Garden of Death

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “Stop,” Nate said. “Bring it to me!”

  He trained his gun on Jackson and Simon as the two of them lifted it, brought it over to him, and placed it on the ground at his feet.

  Keeping an eye on Jackson and Simon, Nate leaned over and tried to open the chest. “It won’t budge. We need a key.”

  Simon glanced at me and made a turning motion that Nate didn’t see, and I realized what he was thinking: that the key to the locker at the men’s club might also open the treasure chest.

  Nate must have noticed something, because he whipped around and glared at me. “What? Do you know something? Do you have the key?” He pointed the gun at Merrily. “Give it to me or she dies.”

  “Don’t do anything crazy, Nate,” I said, and fished the key out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Here it is.”

  He grabbed the key and inserted it into the lock. There was a loud click and the clasp opened. “Got it!” He pushed the lid open and if fell back with a clunk. “Give me that flashlight!”

  I handed it to him and he trained it on the inside of the box. Over his shoulder, I could see dozens of items wrapped in plastic bags with tags. I wasn’t sure if it was pirate treasure, but some of the items glittered in the light, and many looked old and valuable.

  But Nate was not impressed. “What the hell is this?”

  Nate was staring at the contents of the box, so Jackson seized the moment, took his shovel and swung it up and across, and knocked him on the side of the head. Nate slumped to the right and hit the ground, landing face first in the dirt. It was rough justice for a man who had done the same to Dr. White.

  As if confirming his defeat, the annual fireworks show started moments later with pops and hisses. The dark night sky over the harbor was filled with a display of dazzling, sparkling colors.

  “Thank God, Jackson!” I said.

  Tony emerged from the shadows and ran over to us, gun drawn. “Is everyone okay? I was watching from over there and waiting to get the jump on that little creep.”

  “Do you think he’s dead?” Simon said.

  “Stand back, I want to get his weapon.” Jackson put down his shovel and went over to Nate, who hadn’t moved. He picked up the gun, checked it, and shoved it into his back waistband. “Then he checked Nate’s pulse. “He’s alive. And would you believe it, there were no bullets in his gun.”

  “So what his endgame?” Simon said. “He told us everything. That’s a lot of witnesses to leave alive. But believe me, I’m not complaining.”

  Jackson took a look into the box. “He probably planned to use the treasure to disappear. Money can get you beyond the arm of justice.”

  Merrily slumped onto the ground with a groan and I went over to her. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “I think I’m okay.”

  “What happened? And where was he keeping you?”

  “At first I thought we were going to have a weekend away, and I was really excited. But then all we did was go up to his friend’s cabin on Mattituck Lake. Nate got a phone call, and after that, his whole personality seemed to change. He got so mean and nasty, and he wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “That call must have been from the guys who were trying to collect on his gambling debts,” Simon said.

  “I don’t know,” Merrily said. “But after that call, he’d go out, but when he did, he’d tie me up and put me in the closet. All he kept talking about was this treasure.”

  “You poor thing.” I held her and she began to cry. “It’s okay, Merrily. You’re safe now.”

  Simon had jumped back into the hole and resumed digging. Now he spoke up, his voice strained. “Guys, I found something else.”

  “What is it?” Jackson said.

  Simon stood up, a horrified expression on his face. In his hand was a human skull.

  chapter thirty-three

  Willow McQuade’s

  Favorite Medicinal Plants

  VALERIAN

  Botanical name: Valeriana spp., including V. officinalis family and Valerianaceae (Valerian family)

  Medicinal uses: The early colonists brought valerian with them when they traveled to the New World, and it’s a good thing they did, because this herb does wonders for stress, anxiety, tension, and insomnia. Valerian is a safe, powerful, and popular nervine, often prescribed by European doctors to soothe the nervous system and treat headaches and muscle aches and pains. In Germany it is more likely to be recommended than Xanax or Valium.

  This nerve tonic works by depressing activity in the central nervous system thanks to two compounds, valerenic acids and valerenal. Valerian is sometimes referred to as a “daytime sedative” because it can improve performance, concentration, and memory during the day. It can also help you sleep better during the night and reduces the time needed to fall asleep. Take it as pills or capsules, as the taste is objectionable.

  As a flower essence, valerian calms, encourages healthy sleep, and eases physical pain. It is helpful during convalescence from illness. If you didn’t receive adequate love during childhood, it helps to lift the spirits and foster inner peace.

  Note: If you are taking sedatives, antidepressants, or antianxiety medications, use valerian only under the guidance of a qualified health-care professional.

  We all stared at the skull, crusted with dirt and decayed by the time it had spent in the earth. This was by far the most chilling thing that we could have ever found in my garden. Maybe it really was the Garden of Death after all. I found myself shivering.

  “How did that get here?”

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said. “But it’s clearly been buried here for quite a while. We’d better call Koren and Coyle.”

  “We need to tell them about Merrily, too.” I pulled out my phone and texted Koren:

  Found Merrily & kidnapper. We R in garden. Come rt away!

  Simon tried to hand the skull to me. “Can you please take this?”

  I didn’t want to. I shook my head. “I can’t. Just put it on the ground.”

