Death Drops (21 page)

As a thank-you, he let Allie and Hector have the two pieces for thirty bucks. Used to city prices, they were elated, both feeling as if they’d struck it rich. We told him we’d pick up the cupboard and table that afternoon.

We carried that good momentum (and karma) to three more sales in East Marion and Greenport, finding a desk/hutch for Hector, a small love seat for Allie, and two lamps. By ten o’clock, we’d reached yet another sale in New Suffolk, an area just south of the Main Road with an interesting mix of year-round and summer residences. We stopped at a quaint yellow cottage on 1st Street that looked promising even at this late—for yard sales—hour. The four of us crossed the street and started the hunt.

It wasn’t long before Hector found two big glass vases for flowers, one for himself and one for Allie, and she, in turn, scored two colorful area rugs. This was shaping up to be one heck of a yard sale cache.

Qigong and I followed them over to the front of the house to pay the owner, a trim brunette with a severe chin-length haircut, dressed in capris and a bright white sleeveless blouse.

As we waited, I noticed the name on the mailbox next door: D. Polumbo. Pointing to the disheveled house, with a rotting roof and front porch, I asked, “Is your neighbor related to Sue Polumbo?”

She gave me a quizzical look and then nodded. “Yes, it’s her
ex-husband, Dan. They divorced after all that business with their son, Tad. Him being sick and all.”

I cocked my head, gave her a questioning and concerned gaze, and played dumb. “Sick?”

“He almost died,” she said impatiently, like I didn’t get it. “He had asthma and developed pneumonia. Sue went to see Claire Hagan at that natural food store. She gave them some bad advice. He ended up in the emergency room.”

I wanted to say that Aunt Claire was unaware of Tad’s asthma but instead said, “Where does Sue live?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You ask a lot of questions.” Allie shoved some money at her, but she ignored it. “And you are?”

Allie looked at me and shook her head. The “don’t tell her who you are, we won’t get a good deal” look.

“Willow McQuade.” Since my last name was different from Claire’s, she didn’t make the connection. But at that moment, a dented, ancient red Chevy crunched into the Polumbo’s driveway. A big, muscled, angry-looking man wearing a Powerhouse Gym T-shirt cut off at the sleeves clambered out. I remembered that Gavin Milton had been wearing a shirt just like it and immediately wondered about the connection. Were they workout buddies? Or partners in crime?

I worried that if this woman told Dan I’d been asking about him, things might change, and fast. Especially after what had happened with Simon last night.

Knowing all of that, Allie quickly handed twenty-five dollars to the woman and gave her a smile. “Will this cover it?”

The woman’s narrowed eyes swiveled between me and Dan. Allie, Hector, and I held our collective breath. This could get ugly. Finally, Dan entered the house and closed the door.
Making her decision, the woman took the money, and the four of us scuttled off to the car with our booty.

“Don’t look at her,” Allie said as she shoved the rugs in the back and put the vases on top of them, then closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “She’s still checking you out.”

I climbed into the passenger seat and put Qigong on my lap.

“She does not seem very happy,” Hector observed.

“No, she sure doesn’t,” Allie said as she put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

We were halfway back to
Greenport when my iPhone buzzed. I pushed Answer and said hello.

“It’s Helen, from Helen’s Organics. I’m calling about that bill.”

Oh, boy. “Sorry about that. Things have been hectic here.” I rolled my eyes at Allie.

“I’m sure they are, but can you drop off payment today?”

Gulp. I mentally calculated how much I had left in my checking account after paying Betty at the bakery, the glass man, the locksmith, Mike the roofer, and to have the PT Cruiser and the kitchen repaired. Luckily the store had been busy enough for me to cover the staff’s salaries and even a little extra. I figured I could give her just under 20 percent of what she was owed. After that, I might have to cash in a CD I’d saved for an emergency. When I told her how much I could pay her, she harrumphed and said, “Better than nothing. But I’ll expect the rest soon. I’m on the North Road, just past the light in Mattituck, on the right.” She ended the call.

“See, aren’t you glad you took care of that?” Allie looked at me.

“Thrilled,” I said. “You’ll need to turn around.”

