Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery (Natural Remedies Mysteries) Page 3

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but thank you.” If there was one thing I didn’t need right now, it was a séance. The loss of Claire was still fresh in my mind and heart, and I was still trying to process it.

  MJ took my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “I can sense that you aren’t ready, Willow. That is very common. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be here until next Monday. I also do phone consultations.”

  I thanked her and went back over to Jackson. As I did, a perky-looking woman, holding a walkie-talkie and a clipboard, with a Bluetooth in her ear, came out of the tent and ran over to us. “MJ, Rick, they want you to make a toast and to cut the Galaxy cake now. Roger sent me to get you.”

  “Thank you, darlin’,” Rick said. “This is Amanda, Roger’s assistant. Amanda, this is Willow and Jackson. If they need something, you be sure they get it, okay? These are good people.”

  “Sure. My pleasure.” Amanda smiled and hustled back to the tent.

  “How old do you think she is?” Jackson asked me. “She looks like she’s about sixteen.” She did, wearing a Galaxy T-shirt and jeans, with her long, brunette hair in a ponytail.

  “She’s probably in her early twenties,” I guessed. “But not much older. Seems like being Roger’s assistant means she’s essentially a gofer.”

  Back inside the tent, Rick, MJ, and Carly stood beside the table that held the cake. Moments later, they were joined by a tall, slender man dressed in a black linen suit with a cerulean-blue shirt, and no tie. His face was all planes and angular lines, his eyes and hair dark brown, almost black. He picked up a glass of champagne and the microphone from the table. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Roger Bixby. It’s good to be home. I decided to kick off the first season of MJ’s Mind here in Southold because my father, God rest his soul, had his own experiences with the occult. So we’re here to check it out and make some great television! Let’s toast to that!”

  So this was Roger Bixby, Carly’s soon-to-be-ex-husband and lord of the manor. Simon had told me that they had separated in April, right before Max Bixby had died, because Roger had cheated on Carly.

  According to Carly, cheating had ended his first marriage, too.

  Carly took the mike from Roger and gave him a sugary smile. “Actually, Max told me about his experiences here and I suggested the idea to Roger.”

  Roger took the mike back and gave her a withering look. “Actually, we both thought this would be a great venue for the premier episode of MJ’s Mind.”

  “You can cut the tension between them with a knife,” I said to Jackson.

  “Another happily married couple.” Jackson was divorced himself.

  “So set your DVRs for the Sci-Fi channel, Tuesdays at ten! Now drink up and let’s get our star, MJ, to cut the cake.”

  Everyone clapped. MJ waved to the crowd, then pressed a knife into the cake as a photographer snapped photos. The servers brought around slices of cake, and we enjoyed them with coffee.

  It was now about four o’clock, still plenty of time to see what I’d come for. “Want to visit the lavender garden?” I asked Jackson as I finished my cake.

  “Sure. Why don’t we go that way?” He pointed to the tent’s back door. “Fewer people to wade through.”

  “I can’t wait to see this,” I said as we skirted tables and chairs. “I know I’m going to be inspired.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been wanting to add more varieties of lavender in my garden, so I’m curious to see what they have here. All we have to do is figure out where this famous garden is.”

  “Let’s ask Carly.”

  “Good idea, but where is she?”

  Suddenly, we heard shouting coming from behind the tent.

  “What’s going on?” asked a woman, who was reaching for a second slice of cake.

  Jackson answered for both of us. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.”

  chapter three

  Dr. Willow McQuade’s Healthy Living Tips

  An effective way to practice aromatherapy is to use an electronic diffuser. It works by sending small aromatic particles into the air. A diffuser can help with respiratory problems, enhance immune response and emotional well-being, and act as an air antiseptic. You can also use a candle diffuser by placing five to ten drops of essential oil in the diffuser and lighting the candle. This method is wonderful for enhancing room ambience and making you feel really good.

