Death Drops Read online

  “Sit tight,” he said, turning to leave. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

  Oh goody, I thought. Not only was he not taking me seriously about Janice but he still considered me a suspect, and for that reason, wouldn’t provide protection. I felt scared, infuriated, and helpless. How could I turn this around?

  I knew one way to start. After feeling around the bump and doing a self-check in the bathroom, I decided that it didn’t deserve ER attention. I didn’t feel nauseous or disoriented. My only symptom was pain from the bump, which was bearable. I grabbed some arnica homeopathic pellets off the shelf near the counter and slipped some under my tongue to help the bump heal.

  With that taken care of, I turned my attention to my psychic needs. One of the best ways I knew to get myself back on an even keel was to do yoga and meditate. I was sure meditation would lead to answers. So after the last of the firemen left, I went upstairs to the yoga studio to do just that. Qigong, whose wound was healing fast, padded happily behind me.

  I opened the studio door to find sun streaming through the tall windows onto the wooden floor. As I breathed in the lingering smells of patchouli incense, I began to relax. I pulled out a sticky mat from the pile next to the wall and unrolled it on the floor. Qigong settled into a place in the sun and promptly fell asleep.

  I started with mountain pose, or tadasana, which involves standing on your own two feet and staring straight ahead. I centered myself and moved to mountain pose with my arms overhead, reaching for the sky.

  Feeling more expansive now, I spaced my feet four feet apart and moved on to the extended triangle pose, a position that gets its name from the triangle shape formed by one’s legs. I reached one arm overhead and the other toward the floor, and then moved on to the warrior pose, with one arm extended to the front and one to the back, which always helped me feel strong.

  Next, I did a standing forward bend pose, leaned over, and reached for my toes, since inversion postures are good for brain circulation and I needed to be sharp right now, and moved into downward-facing dog to stretch out my legs and arms. I wrapped up with a lying twist pose, with my feet wide apart, and finally corpse pose, where I lay flat on the floor and could feel the earth supporting me.

  As I lay on the floor, I tried to let all the events of the past few hours go, but I kept smelling burning wood, and the bump on the back of my head kept throbbing. I decided to make a more conscious effort to meditate, so I sat cross-legged and began to focus on my breathing. Maybe if I could get myself calmed down enough, I could figure out what to do next.

  I started my mindfulness meditation by focusing on the breath in my belly and continued to watch it as the thoughts in my mind began to calm and finally abate. It was good to feel peaceful, even though I knew it wouldn’t last. Not with the fire damage, Simon’s unexpected appearance, Janice, the missing Fresh Face formula, and Aunt Claire’s murder. But right now, in this moment, I relaxed into the meditation and felt release.

  chapter eight

  Dear Dr. McQuade,

  I was helping a friend move this weekend and now my back is killing me. It’s really difficult to even sit and stand. What do you recommend for a bad back?

  Signed,

  Feeling Like a Pretzel

  Dear Feeling Like a Pretzel,

  When you strain the muscles around the spine, you can end up with a backache. Some people take over-the-counter medicines for back pain, like aspirin and ibuprofen or what are known as NSAIDs (nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories), but I don’t recommend doing that, because long-term use can lead to problems like stomach ulcers. Instead, to help your body repair itself, think about putting nutrients like glucosamine sulfate, chondroitin sulfate, and omega-3 fatty acids in your natural remedy toolbox.

  Signed,

  Willow McQuade, ND

  Once I’d finished my yoga routine, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to grab some breakfast. I decided on steel-cut oatmeal, which is a good source of fiber and protein and helps reduce cholesterol, too, then topped it with organic salted butter, a dash of organic brown sugar, and lots of luscious blueberries bursting with vital antioxidants. Deciding to dine al fresco, I headed out to the porch with Qigong. The early morning air was fresh and clean. I took a few deep breaths of the salty sea air, abundant with negative ions that can improve one’s mood. After the rough start to this day, I needed all the help I could get.

