Death Drops (6 page)

Signed,

Willow McQuade, ND

We’d scheduled the memorial service for Monday. Ralph had kindly offered to contact the pastor and arrange all the details, and Merrily was more than willing to call Claire’s friends. Like Nick, I just couldn’t face it.

After my meeting with Ralph, I pulled into the parking lot behind Nature’s Way and headed for the back door. Before I could open it, Merrily did. Her eyes were as red as mine. It was a tough day all around.

“How’s the dog?”

“He’s resting in the office. I put him on the couch. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.”

As I stepped in the doorway of Aunt Claire’s office, the dog jumped off the couch and came over to me. He was a cute little shaggy thing, brown, black, and gray with a furiously wagging tail.

“Hi, sweetie. How’re you doing?” I looked closely at the wound on his neck. It was red and ugly and looked painful. “What did they give you to care for the wound?”

“The vet said to clean the wound out every day with this.” Merrily held up a bottle of blue liquid. “Dry it and apply this.” She showed me a tube of ointment.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll add an ointment Aunt Claire carries, too.” Natural remedies can often be used effectively along with many prescription meds, although there are a few exceptions. Like the fact that you shouldn’t take Saint John’s wort if you are already on prescription antidepressants.

The shelf across from the checkout counter was chock-full of remedies for dogs, cats, and horses. I plucked off an ointment that contained calendula extract and
Hypericum
and a bottle of calendula 6x homeopathic pills.

I picked up the dog and put him on the couch. “Merrily, can you please hold him?”

Merrily sat down next to him and put her hand on his back while I applied the cream to the wound. “This will help speed healing.” Next I popped a few calendula pills into his mouth which would dissolve instantly. “The homeopathic calendula will help heal the skin, too.”

“Should I keep looking for his owner?”

I looked at the malnourished dog, with his sad eyes and gaping wound. The sore around his throat was where a collar would have been. Probably the gash was the result of an ill-fitting collar and/or the dog being tied up most of the time.

“I think he’s a victim of neglect. So let’s not worry about that. He can have a home here. Maybe he was brought to us for a reason.”

Merrily brightened. “That’s what I was thinking! But he’ll need a name.”

I looked at the dog. “How about Qigong?” Qigong, pronounced chee-gung, or Chinese Yoga is a five-thousand-year-old practice that combines breathing techniques, postures, and meditation to balance vital life energy. It is used in Traditional Chinese Medicine along with acupuncture, acupressure, and herbal medicine. The name would only help speed the dog’s recovery.

Merrily clapped her hands. “I love it! Good doggie, good Qigong!” Qigong wagged his tail.

“I believe we have a winner,” I said, and smiled at Merrily.

“I think so, too. But I’d better get back to what I was doing.”

“Merrily, that can wait. Why don’t you go home?”

“I can’t go,” she said, misting up. “Not yet. I’ve got a few more calls to make about the memorial service.”

I pulled her into a hug. “Thank you so much, Merrily. You’re a lifesaver.”

“For Claire,” she said. “Anything.”

After she went back out to the store, Qigong curled up in a corner of the comfy couch and promptly went to sleep. It seemed like a good idea, so I grabbed a pillow from one of the chairs, lay down at the other end of the couch, and pulled a blanket over both of us.

When I woke up an hour later, Merrily had gone, leaving me a note on the desk that she’d see me in the morning. Alone again, I felt the darkness creep over me, and the tears came.

After the crying jag ended, I realized I was very much alone, and I suddenly felt afraid. Would Aunt Claire’s murderer come back? Should I be staying here by myself? The other choices were to stay in a hotel, which I’m sure wouldn’t allow dogs, or with my mother or sister, ditto. Nick lived in a tiny one-bedroom cottage in East Marion, so that was out, too. I had taken self-defense classes in college, so I knew I could protect myself. I decided to be brave and stay the night.

Next I realized I needed to check on my mother. I tried Natasha first, but when the call went to voice mail, I called the ER and was only told by the nurse on duty that my mother was to be admitted, but as a precaution, since she was stable. They were just waiting for the results of a few more tests. Nice of Natasha to let me know.

