“Doesn’t matter,” Simon said. “Because White didn’t know that. He seemed convinced that Fox knew of buried treasure there, and he was furious when he lost out on the lot. And, of course, Arlene was also counting on it as her ticket to wealth, so she, too, felt cheated when it went to you. Which explains her Garden of Death hate campaign, and her efforts to shut you down.”
I thought about that. “Okay, maybe that explains why Dr. White was in the garden the night he died—and why he was killed. Someone must have known what he was searching for.”
“We need to tell the police about all of this,” Simon said.
“We need proof first.” I looked at the box of stuff on the floor behind the seat. “Let’s go back to Nature’s Way and look at this. But first, please call Shawn and find out when they’re releasing Jackson. I want him home.”
• • •
Simon couldn’t reach Shawn, so we swung by the police station on the way back to Nature’s Way. The desk sergeant there had good news for us: Jackson had just been released. Moments later, I received a text message from Jackson, telling me that he was out and back at Nature’s Way. I blew out a sigh of relief, then quickly texted him that we were on our way.
We couldn’t get there fast enough, even though the store was less than five minutes from the police station. Jackson met us at the back door, pulled me inside, kissed me, and folded me into a hug. I began to tremble, and he pulled me even closer. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, until I began to calm down.
“They wouldn’t let me see you,” I said, tears forming in my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It was Koren. He was playing hardball, but Shawn got him to release me. I’m just afraid they may pick me up again.”
“Then we’ve got to solve this, so that doesn’t happen,” Simon said. “We’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“Yes, I think we’re getting close,” I said, wiping away the tears.
“Good, what’s that?” He pointed to the box that Simon was carrying.
“These are Frank Fox’s effects from his stay at the nursing home,” Simon said. “But we haven’t had time to go through them yet.”
“Let’s get some lunch and take it outside, and we’ll tell you everything.”
A few minutes later, the three of us were sitting on the porch eating Gardenburgers, chips, and passion fruit iced teas with orange slices for lunch and reviewing what we’d learned so far.
“You two have covered a lot of territory,” Jackson said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But does it make sense?”
“I think it does. It’s logical that if someone else was after the treasure, they may have run into Dr. White in the garden. They fought, and whoever it was, killed him. The question is, who?”
The door opened and Wallace came out, his face as white as the sheet of paper in his hand. “This just came in on the fax machine.” He gave it to me, his hands trembling. “She didn’t call in this morning, but I never thought . . .”
The piece of paper only had seven words, but it was enough to strike terror into my heart: Find the treasure or Merrily is DEAD! I sucked in a breath. “Oh my God.”
“What is it, Willow?” Jackson said.
I handed him the paper, which he showed to Simon.
“Who do you think it’s from?” Simon said. “Do you recognize the fax number, Willow?”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “But I’m calling Merrily right now.” But she didn’t answer and neither did Nate. “What do we do?”
“We’d better find that treasure fast,” Simon said.
“Didn’t we already find the treasure?” I asked. “Is there something else buried—or is this creep asking us to get the sword back from the fake Dr. Gillian? I don’t even know where to start.”
“First, we call the police,” Jackson said.
• • •
I called the police and told the desk sergeant what had happened, that Merrily was missing, and what the note said. Unfortunately, among other things, there had been a multiple-car accident on the main road that demanded police attention, a boating accident, and a restaurant fire. Maritime Festival activities always stretched the police force thin, and this year was no exception.
There was also the fact, the sergeant said, that they usually didn’t investigate missing persons until forty-eight hours had passed, and that the note could be a hoax or a practical joke. I said that I didn’t think it was at all funny, and he said that someone would be over as soon as possible.
While we were waiting, I brought the box that Emily had given us into my office and put it on the coffee table. Simon came with me while Jackson said he wanted to check on the dogs and went upstairs. I really think he wanted time alone to process what had happened to him at the jail, but I didn’t say anything.
“Let’s go through it methodically, okay, Simon? I want to make sure that we don’t miss anything.”
I pulled several books out of the box that were about pirates on the East End of Long Island. “These look like the kind of books that Professor Russell lent me,” I said as I began to page through the first one. “Let’s check for any notes that Frank may have made.”
Simon began looking through one of the other books. “What are we hoping to find exactly?”
“Anything that hints at buried treasure in Greenport—especially anything that refers to the area that’s now the garden. I need to know if there’s something else there. It would take us days to dig up that whole lot.”
“I realize that, but I doubt that Frank would have put it in a book for anyone to see. If he actually had information like that, wouldn’t he want a more secure place—especially with someone like Charles White coming around all the time?”
I sighed. “You’re probably right, but let’s check to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”
An hour and a half later, we’d carefully examined all six books and found nothing unusual. We’d just finished when Detective Coyle arrived, wearing baggy pants, a shirt with perspiration stains underneath the arms, and an awful purple tie with a bluefish on it. Wallace showed him into my office.