  After breakfast, feeling refreshed, I faced the office. Not only did I want to find a contractor to fix the fire damage, I also needed to continue going through the e-mails about the Fresh Face formula and handle any managerial duties that might present themselves. The outstanding bill from Helen’s Organics weighed heavily on my mind. I just had to hope that the will was probated in time to pay it, unlikely with Janice throwing a wrench in the works.

  A few hours later, Merrily and Julian arrived. While they went to inspect the damage, I noticed an elderly man moving slowly around the aisles. Stooped over and walking like he was in pain, he was having a hard time getting from point A to point B. I went over to see if I could help him.

  But as I got closer, I was surprised to see that he was not old at all. Tall, with close-cropped dark brown hair and a craggy, handsome face, he was dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and white Converse sneakers. His best feature? Sparkling greenish-blue eyes that reminded me of Aunt Claire’s. I felt the knife twist. God, I missed her.

  I tried to steady my emotions and focus on helping this customer. I might not be able to pay the supplier today, but I knew something about natural medicine. “Do you need help with anything?”

  He turned to me holding a bottle of fish oil and said sarcastically, “Why, do I look like I need help?”

  Okay, Mr. Defensive. Trying not to take offense, I pointed to the bottle of fish oil. “That’s a good start. The omega-three essential fatty acids in the fish oil will help your back. It’s your back that’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

  He put his hand on the small of his back and brusquely answered, “What gave it away? The shuffling walk, or the stooping?”

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  He waved the question away like it was a pesky fly. “Occupational hazard. Happened on the job. I used to be a cop.”

  A former cop? Perhaps the Universe was sending me some help this morning. I sure could use some insider’s knowledge, considering Detective Koren’s interest in my inheritance.

  “Did you get shot?” I asked.

  “Direct, aren’t you? Most people are too polite to ask right out like that.” He seemed to like my approach, though, because he gave a crooked smile, which reinforced his Gerard Butler–type good looks, before adding, “Nothing so glamorous. I was chasing a suspect. He rounded a corner. I followed him and slipped on a huge patch of black ice. It happened last winter.”

  “Ouch,” I said sympathetically. “And you’ve been out of work ever since?”

  “Yes. It’s put a real crimp in my style. Not only can’t I work, but I can’t do the things I want to do, like putting in an organic vegetable garden and tending to my roses. I’ve even had to hire a part-time gardener. I’m not a complainer, but it is discouraging. It’s been six months since the accident, and it feels like I’m making progress by inches, not feet.”

  “Perhaps I can help you. I’m Willow McQuade—Dr. McQuade, actually. I’m Claire’s niece.” And maybe you can help me by using your cop smarts to figure out exactly what I ought to do next, I thought.

  He brightened, then turned somber and held out his hand. “Jackson Spade. I’m so sorry. Your aunt was aces. She really helped me a lot. I’m doing better, if you can believe it. Before she put me on fish oil and glucosamine and chondroitin sulfate, I couldn’t get out of bed. The pain is less now. Her advice did make a difference.”

  Yes, I could tell by your happy countenance, I thought. I plucked a bottle off the supplement wall. “Have you tried devil’s claw? It’s a plant from southwestern Africa that has anti-inflammat
ory and pain-relieving properties. Research shows that it can provide as much pain relief as prescription anti-inflammatories.”

  He took the bottle from me. “I think she mentioned this, but I hadn’t gotten around to taking it.”

  “Try it,” I said. “You should also be taking vitamins B1, B2, B6, and B12 for chronic back pain. Studies show that these vitamins can help block pain receptors.” I plucked a good B-complex vitamin supplement from the wall.

  “I feel better already,” Jackson said, softening. He looked at me with gratitude and maybe something else. Was he checking me out? “How can I thank you?”

  “Now that you mention it, since you are a cop and all . . .”

  “Was a cop,” he corrected. “I’m on indefinite disability now.”

  “Right, you were a cop. I could use your perspective on Aunt Claire’s murder.”

