Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery (Natural Remedies Mysteries) Read online

  “I can’t figure out this case at all.” I picked up the book and slid it into my purse. “I think our main suspects are Tom, because he hated his brother and is in love with Carly and is completely out of control; and, I hate to say it, Carly, because Roger repeatedly cheated on her and she might inherit the estate. Also, Amanda suspects her. I guess Amanda could be a suspect, too, if Roger jilted her, but there’s no evidence of that.” A new possibility occurred to me. “Do you think Sarah could have killed Roger because of his treatment of Tom?”

  “From what I’ve seen of Sarah, that’s a reach. I think she cares about Tom and would love for things to work out between them. But I don’t get the feeling that they’ve ever been close enough for her to commit murder on his behalf.”

  I fingered my peace-sign necklace. “Okay, next, James Russell because of his father’s death and the fact that Roger wanted to sell the estate. But he would have had to have help. He’s too old to have done it by himself.”

  Jackson opened two raw sugar packets and put them in his iced tea. “Right, I don’t see him dragging Roger down that secret passage without having a coronary. Though maybe Lucas helped him.”

  “Maybe. Next, what about Rick and MJ? Or even Pierre? He was really annoyed that Roger did such a lousy job.”

  “I don’t see either Rick or MJ doing it. Rick is all about getting the show produced, and both of them needed Roger alive as an investor. Pierre being annoyed isn’t enough of a motive.”

  “What about Cassidy, the wardrobe mistress? I forgot to tell you that she’s Tom and Roger’s first cousin.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Maybe she had a grudge against Roger because of something we don’t know about. I talked to her after you left at lunch. She doesn’t think Simon or Tom did it, but she didn’t say anything more than that.”

  Jackson looked thoughtful. “You’ve got plenty of suspects, but you don’t have enough on anyone, yet. You need to keep investigating. Something will break, usually when you least expect it. I’ll help as much as I can.” The waiter set two steaming bowls of clam chowder on the table. “Let’s enjoy our dinner. We’ll be back in the middle of this soon enough.”

  “Right.” But I couldn’t help asking a few more questions. “Are they going to shoot tonight? Did Koren grant permission? Did he find anything new?”

  “Yes, they’re shooting tonight at eight. The cops released the scene. I didn’t see the techs come up with any new evidence, but they could have put it in their bags. I guess you want to be there when they shoot, right?”

  I nodded and grabbed two raw sugar packets and added them to my iced tea. “I need to gather more info, like you said.” I picked up my soup spoon and tasted the chowder. “This is outstanding.”

  “Mmmm,” Jackson agreed. “I mean, the food at the estate is tasty, but it’s nice to get away and try something new, with you.” He reached across the table and took my left hand.

  “Exactly.” It felt so good to be out with Jackson, just the two of us enjoying a romantic evening together. That’s when someone tapped on the window next to us. It was Simon.

  Simon looked even more haggard than the last time I had seen him. His hair was unkempt and stuck up from his head at all sorts of wild angles. He hadn’t shaved, and he had a stain in the middle of his Greenport sweatshirt. He waved to us, then came inside and plopped down in a chair at our table. So much for our romantic evening. Jackson rolled his eyes. I mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Didn’t you get my messages?” Simon asked before either of us could say anything.

  I realized that I hadn’t checked my messages since this afternoon. Did this have to do with Koren’s revisiting the upstairs bathroom to find more evidence? “Has something happened?”

  “No, not yet, but I’m going crazy.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I need to know what’s going on. You need to call me back when I call you!”

  The diners at the tables near us all turned to stare. “Calm down, Simon,” Jackson said. “Willow is doing the best that she can.”

  “I know that. It’s just nerve-racking wondering if—and—when I’m going to be arrested.”

  I decided not to tell him about Koren’s return visit to the estate this afternoon. Instead I said, “We’ve got plenty of suspects. We were just going over everything.” I told him what we had been discussing, though I omitted any mention of Carly.

