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

  I thanked him and hung up. I hoped he could reason with her. I pulled the van back onto the road and headed to the estate. I arrived ten minutes later and pulled the van into the turnaround in front of the mansion. For some reason the house seemed more foreboding than ever. I didn’t get a chance to open the door before Jackson came up to the window.

  “Simon is in jail,” I said.

  “MJ’s missing,” he replied.

  It was obviously not a day for good news. I sucked in a breath. “What happened?”

  “She was here this morning. They were shooting some one-on-one close-ups to show her thinking and psychic process. She wasn’t in a good mood and seemed stressed-out. Instead of leaving her alone, Tom started pushing her, telling her that they only had one more day to get everything. Pierre tried to step in, and the two of them started to argue. MJ said she was going back to her cottage to have lunch and rest, but when Amanda went to pick her up for this afternoon’s shoot, she wasn’t there and the Mercedes was gone.”

  “Maybe she just needed to get away for a bit. She is the star of the show. That’s a lot of pressure and these aren’t ideal circumstances.”

  Jackson shook his head. “Rick says she never does this. She’s always on set when she’s needed. And she didn’t tell him where she was going.”

  I thought about it. Where would a psychic who wanted to get away from it all go?

  “Maybe she went for a walk on the beach to clear her head. That’s what I would do.”

  The two of us ran over to the seawall to check the beach. No MJ.

  “Everything has come to a complete halt,” Jackson said. “Rick is frantic.”

  “Should we call our favorite cop, Koren?”

  Jackson shook his head. “He won’t do anything. She’s only been gone a couple of hours.”

  “True. Let’s go check her cottage. Maybe she left a clue there as to where she was going.”

  “Good idea. I’ll go get a golf cart.”

  A few minutes later, Jackson and I arrived at MJ and Rick’s cottage. For some reason the door was ajar. Jackson went inside first, and I followed him. The place looked as if a small tornado had just come through. Dirty dishes were on the counter and in the sink, and clothes were strewn on the floor and draped across most of the furniture. The drawers on the cabinet in the living room were also open, and ripped-up paper littered the carpet like snow.

  “Did someone break in here or are she and Rick just slobs?”

  “Hard to tell,” Jackson said, picking up a piece of paper. He showed it to me. “This looks like a page from her contract for MJ’s Mind.”

  I thought about it. “Maybe she was fed up and wanted to see what the contract said. You know, to see what would happen if she walked off?”

  I heard a noise in the back of the house. Moments later, Mrs. Florrick came into the living room, dressed in a black-and-white maid uniform, her hair pulled into a tight bun. “What are you two doing here?” She gave us both a stern look.

  “We’re trying to find MJ,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am MJ’s maid and neighbor.” She pointed toward the back of the house. “My cottage is behind this one. I’m here to tidy up.” She picked up the clothes and carried them to a small utility room, where she started the washing machine.

  “Do you have any idea where she might be?” Jackson asked.

  She pushed the drawers back into the dresser and picked up the paper that was scattered on the floor. “No. How would I know that?”

  “Maybe she mentioned something during your conversations,” Jackson said.

  “I don’t have time for chitchat with just anyone.” Mrs. Florrick took the pile of paper into the kitchen, stuffed it into the trash can, and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

  I went over to the counter. “Maybe you overheard something that would help us find her.”

  “I’m not a gossip.” She turned toward me and gave me a withering look. “And I’m not nosy like you are. Granted you helped me with my varicose veins, but you are a snoop.” She put detergent in the dishwasher and turned it on. “You’ll never figure out who killed Roger.”

  “Do you know who killed him?” I asked.

  “If you do, you should tell the police,” Jackson said.

  “I mind my own business, and you should, too. Both of you.” She checked her watch and walked to the door. “I have to go. Please don’t make a mess.”

  “We’ll do our best not to,” Jackson promised.

  “She’s quite a character.” I watched her head back to her cottage. Moments later, she zipped by in a golf cart, holding a broom, looking like the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz.

  “Yeah, but she’s not helpful.” Jackson went into the kitchen, grabbed the trash can, and began pulling out pieces of paper. “Let’s go through this trash together.” So, while he continued to pull paper out, I checked it for any clues to MJ’s whereabouts. But I didn’t find anything that related to the cancellation clause in her contract.

  We were sitting on the couch trying to figure out what to do next when Rick and Tom walked in. Tom wore a Hawaiian shirt, jeans, and sunglasses. Rick wore a white shirt and white jeans and was smoking a cigar. “MJ’s not here?” he asked.

  “No, but Mrs. Florrick cleaned up the place,” Jackson said.

  “That’s good,” Rick said absentmindedly. He paced around the living room. “I have to tell you, I’m worried about MJ. She’s never done this before.”

  “We did find this.” Jackson handed him the scrap of paper.

  Rick leaned against the counter, scanning it. “This is part of her contract with Galaxy. Roger set it up.”

  “She might have been checking it to see what would happen if she dropped out,” I said.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Tom said. “Don’t listen to her, Rick.”

  “You, shut up!” Rick said. “It’s your fault that she is missing in the first place.”