Allie pulled into the IGA parking lot, went around back, took a right at the light, and headed west. Ten minutes later, we pulled into the dirt driveway of Helen’s Organics. The spread was impressive, with several acres of cultivated land and four greenhouses, along with abundant flower beds and fruit trees. Several day laborers were busy moving plants and watering.

A ramshackle white farmhouse perched on a small hill next to the greenhouses. Several fat-bellied cats sunned themselves on the porch. Allie tucked the PT Cruiser between two trucks and turned off the ignition. I quickly wrote out a check for a thousand dollars, put Qigong on Allie’s lap, and hopped out of the car. “I’ll be right back,” I told them, and strode toward the back of the house. I knocked but received no reply, so I headed toward the greenhouses. Now that I was ready to pay, I wanted to get it over with.

I walked across the grounds and came to a collection of what looked like new beehives. Opposite that was the third greenhouse. Helen was potting plants inside. The smell of moist loam and budding plants was intoxicating. The space was also crammed with equipment, gardening materials, and lots of bottles of yummy-looking organic honey.

I pointed to the bottles. “Is the honey something new? I thought you just sold herbs.”

“I just started making it this week. People like it.”

“I’d love to carry it in the store.”

“When you pay your tab, we can talk.” She continued potting plants.

Although I didn’t care for her attitude, I wanted to keep this nonconfrontational. I had enough stress in my life right now. I pointed to the plants she was working with. “What will these be when they grow up?”

Without looking up, she said, “Organic peppers.” I noticed
she wore jeans and a green Life is good T-shirt with a flowerpot on it, although her attitude seemed anything but good. Maybe part of the reason was the bad sunburn she had on her face, neck, and arms.

“Looks like the sun got the better of you.”

She potted another pepper plant. “Forgot sunscreen. Today, I pay.”

“Have you tried aloe on it?” Aloe is one of the best natural remedies because it’s an anti-inflammatory plant that contains compounds similar to aspirin. This means it helps ease the pain and redness of sunburn. Aloe also stimulates blood flow, improving healing time.

“It looked worse before I used the aloe.”

A cat jumped up onto the table and nudged Helen’s face. She picked it up and put it back on the ground. I spotted three more at the end of the greenhouse and more milling outside.

“You’ve got a lot of cats,” I said.

“Barn cats. A new one shows up every day.”

I thought about the cat overpopulation problem on the East End. “Are they spayed and neutered? If not, you could call SAVES.” SAVES stood for Spay, Alter, Vaccinate Every Stray.

“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “Your aunt Claire told me about them more than once. But I let nature take its course.” She potted another plant.

That was a backward attitude, but I didn’t want to get into a big thing with her. Better to call SAVES myself and alert them that there were a lot of cats in this area that needed to be trapped, spayed or neutered, and hopefully found homes.

I turned my attention to the large assortment of colorful herbs in the greenhouse, hot-pink echinacea, red yarrow, and several different types of lovely smelling lavender. The latter
prompted a thought. “You can also make a compress with lavender for sunburn. Have you tried that?”

“I hadn’t thought of it,” she said absently.

On Helen’s worktable were pouches of dried herbs and herbal essences in glass bottles with toppers. I thought about the Mimulus Claire had taken. Could Helen have swapped it with a potion that included cyanide? But killing Aunt Claire would prevent her from getting paid. Still, maybe there was something going on here that I didn’t know about.

“Did Aunt Claire buy fresh herbs from you as well?” I hadn’t noticed any in the store.

“She used to. But she wanted better, more exotic, herbs for that formula she was making,” she said bitterly. “That I helped her with.”

“You helped her with the Fresh Face formula?” I smelled Motive with a capital
M
. The same one that Dr. Neville had.

She frowned. “Yes, in the beginning. She consulted me. But then, when it looked like it was really going to happen . . .” She rubbed her face with her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

I prompted her: “What?”

She put the seedling in a row with a dozen others. “I just didn’t hear from her.”

“Did she mention any problems she was having with it? Did she ever mention a Dr. Neville?”

She considered me and my questions, grabbed another handful of potting soil, and put it into a new container. “I just know that she was under a tremendous amount of pressure from New York. From that guy McCarty. He’d call her every day, sometimes two or three times. E-mails and texts, too, sometimes a dozen a day.”