“I hear you have a missing person, Ms. McQuade. Want to tell me about it?”
I decided not to call Jackson and tell him Coyle had arrived, figuring he’d had enough of both him and Detective Koren in the past twenty-four hours. Instead, I went over to my desk, got the fax, and handed it to him.
“What’s this bit about the treasure?” Coyle wanted to know.
“It’s what we’ve been trying to tell you and Detective Koren about all along. Several people are looking for something in my garden—I think they think it’s pirate treasure.”
He laughed. “That again? C’mon. The important thing here is that someone is threatening to kill your employee.”
“I know that, Detective, but it’s because of the treasure, or whatever is out there, that this has happened.”
Quickly, I explained what we’d learned at the nursing home. To his credit he did listen, and when I’d finished, he said, “I don’t know about all this other stuff, but if your employee, and your friend, is in trouble, then you did the right thing by calling. I’ll put out a BOLO, and we’ll keep an eye out for her.”
“A BOLO?” I asked.
“An all-points bulletin,” Coyle explained. “It’s an acronym for be on the lookout, so all officers in the county will be aware she’s missing. Depending on what happens, we may need to bring the FBI in on this, too. Call us if this person contacts you again. Now, I have to go. I was on my way to that five-car pileup when you called. I’ll update you later.”
• • •
After he left, I told Jackson what happened. We agreed that now that I’d told the police what we knew, it was time to try to find Merrily ourselves. There was no way we could just sit there a
nd wait for the phone to ring.
I asked Wallace to call me if another fax came through or if anyone, especially the kidnapper or the police, called, and we headed out to Merrily’s house, where she lived with her mother. The three of us got into my Prius and Jackson drove while I called Merrily’s cell again, and Nate’s, but got no answer.
Next I tried her mother, Cheryl, who told me that she had seen Merrily last night before she left to go to Nate’s. She said that Merrily did seem worried about something, but she wouldn’t say what.
I told her that we wanted to stop over. I’d break the news about her kidnapping once we were there.
• • •
Merrily and her mother lived in a restored yellow Victorian home at the corner of Broad and First Street, with a neatly cut lawn and pretty flower beds filled with geraniums, nasturtiums, and marigolds. When Cheryl came to the door, she looked surprised to see all three of us and quickly knew that something was wrong.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“Can we come in?”
“Yes, of course.”
We stepped into the foyer and she directed us into a sunny living room. Like Merrily, she liked to dress in a funky style. She was wearing a tie-dyed tunic and flip-flops.
Cheryl had worked as a production designer for films before she got married, moved to the North Fork, and had Merrily. Now she only worked occasionally on special projects.
“Is Merrily okay?” she asked.
“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “We’re not sure. We received this strange fax a little while ago.”
She read the fax and started to cry. “Treasure? What treasure?”
I squeezed her hand as I briefly explained what had happened to Dr. White, why we thought it had happened, and what might be in the garden. “I’ve talked to the police and they are going to look for her, and maybe even contact the FBI, but we’re ready to help right now. Let’s start with when you saw her last night. Before she left, you said that she seemed troubled?”
Cheryl nodded. “Yes, she had something on her mind.”
“Do you have any idea what it was?” Simon asked.
“I really don’t.” She reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed her eyes. “I need to call her father. We’re divorced but he needs to know. He lives in the city, though, so it will take him time to get out here.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
She shrugged. “Nate’s, I guess. But you’ve called there already, right?”
“Yes, but we’ll stop by.”
“Will you call me if you find her?”
“Of course we will.”
“Cheryl,” Jackson said, “we’ll bring Merrily home. Don’t worry.”
• • •
Nate lived in a garage apartment in Arshmamoque, on the same road where Simon and I met with Joe Larson. His apartment was at the very end of the road, opposite Mill Creek and behind a ranch house that had peeling paint and a scruffy yard. No one was home but we parked on the road and walked down the driveway to the back.
The garage apartment was also in rough shape, with a roof that needed repair and cans overflowing with garbage. We peered through the windows. Inside, the place was a mess, dusty with dishes, magazines, and discarded clothing on the floor. Clearly, no one was home.
“How can he live like this?” I said. “I hate to think of Merrily spending time here. She deserves better.”
“No argument there,” Simon agreed. “This guy is a mess.”
“He might be a lot worse than that,” Jackson said, his voice grim.
“You think he took Merrily?” I’d had the same thought, of course, but hadn’t wanted to verbalize it, to make it real.
Jackson nodded. “He seemed like an okay guy, even if he had an attitude. But what if he’s turned into a kidnapper?”
chapter thirty-one
Willow McQuade’s
Favorite Medicinal Plants
ROSEMARY
Botanical name: Rosmarinus officinalis
Medicinal uses: Ancient Greek scholars would wear laurels of rosemary on their heads to help them stay sharp and to keep their memories clear when taking examinations. I used it when I took my final exams at my naturopathic college.