  Yours Naturally,

  Dr. McQuade

  Jackson and I stepped out of the tent and spotted Roger Bixby by the retaining wall yelling at Carly, his face turning red. “What were you trying to do in there—upstage me? It was my idea to do the show here, and you know it. This is my house!” He plucked a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and shouted into it, “Amanda, I need you. Find me by the retaining wall, behind the tent, immediately!”

  “You’re deluded, you know that?” Carly retorted.

  Rick hurried out of the tent and over to them. “Okay, calm down now, both of you. Let’s remember, we’ve got press here. This doesn’t look good, you two fighting.”

  “Shut it, Rick,” Roger said. “Mind your own business.”

  Amanda walked up to Roger, clipboard in hand. “You needed me?”

  Roger didn’t look at her, just barked out orders. “Call Larry in accounting and get the new budget breakdown. Leave a message for my tailor and make sure the two suits I ordered are here first thing in the morning. And I need to see tomorrow’s call sheet ASAP.”

  Amanda nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard. “I’m on it.” She quickly walked away.

  “Amanda, wait just a minute,” Carly called.

  Amanda stopped and turned around. “Yes, Carly?”

  “Did you remember to pick up my prescriptions and those other things from the drugstore?”

  Amanda nodded. “I’ll do it right after I help Roger.”

  “Might I remind you, Amanda, that you work for both of us? Roger’s needs do not necessarily come first.”

  Amanda didn’t say anything, but she bit her lip. I felt sorry for her. Anyone could see that being caught in the middle between Roger and Carly would be uncomfortable.

  “Carly,” Roger said, a warning tone in his voice, “stop throwing your weight around. Amanda is my assistant, and the agreement is that she also helps you when she can.” He put his arm around Amanda, and she gave him an adoring look. “She can’t burn the candle at both ends. And really, darling, a trip to the drugstore is something you can do yourself. Off you go, Amanda, and thank you.”

  Amanda scurried away, and Carly’s face became a bright pink. “This is outrageous!”

  “Is it?” Roger said. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Looks like there are going to be some fireworks on the set,” I whispered to Jackson.

  “Who do you think will storm off first?” Jackson asked.

  “That’s a tough call.”

  Roger turned away from Carly, spotted us, and gave me a huge smile. “Now, who is this gorgeous woman?” He came over to me, took my right hand, and kissed it. “I haven’t met you before. Believe me, I would have remembered you.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. Roger was obviously a player. Fortunately, Jackson was too secure in himself—he was, after all, a former cop, six feet two inches, ruggedly handsome, and an all-around great guy—and our relationship was not threatened. I took his hand and squeezed it.

  He squeezed back and smiled at me.

  “Let me introduce you to Willow McQuade and Jackson Spade,” Rick said. “Willow is one of those natural doctors. She runs that health food store, Nature’s Way, over in Greenport. Jackson is a former cop.”

  Roger ignored Jackson and zeroed in on me. “I hope you’re having a nice time, Willow.”

  “Yes, we are, thank you,” I said. “We were wondering if we could take a look at the lavender garden while we’re here?”

  Before he could answer, a younger version of Roger, shorter with a shaved he
ad, a two-day beard, and Ray-Bans, walked out of the tent and joined us.

  “There you are, Tommy. I thought you got lost,” Roger said.

  “My name is Tom,” the younger man just about spat out. “Here’s the call sheet for tomorrow’s shoot. Amanda said you wanted it ASAP.”

  Roger took the call sheet and handed it to Carly. “Check this over, will you? Make sure the start time is correct and that everyone we need will be here.”

  Carly gave Roger a venomous look, but she took the call sheet and started reading.

  “Willow, Jackson, this is my brother Tommy,” Roger said, ignoring Tom’s directive. “Tommy is working on the show, too, thanks to me.”

  “Yes, thanks to my big bro, I’m the second assistant director.” I didn’t know much about the pecking order on a film crew, but from the way Tom said it, I got the idea that the second assistant director didn’t have too much clout. “But I’m really an artist. I’m a sculptor.”

  Roger laughed caustically. “You’d be a starving artist if it wasn’t for me.”

  “That’s not true,” Tom retorted, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “I just sold two pieces.”