  The waiter arrived and put two tantalizing plates in front of Jackson and me. Full pieces of lobster fell out of the crusty rolls, and the fries looked crisp and delicious. My mouth started to water.

  “It sounds like you’ve been busy,” Simon said begrudgingly. “Sorry I went off. Can I have a fry?” I pushed my plate toward him and he took two. He suddenly noticed the opened gifts on the table. “Wait a minute. Am I interrupting some special event?”

  “You could say that.” Jackson picked up a fry.

  “It’s our three-month anniversary, Simon,” I said. We both looked at him, hoping he would get the hint.

  “Well, then, let’s celebrate.” He grabbed another fry off my plate. “Drinks are on me.”

  An hour later, Jackson and I were back at the Bixby estate, watching the camera crew set up for Friday night’s shoot in the bathroom. Simon, of course, had wanted to come, but neither Jackson nor I thought that was a good idea. We’d already spent our anniversary dinner with him, and Jackson was still fuming.

  Pierre decided to set up the camera equipment opposite the tub and shoot from there. Since it was a large bathroom, MJ would still have plenty of room to move around. Right now, she was in the bedroom across the hall, getting her makeup done by Sarah.

  We watched as Pierre worked with the lighting techs. Tom should have been there, too, but he was AWOL even though Rick had asked him to come in. Right now, Rick was talking to Carly about production matters. Amanda stood by the bathroom door, on hand if Rick needed her. I glanced at the bathroom cabinet, wondering if she had indeed been the one creating special effects to enhance MJ’s readings.

  Once they were done setting up, Pierre asked Rick to go get MJ. For tonight’s shoot she was dressed in a gold robe with gold jewelry and gold ballet slippers. Her hair was up in a tight bun, and she wore giant gold hoop earrings. A cameraman tracked her movements as she stepped onto the landing that ran along the top of the stairs.

  Slowly, almost hesitantly, she entered the room. She seemed to give a little shudder as she saw the tub. She turned to address the camera. “I have to be honest. I never wanted to come up here. Two people have been murdered in this room, in this very bathtub.” She closed her eyes. A moment later, they flew open. She stepped back from the tub and pointed at it. “This is the center of the spiritual unrest in this house. There’s a powerful residual energy left over from the two murders in this room. Anger and betrayal and an endless thirst for revenge.” She paused a moment. “And I can sense that both of these deaths were fueled by lust.”

  I exchanged a glance with Jackson. That was new information.

  MJ took a couple of deep breaths and stood in the center of the room. “Now, I am going to try to contact Daniel Russell, the caretaker of the Bixby estate, who was drowned in this tub during the last days of Prohibition. Daniel, are you here?”

  Suddenly the lights went out. “Daniel, is that you? Turn the lights back on, please.” The lights came back on. “Thank you very much, Daniel. Now, what is it you want me to know?” The lights flickered again. “I know you are upset, Daniel. What do you want to tell me? What happened to you on that night so long ago?”

  She circled the room, stopped quite suddenly, and looked directly into the camera. “He says he was lured up here by a friend, someone he had trusted. When he entered the room, he was hit on the back of the head. He woke up lying in the bathtub long enough to see the face of his murderer.”

  The lights flickered rapidly, and the sound of moans and pounding noises filled the room. The lights went off and the room was again plunged into dar
kness. “Daniel? Daniel? Who was it that killed you? Daniel? Daniel!” The lights came back up. MJ looked directly into the camera. “He’s gone.”

  The pounding sounds stopped. I noticed that Amanda was inside the doorway now. Rick stood next to the medicine cabinet. Had he or she turned the lights on and off and created the sound effects?

  “Cut!” Pierre said. “What the hell was all that noise?”

  “I don’t know,” Rick said. “MJ, do you want to continue?”

  She went over to the window opposite the tub, pushed it open and looked up. “It’s almost a full moon. I want to come back when the moon is full and try to contact Daniel again. But now I’m going to try to contact Roger, since he also died in this room. He may have passed over to the other side already, but I still want to try to talk to him.”

