“I’m not sure,” I admitted as we turned the corner onto Third Street and headed north. “But I’m beginning to think that Sandra’s extremely malleable. Whatever they say, she believes.”
“She doesn’t seem angry enough to have killed Dr. White,” Simon noted. “But for all we know, she’s after the treasure, too.” He pointed at the parking lot behind the stores on Front Street. “Let me put this stuff in my car so I don’t have to carry it.”
We walked over to his red and black Mini Cooper and he popped the trunk. As he did, I noticed Rhonda Rhodes hurrying up Third Street. “I wonder where she’s going. I just saw Harold call her partner, Ramona.”
Simon carefully placed the diving helmet and maps on top of a clean towel in the trunk. “Who are they again?”
“Rhonda and Ramona are partners and they grow heirloom vegetables. We talked to her at the farmer’s market on Sunday, remember?”
Simon thought about this. “No.”
“You know, the table in the back, by the church. She wasn’t very friendly. You didn’t like her.”
“Oh, right, no, I didn’t.” He slammed the trunk shut.
“Maybe Harold called Ramona, and she called Rhonda.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.”
We caught up to Rhonda on the steps of Village Hall. She wore a flowered shift dress and flip-flops, like the one she’d had on Saturday night when Jackson and I had seen her at the art gallery with Ramona.
She threw me a wave and tried to hurry inside, but I caught the door and said, “Hi, Rhonda, how are you?”
She mumbled something and headed through the door to the left and down a hallway that led to the section of the building where you could pay your utilities.
“Maybe I was wrong about her being up to something.” I pointed to the sign on the wall to the right of the elevator that said Map Room: Basement. “We go this way.” I pushed the button for the elevator.
The elevator arrived and we rode it downstairs. We reached the basement, and the doors opened to a room with file cabinets covering just about every square inch. In front of the files there was a middle-aged, balding man working on an outdated computer. “Damn!” he said, and pounded the desk.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Oh, hello. Sorry about that. It’s just that it takes forever to download files on this thing. I’m Larry. Can I help you guys?”
“I own Nature’s Way at 528 Front Street, and recently, the village awarded me the lot next door. I was wondering if it was possible to research the history of the lot.”
“Everyone wants to know about that lot. I just had a lady down here asking about it about an hour ago.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“She didn’t say.”
“Well, what did she look like?” Simon said.
“She was kind of tall, and she had on a flowered dress.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, and hurried back up to the first floor. But when I got there, Rhonda was gone. Perhaps she’d come to do research and pay her bill and had forgotten about the latter and come back, and that’s when we saw her.
When I got back downstairs, Simon and Larry were across the room, peering into the open drawer of a lateral file cabinet. Larry was thumbing through documents. He found what he needed and pulled it out, then put it on top of another map. “Since the village of Greenport is so small, they still keep all the maps of all the lots this way. I found yours and the one next door. Follow me.”
We walked over to a table shoved into the corner of the room with a large fluorescent light overhead. Larry put the map onto the table and smoothed it down. “Here you go.”
Simon and I examined the maps. The one for Nature’s Way showed the building and gave the dimensions of the lot and a list of utilities on the property.
“Look,” Simon said. At the bottom of the map, tiny lettering read Property of Claire Hagen.
“I guess they never changed it when I took over.”
“Oh, we’re behind on all of that stuff,” Larry assured me.
I ran my finger along her name.
“You miss her,” Simon said.
“I really do. It never goes away.”
He squeezed my arm. “Let’s take a look at the other map.” He pulled it out from under the stack and put it on top. “Look, there was originally a house on the lot.”
“I didn’t know that. I mean I figured there had been something there, but I didn’t know it was a residence.”
“It was owned by Frank Fox,” Simon said. “It says so right here.” He pointed to the name below the map specifications. “And it was a double lot. You see this line?” He pointed to a vertical line that transected the piece of land.
“It looks like there was some kind of outbuilding or a shed on the eastern side,” I said.
Simon shrugged. “Doesn’t tell us much. We knew Frank Fox owned the land; he’s the one who donated it to the village.”
I turned to Larry. “Do you have any information about the history of the lot, who lived here and when?”
“I knew you’d ask that. Everyone does.”
“And what do you tell them?”
Larry shook his head. “It should be on the microfiche.”
“Should be?” Simon said.
“That particular roll of microfiche is gone.”
chapter twenty-one
Willow McQuade’s
Favorite Medicinal Plants
KAVA-KAVA
Botanical name: Piper methysticum
Medicinal uses: Kava-kava is an ancient remedy used by Pacific Islanders to treat nervousness and insomnia. It is often used in the islands ceremoniously as a religious ritual, to welcome guests (including Captain Cook in the 1770s) and to honor births, marriages, and business deals. Kava-kava calms the mind, heart, and body, and eases anxiety and mild depression without compromising mental clarity. Taking kava-kava before bed can help induce pleasant sleep and vivid dreams. Kava-kava is fat soluble, so when I prepare it as a tea, I add coconut milk to the steeping solution to help the infusion assimilate kava’s compounds.