  “That’ll keep bread on the table,” Roger quipped.

  “This is supposed to be a party?” Jackson whispered in my ear. “I am not having fun.”

  “Me either,” I said. The arguing between the brothers reminded me of the contentious relationship I had with my sister, Natasha. She dismissed my profession as quackery and was always undermining me.

  “Roger, stop,” Carly said, looking up from the call sheet and glancing at me. “I’m sure that Willow and Jackson do not want to hear us air our dirty family laundry.”

  “We actually just wanted to see the lavender farm,” I said.

  “Oh, that. Everyone wants to see the farm.” Carly sounded annoyed. “Just go up to the main house and ask Mrs. Florrick for the golf-cart key and then follow the signs at the head of the trail by the parking lot to the lavender fields.”

  We thanked Carly and headed toward the mansion. “She definitely doesn’t like me,” I said. “She sounded so peeved that we wanted to see the fields.”

  “It’s not you. It’s Roger. What a piece of work,” Jackson said.

  “No wonder Carly divorced him. I wonder who he was having an affair with.”

  Jackson gave me a knowing smile. “Don’t start snooping, Nancy Drew. Let’s just have a nice time, okay?”

  “There’s nothing to snoop, don’t worry.” But as we got closer to the house, I got that uneasy feeling again, and this time I couldn’t shake it off. This time I knew that something was wrong here and had been wrong for a long time. Whatever it was, it was building, gathering energy, like clouds before a storm, and there were going to be some bad results. I glanced at Jackson, debating whether to mention it. Finally I said, “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I am getting a very bad vibe from this house.”

  “You’re right. That is crazy.” He rang the bell.

  After a few moments, a haggard-looking woman in her seventies with a tight, white bun and wearing a maid’s black uniform came to the door. “The bathrooms are behind the house,” she said, and started to close the door.

  Jackson put his hand on the door. “Thank you. Carly told us we could borrow the golf cart so we could go and see the lavender garden.”

  The woman looked as if she were being asked to do something below her station. “The golf cart is also around back.” She plucked a key off a hook on the wall and handed it to him. “Head toward the gate and take a right, go one hundred yards, and you’ll start seeing signs. Follow them to the garden.” She closed the door.

  “Well, that’s a fine welcome,” I said.

  “I would say something worse, but it’s not worth ruining a nice time.” Jackson put his arm around me.

  We circled the mansion and found the golf cart near the production trailers. Jackson followed the signs for the lavender fields that were posted all along the path and through the woods. Sunlight glinted through the green leaves above us, birds twittered and tweeted, and the smell was woodsy and earthy. I felt much more at ease now that we were away from the Bixby mansion and its unsettling atmosphere. Five minutes later we arrived at the lavender fields and found hundreds of purple, spiky plants waving in the salty breeze from the bay. Beyond the field, we saw a small family cemetery and, to the right, an enclosed garden and a greenhouse and a yellow cottage covered with red roses that were still blooming late in the season.

  We took a stroll through the fields, hand in hand, and stopped at each section that featured a different kind of lavender. The gray-green foliage of the lavender plants sported a variety of purple flowers. The sweet scent was intoxicating. I reached down to a Hidcote lavender plant and ran my fingers along the soft leaves.

  The fields were definitely worth seeing, especially after the drama at the party. I felt lucky to be here with Jackson, enjoying the beautiful landscape and the peaceful atmosphere. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of raised voices. This time, it sounded like two men arguing.

  Jackson and I hurried across the grounds toward a small hill, above a lily pond, where we found Simon, my ex-boyfriend, and Roger Bixby, Carly’s soon-to-be-ex-husband, glaring at each other. Beyond the pond, I saw two golf carts, which explained why they were here at the same time we were. Something must have happened between them after we had left the party.

  “I think you like upsetting her. Why don’t you leave her alone!” Simon said angrily. He pulled out his phone and texted a message to someone.

  “She’s my wife!” Roger yelled at Simon. “And this is none of your business.”