  But at that moment, Martin Bennett stepped out of the shadows, looking large and menacing. He, too, had a gun in his hand. Chances were good that his gun had bullets. Behind him was Sandra.

  “I’ll take that,” Martin said.

  I could not make sense of this—a guy who made artisanal cheeses waving a gun at us? “Martin? Sandra? What are you two doing here?”

  He pointed his gun at Tony. “Drop your weapon, Tony. I know you carry. Tony and I belong to the Orient Gun Club, don’t we?”

  Tony gingerly placed the two pistols on the ground.

  “Martin, this is crazy,” I said, foolishly hoping I could appeal to reason. “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up some loose ends and getting my own back.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re after the treasure, too.” Jackson sounded positively weary.

  “It’s mine.” Martin walked up to the treasure chest and looked inside. He crouched down and picked up several items and unwrapped them.

  Sandra walked up behind him and looked over this shoulder. “This is amazing baby, just like you said.”

  “Told you so.”

  “What’s in there?” I asked, wondering if he would tell us as much as Nate had.

  Martin held up a small gold statue of Venus and an elaborate silver and jade necklace. “Things like this: antiques, jewelry, artifacts. I’m the one who buried them, but I guess my stepfather, Frank, found all this stuff after I left. I certainly didn’t leave them all neatly put together in a treasure chest.” Martin shook his head in amazement. “Frank was such a trip. He was always poking around with his metal detector. My mother used to complain about it when I’d call her. She said that he cared more about that thing than he did her.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, remembering that Emily had mentioned Frank having a steps
on who moved away a long time ago. “Your stepdad was Frank Fox?”

  Martin turned to me. “Yes, my real name is Ted, Ted Fox. I’m Frank’s long-lost stepson.” He continued to go through the items in the chest. When he’d finished, he glanced up at me, an angry look on this face. “Where is the sword? And the goblet and the diamond earrings?”

  I looked at Jackson. “You were right. The pirates didn’t bury any of the treasure. Martin did.”

  “I buried the stuff, Frank dug it up and buried it in this chest. But I don’t see the sword or the goblet or the earrings. Now where are they?” he demanded, his voice louder. He stood and pointed the gun at me. Sandra took a few steps back.

  I explained about Professor Russell and how we had given the sword to the fake Dr. Gillian and that the other items were in my safe-deposit box.

  Martin nodded. “That’s right. I remember that I wrapped some things in cloth. That’s probably why Frank didn’t find the sword or the goblet and earrings with his metal detector. Irregardless, I have to get that sword back. It’s mine.”

  “Uh, it’s regardless,” Simon said. “Not irregardless.”

  Martin turned the gun on Simon, who was still in the hole. “Shut up.”

  “But Martin, I mean Ted, we don’t know where the sword is.”

  “Maybe this Professor Russell does.” He scowled at me. “Just call me Martin. It’s easier.”

  “Aren’t we forgetting something here?” Jackson said. “We just found a skull in this ditch. Do you know whose it is?”

  Now Martin trained his gun on Jackson. “You, get back in the hole and keep digging. There’s a body that belongs to this head, and I need it.”

  “A body?” I nearly shrieked. My garden was turning into a graveyard.

  Martin gave me a bored look. “You want the story? Fine. I’ll tell you, because you’re not going to live long enough to repeat it. Consider it your last request.”

  “I grew up on this lot.” Martin pointed to the north end of the piece of land. “There was a house there, and I lived in it with my father, Robert Fox, who was Frank Fox’s older brother, and my mother, Denise.

  “From the time I was ten, my not-so-loving father used to beat the tar out of me, and her. But he stopped when I was seventeen, because he knew I could take him. But he kept hitting my mother.”

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  “Yes, it was. But he usually did it when I wasn’t around. But one night twenty years ago, when I was nineteen, I was there when he went after her again. I’d had enough. We fought and I killed him.”

  “And you buried him in the backyard,” Jackson said.

  “That’s right, I did. Keep digging.”

  “Then what happened?” I said.

  “I hit the road and got as far away from here as I could. I think my mother may have suspected what I’d done, but if she did, she kept quiet. When I finally called her five years later, she’d married my father’s younger brother, Frank Fox.”

  “Where did you go?” I said.

  “California. I met Sandy when we were both working at an organic farm outside of San Francisco. She’d been away from the East End for over twenty years, too, and she wanted to move back here. I figured enough time had passed, so we moved back to the East End and started the dairy—after I had some plastic surgery done on my face and nose to hide my identity.”

  “See, Willow, I told you he’d had work done,” Simon said.

  “Shut up!” Martin said. “And get back to work!”

  I looked at Sandra, who seemed completely nonplussed by Martin’s story. “So Sandra knows about your father?”

  Martin gave her a loving look. “Yes, and it didn’t change her feelings for me.”

  “I always knew that you were gullible, Sandra, but this is extreme.”

  “I told you so,” Simon said.

  “Shut up and dig!” Martin brandished the weapon at Simon.

  Sandra came up to Martin, took his hand, and looked at him adoringly. “I love him, and he takes care of me. That’s all I need to know.”

  “Did you know about the treasure?”

