?”

  “These are the dogs we rescued. This is Rockford.” Jackson pointed to the bigger of the two doxies. “And this is Columbo.”

  “You named them after detectives, just like you. How clever.” MJ bent down and petted the dogs. “Aren’t you the cutest little things? How could anyone be mean to you?”

  “I’m glad you told us about them,” Jackson said to MJ.

  MJ gave him a gracious smile. “I knew they were in distress. It would have been a crime not to try to help them.”

  Lucas got out of the golf cart, holding a plate of brownies covered in clear wrap and a small bound book. “Mom heard what happened and she made these for you, Rick.”

  “Please thank her for me.” Rick peeled off the wrap, took a brownie, and scarfed it down. “Good stuff. Anyone else?”

  “And here’s the book you were asking about,” Lucas said to Amanda. “Mom says to keep it as long as you want.”

  Amanda looked a little uncomfortable and quickly tucked the book under her arm. Jackson caught the motion, looked at me, and mouthed, “More research?”

  “Okay,” Rick said. “Time to get back to work. We’re burnin’ daylight.” He turned to MJ. “Do you want to go back into the library today, so you can try to talk to Max again? I know you wanted to shoot at night, but we have time now and we need to catch up.”

  “We can do it now, but I want to try and talk to Daniel in the study first. He won’t be in the library, because that’s where Max hangs out. I’ve made contact with Max and Rebecca, but I need to contact Daniel to get a complete picture of activity here.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Rick said.

  I didn’t need to see patients until later in the day, so I decided to stick around for the Friday-afternoon shoot. Jackson, though, needed to guard the door, so I was on my own. I entered the mansion and found Mrs. Florrick in the hallway, using an old-fashioned feather duster to clean the light fixtures in the hallway. I stopped to check on her. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Florrick? Did the horse-chestnut cream help your varicose veins?”

  She actually smiled at me. “Yes, I’m much improved. Thank you.”

  Pierre and Rick passed us, heading for the study. “I’m telling you he needs to go,” Pierre was saying. “I can’t work with him, Rick. He disrupts everything.”

  Rick pointed to his nose. “You think I’m happy about him being here? But he does have a contract signed by Roger.”

  Mrs. Florrick watched them walk away, shaking her head. “I’m not happy about having this TV crew in my house. I can’t wait for them to leave.”

  “What do you think of what MJ is doing?”

  She shrugged. “I’m surprised that Max is hanging around. Rebecca and Daniel I’ve seen more than once. They can’t seem to move on.” Not for the first time, I was impressed that Mrs. Florrick saw the ghosts, too, and didn’t seem to be bothered by them, whereas I felt something sinister in the house, and even MJ had been rattled by Max’s ghost.

  “Where have you seen Daniel?” I asked.

  “He appears in different parts of the house, but he always returns to the scene of his death, the upstairs bathroom. If MJ wants to talk to him, that’s where she should do her reading.”

  I left Mrs. Florrick and walked to the doorway to the study. I wanted to tell MJ what Mrs. Florrick had said about Daniel, but MJ was talking with Rick, Carly, and Pierre while Sarah touched up her makeup.

  I noticed Amanda in the corner, reading the book that Lucas had given her. Rick called for her and she left the book on a table by the window. I started toward the table, wanting to at least see the title, but the group finished talking, and Amanda walked back over to get her book and headed out of the room. Was she going up to the third-floor bathroom? Pierre, Rick, and Carly went over to the television monitor and sat on stools that faced it. Sarah came and stood next to me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her. “That thing with Tom was rough.”

  “I’m fine.” Sarah said, her voice was cool. “Excuse me.” She walked out of the room and into the hall.

  “I need quiet on the set,” Pierre yelled. “Action!”

  MJ began to circle around the study as she had done before. “I’m back again, my spirit friends. This time I’d like to talk to Daniel Russell, who used to be the caretaker for the Bixby estate. Daniel, are you here?”

  MJ continued to pace around the room. “Daniel, dear. I need to talk to you.” She waited a few moments and turned to look into the camera. “Sometimes this happens. Psychic readings aren’t like just turning on a TV. The spirits have to want to make contact.” She smiled but she looked uncomfortable. “Let’s try again. Daniel Russell, please answer me. Daniel? Please show yourself.”

  She waited another moment, closed her eyes. “Max? Rebecca? Are you here?” She waited some more, then finally opened her eyes and yelled, “Cut!”

  Rick hustled over to her. “MJ, what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t connect. It’s extremely frustrating.”

  “Let’s take a break, everyone,” Rick said.

  “But we just got started.” Pierre sounded annoyed.

  “Take five,” Rick said, ignoring him.

  MJ sat down in one of the leather chairs, and I went up to her. “MJ, I was talking to Mrs. Florrick, and she said that you might have better luck communicating with Daniel if you go upstairs to the third-floor bathroom where he drowned. She said she’s seen him there before, that he keeps returning to that place.”