  Pierre got the camera rolling again as she took a few deep breaths. “Roger? It’s MJ. I need to talk to you. Are you here?” She circled the room again.

  The pounding started up again, even louder than before. Jackson and I looked at each other. “It sounds like it’s coming from the secret passage,” I whispered to him.

  “Let’s see if anyone else knows about that passage,” Jackson said. “It could be our murderer.”

  I scanned the room. Pierre and Rick didn’t seem to know what was going on. Just outside the doorway, Cassidy began whispering to Sarah. Only Amanda seemed to be trying to avoid looking at the closet. In fact, she inched toward the doorway.

  “Amanda knows,” I whispered to Jackson.

  “I see that.”

  MJ turned from the window and pointed to the closet. “You need to let him out.”

  “Let who out?” Rick said.

  When MJ didn’t reply, he turned to Amanda. “Take a look.”

  Amanda looked uncomfortable and, for the first time, didn’t jump to do Rick’s bidding. “I can’t.” She backed away from the door. “I’m scared.”

  Rick blew out a breath. “Jackson, can you do the honors?”

  Jackson entered the bathroom and opened the closet door. The pounding continued. He stepped inside and began handing towels out to one of the lighting techs. Then I could hear him pulling out the shelves. Rick went over to the door and looked in. “What in hell are you doing?”

  “It sounds like someone is trapped behind this wall.”

  “Trapped behind the wall? What are you talking about?”

  Amanda seemed to be about to say something but stopped herself. But Carly looked at Cassidy and said, “It’s a secret passage. They used to use it during Prohibition.”

  Jackson played dumb. “Do you know how to get it open?”

  Carly hesitated a moment, then nodded and stepped into the closet. I could hear the click of the door to the secret passage being opened. Then she gasped. “What are you doing in there?”

  We all watched, shocked, as Tom stumbled into the room and collapsed into a heap on the white tile floor. Blood trailed down his face and onto his T-shirt from a nasty-looking gash in his forehead. Carly knelt down beside him. “Tom, what happened?”

  Tom opened his eyes. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  chapter eighteen

  Dr. Willow McQuade’s Healthy Living Tips

  If you have the flu, using aromatherapy will comfort you. You’ll need a diffuser, but once you have one, you won’t want to be without it! One of the best aromatherapy blends is Antiviral Plus from Leyden House (www.leydenhouse.com). When the diffuser saturates the air with this combo of eucalyptus, lavender, tea tree oil, clove bud, and geranium, it will help to relieve your stuffy head, cough, fever, and congestion in the lungs. Running a diffuser in your house may also help keep other members of the family from coming down with the flu by helping to eliminate airborne viruses.

  Yours Naturally,

  Dr. McQuade

  I quickly grabbed a hand towel from the towel rack. The gash over Tom’s right eye was bleeding profusely. I put the folded towel against the gash and pressed hard. “Can you apply pressure?” I asked him. “It should slow the bleeding.”

  Tom nodded and held the towel as Carly and I helped him to a seated position, propping him up against the wall. Then, I went to the sink and got him a glass of water.

  “Tom, what happened?” Carly said.

  “I was out on the back lawn and someone came up behind me and whacked me on the head.”

  “Did you see who it was?” Jackson asked.

  “No, they hit me really hard.” He leaned back against the wall, and I saw a trickle of blood slide beneath the towel and down his cheek.

  Rick looked worried. “How long have you been in the—what’s it called?—the secret passage?”

  “I don’t know. I came back here around five to talk to Rick and Pierre. I wanted to apologize.”

  “Well, that’s a new one.” Rick touched his nose gingerly.

  “Rick, stop it,” Carly said. “We need to take care of him.”

  “Someone needs to take him to the ER,” I said.

  “I’ll do it,” Carly said. “And don’t tell me I can’t, Rick. I’m going.”

  Tom Bixby had been one of my prime suspects in Roger’s murder. But now that he had been attacked himself, I was thinking, not so much. I guessed that he might have injured himself—or got someone else to do it—to divert suspicion, but it was unlikely. After all, the police were still focused on Simon.

