Death Drops Read online

  “Claire is dead? Oh my God.” He sucked in a breath. “She was such a lovely person.”

  “Yes, she was,” I said, my heart aching.

  “And they took the formula?”

  “Yes, and I need to know if that was the only copy.” It just couldn’t be, I told myself as I prepared for the worst.

  “Dr. McQuade, we have a formula, but it doesn’t include her recent changes. She was working on the final touches. I don’t know what she planned to add next. We were told she had a secure location for the formula. I thought she kept it in a safe; not in the floor in a strongbox.” He stammered, “I-I have to call the president of the company. I’ll be in touch.”

  I hung up the phone feeling stunned. I had to find that formula. My gut told me that Janice must know something, but how would I get her to talk? I stewed about this in the office for a few minutes, until my stomach started grumbling for breakfast.

  In the kitchen area I peered into the glass cases, looking for something that would hit the spot.

  I noticed some sugar-free cranberry-apple bran muffins that looked yummy and went around to the back of the case to grab one.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Startled, I turned around, and who should be glaring at me but Janice, old Miss Pinch Face, dressed in a red-and-orange T-shirt with Peace on the front and black running shorts, sweat dotting her forehead. “You’re not supposed to be back there. It’s for the help only.”

  “I’m getting something to eat.” This is my store and café after all, I wanted to say, but didn’t want to rub it in. Instead I said, “Did you know the Fresh Face formula was stolen, Janice?”

  “I don’t know anything about that. I’m here to get my paycheck. I forgot it yesterday.” She hustled past me and headed for the office. Merrily and I raised our eyebrows at each other.

  On the counter I noticed several bottles of oil. “Is she planning on taking these as well?” I looked at the bottles more closely: lavender, plantain, and sunflower and borage oils, some of the ingredients for Fresh Face.

  “Sometimes she takes products home to try them,” Merrily said.

  Or to try and replicate Aunt Claire’s formula, I thought.

  A few moments later Janice emerged from the office, with Qigong following her. That was strange, I thought. She was the first person who’d come into the store that he seemed overly interested in. Now, why was that?

  Janice pointed at Qigong. “What is that doing in the store? We could be cited by the health department. He can’t be here.”

  “His name is Qigong, and I decide whether he stays or goes,” I said, standing firm. “He stays.” Still, I thought I’d better get a baby gate for the office so he would stay put during the hours we were open. I’d have to take him out to pee and for a walk several times a day. It would give us both some exercise. He could also stay in the front yard, if he liked, since it was gated, but someone would have to watch him, since customers used that gate. We’d work it all out.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, spinning on her heel to face me. “And as for the will, I won’t be back until this is settled. I want what is rightfully mine.” She went around the counter, grabbed a bag, and put the bottles inside.

  I snatched the bag from her. “You won’t be taking these and you won’t be back,” I said, thinking of Aunt Claire’s letter. “Besides indicating her preferences in the will, Aunt Claire left me a personal letter. Her intention was clear. I am to own and run the store and café. You are no longer needed here, Janice. You’re fired.”

  Her face pinched even more as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m contesting the will. It will tie it up in probate for years. I hope you have lots of money to keep up with expenses. By the time things are settled and it’s mine, you won’t have a penny left. You’ll see, this is an old building and it demands upkeep.”

  “Like the windows? Did you do this?” I pointed to the window. “And what are you planning to do with these ingredients, Janice?” I held up the bag. “Copy Aunt Claire’s formula?”

  “How dare you accuse me! I worked my fingers to the bone for your aunt. This is my store! You’ve got a lot of nerve.” She clenched her fists. “And you’re going to pay for it.”

  “So you’re saying that Janice threw the brick through the window, stole the formula, and now is trying to re-create it.” Detective Koren eyed me skeptically as he put the brick into an evidence bag, sealed it, and handed it to Detective Coyle. “And she threatened you.”

  “That’s right.” I’d told them what happened in the lawyer’s office and this morning, too.

  He listened while he watched the glass man measure the open space so he could replace the window. The locksmith also had arrived and was busy working. “Dr. McQuade, we can’t conduct a murder investigation based on your hunches.”

  A few students, dressed in yoga attire and holding purple yoga mats, drifted past us, questioning looks in their eyes. “You can go upstairs,” I said. “Nick will be here any minute.”

  Nick had called me early in the morning to let me know he’d be in. He told me he felt at peace in the yoga studio upstairs. Aunt Claire had spent plenty of time, money, and energy over the past year converting part of the second floor to his specifications, and the resulting space was welcoming and functional with its fresh, white walls, open floor plan, hardwood floors, and a wall of mirrors and windows that overlooked the street and harbor.

  Detective Koren tapped on his notebook with his pen. “Right now we’re just gathering information. For example, we’ve found out that you’ve come into quite an inheritance: the store, the café, twenty-two thousand dollars in the store’s business account . . .”

  “Which we’ve frozen, so you won’t have access to it,” Detective Coyle interjected.

  Detective Koren nodded and said, “And the rights to your aunt’s new anti-aging cream.”