  “She was your wife. Only you had a little problem with fidelity.” Then Simon’s voice softened. “Look, let’s not do this. I asked you to meet me down here because I was hoping I could talk some sense into you about the way you treat Carly. But I don’t want a fight.”

  “Well, you’ve got one!” Roger poked Simon’s chest with his index finger.

  Simon put his phone in his pocket and took a step back.

  “Break it up now,” Jackson said as he walked over and got between them. “This is supposed to be a party.”

  “He’s right,” Simon said. “Thanks, Jackson.”

  “Stay out of this, Jackson.” Roger tried to push past him to get to Simon, but Jackson grabbed Roger’s arm and held him back. “Let go of my arm!”

  Jackson seemed amused. “I’ll let you go if you behave.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Roger demanded, red faced and angry.

  “Yes,” Jackson said calmly. “We just met you about a half an hour ago.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m Roger Bixby, damn it!”

  “Calm down. Now, I’m going to let go, but you need to stay put.” Jackson took his hand off Roger’s arm, but as he did, Roger rabbited and went after Simon, who ran down the hill. Roger tackled him and the two of them rolled down toward a small lily pond. They came to a stop near the edge where the ground leveled out and started punching each other. “Oh, great,” Jackson muttered, and started down the hill after them. But before he could intervene again, Carly pulled up in a golf cart with Rick in the passenger seat. The two of them ran over to the pond.

  “Stop it, Roger!” Carly shouted. “Leave him alone!”

  Roger turned to look at her, and the distraction allowed Simon time to throw a punch. Roger took it on the nose and fell into the pond with a big splash, pulling Simon in after him.

  Jackson waded into the water up to his waist. Within moments he had grabbed both of them by their shirts and walked them out of the pond.

  “Nice job, Spade,” Rick said, giving him the thumbs-up.

  “No problem.” Jackson let go of Simon and Roger but stayed between them, just in case. “Okay, you two, it’s over now. Simon, go with Carly. Roger, clear off.”

  Simon and Carly headed for her golf cart, while Rick went over to Roger and tried to calm him
down. But it didn’t work. As Carly and Simon drove off, Roger threw a rock at them and yelled, “That’s right, run away! You’re a coward, Lewis! I’m not through with you!”

  Jackson’s jeans and boots were soaking wet, so we decided to leave the party soon after that. Except for the beautiful lavender fields, we were happy to get out of there. Between MJ’s predictions of dangerous spirits, the negative vibrations from the Bixby mansion, and all the fighting between Roger and Carly and Roger and Simon, we’d both had enough.

  We arrived at Nature’s Way around seven that evening. Since it was a Sunday, the store had closed for the day at five. I made us strawberry-banana protein smoothies as a light dinner, and we took them up to my bedroom on the third floor. We spent the rest of the evening relaxing, fooling around, talking and watching TV. When we turned out the lights to go to sleep at eleven, we had Qigong between us and the cats Ginger and Ginkgo (brother and sister cats that Aunt Claire had adopted) at our feet.

  But sleep did not come easy. The strange feeling I’d had at the Bixby estate persisted. I woke up at twelve and then at one. When I finally got out of the bed and looked out the window, the bay sparkled like white diamonds under an almost full moon.

  “What’s the matter?” Jackson mumbled, half-asleep.

  “Something about that mansion still gives me a weird vibe. I can’t sleep.”

  “Come back to bed, crazy woman.”

  I crawled back under the covers and snuggled next to him. He held me close and kissed me. “You’re okay. I’m here. The bogeyman won’t get you.”

  “You think I’m nuts.”

  Qigong jumped on top of us and started to lick both of our faces. Jackson scratched him behind the ears. “Yes, but that’s not the point. You need to get some sleep. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you. Can’t you do some of that deep breathing stuff you like?”

  “I can try.” So while Jackson held me, I concentrated on my breath as it went in and out. Finally, sleep came.

  But at 2:05 a.m. my cell phone rang. By the time I got up, went over to the dresser, and picked it up, the call was ended. I took the phone with me back to bed and placed it on the nightstand.