Garden of Death

by Chrystle Fiedler

  “What happened?” Sandra yelled.

  “Nate jumped,” Martin yelled back. “Stay where you are!” He walked over to the edge of the dock, put down the treasure chest and duffel bag, pulled out his flashlight, and aimed it and his gun at the water. “Where are you? Get back here, right now!” He stood there waiting, but Nate didn’t surface. Merrily gasped as he fired several shots into the water. We all waited. But Nate didn’t show himself. “Don’t any of you get the same idea! Move it! Head for the boat!”

  The six of us continued down the dock to the boat. In the harbor a Shelter Island ferry made another run back to the island. We met Sandra at their boat, a large white cabin cruiser with a dinghy powered by an outboard motor attached. I figured that he planned to light the boat on fire and then he and “Sandy” would escape in the dinghy.

  “Drop your cell phones into the water before you get on,” Martin said, pointing the gun at each of us in turn. “No funny business.”

  I did as he instructed and got onto the boat first, followed by Simon, Merrily, Tony, and Jackson. Martin put the duffel bag and treasure chest on the dock, then untied the boat from the dock, all the while keeping the gun trained on one of us. Sandra tried to keep a bead on us too, but moved her gun back and forth in a random fashion, and her hands trembled. She looked scared and out of her depth.

  True, they both had guns, but she seemed inexperienced and scared. Plus we had five people on the good guys’ team and they only had two on the bad guys’ team. I just had to believe that we could get the jump on them.

  “You go up first, I’ll follow,” Martin said. “Keep an eye on all of them.”

  Sandra nodded and climbed to the upper deck. When she got there, she turned around and trained her gun on us as we climbed up the ladder. Martin grabbed the treasure chest and duffel bag off of the dock and put them on the lower deck, then followed us. Once we were all on the upper deck, Martin positioned us in a half circle in front of him before he started the engine and pulled out from the dock.

  The night was still and clear, and I knew sound carried across water. I wondered if anyone had heard the gunfire when he shot at Nate. Maybe someone would call the police. As for Koren and Coyle, they were probably in the garden, wondering where everyone had gone. Somehow I didn’t have much faith in them finding us in time.

  Martin maneuvered the boat out into the harbor and headed for Shelter Island, which was about three-quarters of a mile away as the crow flies. Jackson was on one side of me and Simon, the other. While Martin focused on piloting the boat, I tried to figure out what to do. Whatever it was, I’d also need to communicate it to Jackson and Simon.

  As I stood there, I suddenly remembered that Shelter Island held its fireworks at midnight on the last Saturday night of the Maritime Festival. I felt my first glimmer of real hope. Maybe we could use this as a distraction to regain control of the situation from Martin. I glanced at my watch. There was still time.

  I leaned closer to Jackson and tried to whisper this to him, but it was impossible to make myself heard over the sound of the boat’s engine. Finally, when Martin glanced in the other direction, I pointed to Shelter Island and the sky and tried to pantomime fireworks. Jackson picked up on it immediately. Next, I found my moment and did the same with Simon and he shared it with Tony, who was to his right.

  I glanced at my watch. It was nearly midnight. Jackson, Simon, and Tony were watching me, so when I pointed to the dial, they knew it was almost time.

  When we heard the first little pop that indicated the fireworks were about to start, we prepared for action. Suddenly the sky lit up with the first geysers of golden light.

  Startled, Martin looked up, and as he did, Tony tackled him from the left side. Jackson did the same from the right side, and they brought him to the ground. Martin made an ooof! sound and the gun he’d been holding skittered across the deck and landed underneath the captain’s chair.

  Sandy freaked out and ran over to him, but Simon intercepted her, pushing her against the railing on the starboard side, and then overboard. She landed with a splash below and began to scream for help.

  “What did you do to her?” Martin yelled as he wrestled with Tony.

  At the same time, Jackson scrambled across the deck. “Where’s the gun?”

  “It’s over there!” I said. “It’s under the captain’s chair.”

