Death Drops (5 page)

Mother sat between us looking stricken, her face a chalky white.

“I’m taking you to the ER right now,” Natasha said briskly. “We aren’t taking any chances. Not after last fall.” She got up and began to hustle our mother to the door. “I hope you’re happy,” she said as she turned and shot me a nasty look.

Between my mother’s real or imagined heart attack, the police’s suspicions about me, and Aunt Claire’s murder, I felt anything but.

Dear Dr. McQuade,

I have been spending my nights tossing and turning. David Letterman and Craig Ferguson are becoming my new best friends. What can I do to sleep through the night?

Signed,

Counting Sheep

Dear Counting Sheep,

There are several things you can try. Known in herbal-medicine lingo as a nervine, valerian root is very relaxing. You may also want to try melatonin. Take a small dose, 1 to 3 milligrams, to see how it affects you. Finally, why not try a relaxing meditation tape? It will help you de-stress and drift off to sleep naturally.

Signed,

Dr. Willow McQuade

On the way to the hospital, which was a few blocks away on Manor Place, I checked my messages again. There was one from Merrily, wondering how things were going, and oh, by the way, she’d found a small stray dog under the front porch. What should she do? I quickly called her back and got the 411 on the situation. The dog, a friendly mutt that was probably a terrier mix, didn’t have a collar or a license and seemed malnourished. He also had a large gash on his neck that looked infected. She’d fed him some organic dog food and he was now resting in Aunt Claire’s office.

I suggested she call the animal shelter to see if anyone had lost a dog. She said she would but was worried that she wouldn’t find the owner. The dog really needed to see a vet straightaway. I asked her to take a picture of the wound and e-mail it to me.

I got it a few moments later. The wound did look nasty, deep and infected. I decided the dog needed immediate care, so I told her to go ahead and take him to the vet. We could look for the owner later. If we didn’t find him or her, I’d pay the bill. I’d been an animal lover since my childhood, when my father had rescued animals of all different types: birds, rabbits, bats, opossums, and mice. The local vet knew my family well.

That attended to, I turned my attention to the ER. When I arrived, my mother and sister had already gone into the patient area. I checked in with the receptionist and asked if I could join them. She pushed an intercom button, talked to the nurse on duty, and then waved me over to the door.

I stepped into a cold, white hallway and asked a nearby nurse where my mother was. She pointed to the right, so I headed down the hallway, looking into the stations that had all the latest monitoring equipment for emergencies. I spotted my mother and sister in the second one, engaged in deep conversation. My mother lay in the bed, already hooked up to an IV and heart monitor.

I interrupted them. “Are you okay, Mom?”

Natasha gave me a dismissive look. “No, she’s not okay. They’re running tests. They don’t know for sure what’s going on. But that scene in the lawyer’s office didn’t help. Good going.”

I pushed past her and went to the head of the bed. “I was talking to my mother.”

Mom put her hand to her chest, where it fluttered nervously. “My heart just feels like it’s beating a little too fast.”

Natasha took mother’s wrist and looked at her watch, preparing to take her pulse. “She has an arrhythmia, Willow. If you’d been here last September, you’d know that.”

Since both Aunt Claire and I had been barred from the hospital room, I’d been forced to get reports secondhand from the nurse, who hadn’t been very forthcoming. I let Natasha’s remark pass, not wanting to further upset my mother.

I leaned over to talk to her. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, honey,” she said, patting my hand. “My nerves are just so jangled right now.” She began to mist up, and Natasha handed her a tissue. “I can’t believe Claire is gone, and this business with the will is unsettling. I don’t know what Claire was thinking.”

I felt close to tears myself but focused on her. “Maybe some Rescue Remedy would help you calm down,” I suggested, and pulled a bottle of the flower essences from my pocketbook. I thought of Aunt Claire but pushed the memory out of my mind. Later.

“Willow. Outside,” Natasha commanded.

We left Mother’s station and walked down the hallway to the door that led to the reception area.

“Are you out of your mind? Giving her that stuff?” Natasha snapped.

“It’s perfectly harmless and could help calm her. It wouldn’t interfere with anything they need to do here. You can see she’s a nervous wreck.”