  Another yoga student, dressed in a black unitard and shorts, came in. “Is the class still on?” she asked, and squeezed my shoulder. “I am so sorry about Claire.” She was so empathetic that I thought I was going to lose it. But I snuffled away the tears. “Thank you. That’s very kind. And yes, the class is still on. You can go on up.”

  Detective Koren cleared his throat, clearly not the sensitive type. “We were talking about your inheritance.”

  “You can’t think I had anything to do with this,” I said, suddenly unable to breathe.

  Before he could answer, his cell rang and he plucked it out of his front pocket. After a moment, he said, “I’ll be right there.” Looking at me, he said, “We’ll have to postpone our chat, Dr. McQuade.”

  “I’ll be here,” I said, trying to be cooperative.

  “Good to know.” He turned and headed out the door, Coyle and patrolman in tow.

  Sucking in a breath, I stared after him. If he focused on me as a suspect, there was no way he’d find Aunt Claire’s killer.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Nick, in time for his twelve o’clock yoga class. He said hello and kissed me on the cheek. Curiously, I could smell alcohol on his breath. Was it from a hangover, or had he drank this morning? I pointed to his yoga mat. “Are you sure you’re up to this? You can still cancel, you know.”

  He headed for the stairs. “It’s better if I keep busy. Claire was always an advocate of industry in good times and bad, and I think she was right.”

  I thought she was right, too. Fortunately, there was a customer in the herb and vitamin aisle who looked like she needed assistance, and I made a beeline for her. “Can I help you?”

  The woman, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots, had an angular, weather-beaten, tanned face and bleached blond hair. She was probably forty-something, although she looked older. She turned to me and scowled. “You the new owner?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m Dr. Willow McQuade, Claire’s niece. Can I help you?”

  “You could pay your bill.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and handed it to me
. “Sorry about Claire.”

  This woman should work for the UN, I thought. She was quite the diplomat. I glanced at the total and felt my blood run cold: $5,962.56. That was about two thousand dollars more than I had in my checking account.

  chapter six

  Dear Dr. McQuade,

  What do you recommend for a cold? My head feels like it’s the size of Idaho and my sinuses are running like a leaky faucet.

  Signed,

  Feeling Chilly

  Dear Feeling Chilly,

  One of my favorite remedies to help prevent a cold is matcha tea. It’s like a super green tea filled with antioxidants that can help boost your immune system. Once you have a cold, zinc lozenges can help because they attack the rhinovirus that causes colds and coughs. Use a natural saline spray to keep your sinuses irrigated. Another good remedy is a teaspoon of honey and a vitamin C tablet. They work together to help you feel better fast.

  Signed,

  Dr. McQuade

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to remain calm. “What’s this bill for?”

  The woman pointed to the top of the sheet. It read: Helen’s Organics. “I’m your organic produce supplier. I haven’t been paid in over three months. I think your aunt had other things on her mind.”

  You could say that.

  “She was also supposed to help me with my ulcers and she didn’t do much about that, either.”

  Maybe if I could help her with her stomachache, she’d stop being such a pain in my you-know-what. “I can help you with that. I’m a naturopathic doctor.”

  “I hope you know more than Claire did.”

  I bristled. I really didn’t like this woman.

  “Have you been tested for H. pylori? It’s a bacteria that causes ulcers.”

  “Yes, but that’s not what’s causing it. They can’t figure out the cause.”

  Probably her acerbic personality, I thought, but said instead, “Have you tried licorice?”

  “Claire mentioned something about that.”

  I was sure she’d mentioned lots of things, but my feeling was that this woman didn’t take direction very well. Aunt Claire knew her natural remedies, and I was sure she’d done everything she could for her. I went through the spiel anyway. “Licorice is anti-inflammatory. It stimulates the mucous layer in the stomach. This can help give you protection. Studies show that it can be as effective as prescription antacids.” I reached for a bottle of deglycyrrhizinated or DGL licorice. “Take one thousand to fifteen hundred milligrams between meals or twenty minutes before meals. It could really help you feel better. You may also want to try mastic gum.” I picked up a bottle with a bright green label. “Take one capsule a day.”

  She grunted, took the bottles from me, and read the ingredients. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and then handed the bottles back to me. As I’d figured, she’d rather bitch than switch. This wasn’t uncommon, especially when people made an identity out of their ailments. Without sickness and struggle, they didn’t know who they were.

  “Now, about that bill.”

  “I don’t have this right now. But once the will is probated . . .”

  “I can’t wait that long. I want my money.”

  “Leave the bill with me. I’ll get it to you,” I said, not knowing how I would do so.

  “See that you do,” she huffed, and walked out the door.

  With my decision to stay in Greenport, run Nature’s Way, and find Aunt Claire’s killer, it was time to cut city ties. First, I called William Cohen, my boss at the holistic medical center, and explained that I wasn’t coming back. I also talked to Dr. Richmond-Safer in Arizona. Fortunately, both were very understanding about my change in life plans. Next, I e-mailed my editor, Katy Bloom, at Nature’s Remedy magazine in New York, and within an hour, she’d replied, sending her condolences and giving her okay for me to continue to write my blog and any articles I wanted to contribute and send them in via e-mail. I’d done this from L.A., too, so there was no big change there. She did remind me that she needed four new question-and-answer pieces by next week, though, if at all possible.