  MJ took my hand. “Sweetheart, I have to go where the vibe takes me.”

  Fortunately, Rick agreed with me. “Hon, a reading in the bathroom is just too good to pass up in terms of the wow factor. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” He called Pierre over. “We’re going to move up to the third-floor bathroom.”

  But at that moment Detective Koren and Detective Coyle entered the study with Jackson and two men wearing jumpsuits, gloves, and carrying large suitcases. Definitely crime techs. “That’s not going to happen,” Koren said as he motioned to the stairs. “We’re not done up there yet.”

  Since Koren and Coyle had interrupted the shoot, Pierre decided to shift gears and do close-ups of MJ discussing her feelings about the Bixby mansion and her conversations with Max and Rebecca. The plan was to shoot in the upstairs bathroom that night if Koren okayed it.

  “What are Koren and his techs doing back here?” I asked Jackson when we were back outside.

  “He’s obviously going to have the crime techs go over the room again before he releases it. I don’t know what he thinks he’s go
ing to find this time. I hope that Simon didn’t touch anything when we visited.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “We were all wearing gloves.” I looked at my watch. “I need to head back to the cottage. I have clients to see.”

  “Don’t forget dinner,” Jackson said. “I’ve made reservations for seven at the Lobster Claw.”

  The Lobster Claw was a new restaurant in Greenport. They had opened in July, but neither of us had been there yet, and I was looking forward to trying it. “Can’t wait,” I said, and kissed him. “Keep me posted on Koren, okay?”

  “Yes, dear.” Jackson smiled.

  I went around to the back of the mansion to get the golf cart. As I did, I noticed Amanda coming out the back door. She still had the borrowed book under her arm. She saw me, waved, and went into the production trailer. On impulse, I decided to follow her.

  I climbed the steps to the trailer and found the door open. Inside were two long tables, one on either side of the trailer. Several laptops were on the tables, along with a few desktop machines, cell phones, an adding machine, two overflowing ashtrays, stacks of copy paper, and a flurry of candy wrappers. A cooler on the floor held dozens of cans of lemon-lime soda.

  Amanda was the only one in the trailer and sat at the end of the table that faced the mansion. She was animatedly talking to someone on her cell phone while sipping a Red Bull. “No, I really think she knows.” She listened. “No, I don’t feel safe here. Not after what happened.” She saw me, said, “Call you back,” and put down the phone. “Hi, Willow. Do you need something?”

  The book she’d borrowed from Sheila Russell was on the table next to her laptop, and now I was close enough to read the title: Notes from the Lavender Farm. Was this a journal or a history of the lavender farm?

  “I was just wondering if you knew if you were going to be able to shoot tonight,” I said. “I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Don’t know yet. The police are still up there.” Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up again. “Go for Amanda.” She got up and walked to the front of the trailer. As she did, I moved a little closer to the desk and the book. While Amanda kept talking, I picked up a ruler and used it to draw the book toward me, inch by inch. I had almost moved it to the edge when Amanda ended the call and turned to face me. I quickly hid the ruler behind my back.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, I’m good,” I said.

  She turned around and made another call. That was all I needed. I pulled the book toward me, grabbed it, and stuffed it in the top of my pants, pulling my T-shirt over it. Thank goodness it was a small book. I walked up to her, mouthed, “Thank you,” and left the trailer. She would realize soon enough that the book was gone and that I had probably taken it, so I scurried behind the mansion, found a golf cart, took off, and didn’t stop until I reached the cottage.

  chapter seventeen

  Dr. Willow McQuade’s Healthy Living Tips

  Anxiety can make you feel as if you’ve had ten cups of coffee! Recently I showed the students in my aromatherapy seminar how to make stress-relieving smelling salts with lavender. This is another variation that is effective. Make it and carry it with you to de-stress on the go.

  4 drops of ylang-ylang oil

  7 drops of mandarin oil

  2 drops of vetiver oil

  Yours Naturally,

  Dr. McQuade

  The book was a journal written by James Russell, Lucas’s father and Daniel Russell’s son. Unfortunately, the handwriting was pretty illegible. Interestingly, it also contained drawings of the lavender farm, the garden, and objects from the shore, like shells and starfish. James had also noted what the weather was like for each day with crude markings, such as a sun or half sun or a cloud with raindrops. James had started the journal a year ago, which meant he probably had something to say about Max’s death. But on the date of his passing, April 22, the page was blank except for a little sun symbol.

  I flipped through the book again, looking for any mention of Daniel, Rebecca, or Max but didn’t find anything. I checked my watch again. My first client would be here any minute. I closed the book and shoved it into my bag so I could show it to Jackson later.

  I spent the next few hours Friday afternoon focusing on my clients. I gave the stressed-out production secretary, Sally, a bottle of lavender essential oil and told her to take ten deep inhalations. I suggested that the electrician, Billy, who suffered from osteoarthritis, try cayenne-pepper cream to decrease the amount of a neurotransmitter, called substance P, which relays pain messages to the brain.