  But Martin spotted it, too. He hit Tony, who went sliding toward the ladder. Tony landed with a nasty cracking sound and didn’t get up.

  Simon tried to tackle Martin, but the boat shifted and he tripped over a tackle box and went flying across the deck and landed on some life preservers.

  “Should we do something?” Merrily asked, looking terrified.

  “Not right now. We wait for our moment,” I said, hoping it would come soon.

  Jackson turned back from the gun and tackled Martin as he approached him. The two of them hit the deck hard, rolling as the boat shifted, now unmanned and unmoored, and Sandra continued to scream.

  As the two of them wrestled, I began to make my way across the deck to the gun under the captain’s chair. Then Martin managed to throw a punch that connected with Jackson’s face, and he got up and scurried toward the gun, shoving me aside. I landed next to Simon on the deck.

  “You okay?” Simon said.

  “I’m okay. What should we do?”

  “Get the gun, Jackson!” Simon yelled.

  Tony was still unconscious, but Jackson slowly got up. From the boat lights, I could see he’d have quite a shiner. He looked dazed as he started across the deck to the captain’s chair.

  But before he could even get halfway across, the wake from one of the passing Shelter Island ferries hit us, rocking the boat. Martin managed to use the momentum to tackle Jackson. They fell again, this time right near the captain’s chair. They both frantically grabbed for the gun. But Martin got there first.

  “Okay, enough,” he said as he used the chair to stand up. He dropped anchor while keeping the gun trained on us once more, then backed up to the railing on the starboard side where Sandra had fallen overboard, and yelled, “Sandy? Where are you? You okay?”

  But Sandy didn’t answer.

  “Sandy? Sweetie? Sandy!”

  No answer.

  “Answer me!” He pulled out the flashlight and, while periodically checking on us, scanned the water all around the boat. “Sandy?” He seemed to be about to cry, but then switched emotions and became absolutely furious. “Where is my wife?”

  We all looked at him with blank expressions on our faces. Finally, Jackson said, “I don’t know, sorry, man.”

  “You should be sorry! This is all your fault! And you’re going to pay for it! Everyone is going into the downstairs cabin until this is over. Let’s go!”

  Tony lifted his head and blinked. With help from Jackson and Simon he got to his feet, and we all headed back down the ladder, and Martin directed us into the downstairs cabin. He searched us for anything that could be used a weapon, and then used rope to bind our hands and feet.

  He made us sit on the floor in the hold of the boat, between the bunks. I sat between Jackson and Simon with Tony and Merrily opposite me. We sat silently as Martin walked back up the stairs and closed the hatch. Moments later, the engine started up again, but the boat moved slowly, probably because Martin was looking for his wife.

  “Start working on your ropes,” Jackson said.

  “There’s got to be a knife in the kitchen area,” I said.

  “I’ve got a Swiss Army Knife in my shoe,” Simon said.

  “How James Bond of you,” I said.

  “I put it there when Nate had us start digging.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Yes, that’s very good news,” Jackson said. “Now we just have to get everyone free and overboard before he blows it all up.”

  I
scooted closer to Simon and reached one of my bound hands toward his shoe. “If I can get the knife, I can cut one of us free.”

  It took a bit of struggling and grunting, but I finally extracted Simon’s knife from his shoe, got the blade open, and began sawing on the ropes that bound Jackson’s hands. Within ten minutes or so, we were all free again. Jackson went up the stairs, opened the hatch, and took a quick look around. When he came back he said, “Martin seems to be stopping again. I’m sure he’ll probably check on us before he deploys the device to blow up the boat. I think you should all sit back on the floor and pretend you’re still tied up.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “I’m going to get up top. When he opens the hatch and looks in, I’ll knock him down.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Simon said. “Places, everyone.”

  We all did as Jackson suggested. Moments later, the engine began to slow even further and eventually stopped. By this time Jackson was already onboard waiting for Martin.