“This is so like you. You just don’t get it, do you? This is a serious condition. We need to run tests. She may have to stay here overnight or for a few days. I’m not going to allow her to take any of your quack remedies. Especially not until we know what’s really wrong with her.”

Sucking in a breath, I said, “You’re not going to allow her? Who do you think you are? Who put you in charge?”

“This,” Natasha said as she reached into her pocketbook, pulled out her wallet, and flipped me her AMA card. “I’m a real doctor: you’re not. I’ll call you when we know something. Good-bye, Willow.” She turned on her heel and headed back to Mother.

Natasha’s words stung, but I
knew that trying to talk to either my sister or my mother right now would just make things worse. So I sat in the parking lot of the hospital feeling upset and bereft. I’d held it together in the lawyer’s office and in the hospital, but now that I was alone again my defenses were down. My grief engulfed me like a shroud, and I started to sob uncontrollably. People passed me going to the ER or to their cars, and I just kept on crying. I didn’t care. My best friend was gone. I was alone.

After a while, I reached into the glove compartment, found some tissues, and wiped my face and blew my nose. I tried to compose myself by taking a few deep breaths. I felt exhausted and had decided to go back to the store and lie down (although it worried me that the murderer might return, and then what would I do?), when my phone rang. It was Nick and he sounded
awful. He asked me to take care of the funeral arrangements. He just couldn’t do it.

Yesterday morning, when I’d called him with the news of Aunt Claire’s death, he’d hurried to the store. When he saw her, he dropped to his knees and began sobbing. After the police left, so did he, without a word about where he was going. I’d called him repeatedly, but he didn’t answer. Finally, he called me back last night, sounding drunk, which was atypical for him but certainly understandable given the circumstances. The love of his life was gone. I’d checked with him again early this morning, waking him up, and he said he’d call later.

I told him I’d take care of the funeral.

I drove the two blocks from the hospital to the funeral home and pulled in front of the green-and-white clapboard building. The rain had stopped, but the stone walkway to the door was still wet as I walked up to it and rang the bell.

Ralph Chadway came to the door. The self-assured, fit, and handsome man in a tailored black suit and azure tie barely resembled the boy I knew in high school, who’d been tortured for being openly gay.

He saw my red face and eyes but didn’t comment. Instead, he pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry about your aunt. I know you were very close.”

He led me into the lobby. To the left was a viewing room that was thankfully empty. I didn’t feel up to seeing another dead body, not today. “Let’s go in here to talk.” He led me around the corner to a living-room-type area with lots of plush couches and boxes of tissues. All the shades were pulled down halfway, creating a gloomy atmosphere, like that of
Six Feet Under,
which I guessed was fitting.

Ralph sat down at his desk, which was pushed against a
wall, in front of a window, and motioned to the guest chair. He immediately grabbed a tissue and sneezed.

“Bless you,” I said, sitting down and taking a closer look at him. His eyes and nose were red. “Are you not feeling well?”

He threw the tissue into the waste basket, already full of discarded ones. “Allergies. I’m in misery. I can’t stop sneezing, my nose is runny, my eyes are itchy. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.”

“Have you tried natural remedies?”

He shook his head no.

Despite my grief, I knew that Aunt Claire would want me to help. “Natural remedies support your body’s innate healing process, so you can feel better faster. I often suggest my patients take quercetin. It’s a bioflavonoid found in the skin of red apples, red grapes, and red onions. You can take it with green tea, a natural antihistamine, and bromelain, which comes from the enzymes in pineapple stems and helps the quercetin be absorbed. Stinging nettle is also a good antihistamine. I have supplements for all these nutrients at the store.”

He smiled. “That sounds good. You’re actually giving me hope. Anything else I could try?”

“I’d start with those, but you can also take fish oils, which contain essential omega-three fatty acids, specifically EPA and DHA, to reduce inflammation. Zinc is another good immune booster. You take it in lozenges and supplements. Homeopathic remedies like histaminum and apis can work well for some people, too. You should also use a neti lota pot.”

“A what?”

