Garden of Death

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “Thanks. I think I’m okay but I’ll let you know.” I composed myself and turned to Koren. “To answer your question, Detective, I was working on setting up our booth until the parade started.”

  “Yeah, she was with me,” Simon said. “I’ll vouch for her.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Koren said, and scribbled something down in his notebook. “And you, Spade? Where were you?”

  “I was in the garden, checking things out, making sure everything was ready for the opening,” Jackson said. “I spotted a plant that needed replacing, put in a new one, then went out to meet Willow to watch the parade. Whoever did this killed White between eleven, when I left the garden, and now.”

  The detective pointed to the shovel. “You used this to replace the plant?”

  Jackson nodded. “Yes, and that’s all. Don’t get any wild ideas in your head, Koren.”

  “That’s Detective Koren to you, Mr. Spade, and I heard about your fight with Dr. White last night.” Koren put on a plastic glove, stepped over to the fence, and picked up the shovel. “Sure you weren’t getting back at him for harassing your girlfriend?”

  “Of course not. White was making a scene, and Willow was upset. But if you think I would kill a man because he was being a jerk, you’re crazy.”

  Koren turned to the crime-scene tech. “Make sure you get this shovel.” He pulled out his phone and texted someone, probably his partner, Detective Coyle. While he did, I puzzled over the murder scene. How had this happened? Why was Dr. White here, of all places? Had he intended to cause trouble during the dedication and something had happened?

  Koren finished texting and turned back to Jackson. “Men do strange things in the name of love, Mr. Spade. Are you sure you don’t have anything else to say?”

  “Jackson, you don’t have to answer his questions,” Simon said. “Let me call my lawyer.”

  “Back off, Lewis. I’m not going to say it again,” Koren warned him. “And I’m not going to hurt your ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend. There’s no need to call your big-shot lawyer.”

  “He’s just trying to help,” Willow said.

  “Exactly,” Simon said. “Willow can help, too, Jackson. Look what she did for me. She’s a great amateur detective. She’s solved two murders already.”

  It was ironic, but when we were living together in L.A. and I was working at a holistic clinic, Simon had been unsupportive and uninterested in my work. He began to look at me differently after I solved Aunt Claire’s murder and later cleared him of murder charges.

  “Hell, she’s probably got a better track record than you do,” Simon said to Koren.

  The detective went up to Simon and poked him in the chest. “I told you to back off. Stop interfering with my investigation.”

  Mayor Hobson pushed through the crowd and went over to Detective Koren. “What’s going on here? What’s happened to the tour? I just stepped away to take a quick phone call. Has something happened?”

  Koren turned to him and lowered his voice. “Yes, it seems that Dr. White has met an untimely demise in Ms. McQuade’s garden.”

  “What?” The mayor’s cheeks became flushed. “This can’t be happening, not now, not this weekend, not when we’ve worked so hard to make it a success. This is going to ruin everything!”

  “So you were close to the deceased?” Detective Koren said. “You seem really choked up about it.”

  The mayor turned on him. “Of course I’m not happy that the man is dead, but this is the Maritime Festival, Detective! Something like, this, well, it’s just a disaster.”

  Detective Coyle, also dressed in casual weekend clothes, came toward us with Joe Larson, my favorite—not—trustee behind him. Koren pulled Coyle to the side, while Larson zeroed in on the mayor. “Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?” He gave a short bark of a laugh. “Of course I didn’t. This whole thing is a joke.”

  “Shut up, Joe,” the mayor said. “White’s dead.”

  “What are you talking about? Charles is dead?”

  “Yes,” Detective Koren said. “He’s dead, Mr. Larson, please step back.”

  Koren said something to Coyle. After which, Coyle said, “Okay, everybody, I want you all to back up and head for the entrance in an orderly line but do not leave. We’ll need to talk to all of you.”

  The crowd groaned but did as he asked. So much for my garden tour.

  “This is all her fault,” Larson said, pointing at me.

  “How do you figure that, Mr. Larson?” Detective Koren asked.

  “It’s exactly what Dr. White said last night. Ms. McQuade got this land illegally, and now this tragedy is going to shine a very unfavorable light on Greenport during the festival.”

  “That is a blatant lie,” I retorted.

  “That’s enough, Joe,” the mayor said. “Leave it alone. Let the police do their work.”

  “I’ll need to talk to you, Mr. Larson, and the rest of you,” Koren said. “This garden is officially closed for the rest of the weekend.”

  “You can’t do that,” I said. “It will ruin everything. We have tours scheduled.”

  Tom Coster, a town trustee, a prominent local attorney, and a loyal customer of Claire’s, who had advocated giving the land to me, said, “This seems capricious, Detective. This will ruin the opening weekend for the garden. Ms. McQuade and her friends have worked very hard to be ready for the festival. Surely you can work through the night and let her have the garden back in the morning, can’t you? We’re a tight-knit community here. Let’s work together.”

  “You’re just saying that because you liked her aunt,” Larson replied, giving him a disgusted look. “Hell, that’s why she got the lot in the first place. No one bothered to look further.”

  “Joe, I told you to leave it and I mean it,” Mayor Hobson said, and pulled Detective Koren aside.