  He took a step back and raised his eyebrows. “I thought it was an accidental death?”

  “I don’t think so.” I related my theory and the series of disturbing events, including my conversations with Detective Koren, the broken window, the stolen formula, and the kitchen fire. I also told him about the insinuations Koren had made about my having a motive to kill Aunt Claire.

  “Sounds like your brain is working overtime,” Jackson said as he read the label on the B-complex vitamin bottle.

  “I need to find out who did this.”

  He frowned and said, “It’s best to leave these things to the professionals.”

  “Even if the professionals aren’t doing their job?”

  “I’m sure Koren is doing his best,” Jackson said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “You might want to cut him some slack.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  He drilled me with a look. “Everyone knows everyone. It’s a small town.” He turned and headed for the checkout stand, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks for your help.”

  The next morning, after I fortified myself with breakfast that consisted of an omelet made with free range eggs, a sprouted wheat muffin with ghee and homemade strawberry jelly and a cup of Chai tea, I headed back to the office. It was time to find out more about Jackson Spade. Who was this guy and how could I get him on my side in solving Aunt Claire’s murder? I was desperate for help, and something about this guy told me he was the one. Aunt Claire appeared to have liked him, and he certainly trusted her.

  My Google search yielded some newspaper articles about the accident. It was all as he had said, except for the fact that he had been married at the time and living in Great Neck. I hadn’t noticed a ring today. The articles also confirmed that he’d been placed on permanent disability and had moved to Greenport in January. He might have some free time on his hands to help me find out who killed Aunt Claire if I could just get him to check the attitude. I’d have to work on him the next time he came in.

  Next, I checked with Merrily, who gave me the name of the store’s usual repairman. Turns out it was Bill Morgan of Bill’s Building. I called him and told him what happened, although he already knew, small town and all. He said he’d be here in the morning.

  That done, I grabbed a small bag of organic popcorn off the shelf (research shows it’s chock-full of polyphenols, which are antioxidants that can help fight heart disease and cancer) and headed into the office to go through all the paperwork on Aunt Claire’s desk. There was plenty of it.

  I divided it into research for Fresh Face, PR from herbal and supplement companies touting their products, personal correspondence, and the dreaded bills. The last were formidable. Not only did we owe Helen, the supplier who had buttonholed me the other day, we also owed a good chunk of change to an organic snack company, an organic dry-goods producer who sold everything from cereals to pasta, and Shelly’s Organics, which included garden burgers, pesto tortellini, and vegetarian lasagna. The store was well stocked, but obviously Aunt Claire hadn’t been able to keep up with her suppliers’ bills. I wondered if I’d be able to do so.

  While mulling this over, I heard noises from outside the office door. Moments later, Allie’s smiling face appeared. A tall redhead with model good looks, she was dressed in khakis, a flowered tank, and Keen sandals. She put her bags down and gave me a warm hug. “I’m so sorry about your aunt! How are you doing, sweetie?”

  Having her there made me feel as though for the first time I could really be vulnerable. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Allie hugged me again and made soothing noises. After a moment, she reached for a few tissues and handed them to me. “We’re going to get through this, don’t worry. Hector is here, too. Hector?”

  Hector, acupuncturist extraordinaire and Allie’s best friend, rounded the corner and came into the office. Imposing at over six foot two, Hector was dressed impeccably in a tailored lime-green shirt that fit like it was painted on over his well-developed chest, shoulders and arms, a black tie, black pants, and black shoes. His smiling face immediately made me feel better. We had shared many good times, most notably when we took the Sex and the City bus tour of Manhattan a few years back. We ended the day with cosmos at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village and afterward walked arm in arm back to Allie’s flat on Charles Street, talking and laughing. Life was good.

  After he left the marines, Hector trained at the Southwest Acupuncture College in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Now he was one of the most sought-after acupuncturists in New York, especially among the celeb set (I was sure many of his patients would follow him here). Allie was a patient when he’d first opened his practice. She’d wanted to date him, but he was gay, so they’d settled into a solid friendship.