I was grinding my teeth together in aggravation over Natasha’s selfish behavior when there was a knock on the door. Nick walked in looking completely devastated. I was surprised to see him after our last conversation.

Now, wordlessly, he came over to me and hugged me. If it was possible, I could feel that his heart had been broken. He seemed so frail, instead of his usual robust self, ready for any
adventure. He had accompanied Aunt Claire around the world three times.

Nick’s focus over the past decade, though, had been on meditation and yoga, which he taught in the studio on the second floor. His classes on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday mornings were always well attended. His style was gentle and inspirational, yet practical. He encouraged his students to master the postures but never to the point of straining. People left feeling relaxed and renewed. I’d taken his classes many times over the years.

Dressed in his usual garb of polo shirt, jeans, and brown Crocs, he, like Aunt Claire, looked a good ten years younger than his actual age of sixty-eight. Eating vegetarian, teaching yoga, practicing meditation, and thinking Zen thoughts will do that to you.

He spotted Qigong and his eyes lit up. “Who have we here?”

Qigong wagged his tail but stayed put.

“He’s a rescue,” I said, and told him what had happened.

“Good for you. Claire would have approved.”

“I know.”

He patted Qigong on the head and sat in the chair opposite Aunt Claire’s desk. Up close, I could see that his piercing green eyes were red from crying. Being alone with his thoughts must have been hell.

“I’m surprised to see you out,” I said.

“I wanted to bring this to you,” he said, pulling a letter out of his pocket and handing it to me. “I thought you should see it right away.”

“What is it?” I turned the letter over and saw that Aunt Claire had printed
For Willow
on the envelope.

“I don’t know. She told me to give it to you if something happened to her.”

“When did she write this?”

He shifted in his chair. “I’m not sure. Something had been troubling her lately, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Believe me, I tried to find out.”

I prepared myself as well as I could for whatever lay inside, opened the letter, and began reading:

My dearest Willow,

If you are reading this letter, it is because I had to leave you much too soon. You know I don’t have any fear about death, so I urge you not to worry about me or the state of my soul. God is good and I know that all will be well. My concern, dear niece, is for you and your happiness. I’m so proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish! It is my sweetest satisfaction that you are as passionate about natural remedies as I am. You know by now that I’ve willed Nature’s Way Market and Café to you, but you probably have questions about why. Here is my answer: I want you to carry on my life’s work here by helping the community you and I both love. Life is meant to be lived in balance, and I feel you can find that balance here, along with joy and love. Be well, my dear niece.

I love you,

Aunt Claire

My eyes filled with tears, which overflowed and plopped on the sheet of paper. I grabbed a Kleenex from the box on top of the desk and handed the letter to Nick. He read it and nodded. “She wanted you here. I know she talked to you more than once about working together.”

I nodded. “She did, but I was involved with Simon. Plus William had asked me to join his holistic medical practice in West Hollywood. California is on the cutting edge when it comes to holistic treatments, so it seemed like a good place to start my career.” Naturopaths were also licensed to practice in California, while legislation was still pending for New York. I could see patients in New York, but my ND title had more acceptance on the West rather than the East Coast.

“But you missed home.”

“Of course. But basically I was doing okay.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “Okay is not wonderful. That’s what she wanted for you, to live life fully, joyfully. Can you honestly say that’s what you’ve been doing, living so far away, living in a city, in L.A.?”

“Well, no. It’s difficult there. It’s noisy, the beaches aren’t the same, there’s no space or seasons. I miss . . .”

He held up the letter. “You miss Greenport. She knew that, and in the event of her death, she wanted to help you find your way back here, Willow. Back to your home.”

I grabbed another Kleenex and blew my nose. “But why did it have to be this way? Why didn’t she tell me about her concerns?”

He thought for a moment. “I think she wanted to, but she also didn’t want to step on your independence. You were doing very well, from all outside appearances.”

“But she knew better.”

He nodded. “And she wanted to help you.”