  They spoke for a few minutes and then Detective Koren said, “Mayor Hobson and Mr. Coster are your new best friends Ms. McQuade. The garden will be closed but only until tomorrow morning. You can begin your tours again then.”

  • • •

  The police staked out the garden, gathered evidence, and began to question everyone who had been in the garden for the opening. After they’d finished talking to Jackson, Simon, and me, we headed back to the store, first stopping to check the booth out front. Wallace and Nate were busy with customers, and I noticed that half of the medicinal plants and some of the merchandise was already gone.

  Wallace finished chatting with a customer, handed her a bag, smiled, and wished her a good day. I tapped him on the shoulder. “How is it going?”

  He turned to me and said, “How are you doing? One of the people on the garden tour told me what happened! Is it true? Are you okay?”

  “It’s true and we’re okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Have you been busy? It looks like you’ve sold a bunch of stuff.”

  “We have,” he replied as new customers made their way to the booth. “I don’t think most people know what went on in the garden. In fact, we need more plants from out back.”

  “I’ll get a pallet.” Jackson grabbed the wagon and headed out back. Simon remained with me, which wasn’t a surprise as he didn’t enjoy manual labor of any kind. I wondered how long his stint at Nature’s Way would last.

  “I can go back to Ollie’s later if we run out,” Nate offered. With his friendly personality and Peter Parker good looks, customers loved him almost as much as Wallace. “I’ll need to get some for tomorrow, regardless.” He handed a healthy-looking aloe plant to a customer.

  “Sounds good,” I said. Perhaps there was hope for my medicinal garden after all. “Thanks, guys. I’ll check on you later.”

  I looked at my watch and realized that it was already 1:25 p.m. I turned to Simon. “You and I are due at the Maritime Art and Photography exhibit in Mitchell Park
at two. We’d better get something to eat and go.” Simon and I had both been asked to be judges for the show, after which all the items would be auctioned off.

  “Wait a minute,” Simon said as we climbed the stairs to the store. “Aren’t you going to do something? You know, investigate, like you usually do?”

  Investigating this murder would be an absolutely crazy thing to take on, given that it was Maritime Festival week and that I was trying to get my new garden project off the ground, so to speak. But I had to admit that part of me was interested in solving another puzzle. I was good at it. As Simon had said, I’d solved two murders, both before the police. Still, I couldn’t imagine immersing myself in an investigation with everything else I had going on.

  Then again, if the cops went after Jackson, because of the argument he’d had with White, I would have no choice. I would have to act.

  I put the key into the lock and opened the door to Nature’s Way. For a moment, I couldn’t remember why the store was closed but then I realized that Merrily was competing in the pie contest, also in Mitchell Park, until two o’clock. This wasn’t a problem since all of the action was outside today. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do,” I told Simon. “Right now, I’m hungry and I need to eat. How about you?”

  “I could eat.”

  I smiled. “You can always eat.” I went into the kitchen and proceeded to make lunch for the three of us. While I worked, Simon leaned across the kitchen counter and kept talking. “I mean, someone was killed in your garden and Detective Koren did seem interested in Jackson. It also doesn’t make the garden or Nature’s Way look so good. You need to solve this thing, and quick. I know you can do it.”

  “Thanks, Simon. I appreciate your confidence in my abilities,” I said as I placed the organic cheese quesadillas topped with sour cream and guacamole, blue corn chips, a bowl of salsa, and three glasses of passion fruit iced tea on a tray. “But I need to talk to Jackson first.”

  “Talk to me about what?” Jackson walked into the kitchen.

  “About investigating this case,” Simon said.

  I handed the tray to Jackson. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  “Why don’t we eat by the window?” Jackson carried the tray to the table near the plateglass window at the front of the store so we could see outside. Our booth out front was still drawing plenty of customers. After we sat down, he said, “How are you doing, McQuade?”

  “Not so great,” I admitted. “We all worked really hard to make the garden perfect for the opening and then this happens. And even though I never liked Dr. White, I feel bad for his family.” I gave a shudder. “I have a feeling that I’m going to have nightmares about finding him like that.”

  Jackson nodded. “It’s not the kind of sight you get used to.”

  Simon gave an impatient sigh. “Obviously you didn’t want to find a dead body in your garden, but now that you have, what are you doing to do about it?

  chapter five

  Willow McQuade’s

  Favorite Medicinal Plants

  BLACK COHOSH

  Botanical name: Actaea racemosa, Cimicifuga racemosa

  Medicinal uses: Native Americans were among the first to use black cohosh as a woman’s tonic, while other tribes used it for fatigue, aching joints, and better kidney function. Historically, black cohosh has been used for rheumatism (arthritis and muscle pain), but has been used more recently to treat hot flashes, night sweats, and other symptoms that can occur during menopause. Black cohosh can also be used for menstrual irregularities and premenstrual syndrome. The underground stems and roots of black cohosh are commonly used fresh or dried to make strong teas (infusions), capsules, solid extracts used in pills, or liquid extracts (tinctures).

  Jackson responded to Simon’s question by drilling him with a look, and saying, “Willow isn’t getting involved. The police can handle this.”