  “Yeah, of course. We tell each other everything, don’t we, hon?”

  “We sure do, sweetie.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  “Was she the one who told Harold and the others about it?”

  He nodded. “She told Kylie, and Kylie let it slip to some of the others. I don’t think Kylie thought it was true; she thought it was a goof. But everyone else sure believed it. Every time I’d try to break in here, to try to dig up the stuff I’d buried and find my father’s body, I’d see Harold or this kid.” He pointed to Nate, who was still lying unconscious on the ground. “It was like Grand Central Station in here some nights. Not to mention, Tony here.”

  “You say that Frank found the things in the box with his metal detector over the years, but where did those other things—the sword, goblet, and earring—come from?” I asked.

  “All of it was stuff I stole when I was a teenager. I belonged to this gang. For kicks and cash, we used to knock over houses and the small local museums in the winter, when things were quiet out here. We sold what we could, but the other things that we knew would be recognized—like Captain Kidd’s sword—I buried in the lot, to wait for time to pass.”

  “So it really was Captain Kidd’s sword?” I said.

  “Sure thing. We stole that from the East Hampton Historical Society.”

  “Did you see Frank before he died?” Jackson asked, taking a break from digging. There was already a mound of bones at the bottom of the hole where he and Simon were working. It was a grisly sight.

  “No, by the time Sandy and I moved back to Cutchogue last fall, my mother and Frank were both dead.”

  “You must have been shocked when you found out that he donated the lot where you grew up to the village,” Simon said.

  “I was. That’s when Sandy and I applied for the lot from the village. We could put the business here, and I could grab my lost artifacts and find my father’s body before anyone else did.”

  “But it didn’t work out that way,” Simon said.

  “No, it didn’t. Ms. McQuade got the lot and I had to try and shut her down. Now, you two, get back to work!”

  Jackson and Simon began digging again.

  I continued talking to Martin, hoping that Detectives Koren and Coyle would show up. Where were they?

  “So you were the one who painted on the fence and dug all the holes. Were you the one that Jackson almost caught that night?”

  “No, that wasn’t me. Must have been Harold or one of the others.”

  “Did you hit Nate?”

  He nodded. “He was in my way.”

  “I knew that he hadn’t fallen,” I said. “And you’re the one who broke into the store and ransacked my bedroom and office?”

  Martin nodded, his eyes on the bones that were being excavated.

  “Did Sandra know what you were doing?” I watched as the pile of bones got larger and larger. I could make curved ribs and the long bone of a femur. My stomach started to feel queasy.

  “I tell Sandra what she needs to know.”

  At this, Sandra looked hurt; she had belied her statement that they told each other everything.

  “Now I just need to clean up a few loose ends and I’ll be free of the past and we’ll have enough money to go anywhere we want.” He threw a big duffel bag down into the hole. “Put the bones in here boys.”

  “So by taking these artifacts and digging up your father’s bones you’ll have a clean start—is that the plan?” Jackson said.

  “Very good. You must have aced school,” Martin said sarcastically.

  “But you have six witnesses—Willow, Simon, Merrily, Nate, Tony, and me,” Jackson pointed out. “You can’t seriously be considering killing a
ll of us?”

  “You and Simon are going to finish digging up my father’s body, and then all of us are going to take a trip out into the bay. There will be a fire and an explosion, and none of your bodies will ever be found.”

  “And once you find Professor Russell and the sword, you’ll leave town with Sandy?” I guessed.

  “Correct. I just have to do a little more research to find out the best place to fence these things. But I’ll have plenty of leisure time for that. I hear Spain is nice.”

  “But most of these items probably are recognizable,” Simon said. “It’ll be hard to sell them, even on the black market.”

  “Don’t you worry about that now. I have ways.” He peered down into the ditch. “Do you have it all?”

  Jackson and Simon looked around the ditch where they’d been working. “I think so,” Jackson said. “We dug pretty deep and wide.”

  “Good, finish filling up the bag, then hand it to me.”

  They did as he asked. Martin pulled the bag toward his feet while keeping his gun trained on Jackson and Simon. “Now, fill it in.”

  • • •

  About half an hour later, Jackson and Simon had filled the hole back in and, following Martin’s directions, put new mulch on top to hide what they’d been doing.

  It was nearly midnight when the eight of us walked across the village green in Mitchell Park, with Martin and Sandra at the rear. Before we’d left, he’d given Sandra a small revolver, and warned us if we said anything to anyone that he or she would shoot us on the spot. Nate was still out of it, but he could walk, and he leaned on Jackson, as if he were drunk. No one would suspect what had really happened to him.

  The park was deserted, everyone having gone home after a busy day at the Maritime Festival. So we made our way across the green quickly and headed for the docks in the harbor behind it.

  When we reached the docks, Martin motioned to the right and told us to keep walking, and instructed Sandy to run up ahead to watch everyone. At the next row of boats, we took a left. “Keep going,” he said. “When you get to the boat named Sandy, stop and wait. No funny business.”

  But as we made our way down the wooden dock to the boat, Nate suddenly pulled away from Jackson and jumped into the inky black water below, dropping like a stone.