  “I was just trying to help.” Tom pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head. “You know, by giving her a firm hand.”

  “That’s the director’s job and my job, as executive producer,” Rick said. “You’re just the second assistant director, an AD.”

  “That’s right. And Roger gave me that job. He knew I could handle it.”

  Obviously now that Roger was dead, Tom was revising recent history. When Roger was alive, he hadn’t seemed to have much faith in his younger brother.

  “I’m not going to get into that with you,” Rick said. “Wait for me outside.”

  “They’ve turned you against me,” Tom said, pointing to us. “You two need to mind your own business.”

  Rick pointed to the door. “Tom, outside, now!”

  Tom slunk out and slammed the door.

  “He’s more trouble than he’s worth, even though he did apologize to Pierre and me.” Rick flopped on the couch and puffed his cigar. “Okay, so now what do we do?”

  “Did MJ mention any places she wanted to visit out here?” I asked. “Somewhere she might go to be alone?”

  “That’s a good question.” Rick blew a perfect smoke ring. “In L.A., she walks on the beach with our dogs—we have two black Labs—when she gets stressed-out. She says it clears her mind.”

  “There are plenty of beaches out here,” I said. “She could take her pick.”

  “True,” Jackson said. “But which one?”

  Rick radioed Amanda and told her to start searching beaches. It was almost two thirty on Sunday afternoon, and my first client was Sarah at 3:00 p.m., so I left the hunt for MJ to them. I took the box of supplies from the golf cart and walked next door to the cottage, where I unpacked the products and put them on the shelves. I’d just put the homeopathic cures on the top shelf when my iPhone rang. It was Jackson.

  “Hi, did you find her?”

  “Not yet. Amanda just checked the town beach, and we’re headed to Kenny’s Road and Mattituck Inlet. But I’ve just heard that a hurr
icane is on its way here. It should hit land late tonight. It’s not supposed to be huge, but it will still be messy, especially on the East End.”

  “A hurricane? That’s just what we need while we’re trying to wrap up this case by tomorrow.”

  “I know. So, anywhere else I could look for her?”

  “Check out Greenport if you don’t find her there. Maybe she’s playing tourist.”

  “Okay, will do. I’ll call you when I know something. Love you, McQuade.”

  “Love you, too.” Calling me McQuade wasn’t exactly romantic, but I loved it just the same. I ended the call just as there was a knock on the door. It was Sarah, and she was in tears. I let her in. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to talk.”

  I led her to the front porch, grabbed a few tissues, and handed them to her. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.” I picked up my purple legal pad and a black pen to take notes.

  She looked at me. “Anything I tell you is in confidence, right?”

  “Absolutely.” I didn’t mention that if she told me that she had murdered Roger, I’d have to report that to the police.

  She pointed to the legal pad. “Please don’t take notes.”

  I put the pen and pad on the coffee table. “I need to take notes so I can prescribe effectively, but if this is something personal, I won’t. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you.” She dabbed her eyes. “Back in L.A., I was seeing Tom until he broke it off.”

  “And?”

  She blew her nose. “I really love him, but he wants Carly.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “We’d been dating for about six months, ever since he came to L.A. to work with Roger. But he dumped me when Carly showed up on the set during preproduction. She’d been up in Vancouver, working on another series, and in Italy before that, and he hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, and this time things were bad between Roger and Carly. Tom was thrilled. He figured he was finally going to get his chance with her. But then she started dating Simon. He hated Simon for that. And it got even more complicated when we came here and he began to worry about all the time Carly was spending with Roger. They were just working on the show, but Tom thought she was falling for him again.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Cassidy told me. Tom tells her everything. They’re pretty close, and she and I are best friends.” Sarah put the used tissues in the trash basket at the end of the couch. “I guess Tom’s had an alcohol problem for a while. But it’s been so much worse since we’ve been here. He’s completely out of control. When I drove him home the other night, he was like a different person—cold and hateful. He scares me now.”

  “He’s scared me, too,” I confessed.

  “I’m worried that Tom may have killed Roger to get her all to himself. I mean, it all works out really well if he also manages to get Simon framed for it.”

  “But he was attacked and ended up in the hospital. Don’t you think that pretty much rules him out as a suspect?”

  “No. He’s crazy enough to hurt himself to divert suspicion.”

  “Really?” It just seemed too far-fetched, though I was thinking that Tom was behind the blackmail forgery. “Are you sure? Did Tom admit to killing Roger?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m just starting to believe that he could have done it. Cassidy doesn’t see it that way. She knows that Tom can be difficult but she loves him.”

  “Maybe you should talk to the police.” At the least, that might help divert suspicion from Simon, who was, at this moment, sitting in jail.

  She shook her head and tears started falling again. “I can’t do that to Tom. I’m just upset about losing him and worried that he’s done something really stupid.” She plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table in front of her. “I thought you could give me something that would help.”

  “First of all, I’d suggest keeping your distance from Tom. If what you say is true, he could be dangerous.” I made a mental note to do the same. “I’d like you to try Saint John’s Wort. It will relax you and can be very helpful when you are worn-out from crying. It’s a good alternative to prescription medications. You can’t take both together though.”