I couldn’t quite make sense of Larry’s answer. “What do you mean, that roll of microfiche is gone? Where did it go?”
Larry shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“How does a roll of microfiche disappear?” Simon wanted to know.
“Usually someone borrows it and doesn’t put it back—or maybe puts it back in the wrong place. But I’ve searched. This one is gone.”
“When exactly did it disappear?” I asked.
Larry looked perplexed. “That’s a good question. I don’t know when it vanished. All I know is that for the last month or so, I’ve had a lot of inquiries about that lot—and a lot of people asking to see that roll of microfiche. And it’s not there.”
“So it’s been gone at least a month,” I said. “Great. I think we just hit another one of our blind alleys.”
With no microfiche to give us answers, we returned to the maps of each lot, scanning them for any new information. While we did, I told them about Rhonda and my theory about why she’d come back.
Half an hour later, not having had a Eureka! moment, we thanked Larry for his help and took the elevator back upstairs. The doors opened on the first floor and we found the mayor in a heated discussion with Joe Larson, without Arlene White.
“We’ve made a decision and were sticking with it,” Mayor Hobson said.
“Even though you’re wrong,” Joe Larson said, giving us a hostile look.
“I think you’d better leave, Joe,” Mayor Hobson said. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Larson yanked the door open and stomped down the stairs.
“He doesn’t seem too happy,” I said, s
tating the obvious.
“He’s not. He and several other prominent local businesspeople want us to change our minds about Fox’s lot.”
“We know about that,” I said. “I hope you don’t.”
“I think your garden is a great addition to the village, but I’m getting a lot of pressure to change my mind.”
“Stick with the side of the angels, Mayor,” Simon said, slapping him on the back. “You won’t be sorry.”
We said good-bye and stepped outside, but the mayor waved Simon back in. While they talked, I quickly texted Jackson to see how he was doing.
He replied that Allie had given him a massage and he was feeling much better. This was really good news, because back problems can take a long time to resolve. I texted back that I had to go to the bank and would be back soon. I’d just put my phone away when Simon came out, and we headed back to Nature’s Way.
“Spill,” I said. “What did he want?”
“He invited me to this club for local businessmen.”
“No women?”
He shook his head. “The mayor and most of the Village Board are members, along with people like Larson, he says. He thought it might be a good idea for me to attend.”
“Why? You’re not a local businessman. You’re a Hollywood producer.”
He shrugged. “I get the feeling that he’s trying to help you. Maybe he thinks I can do that by going.”
• • •
We decided that Simon should go to the meeting. Perhaps, in a relaxed setting like the club, he would be able to learn something to help us piece together the puzzle of Dr. White’s murder.
Before we went back to Nature’s Way, we stopped off at the bank and put the earring and the goblet into a safe-deposit box. I gave one of the keys to Simon. He went home and I returned to the store right before 3 p.m.
Merrily had finally shown up and was stocking the dry goods shelves with boxes of quinoa, a protein-packed grain that also contains iron and has a delightfully nutty taste. Wallace was in the kitchen, and four tables were full in the café, while several customers browsed our shelves.
“Hey, Willow,” Merrily said as she grabbed two packages of quinoa from the box at her feet. “How was the sale?”
“Interesting, Simon found a few things. How are you feeling today?”
“I’m okay,” Merrily said as she shoved the packages onto the shelf. She wore the typical Nature’s Way uniform of a white shirt, green apron, and khakis, but her hair, which was usually up in neat tufts with colorful rubber bands, looked frizzy and flyaway. She was also chalk white, and had purple-black smudges under her eyes.
“Wallace said you had a migraine yesterday, and that’s why you went home.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “I’m better now.”
“But you don’t look well. Merrily, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Willow, really. I just had a hard time sleeping last night.”
“Because of Nate?”
“No,” she snapped. “We’re good.” She put three more packages onto the shelf and picked up the empty box.
Since I’d known Merrily, she had never lost her temper, so this surprised me. “It’s just that you seem upset and distracted, and I’m wondering if it’s because of your new relationship with him. Things are kind of crazy right now and with the murder and—”
“I’m not distracted,” she said, interrupting me. “It’s just like you said—there’s a lot going on. I’m focused, don’t worry. In fact, I just made three new apple pies. Do you want a slice? Jackson had two.”
“Are you trying to get me to change the subject?” I asked.
Merrily looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Willow,” she said patiently, “I told you about the pies for one reason: you love pie.”
“True,” I admitted, feeling sheepish. “Especially your pies.”
“There’s one on the counter. I’ll be right back. Just have to put this in the recycle bin.” She carried the box to the back.
It seemed obvious that she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. I decided to leave it alone, for now.