  “So you don’t want her investigating?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Of course not. Someone obviously wanted White dead, and we don’t know that he, or she, is done killing.”

  “Agreed,” I said, and took a bite of my quesadilla. “What bothers me is that Koren is obviously interested in you.”

  “And he doesn’t like you for some reason, Willow,” Simon added opening up two raw sugar packets and putting them into his tea. “It’s probably because you’re better at his job than he is.”

  “There is that,” Jackson said. “He doesn’t like me much either, and it’s not good that I handled the shovel when I was replacing that plant or that I had that very public fight with White last night. Koren doesn’t need much to go on, you know that.”

  “I have to do something,” I said, picking up a blue corn chip. “It will be twenty-four to forty-eight hours until the autopsy results come in. We need to get ahead of this thing and fix it before it becomes a bigger problem for us and the store and garden. If we work together we can figure this out.”

  “Together?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You mean, the three of us? You have to be kidding.”

  “We did it before,” I said. “Remember?” Last year when Simon was under suspicion for murder he had been surprisingly helpful with knowledge and ideas. While Jackson was my true partner, a little extra help couldn’t hurt. “We can begin with the art and photography show this afternoon. I’ll scope things out and maybe start asking questions. Simon can help. He has to be there anyway. You can come with us or stay here and scope out the scene.”

  “You want to work together?” Jackson repeated, not looking happy.

  “Yeah, man, like the Three Amigos!” Simon said, putting his hand up for a high five. “Or the Three Musketeers!”

  “Or the Three Stooges?” Jackson rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, McQuade.”

  • • •

  After we finished lunch, Simon and I headed across the street to Mitchell Park to judge the art and photography show, while Jackson stayed behind to keep an eye on the police and what they were doing. The park was crowded with people enjoying the show, walking their dogs, relaxing on the grass, and riding the merry-go-round.

  The park overlooked the harbor with a view of Shelter Island across the bay. The docks were packed with speedboats, yachts, and even a bright red tugboat. Over at the Railroad Dock, where the Shelter Island ferry picked up cars and passengers, visiting tall ships were moored. It was picture perfect. It made sense that Forbes magazine had declared Greenport “One of America’s Prettiest Towns.”

  As we walked into the park, Merrily was on her way out, happily carrying the winner’s trophy, a bronze apple pie on a bronze apple tree. It was almost as big as she was.

  “Congratulations, Merrily!” I said. “You won! That’s fantastic!”

  “No surprise there,” Simon said. “Your pie is the best.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, guys, but it was actually quite close. I thought the dessert chef from the North Fork Table was going to win with their rhubarb pie, but then they awarded me the trophy. It’s going to look great on that shelf in the kitchen, if it fits.”

  “Good for you. I can’t wait to taste your pie; that is, if there’s any left.”

  Merrily smiled. “There’s plenty. You know me, I made five pies and entered the best one.” Her expression grew serious. “I heard about you finding White’s body. What’s going on with the police?”

  “Still investigating, but the mayor convinced Detective Koren to let us open again in the morning.”

  “That’s something, at least.” She looked across the street at Nature’s Way. “Well, I’d better go back. We might get some folks in for a late lunch. I’ll see you later.”

  We said good-bye and headed down the path past the Little Miss Mermaid Contest being held in front of the carousel, where young girls dressed up in mermaid costumes were competing for DVDs of the movie. In the center of th
e park, beyond the fountains, was a colorful mixture of nautical photographs and paintings that Simon and I were here to judge.

  I spotted Patty Thaw, the owner of Patty’s Photo Shop, and the organizer of the event, at a table near the carousel. I went over to her to get our judging sheets. For the moment, I decided to put Dr. White’s murder out of my mind and focus on the task at hand.

  “Hi, Patty, we’re here, ready to judge away.”

  Though Patty was in her late sixties, she was a regular at Nick’s yoga classes, and had a calm demeanor, not to mention a lean, toned look. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Willow. I heard about what happened—Dr. White, dead in your garden! That’s not the headline you wanted for opening day. How absolutely awful!”

  I wasn’t surprised that she knew. Good and bad traveled fast via the village grapevine. Someone who had attended the dedication must have told her what happened. “Yes, it was awful,” I admitted. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “But we made the commitment to help with the art show,” Simon put in. “So we’re here.”

  “Okay, then, I’m glad you are.” She pulled two clipboards out of her green tote, grabbed two pens, and handed them to us. She pointed to the paper on the clipboard. “You just need to go around, check out each piece, and rate it on a scale of one to ten, based on originality, creativity, and execution. Afterward we’ll auction them off to raise money for the North Fork Animal Welfare League, so we need to get the judging done by four at the latest. Harold Spitz and Maggie Stone are already making the rounds.”

  Harold and Maggie were two others who had competed for the lot. Harold had wanted it for his flea market and Maggie, the head of Advocates for Animals, had wanted it for a new dog park. I’d seen them both the night before at the ball, and they weren’t exactly friendly. I explained to Simon who they were.

  He gave one of his dramatic sighs. “And I thought we were going to have some fun.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Just be cool, no fighting.”