Garden of Death (14 page)

“Believe me, I tried to get us access,” Simon said. “Maybe when I have a production deal for my pirate
movie, and I need to do research, it'll be a different story.”

“Maybe not,” Professor Russell said. “The inhabitants like their privacy. You can't really blame them. Even their electricity is produced by their own generators.”

As we neared the island, the copter descended and we skimmed above the brilliant blue of Gardiner's Bay. “I know the island has been in the Gardiner family for more than four hundred years,” I said, “but who owns it now?”

“Until 2004, Robert Charles Lion Gardiner, the sixteenth lord of the manor, as he liked to call himself, owned it with his niece, Alexandra Creel Goelet. Now that he's gone, it's hers. The two didn't get along.”

“It was pretty contentious,” Simon said. “He said that she wanted to develop the island, which wasn't true. He even tried to adopt a distant relative in Mississippi to maintain control, but that didn't work out.”

“That's a pretty desperate move,” Jackson said.

“It was. Rumor is that Gardiner didn't do his part to take care of the island either. Now, that's all fallen to Mrs. Goelet,” Professor Russell said. “But it's worth it to her. Aside from its historical significance, the island is her family home. Recently the family came to an agreement with the village: no development until at least 2020. I hope it stays that way.”

Minutes later, the helicopter hovered over the pristine shores of Gardiner's Island. The scenery was spectacular, majestic sandy cliffs, green rolling fields dotted with red barns and crisscrossed by dirt roads, untouched wetlands, sparkling ponds, and birds in flight. “Wow, this is absolutely beautiful,” I said.

“It sure is. The original Lion Gardiner got a good deal,” Simon said. “He bought this from the Montaukett Indians for a large black dog, blankets, a gun, powder, and shot, right, Professor?”

“That's right. But just to make sure, he obtained a land grant from King Charles I of England.”

“Guess he wasn't taking any chances,” Simon said.

“The Gardiners have always hedged their bets,” Professor Russell said.

“Simon, we're just about to fly over Cherry Harbor,” the pilot said.

Simon pointed down at the island, where we could see a cutout of a harbor and several motorboats moored there. “When the family or anyone else comes from East Hampton, they take a launch to this spot. See that road?” He pointed out a dirt road that tracked over the land. “That leads to the Manor House, and there's the windmill. They just had it painted.”

The white windmill stood on a promontory overlooking the harbor. I used the binoculars to scan the road to its destination and there, in the middle of the island, was the red brick Manor House. “That looks pretty impressive.”

“The original Manor House was built by Charles Gardiner in 1774, but it burned in a fire in 1947 after a guest fell asleep while smoking,” Professor Russell explained. “They built the current Manor House, a twenty-eight-room Georgian estate, that same year. Beyond the mansion there are one thousand acres of old-growth forest. It's the largest stand of white oak trees in the Northeast, untouched by man.”

“It's like a time capsule, the way the East End would
be if it had never been developed,” I said, amazed at what I was seeing.

“Indeed, there are also one thousand acres of pristine meadows, with rare birds, Indian artifacts, and structures that date from the seventeenth century,” the professor said.

“There are no natural predators, so there are huge herds of swans here, too,” Simon said. “The ospreys here have nests right on the beach for the same reason.”

“This is all fascinating, but I have to ask, where did Kidd bury his treasure?” Jackson said.

“Coming up,” Professor Russell said. “With Lion Gardiner's grandson's permission, Kidd buried thirty thousand dollars of treasure in a ravine between Bostwick's Point and the Manor House.”

“Including swords and goblets?” Simon asked.

“It's possible. We know it included gold dust, silver bars, gold Spanish coins, rubies, and diamonds,” the professor answered. “There's a small stone marker on the spot, right about there.” He pointed out the window to a spot near the northwest shore. “It's believed that all of the treasure was removed, but there is no way to know for sure. Your sword, and even the goblet, could have belonged to Captain Kidd.”

“And we're about to fine out,” Simon said, smiling.

chapter seventeen

Willow McQuade's
Favorite Medicinal Plants

GINGER

Botanical name:
Zingiber officinale

Medicinal uses:
Ginger, like garlic, is a powerful medicinal herb. Ginger is used to alleviate postsurgery nausea, as well as nausea related to chemotherapy and pregnancy. Research shows that ginger is even more effective than Dramamine for curbing motion sickness without causing drowsiness. I always take along candied ginger when I'm traveling. Ginger contains compounds that also help reduce the inflammation and pain of rheumatoid arthritis, osteoarthritis, and joint and muscle pain, and improves digestion. The roots of the ginger plant are used in cooking, baking, and for health purposes. Common forms of ginger include fresh or dried root, tablets, capsules, liquid extracts (tinctures), and teas.