An evergreen member of the mint family, with pale blue flowers, rosemary is also helpful for anxiety, fatigue, tension, and to improve energy levels and uplift spirits. In addition, rosemary is full of important nutrients including calcium, magnesium, potassium, phosphorus, and iron, and contains more than a dozen antioxidants. Because it improves digestion, circulation, and memory, it is an excellent herb for the elderly. In the bath or footbath, it rejuvenates the body and mind and also helps relieve pain and sore muscles.
I’ve recommended rosemary flower essence to many of my customers as it encourages users to be less forgetful and more aware, more present in their body, and more conscious. It strengthens the heart and mind. In aromatherapy, rosemary essential oil eases stress and anxiety, whether you inhale eight to ten whiffs from the bottle or put oil in a diffuser and let it fill the room with this lovely scent.
It was well after six on Saturday night when we returned to Nature’s Way. We’d checked out all the places that Merrily might be, including friends’ houses and places she liked to hang out, shop, and eat, but didn’t find her. By this time, Nature’s Way was closed. Lily had brought in all of the unsold items from the booth, but there wasn’t much left. She’d sold most of what we had, which was the only good news of late.
I called to check in with Detective Coyle and he confirmed that they had issued a BOLO. He also said that if Merrily didn’t show up within the next day, they would contact the FBI and enlist their help.
He had also updated Merrily’s mother and father, Andrew, who had just arrived from New York City, and assured them that everything was being done to help find their daughter.
Afterward, we sat at a table in the café and had a dinner of fresh tomato soup and Caesar salad while we tried to decide what to do next. We’d worked hard, yes, but we were no closer to finding Merrily or Dr. White’s killer.
After I finished eating, I got up and went back into the office to continue going through the box of Frank Fox’s stuff. Jackson and Simon followed me in.
“Willow,” Jackson said, “what are you hoping to find?”
“I don’t know, but I have to try to find something to help her.”
At that moment, the fax machine began making noises. I got up and watched with dread as a new fax came in. I pulled it out and read it as my hands began to shake.
“Willow,” Jackson said. “What does it say?”
I walked over to them and turned the sheet so they could read it: You Have 24 Hours or Merrily is Dead!
Jackson stood and pulled me into a hug, but I couldn’t be comforted. I couldn’t wrap my mind around any of this.
“Why is this happening? Merrily is such a sweet person. I know I’ve been a little aggravated with her lately, but I never could have made it through the first few months of taking over the store if she hadn’t been with me.” I began to sob. “We have to save her!”
“We will, we will,” Jackson said, trying to soothe me. “But you need to call Detective Coyle and send him the fax. He needs to know about this. The police might want to set up camp here or at her mother’s house.”
He turned to Simon. “In the meantime, I think we need to start digging in the garden. We’ve got a little more daylight, and we can set up lamps after that. We could start in the places where we found the earring, the goblet, and the sword. I think we have to try.”
“I agree,” Simon said, handing me some tissues. “Let’s go.”
• • •
While Jackson and Simon went outside, I called Detective Coyle, who said he was assembling a task force
to work on Merrily’s disappearance and possible abduction. He said they would be setting up at Merrily’s house. He would update me.
After that, I decided to finish going through the box of Frank Fox’s stuff before heading outside to help. I just had a feeling that there might be something there—something that could cut through all of this confusion and lead us to what we needed to find.
But after going through the rest of the items—a watch, an old bottle of aftershave, a scarf, an Ace bandage, an alarm clock, a photo of his wife, and a small DVD player—I had come to yet another dead end.
In desperation, I returned to the beginning, to the books that Frank seemed to have treasured so much. This time I didn’t look for notes but I examined the books themselves. The spines of the books appeared normal, so I opened each one and checked out the front and back.
When I came to the last book, a large coffee table book about the life of Captain Kidd, I found it. There, under the photo of Captain Kidd’s ship on the inside back cover, was a raised area, one that prevented the book from closing properly. I ran my fingers over it but couldn’t figure out what it was.
I went to my desk and got my scissors. Carefully, I used them to pierce the inside back cover right next to the object. It took several tries, but I finally managed to make an indentation right next to the object. Next, I drew the blade down to create an opening. Finally, I reached inside to pull out whatever was there.
It was a key, and not just any key. It looked very much like the skeleton key that Joe Larson had on his key chain.
The key had the number forty-nine on it—the same number that appeared in Roman numerals on the curb in Fred Monsell’s painting of the old cigar shop. Then I remembered that it had been Frank Fox, a member of that same men’s club, who had asked Monsell to put that number in the painting. Suddenly, I knew where we would find the information we needed to save Merrily.
• • •
“You do understand that this is breaking and entering?” Jackson asked as he used a set of lock picks to open the side door that led to the men’s club.
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