  As far as my living situation went, I was staying with my ex before I’d come out to Aunt Claire’s, so I didn’t have an apartment to vacate, just a few things to have shipped when I had time.

  Okay, no job, no apartment, no L.A. Although I’d wanted to leave and this move felt right, suddenly I felt very alone. Buck up, Willow, it’s only going to get harder, I reminded myself.

  But could I somehow make the move easier on myself? I thought about the business and the building. The third floor housed Aunt Claire’s bedroom, another bedroom where I had been staying, and two other rooms that were currently empty. If I could rent the two rooms to natural-health practitioners, it would not only draw more business to Nature’s Way; it would help pay bills until the will was probated. I quickly ran through my mental Rolodex of people I knew who might be willing to pull up stakes and come out here to practice.

  It didn’t take long for me to think of my roommate from the Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine. Allie Daniels, a certified massage therapist, was a small-town girl from Bennington, Vermont, now living in New York and who, like me, was always complaining about living in the city. We’d stayed in touch after graduation, and although she was doing well, I knew she longed for a simpler life. I immediately called her and explained the situation. Within forty-five minutes, not only was she on board but she’d suggested asking her friend Hector, an acupuncturist, to come in on the plan as well. I was thrilled with the suggestion.

  The only fly in the ointment? I was worried about bringing them into this unsafe situation, and I told her so. She quickly reminded me that she had trained with me in self-defense. She also told me that Hector had a black belt in karate and had served in the marines when he was younger. After a fellow officer was killed by friendly fire, he turned to Buddhist teachings.

  I blew out a breath. Having Hector here would make us all safer.

  Next, I needed a new assistant. I went into the store and watched Merrily set up for lunch, nursing her cut hand. She had enthusiasm, was positive, and clearly had cared about Aunt Claire. I made a split-second decision and walked over to her. “Merrily, can I ask you a question?”

  She put down a place setting and smiled up at me. “Sure, ask me anything.”

  “It’s obvious that Janice and I can’t work together. Would you like to be my new assistant? You can still work in the store and café.”

  She thought about it and smiled. “For Claire?”

  I looked around at the store and café, her life’s work. I knew I was doing the right thing, staying here. “For Claire,” I said, and smiled back.

  After Merrily and I went over what her duties would be, namely helping me with all aspects of the business, she went back to the café and continued setting up for lunch. As for me, I felt the grief encroaching again. So I closed the office door and gave myself over to it. Ten minutes later, I’d cried myself out.

  When I’d finished, I decided to tackle the Q&A’s my editor had asked for. To sharpen my attention before I got started, I fetched a bottle of distilled water from the store and added it to Aunt Claire’s aromatherapy diffuser. As I scanned her aromatherapy essential oils, I recalled from my college studies that they nourished the body by carrying oxygen and nutrients to cells, including those of the brain. I chose frankincense, a powerful healing oil; rosemary, a bright, sharp scent that clarified the mind and emotions; peppermint, which boosts energy, creativity, and cognition; and vetiver, a mind tonic that eases stress. Just what I needed. I added a few drops of each to the purified water, and after a moment the warm, scented vapor emerged. I breathed it in and immediately felt much better.

  In two hours, I’d created rough drafts for four new Q&A’s. Satisfied with my work, I decided to check my favorite alternative health websites for new studies I should know about. Keeping myself up-to-date on natural medicines would come in handy when it was time to order new
products for the store, and I’d also blog about them for Nature’s Remedy readers.

  On EurekAlert! I found a few new studies about natural remedies. One outlining how Chinese thunder god vine could help treat the symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis was very promising. I always got a secret thrill when research confirmed what I knew intuitively, that natural remedies worked extremely well to improve many common health conditions. I wrote up a brief blog entry and posted it. All in all, a very productive morning.

  But my sanguine attitude about staying on the East End and taking over Aunt Claire’s business was short-lived. As I headed for the kitchen to get a cup of herbal tea, the door swung open, and Simon Lewis, my ex-boyfriend from L.A., strolled through.

  Simon was a skeptic of all things natural, so we had truly been an odd couple. Last I knew, he’d been in New York, researching his next novel. It had been nice to have the entire country between us. Now my buffer space had been reduced to a few feet.

  Although not conventionally handsome, he had a broody demeanor and deep chocolate-brown eyes that were catnip to many women. Dressed in expensive-looking distressed jeans, a T-shirt I had given him that said Be. You, and Jack Purcell sneakers, he looked like a successful L.A. TV writer and author, and he knew it.

  We’d parted two months ago when he left for the airport, angry words still hanging in the air. We’d fought about his undermining attitude toward my work, dismissal of my difficulties with L.A. city life, and general lack of support in everything life had to dish out. Oh, and did I also mention he was a commitment-phobe?

  “Simon? What are you doing here?” I said, feeling the knife enter my chest. The wound of our breakup had begun to heal with his absence but now felt raw again. I gave myself a pep talk to stay strong; this was not the time to fall back into old patterns or into his “love you, love you not” arms.