The pie was, of course, delicious, but I was too worried about Merrily to really enjoy it. When I was done, I went upstairs to check on Jackson.
I found him in the chair I’d placed by the balcony, with his binoculars trained on the garden. Qigong, Rockford, and Columbo had been sleeping, but immediately ran over to me, tails wagging. I petted each in turn, and went over and gave Jackson a kiss.
“Hi, hon.” He put the binoculars on his lap.
“Something interesting must be going on down there.”
“Nate’s been on his phone almost the whole time you’ve been gone. That’s when he’s actually in the garden. He also left for a half an hour twice. I think we need to let him go.”
Frowning, I said, “That’s a shame. He was such a good worker when he started this spring.”
“When he’s supervised, he works but complains. And when he’s alone, he’s completely nonproductive. Do you want to do it or should I?”
“I’m worried about how Merrily will take it. I just spoke to her and she’s irritable and doesn’t look well at all. Maybe we should talk to him first, give him one more chance?”
Jackson picked up the binoculars and trained them on the garden again. “I guess we’ll have to. He’s gone again.”
• • •
I updated Jackson on my progress investigating and checked to make sure he had what he needed before heading back downstairs to work in my office. But when I got there, Merrily was gone again. I went into the kitchen to talk to Wallace, who was busy cleaning the display cases. The man was a marvel.
“Hey, Wallace. Where’s Merrily?”
He shrugged. “Nate came in and she left with him.”
“Does this happen often?” I poured myself a cup of organic coffee and added half-and-half and two packets of Truvia, a natural sweetener.
“All the time. Don’t get me wrong, I think Merrily is great, but lately . . .”
“I know.” I walked over the bay window and looked out, but she wasn’t there. “I don’t see her. Can you ask her to speak to me when she returns? I’ll be in my office.”
I settled in at my desk, took a sip of coffee, and opened my e-mail. Most of the messages were confirmations of orders that Wallace had placed, for things like supplements and body-care products.
I still couldn’t get over how much easier my life was ever since Wallace arrived. He’d taken over the bulk of the management duties and went above and beyond whatever else was needed. It was because of him that I’d been able to even consider creating the garden.
Merrily, on the other hand, was a shadow of the worker she had once been. She’d been sick with Lyme, yes, but that hadn’t even been much of a problem when it came to her productivity. No, it wasn’t until Nate arrived that the problems started. I decided that I would have to let him go, without delay. She might object, and be upset, but once he was gone, maybe things would go back to normal.
Of course, she could still see him outside of work, but it might help to put some distance between them. And if things didn’t improve, much as I hated to consider it, I might have to think about letting her go as well.
I finished going through the rest of my e-mail, then turned off the computer and headed outside to the garden to check on things.
The garden was beautiful; late-afternoon sunlight streaked through the trees and dappled the grounds. But as I made my way down the path, it became clear that something was wrong. Spades and clippers had been abandoned on the path, while a bag of mulch had been pushed into a flower bed and was partially empty. I took out my phone and quickly texted Jackson:
Something wrong in garden. Is someone here? That guy in black?
I waited for his response. It took a few minutes, s
o I guessed that he had gone back to bed. But moments later, he returned my text:
Think Nate is hurt . . . by pavers. M there. B careful . . . Shd I call cops?
I texted back:
Let me check out first . . .
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and yelled, “Merrily? Are you out here?”
“Willow?” Her voice sounded tenuous and strained.
“I’m coming. Is Nate hurt?”
“Yes, he needs help. Hurry!”
chapter twenty-two
Willow McQuade’s
Favorite Medicinal Plants
GREEN TEA
Botanical name: Camellia sinensis
Medicinal uses: It’s the polyphenols, a type of flavonoid containing catechin and proanthocyanidins with antioxidant properties, that have earned green tea such a well-deserved reputation for imbuing good health. I try to have at least a cup each day, especially when I need an energy boost. Green tea helps to lower cholesterol levels, keeps blood sugar levels moderate, stimulates the metabolism, and can help with weight loss.
The other thing I like about green tea is that it contains one-third to half as much caffeine as coffee, and because of its makeup, the side effects—jitteriness, irritability, and, after the effect has worn off, fatigue—are minimal compared to other caffeine sources. This may explain why Zen monks rely on green tea to help them remain alert yet calm during long periods of meditation.
One of the widely researched components in tea is the alkaloid theanine, an amino acid that has been found to decrease anxiety, aid in sleep, and promote mental focus. In folkloric traditions tea is burned as an incense to attract prosperity and carried to impart strength and courage. Green tea extracts can be taken in capsules and are sometimes used in skin products. Leaves from the Camellia sinensis plant are brewed to produce green tea. Why not have a cup right now?
I ran down the path and found Nate and Merrily by the unfinished teahouse. Nate lay on his back, in the dirt. Around him were several newly dug holes, and a shovel lay next to him on the ground. He had a nasty bloody gash across his forehead. Merrily was kneeling over him.
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