  We heard Martin’s footsteps on the ladder from the upper deck, heard him reach the lower deck, then walk across the lower deck toward the hatch. Moments later, he opened it and stepped in. He was carrying another black duffel bag, smaller than the one with his dead father’s bones. “Is everyone comfy and cozy?” he asked.

  “We’re fine,” I said. “Now, are you going to let us go?”

  Martin continued down to the next step. “Oh, no. This is the fun part.” He held up the bag. “I’ve just got to set the timer and you’ll all go boom.”

  But before he could arm the device, Jackson stepped down and hit Martin on the head with the handle of an oar. Martin groaned, collapsed, and rolled down the stairs, landing with a hard thud.

  Tony quickly snatched his gun, which had fallen to the deck of the cabin, while Jackson and Simon grabbed Martin and began to tie his hands and feet.

  Once Martin was secured, Jackson grabbed a flare gun from the shelf. “I spotted this before. I’m going to shoot it off so the police can find us. Tony, can you watch the prisoner?”

  “No problem.”

  Simon and I followed him up the steps and out on deck. Suddenly it seemed like a beautiful night, with cool breezes and calm seas. It felt good to be alive.

  Jackson walked over to the middle of the deck and shot off the flare gun. We all watched as the flare shot up into the sky, leaving a red tail trailing behind it.

  Simon smiled and put an arm around each of us. “We make quite a team.”

  “Like the Three Stooges?” Jackson suggested.

  “No,” I said. “We’re definitely the Three Musketeers.”

  • • •

  We spent most of Sunday telling Detectives Koren and Coyle exactly what had happened and signing statements. By the time we returned to Nature’s Way, I was ready for a nice lavender bath and bed.

  But the dogs had a different idea. They wanted to go for a walk. So we put on their leashes and headed down a now-deserted Front Street. For this year, the Maritime Festival was over. With everything that had happened, that seemed just fine with me.

  When we returned to Nature’s Way, we grabbed a quick dinner, and I took a long hot bath. By the time I came out, Jackson was asleep, with all of the dogs and cats surrounding him.

  I, on the other hand, felt much too restless to sleep. The garden project that I’d envisioned has resulted in so many unforeseen, bad, and even evil consequences that I still wondered if it had been a mistake.

  But there was part of me that still really wanted to use the garden to teach people about the medicinal qualities of plants and how they could improve the quality of their lives.

  I wished that I could know what Aunt Claire would do if she were here, so once again, I began to go through her journals.

  It was almost midnight, a full twenty-four hours since we’d been rescued from Martin Bennett’s boat, when I found what I needed. In one of her journals, on the last page, Aunt Claire had written a list of ten things she’d hoped to accomplish in her business. For number one, she’d written: “Make Nature’s Way a success by serving the community.” When I came to number ten, she’d written: “Create a garden designed after the Chelsea Physic Garden in London to teach people about the value of plants.”

  Finally, I knew that I had Claire’s seal of approval on the garden. It made me feel good to know that even now, I was helping to make her dreams come true.

  epilogue

  Two months later, at the beginning of August, we all gathered again to celebrate the opening of the teahouse in my medicinal garden. In the weeks after the capture and arrest of Nate Marshall, for the murder of Dr. White; Ted Fox, aka Martin Bennett, for the murder of his father and attempted murder of Nate and the rest of us; and Sandra, who had been rescued by the Coast Guard, for being his accomplice, the police had continued to be busy.

  First, they tracked down Professor Albert Russell, who had been hiding out at his sister’s house in Amagansett, and he surrendered Captain Kidd’s sword. It was returned to its rightful place in the East Hampton Historical Society. Professor Russell gave up the fake Dr. Travis Gillian, and both were charged with receiving stolen goods.

  Meanwhile, Jackson and I contacted the real Dr. Travis Gillian, who came over to examine what we’d found in Frank’s treasure chest along with the goblet and the earring from the safe-deposit box at the bank. All of the pieces had been stolen by Martin, and a few, like the goblet, were quite valuable. Dr. Gillian promised to help us identify their origins and, if possible, return them to their rightful owners.