  When we got back to Nature’s Way Friday night, Jackson and I talked for a long time about what I should do next. We concluded that it was a good idea to do more in-depth research on the Russell family. That Daniel’s and Roger’s murders were so similar could not be a coincidence. The past must be connected in some way with the present. I also realized that I hadn’t talked to James’s wife, Sheila, yet, and that might yield answers, too.

  After that, we celebrated our anniversary in style with champagne and slept late. When I woke up Saturday morning, the sun was shining and a cool morning breeze wafted through the bedroom. I felt Jackson’s arms around me, holding me close. Columbo was tucked under his chin, Rockford was at my feet, and Qigong was between us. The cats slept in the dog bed. It was a wonderful cocoon, one I didn’t want to leave. After the letter I’d received and Tom’s being hit on the head, I felt more on edge about being at the estate. Plus, time was running out. As Rick said, the production would leave on Monday.

  When Jackson headed home with his dogs, I showered, dressed, picked up James Russell’s diary, and went downstairs. Qigong trailed after me. I planned to use the morning to research the Russell family.

  I found Wallace in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes. “Hi, Willow,” he said cheerfully. “How are you this fine Saturday morning?”

  “I’m well, Wallace.” I watched the pancakes cook in the pan. “How are things going?”

  “Can’t complain. Merrily and I have everything under control. You don’t need to worry.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Especially since my mind was on Roger’s murder more than the store. But that’s why I had a manager, to pick up where I left off. I hoped that Merrily felt up to the task today. “So where is Merrily?”

  “She’ll be here in a few minutes. She had to stop at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription.”

  That must mean she got her test results back, I realized.

  “Your friend Simon is here, though.” Wallace pointed the spatula at the corner table where my ex was sitting.

  I went over to him and sat down. He was in the middle of eating a short stack of buckwheat pancakes with humanely raised bacon and fresh-squeezed orange juice. He looked the same as last night—tired, haggard, and unshaven.

  He stuck a fork into a pancake and said in a monotone, “Carly told me what happened last night. I guess that means that Tom is no longer a suspect.” He put his fork back down without eating.

  “It doesn’t look that way, no.” As Wallace went by, I asked him for a plate of blueberry waffles and watermelon slices. “I’m going to spend the morning going
over those books from the library and this diary I found.” I pushed it across the table to him. “Maybe you can help me.”

  Simon lifted his head up. “I’d like that. It keeps me from thinking about possibly spending the rest of my life in a cell. My lawyers tell me the police are not finished with me yet.”

  “What did they say exactly?”

  “That I shouldn’t leave town and to make myself available for questioning.”

  “They’ve been saying that all along.”

  “Exactly.” Simon pounded his fist on the table. “I’m sick of it! I can’t concentrate. I can’t write. I need to go to L.A. next week to supervise the filming of my episode. I need this to be over.”

  I put my hand on his fist. “Calm down. I think we’re getting closer. Really, I do. We just need more information. You can help me with that. It will make you feel better.”

  He picked up his fork and put it down again. “I’m not even hungry.”

  I picked up his fork and handed it to him. “Eat first for brainpower, then we work.”

  After we finished breakfast, the two of us went into my office. I assigned him the books from the library while I concentrated on the journal. I sat behind my desk, while he took the couch next to Qigong, who was already taking a nap.

  “What are we looking for exactly?”

  “Any new information about the Bixbys and the Russells.”

  “Okay.” Simon picked up a book from the stack on the coffee table in front of him.

  I opened the diary again and scanned each page. About forty-five minutes later, I came to a notation for last Sunday, the day MJ, Rick, and the rest of the production staff and crew arrived at the Bixby estate. MJ and R came over. Discussed TV shoot. Nothing new from R. Same B.S. This will be a problem. Talk to LB. I read the notation to Simon. “R must mean ‘Rick.’ ”

  “What do you think ‘This will be a problem’ means? And who is LB?”

  “No idea. I definitely need to learn more about Mr. James Russell. Have you found anything?”