You can also apply ginger topically in a compress
to joints, bunions, and sore muscles; to minor toothaches to relieve pain; over the kidneys to relieve the pain and assist in the passage of stones; on the chest and back to relieve asthma symptoms; and on the temples to relieve headache. Along with garlic, this versatile herb deserves a place in your natural medicine cabinet.

The helicopter landed in East Hampton Airport, and Jackson, Simon, and I climbed into the back of a black Lincoln town car; Professor Russell sat in front. The driver headed into East Hampton, past the Town Pond with its three-hundred-year-old cemetery, and into the quaint and charming village, the main road lined by majestic old elms.

I had assumed that we would be meeting in one of the offices belonging to the East Hampton Historical Society. But we drove past the Osborn-Jackson House on Main Street, the Town House, and the Hook Schoolhouse.

When the driver took a left on Main Street and glided past the historic English Hook Windmill in the center of town, heading east toward Springs, I became concerned. “Professor, where exactly are we going?”

He turned around to face me. “I thought we needed a place that was somewhat private. Dr. Gillian is waiting for us at the Pollock-Krasner house in Springs. It's one of the historic buildings that he oversees as a curator for the Stony Brook Foundation. The museum is closed on Mondays, so we'll have the place to ourselves.”

“I thought this expert was with the East Hampton Historical Society,” Jackson said.

“He works with them from time to time, but he also works with the Stony Brook Foundation. Believe me, no one knows Kidd and that era better.”

•   •   •

Ten minutes later, we drove
past a simple cedar shake house with a wide front porch, perfect for summer afternoon lounging, then pulled into the driveway and parked.

“It's a pretty unassuming property,” Professor Russell said. “You'd never guess that this used to be home to the undisputed leader of the abstract expressionist movement.”

“When did Jackson Pollock move out here?” I asked as we all got out and stretched our legs.

“In 1945, after he and fellow artist Lee Krasner were married. They purchased the property with a loan from art dealer Peggy Guggenheim.”

“Great view of the creek,” Jackson said.

“Yes, that's Accabonac Creek, and if you're wondering, Gardiner's Island is that way.” He pointed to the east. “And this is where Mr. Pollock worked, or I should say created.”

He began to walk toward a barn in the backyard. As he did, a tall, academic type who could have been Russell's older brother opened the barn door and stepped out. He had a neatly trimmed gray beard and wore a white linen shirt, cream-colored trousers, and loafers without socks. When we met, he shook Russell's hand and said, “Good to see you, Professor, and your
friends, too. Hello, everyone. I'm Dr. Travis Gillian. I have to admit, I'm curious about what you've found. But first, let me give you a quick tour of the studio. That is, if you're interested.”

“Very much so,” I said. Jackson and Simon agreed, and Professor Russell made quick introductions as we walked into the barn.

There, Dr. Gillian asked us to take our shoes off and put booties on. “We're going to be in his studio, where Pollock worked,” Dr. Gillian said. “We need to preserve the art.”

After we'd changed he led us down the hall to a bright open room. There was a horizontal window at the top of the rear wall. Below that, small black-and-white photos lined the wall above metal cans filled with paintbrushes. To the right and the left were oversized photos of Pollock as he worked, and one of Lee visiting him in the studio, sitting on a wooden chair. The walls were a dingy white with paint speckling everywhere.

The floor was easily the most interesting aspect, covered in swirls, droplets and smudges, and layers of paint, the leftovers from masterpieces. On top of a small stepstool were the boots that Pollock used when he created, covered in layer upon layer of paint.

“The whole studio seems like it's frozen in time,” I said.

“I know,” Simon said. “It almost feels like Pollock could walk in at any moment and begin painting again.”

“Yes,” Dr. Gillian said. “It does have that feeling.” He turned to us. “Now that you've seen the studio, I
guess it's my turn. I'm eager to see the artifacts that Professor Russell mentioned.”

“I'll get them,” Jackson said, heading for the car. He'd left the bag of artifacts in the trunk for safekeeping.

“Good,” Dr. Gillian said. “We can sit outside and I'll take a look.”

We sat down at the rustic picnic table in the backyard, the professor and Gillian on one side, us on the other. Jackson returned moments later and set the bag in the middle of the table.

Dr. Gillian pulled a pair of thin Latex gloves from his shirt pocket and carefully put them on. Chagrined, I realized that we all should have been more careful when handling these pieces.

As if he read my mind, Professor Russell said, “Don't worry about touching the artifacts. It won't affect anything.”

“He's right,” Dr. Gillian said. “This is just a habit of mine. I'm sure they're fine.” He carefully opened the bag and slowly pulled out the first item, which happened to be the goblet. He examined it, then put it on the table. “No damage done here.”

“What do you think? Is it pirate treasure? Is it Captain Kidd's?” Simon asked as he leaned in to get a closer look.

“The goblet is very old, easily from the sixteenth or seventeenth century. Whether it's pirate treasure or not, I can't say.”