  When I was done seeing patients, I checked my messages. A text from Jackson said he was taking his dogs home and would meet me at the Lobster Claw.

  Not an hour later, I was showered and wearing a new little, black linen dress, spiky black heels, and a silver necklace with a peace sign that had been Aunt Claire’s. I chose an oversize, black, antique clutch I’d found at a yard sale, mostly because I knew I could fit James Russell’s journal in it. I fed the animals and settled them into the upstairs bedrooms, locked the doors, and headed downstairs. When I reached the first floor, I found a note from Merrily on the counter: We sold out of Fresh Face cream today! Need to order more ASAP! Congrats!

  I had always believed that Aunt Claire’s special herbal anti-aging formula would be a big seller. I hoped this was an indicator of how it was faring nationwide.

  I headed for the door, feeling good about the sales of the cream and my intimate dinner with Jackson. But I hadn’t had time to get him a present. He loved to read, so I decided to go next door to the Curious Kitten and see if they were still open.

  The books I had seen in the window a few days ago were gone, but the door was propped open. I stepped inside. “Anyone here?”

  Arthur hustled out of the back and came to the counter. “Ms. McQuade! How is my new neighbor?”

  “I’m looking for a nice copy of a detective mystery, maybe Raymond Chandler? I don’t have enough money for a first edition. But it looks like you sold most of those.”

  “We’re always getting more in.”

  “How do you acquire them?” I still wondered if they had come from the estate and what that might mean.

  “Various ways,” he said, leading me briskly toward a bookcase that was marked MYSTERIES.

  I thought about the story I’d read in the Suffolk Times about the string of burglaries on the North Fork. Were they stocking their store by stealing?

  “I’ve got plenty of choices for you.” He studied the shelves, then pulled out a copy of The Long Good-Bye with a blue-and-green cover but no dust jacket. “This is a first US edition but a second printing from 1954. I can let you have it for, say, ninety-five dollars? That’s a good price.”

  “That sounds fine.” Knowing that Fresh Face was selling in the store allowed me to breathe a bit more easily about money. That, and the money I was making at the estate this week. “Can you wrap it?”

  He walked back over to the counter. “I can put it in one of our silver bags.” He showed me an elegant-looking bag with THE CURIOUS KITTEN embossed on it. “Will this work?”

  “Great.” I paid for the book, said good-bye, and walked a few blocks down Front Street to the Lobster Claw. Jackson was waiting inside.

  “Hello, McQuade.” He kissed me. “You look great and you smell like lavender.”

  “You look great, too.” He wore a cool blue blazer with a pale blue shirt underneath, a blue tie, and his best jeans. His aftershave smelled incredibly good.

  The host of the restaurant picked up two menus and said, “Your table is ready, Mr. Spade.” He led us to a table next to the plate-glass window at the front of the restaurant. We could see Front Street and Greenport Harbor beyond. The interior of the restaurant was clean and contemporary, with white walls and tablecloths, black-and-white prints of Greenport from the last century, and a chrome-trimmed bar. Light jazz was playing in the background. The place was packed, which wasn’t surprising, considering
it was Friday evening and the beginning of Labor Day weekend.

  When our waiter came to the table, we both ordered iced tea. I was tempted to order a glass of wine but didn’t want to make Jackson uncomfortable.

  He read my mind. “Order some organic wine. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  I smiled and said, “No, I’m fine,” and put the silver bag and the diary on the table.

  The waiter thanked us and walked away. Jackson pointed to the bag. “Now, what is that?”

  I pushed it across the table toward him. “It’s an anniversary gift for you.”

  He took a small, gift-wrapped box out of his inside jacket pocket and pushed it toward me. “And this is for you.”

  “Should we open them at the same time?”

  “Sure. Let’s do it.” He reached into the bag while I unwrapped the box. He held the book up. “This is great, Willow. You know I’m a big Raymond Chandler fan. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I pushed the wrapping paper aside and opened the box. Inside was an exquisite pair of silver earrings in the shape of peace signs. “I love them. They’re the perfect match to Aunt Claire’s necklace.”

  “I know. That’s why I got them. I pay attention.”

  “Yeah, you do.” I put the earrings on, leaned across the table, and kissed him.

  We spent a few minutes scanning the menu and decided on warm lobster rolls with hand-cut french fries and fresh New England chowder. After we ordered, Jackson pointed to the journal. “What is that?”

  I showed him the book and told him how I had “borrowed” it from Amanda. He picked it up and flipped through it. “I don’t like the way you got this, but I understand why you did it. Did you find anything interesting? To me it looks like a Farmer’s Almanac.”

  “The date of Max’s death was blank. No comment whatsoever. I think that’s intriguing, considering how much James hated him, don’t you?”

  Jackson put the book down. “People are weird. You can’t always figure them out so easily.”