Death Drops Page 4

“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 a
bout 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.

  chapter four

  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.

  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 thoug
hts 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.