I thought about how I’d been feeling lately, especially after my ex and I split. Out of balance, annoyed by city living. L.A. was less claustrophobic than, say, New York, but it was still a city. Everything from shopping for groceries to doing laundry to getting to work was a hassle. How many hours had I spent in traffic on the 405? In airports traveling back and forth between L.A. and Arizona? Yes, my neighborhood in Studio City, near CBS Studio Center, was nice, but it wasn’t the country. It was, in fact, one street over from bustling Ventura Boulevard.
The Pacific Ocean was wonderful, but I was tired of going to the beach with a thousand other people. It wasn’t the same as walking on the beach along the bay or the Sound and relishing the solitude. It wasn’t the same as being home. In Greenport. I’d often yearned for a simpler life, but not this way. Not with Aunt Claire gone, and under such suspicious circumstances.

“Willow, Claire wanted you to be happy. Be happy.”

I sniffed back tears. “How can I be happy if I feel guilty?”

“It’s not your fault she’s gone.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Willow?” He arched an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair. “What are you thinking?”

“I think she was murdered and that Janice did it,” I blurted out, telling him about the scene in the lawyer’s office.

Nick made a face. “I’d be thinking the same thing, only I don’t believe Janice would do anything to Claire. She seemed to revere her. I’d look at Gavin Milton. He’s that bodybuilder who owns the health food store across the street and has been hassling Claire ever since he opened last year. He’s been trying to drive her out of business by doing things like undercutting prices and spreading rumors that Nature’s Way has roaches.”

“Drive her out of business? But she’s been here for twenty years!”

He shook his head. “He doesn’t care. It made her very upset. She was worried about the Fresh Face formula, too. She was very nervous that she’d be scooped.”

“Is it really that unique?”

He walked around the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a key. Walking back around the desk, he went over to a dark brown floorboard and pulled it up. It was the kind of hidey-hole Lane on
Gilmore Girls
used for her favorite music. Underneath was a strongbox. Nick used the key to open it and plucked out a
large sheaf of papers, which he handed to me. “This is the formula. You could say that it’s the culmination of her life’s work. She’d traveled the world looking for the right combination of ingredients. This time, finally, she was sure she had it. It made her excited and nervous, very atypical for Claire.”

“I’ll say.” I glanced through the papers and found a list of ingredients she planned to use, including lavender, plantain, sunflower and borage oils, willow bark, and peppermint extract. She’d listed at least a dozen more ingredients. “Is this the only copy?”

“I’m not sure.” Nick put the papers, the floorboard, and the key back as he said, “But I think that’s why she wrote this letter. Maybe she had a feeling something bad was going to happen. She wanted to provide you with guidance.”

Maybe she wrote the letter for the same reason she’d gone to the funeral home. Aunt Claire’s “feelings” were the same kind of intuitive nudges I received from my inner self. Meditation, which both she and I practiced faithfully each morning, only made it stronger. Aunt Claire’s radar was right on when it came to people, situations, or places. Mine was pretty finely tuned, too, which meant I might be able to use it to find some answers . . . namely, who killed her.

Aunt Claire had been my surrogate mother, best friend, inspiration, and moral compass. Suddenly I knew what I had to do. I would stay in Greenport and carry on her vision and her work with the community and find her killer. I owed her that much, no matter the risk.

That night, sleep did not
come easily. Thoughts about Aunt Claire’s letter, what Nick had said, and what I’d decided kept me as awake as if I’d had ten cups of organic coffee. Was I crazy? What did I know about running a health food store and café? Sure, I’d watched Aunt Claire handle things with ease for more than twenty years now, but that wasn’t the same as doing it myself.

And what did I know about conducting a murder investigation? Was a personal stake enough? Plus, could I really just leave L.A.?

One thing I did know was that I liked the idea of providing naturopathic care to patients in New York. The more naturopaths there were in New York, the more likely New York would be to license them. We would gain further acceptance nationwide as an alternative to traditional care.

I tried to push past and future thoughts out of my mind. I’d never get to sleep this way. I heard a thump, then another. A few moments later Ginger and Ginkgo jumped on my bed and purred soothingly. I guess they’d been in Aunt Claire’s room sleeping, probably because they felt closer to her there. I petted them as they arranged themselves, one around my head, the other by my feet. Their routine would definitely bring me warmth this winter. I’d need to get Qigong up here, too. But for tonight he’d stubbornly insisted on staying downstairs on the couch in the office.