  After ten years, he, too, was weary of city living, and he and Allie had talked often of leaving. It turns out I’d presented my idea at just the right time. June was the beginning of the summer season, and many of their clients kept weekend homes on the East End, so they would still be able to use Allie’s and Hector’s services. It was also the right place. They both adored Greenport and had visited with me many times over the years. In addition, they could also still see clients in NYC by driving or taking the Hampton Jitney into the city.

  Hector was unconditional in his support of Allie and, by extension, me. He put his two suitcases on the floor, wrapped me in a hug, and said in his singsong Jamaican accent that remained even after twenty years in the United States, “Hello, Willow darling. You hanging in there, my friend?”

  Dabbing my eyes and blowing my nose, I said, “Guess so. It was quite a shock.” I recounted the events of the past few days and my fears about being a potential suspect.

  Hector rubbed his shaved bronze head and thought about this. “I have a friend who’s an NYPD detective. He told me they always look at relatives first. I wouldn’t panic about that.”

  “But Detective Koren keeps making these insinuations, like because of the inheritance I had motive or something. And I’m freaking out about the break-in and the fire. What if they come back? I feel bad about putting you guys in harm’s way, but Allie said you would protect us, Hector.”

  Allie put her arm around me. “Hector can handle any situation. Can’t you, love?”

  Hector grinned at me, his perfect teeth looking extremely white against his coffee-colored skin. “Just let them try to get past me.”

  chapter nine

  Dear Dr. McQuade,

  I feel like my blood sugar is on a roller coaster after I eat something sweet. I crash and burn and feel exhausted. Is there a natural way to keep my blood sugar in balance?

  Signed,

  Looking for Balance

  Dear Looking for Balance,

  Having low blood sugar is known as hypoglycemia. The first step? Stay away from sugary foods and white flour, which is converted into sugar quickly. The next step is to eat several small meals each day so you never get too hungry. Include foods that have complex carbs and protein. For example, if you need a snack, have a low-fat cheese on a whole wheat cracker, instead of that candy bar. Eat foods with fiber, too, wh
ich helps to control the release of blood sugar into your system. Taking chromium as a supplement can also help control your blood sugar, and taking glutamine can help curb those sugar cravings.

  Signed,

  Dr. Willow McQuade

  It was nice to have a project to keep me busy, but my heart was still heavy with grief over Aunt Claire’s death, and my skin was tingling with anxiety over what might happen next. After we ate lunch, I took money out of petty cash, and Allie, Hector, and I headed to the hardware store on Main Street. We picked up paint and painting supplies so we could give the two other bedrooms on the third floor a renovation worthy of Extreme Makeover: Greenport Edition.

  We returned with a shade of lemony yellow for Allie’s massage therapy room and a mellow seafoam green for Hector’s acupuncture room. After we moved out the beds and furniture, we placed drop cloths on the floor, donned plastic gloves, and got to work. By the time we were ready for a break, we had put on a fresh coat of paint in each room and painted the ceilings. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

  Allie’s room benefited from a harbor view that boosted its appeal even more. Hector’s room had a view of the back of the property, which was filled with lovely old trees, so it was nice as well. The plan was for them to see clients in the newly painted spare bedrooms and to live in my bedroom, which had two double beds, and I’d move into Aunt Claire’s room. Once they’d relocated their respective practices to the East End, they’d find somewhere else to live. In the meantime, the rent money for the bedroom and their offices would come in handy, as would their clients, who would likely become customers of the store and café.

  While we waited for the paint to dry before putting on a second coat, we went down into the café area for a limeade to refresh ourselves. It was warm upstairs but that seemed par for the course, since the main air-conditioning unit concentrated on cooling the bottom floor. Fans cooled things off on the second and third floors. But when we stepped onto the bottom floor, the place felt like the Amazon. What was up with the AC? I looked around for my new right hand, Merrily, who was bringing an order to a table of two sitting by the window. I waved her over.