“A neti lota pot. It’s from the practice of yoga. You use it to wash the allergens out of your nose with a solution of warm water, a quarter teaspoon of noniodized salt or sea salt, and a quarter teaspoon of baking soda. Use it once or twice a day as you need it.”

“I feel like I should pay you for this visit,” he said and smiled.

I waved his comment away. “That’s not necessary.”

“But you do have a practice, don’t you?”

“I see clients in L.A. but haven’t set up an office here. Right now my main priority is to keep Aunt Claire’s business open.” After that, I didn’t know. My phone rang again, and I looked at the display: Merrily. I excused myself and answered.

“Hi, Merrily, what’s happening? Could you find the owner?”

“No, I called the animal shelter and the police, but no one has reported a dog missing, so I brought him here. They haven’t had any calls about him, either.”

“Have they treated him?”

“Yes, they treated the wound and gave him a shot of antibiotics. I have cleanser and salve to keep it clean. The thing is, I can’t have animals at my house—it’s a rental. Can he stay with you at the store? I’m on my way back there now.”

Ginger and Ginkgo might not like it, but the dog needed a place to stay. “That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“That’s great, Willow,” Merrily gushed. “I’m so happy that you’ll be able to take care of him. I’ll see you soon.”

Ralph gave me a concerned look. “Anything wrong?”

“We’ve got a stray dog on our hands. Merrily just took him to the vet. It looks like he’s going to be okay.” I blew out a breath, feeling even more overwhelmed.

“You’ve got your hands full with everything that’s happened, haven’t you? How can I help?”

I focused on the task at hand. “I need to take care of Aunt Claire’s funeral arrangements.” I eyed the box of tissues, glad they were there in case I had another meltdown.

“No need, no need. She was in here last week and arranged everything.”

My eyebrows shot up. Aunt Claire lived in the moment.
The idea that she would think ahead and take care of such things was a surprise, to say the least. And what prompted her to come here last week? Did she have a premonition that something bad was going to happen? Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

He riffled through a pile of papers, grabbed a blue folder, and continued. “It’s very common. People do it so their loved ones don’t have to deal with such matters in a time of grief. If you think about it, it’s actually quite thoughtful.”

“Yes, you’re right, it is,” I said, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “But did she say why she decided to come in?”

Ralph checked his notes. “Not really. She just said she wanted to get it over with.”

“Get it over with? What do you think she meant by that?”

He closed the folder. “From what I could tell, the subject had been on her mind. Something she wanted to take care of. But if my experience is any guide, people, even if they know what they’d like done, often delay coming in to see me because it makes it real.”

“Did she seem upset? Did she say anything about someone trying to harm her?”

“Harm her?” He frowned. “No, she certainly did not. She was very businesslike. She told me what she wanted done, that she wanted her body to be cremated. Just a memorial service at the church, no wake. She said she didn’t want a viewing. She found it maudlin. I told her the wake wasn’t for her but for her family and loved ones, but she was immovable.”

“Sounds like Aunt Claire,” I said, in shock.

He handed me a tissue. “She was a woman who knew what she wanted.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if what Aunt Claire “wanted,” whatever it was, had put her at cross-purposes with her killer. If so, her stubbornness may have led to her being murdered.

Dear Dr. McQuade,

I have a terrible, annoying high-pitched sound in both of my ears. Someone told me that it’s called tinnitus. My regular doctor sent me for a hearing test and he says my ears are fine. But the buzzing is driving me crazy. Can you help?

Signed,

Seeking Silence

Dear Seeking Silence,

Tinnitus can be very troublesome. It can be caused by overuse of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories like aspirin, by wax in the ears, or even by allergies. For relief, you’ll want to increase circulation and decrease inflammation. High doses of ginger, say 300 milligrams, can be helpful, as can the herb feverfew. A good homeopathic remedy is kali carbonicum. Another way to ease tinnitus is through craniosacral therapy. Developed by the osteopathic physician and surgeon John E. Upledger, the treatment uses light pressure (the weight of a nickel) to release restrictions in the craniosacral system, which comprises the membranes that surround the brain and spinal cord. You can find a practitioner at
www.upledger.com
.