I thought about Aunt Claire’s iPhone and the fact that there
were no texts from McCarty. She’d probably cleaned them out because there were so many. Still, they could be helpful now.

Helen continued. “She was working as fast as she could, but she wanted it to be just right. I told her that she needed to cool it with the stress, but she didn’t listen to me. About anything.” She put the seedling in the pot and, it seemed to me, angrily pressed earth around it.

Yes, definitely some bad blood here. I hadn’t realized how much. Before a seedling bought the farm, I handed her the check. “Thanks for the info and your patience. I’ll get you more as soon as I can.”

“See that you do,” she said, not looking up as she shoved potting soil into a new container. “I’m not waiting forever for what is mine.”

Dear Dr. McQuade,

I’m in menopause and I have so many hot flashes each day that I’m constantly changing my clothes. I’m either hot or cold. But either way, I’m miserable. Can you help?

Signed,

Running Hot and Cold

Dear Running Hot and Cold,

They call menopause “the change” for a good reason. When you’re in the middle of it, what with the hot flashes, brain fog, muscle aches, and mood swings, your whole world seems in flux. One of the best natural remedies is black cohosh, which is a member of the buttercup family. And research shows that Remifemin is especially effective. You can find more about it at
www.enzymatictherapy.com
. Another good remedy for hot flashes is dong quai, an aromatic plant from China. And chaste tree can help balance hormones during menopause, increasing the level of progesterone while reducing the level of estrogen. Homeopathic remedies for menopause include belladonna and
Gelsemium
.

Signed,

Dr. Willow McQuade

We returned from our yard sale adventure to the store and unloaded our goodies. After we’d brought everything up to Allie’s and Hector’s offices, the two of them headed back out to pick up the van. Aunt Claire’s mechanic, Rick, had left a message on the office phone that the brakes were fixed. No questions asked. After that, Allie and Hector would pick up the rest of their purchases.

As for me, I planned to take a nice nap with Qigong on the couch in the office, because the events of the past week and grieving Aunt Claire’s death had left me exhausted. I am a firm believer in the restorative power of naps. Not only do naps improve energy and make you more alert, research done by the Harvard School of Public Health shows that regular napping can even be helpful in lowering your risk of coronary heart disease by 37 percent. Amazing.

But my nap idea was nixed the minute I turned into my office. There I found a middle-aged man dressed in an expensive navy-blue suit, running his hand through his hair and pacing. Qigong ran up to him, sniffed him, decided he was okay, and jumped on the couch. I still wasn’t sure.

“Hello, can I help you?”

He put his hand out. “Randy McCarty. Green Focus.”

Oh, boy. This was getting serious. “I’m Willow McQuade. I didn’t expect you.”

“I know that, and I’m sorry. My boss called me in late yesterday and demanded answers. I thought I’d better come out and see for myself. Okay if I sit?” He pointed to the chair. “It’s been a heckuva day.”

Didn’t I know it. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here, Mr. McCarty.” I sat down behind the desk.

“Randy, please. And I’m so sorry about your aunt. We all are.”

“Thanks, Randy. But I don’t have anything new to tell you.”

“Can you show me where she kept the formula?” He scratched his head and several flakes of dandruff floated through the air to the floor. He looked at me. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“You know, you can use a eucalyptus rinse to treat dandruff. It fights infection and tones the skin.”

“A eucalyptus rinse? Can I buy it here?”

“You can get the dried leaves here. My friend Brigitte Mars, a master herbalist, has a great recipe. You put four heaping teaspoons in a quart of boiling water, stir, cover, and let it steep for an hour. Then you just strain the liquid and put it into a plastic squeeze bottle and add a tablespoon of apple-cider vinegar. After you take a shower and wash your hair, you pour it on. But don’t rinse it out. Let it dry. You’ll see the difference.”

“Okay, I’ll try it. Now, the formula?”

I stood up and pointed to the area in the wood floor that looked uneven. “See that spot? She kept it in there.”

He craned his neck to see. “You’re kidding, right?”

I shrugged. “Aunt Claire was very trusting. To a point. For her, that was a real security measure.”