  Dr. Gillian also showed up with his staff to conduct a thorough examination of the entire lot with sophisticated sonar equipment. Although they didn’t find any pirate treasure, they did uncover several bowls and crockery from the Colonial era, which we donated to the Floyd Memorial Library to put on display.

  Once they’d ascertained that the lot was “treasure-free,” Dr. Gillian released a statement to all the papers so that no one would come looking for anything valuable in the lot again. Visitors would have to settle for the myriad of medicinal plants that benefited body, mind, and spirit. Not a bad trade-off, in my mind.

  In other news, Harold Spitz was never charged with trespassing in the garden or any vandalism, since we had no real proof. He was questioned regarding his relationship with Professor Russell, but that yielded nothing. His yard sale/antique business was still going strong. Unsuccessful treasure hunter Rhonda had to declare bankruptcy and she and Ramona sold the heirloom veggie business.

  Joe Larson was thrown off the Village Board for colluding with Dr. White to get him my lot. When the mayor and the Village Board realized the power that the Whites had wielded over local business, Arlene was summarily dismissed from all committees and positions of power and authority.

  Thankfully, since her husband’s killer had been caught, she stopped her Garden of Death campaign. Arlene and Joe got married in July on her yacht, Lady White.

  In the best news of all, Detective Koren cleared Jackson of any wrongdoing and even begrudgingly acknowledged our help in catching Dr. White’s killer. But I knew that he wasn’t planning on stopping by for a chai tea at Nature’s Way any time soon.

  There were other benefits, too. Simon, spurred on by our adventure with pirate treasure, finished his screenplay just in time to send it to his agent before he went back to work on his new show in L.A. There was already interest from three big-time movie producers. He’d be back on the East End for Thanksgiving.

  But for today, the weather was calm, bright, and beautiful—the perfect day to celebrate the completion of the teahouse and garden. It was the final piece of a yearlong project, although changes in plants and educational displays and tours would be ongoing.

  All of our friends were on hand, including Allie, Wallace, Lily, Hector, and Aunt Claire’s boyfriend, Nick, along with the mayor and tru
stees on the Village Board. Simon was needed on the set of his show, but he had sent a huge bouquet of flowers to celebrate our achievement.

  But I was happiest about the fact that Merrily had joined us again. After a period of therapy, she seemed to be coming back into her own happy and productive self and was baking up a storm in the kitchen. Merrily’s Marvelous Gluten-Free Pies had begun to attract attention and we had more requests from customers every day.

  At 2 p.m., I went to the center of the patio, in front of a new portrait of Claire that Nick had painted. I’d placed it on an easel there, so everyone who visited would see it and be reminded of her.

  “Thanks so much for coming to the opening of our new tea garden. Jackson has worked really hard to make this a reality.” I gestured to him, and he made a small bow and smiled.

  “I know that you’re all going to enjoy sipping tea and eating Merrily’s tasty pastries in such a serene place here, outside among the flowers.” I smiled at Merrily and she gave me a thumbs-up. “I hope it becomes a sanctuary for all of you.”

  I took a breath and went on. “After what happened at the opening of this garden and the events that transpired afterward, I have to admit that I had my doubts about whether this garden was going to work.” Jackson gave me a look as if to say not this again.

  “This concerned me greatly,” I explained, “because I love and miss my aunt, more than I can say, and I wanted to make her proud as I carried on her legacy.” The day was calm, but at that moment, a strong breeze ruffled the trees. I paused for a moment and smiled.

  “What I wanted most, I couldn’t have, which was a heart-to-heart with Claire to see what she thought about what had transpired and her advice for the future. But I think I found the next best thing, her journal, in which she clearly stated her desire to create such a garden for the community. I’m happy to carry out her wishes today and every day that I can.

  “And now, if Mayor Hobson would like to come up, he will open the teahouse.”