  I got up and went over to the bookcase and picked up Saint John’s Wort, a vial of homeopathic Ignatia, and the flower essence Star-of-Bethlehem and handed them to her. “Ignatia can help when you identify with the person you lost and feel you can’t go on without them. Take three pellets under the tongue three times daily as needed.” I handed her the flower essence Star-of-Bethlehem. “Take two drops of this in a glass of water three times a day as you need it. It will soothe you.”

  “Boy, do I need that.” Sarah looked at the little blue vials doubtfully. “You really think this stuff works?”

  “These natural remedies will help comfort you. It’s going to take time for you to feel completely better. But I’m sure once you leave here, it will get easier. You won’t have to see Tom every day.” I took out my iPhone and found the name of a therapist I knew who was based in L.A. I wrote down her name and number and handed it to her. “Dr. Carr is excellent. She can help you through this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

  I escorted Sarah to the door and said good-bye. I greeted my next patient, one of the accountants, and showed her into my office. I was about to start the session when my cell phone rang. I saw that it was Jackson, so I excused myself and stepped into the kitchen.

  “Did you find her?”

  “Yes, we found her.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I think so. Get this. She’s giving psychic readings to people,” Jackson said.

  “Where?”

  “She’s sitting on that bench outside the Coronet in Greenport.”

  “And why is she doing this?”

  “She told us that she was super-stressed-out from shooting all week. She says she needs to get back in touch with real people, her audience.”

  “Is she going to come back?”

  “Maybe. She wants to see you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “I don’t know. Can you come down?”

  “I have a patient here but I can come down after that. Say forty-five minutes or so?”

  “That’ll work. She’s got a line of people waiting to see her.”

  I completed my appointment with the accountant and gave her natural remedies for her adult acne. She was most concerned with unexpected breakouts, so I suggested she apply tea tree oil to the problem areas. I also suggested that she drink the juice of half a lemon in a glass of water one to three times daily to help the liver break down toxins. I walked her out and went to Allie’s door and knocked.

  Allie opened the door. “What’s up?”

  “MJ disappeared earlier today but Jackson and Rick found her. She’s in Greenport, giving psychic readings.”

  “O-kay. Is she going to come back and finish shooting her TV show?”

  “I hope so. She wants to see me for some reason, so I’ve got to go down there. When my five o’clock shows up, please ask her to wait for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “You got it. I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.” Allie smiled. “Go get her, girl.”

  chapter twenty-two

  Dr. Willow McQuade’s Healthy Living Tips

  The immune system is your body’s twenty-four-hour security system when it comes to zapping bacteria, viruses, fungi, yeasts, and parasites. It makes good sense to bolster your immunity any way you can, but especially if you are stressed, tired, and eating the wrong foods. While good nutrition, vitamins, and herbs are most important when it comes to boosting immunity, essential oils can help as well. Consider using immune-enhancing essential oils that have strong antimicrobial properties. These include cedarwood, cinnamon, clary sage, clove, garlic, grapefruit, juniper, lavender, lemon, lime, marjoram, orange, oregano, patchouli, peppermint, pine, rosemary, and tea tree. Add them to a diffuser or use them in the bath
or in a massage oil. Breathe deep for better health!

  Yours Naturally,

  Dr. McQuade

  Ten minutes later on Sunday afternoon, I rolled down Front Street in Greenport in the bright purple Nature’s Way van. The town was packed with tourists holding shopping bags, eating ice cream cones, and enjoying the village. At the corner of Main Street, I spotted MJ dressed in flowing purple robes and a bright red turban, giving a psychic reading to a young woman in a tie-dyed T-shirt and a denim skirt. MJ had her eyes closed and was holding the young woman’s hands. Jackson and Rick were standing nearby, watching her and looking extremely bored. I beeped the horn on the van, and Jackson spotted me and waved.

  Taking a left, I went around the corner and tried to find a place to park. Usually, getting a parking space on Labor Day weekend was like winning the lottery, but today I got lucky. I drove into a parking lot just as a Jeep full of kids and dogs was pulling out.

  I crossed the parking lot and headed south toward the waterfront on Main Street. The bay was already choppy, a sign of the impending hurricane, but the smell of sea air was delightful none the same. I took in a few deep breaths.

  I passed the antiques store and Fiedler’s art gallery. In the window was a lovely seascape watercolor I would have loved for my office.

  I tapped Jackson on the shoulder. He turned around. “Hey, you made it. Can you believe this line?” He gestured to the dozen or so people waiting for a reading with MJ. “They’re star struck.”

  “She is a star,” Rick said. He puffed on a cigar. “And she’s in her element now. This is what she likes best, putting on a show for her fans.”

  “Jackson said she wanted to talk to me?”

  Rick shrugged. “I don’t know what about. When I asked her to go back to the estate, she said she wasn’t going until she talked to you.”

  I couldn’t imagine why she wanted to talk to me, but when she was between readings I walked over to her. “MJ, are you okay?”

  “Willow! I’m so glad you came.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down so I was sitting next to her.

  “Hey! No cutting,” someone said.

  MJ stood up and faced the crowd. “Please, dear ones, I just need a moment.” She sat down again.