I felt a pang of disappointment. I was hoping for some definitive answers. I needed to know why everyone seemed so interested in my medicinal garden.

“But let me look at the rest.” He repeated the procedure with the earring. “I'd say this is from the late 1800s, and there's a good chance that's a diamond. The design and workmanship are Victorian, so it's probably not pirate treasure and, since you only have one of a pair, it's worth may be restricted to whatever you can get for the stone and gold.”

“I think you'll be intrigued by the last item they have,” Professor Russell said.

Dr. Gillian pulled the sword out of the bag. Startled, he sucked in a breath and immediately put it down on the table. Nervously, he stroked his beard. “I can't believe it.”

“I thought so,” Professor Russell said. “I had a feeling it might be the same one.”

“What are you two talking about?” Simon said, impatient for answers.

Doctor Gillian carefully picked up the sword again. This time, he examined it from every angle. “I never thought we'd see this again.”

“What do you mean?” I said, now feeling just as impatient.

“The East Hampton Historical Society sponsored a special Maritime Exhibit in June 1999 to commemorate the three-hundred-year anniversary. This very sword was the star of the show.”

“What kind of anniversary?” Simon asked.

“To mark the date of Captain Kidd's visit to Gardiner's Island,” Jackson answered.

“Very good, yes.” Dr. Gillian put the sword down gently on the bag. “You are correct, Jackson. Kidd's Long Island adventure was in June 1699, right before his
capture. He was on his way to Boston to prove his innocence in the charges of piracy. He stopped at Gardiner's Island for three days. During that time—we don't know exactly when—he buried treasure worth about thirty thousand dollars back then at Cherry Harbor, in a ravine between Bostwick Point and the Manor House.”

“While he and his men were there, he asked Mrs. Gardiner to roast a pig for him,” Professor Russell added. “Kidd enjoyed it so much that he gave her a piece of gold cloth, a small piece of which is still in the East Hampton Library. Supposedly, the cloth came from a Moorish ship captured by Kidd off the coast of Madagascar.”

“Wow, this guy really got around,” Simon said. “Amazing.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Gillian said. “But this was to be his last trip. After Kidd was arrested in Boston, Lord Gardiner delivered the buried treasure to the authorities. Supposedly, there were bags of gold dust, bars of silver, pieces of eight, rubies, diamonds, candlesticks, and some other items.”

“Like a sword?” I squeezed Jackson's hand.

Dr. Gillian nodded. “Yes, at least they thought so. A sword like this one was put into the archives of the East Hampton Historical Society and subsequently removed and shown at the exhibition. It was never definitively proved to be part of Kidd's treasure, but its age, workmanship, materials, and general style made that theory plausible. A month later, on the last day of the exhibit, the sword was stolen, never to be seen again.”

“And you think this is the same sword?” Simon asked.

“I'd have to do some tests and research to be sure, but it certainly looks like it.”

“Okay, say it is Kidd's,” Jackson said. “How would it have gotten to Greenport? And does that mean there's more treasure in the garden?”

“I don't know. But I can see why you have had interested parties trying to find out. The earring and goblet may not be from Kidd, but they're still valuable. If this becomes known, I think you're in for some more trouble. I know you've already got your hands full, what with Jackson being a suspect in that doctor's murder.”

“I hope you don't mind, Willow and Jackson, but I thought it best for Travis to know the entire story,” Professor Russell interjected.

“Not a problem,” I said. “We need all the help we can get.”

“I hope I can help,” Dr. Gillian said. “But for now, you two need to be very careful, at least until you figure out what exactly is going on.”

“I've just hired a nighttime guard for the garden,” Jackson said.

Dr. Gillian nodded approvingly. “I think that's an excellent idea. You could also hire an expert to use a metal detector on the garden, but that may cause more problems. You can have false or mixed readings and end up digging up areas without profit. I assume that's not something that you'd want to do in a newly planted garden.”

“No, we wouldn't,” I said. “But we need to stop what has been going on.”

“I understand. In the meantime, I'd suggest putting these items in a safe place. If you'll allow me, I'd like to keep the sword and have some tests run on it, to make sure it's the real thing. I'll give you a receipt, of course. If it is the sword that was stolen, we could restore it to the East Hampton Historical Society.”

I looked at Jackson. “What do you think?”

“I think that this is an ongoing murder investigation, and the sword may play a role in some way we're not aware of yet. I think the best idea is for Dr. Gillian's experts to check it out and let us know what they find. In the meantime, we keep following leads.”

“Then we'd better get back,” I said. “The Maritime Festival is still on all this week, and there's a lot going on. At least it's good cover for investigating.”

“Professor Russell told me that you've done this before,” Dr. Gillian said. “But please be careful. Buried treasure can often mean buried secrets. And that can mean big trouble.”