Garden of Death (3 page)

“You heard right,” Jackson said, stepping in front of me. Simon stepped forward and shielded me as well.

“Oh, it figures,” White said. “You're sticking up for your little girlfriend. Did she lie to you, too?”

“Dr. White, please! Control yourself!” The mayor checked his notes again, plastered on a fake smile, and said, “Enjoy the party, everyone, and thank you!”

But Dr. White wasn't done. He leaned around Jackson until he was just inches from my face. His hot breath smelled of beer and cigars. “Enjoy your little project, Ms. McQuade. You won't have it for long.”

“Why don't you tell me what you're talking about?” I said as calmly as I could. “Because you're wrong. I did not cheat to get that land. I would never do that.”

“We have lawyers looking into the way that that vote came down. We know and you know that it wasn't right. And we're going to prove it. You'll see.”

“Time to go,” Jackson said, grabbing his arm. “Back away from her. Now.”

“Yeah,” Simon added. “You don't want to take us on, buddy.”

White studied Simon carefully, and I had an awful feeling that he was seeing what I saw. While Jackson, an ex-cop, could hold his own in a fight, Simon had all the physical conditioning of a hamster. “Maybe I do want to take you on,” White said. With a sudden movement, he wrenched his arm from Jackson's grasp and tried to punch Simon.

But before he could make contact with Simon's face, Jackson tackled him and pinned him to the ground. “That's enough,” Jackson told him. “Like I said, time to go.”

Merrily and Nate ran over. “Are you okay, Willow?” Merrily asked.

“I'm okay, thanks,” I said, feeling anything but.

“It's all lies,” Dr. White yelled. “And we're going to prove it!”

Jackson got him to his feet and pushed White toward the exit. “Let's go. You need to get out of here before you do something really stupid.”

“Let me give him a good punch before he goes,” Simon said. “I owe him one.”

“Forget it,” Jackson said, turning to look at Simon. “No way.”

While Jackson was distracted, White seized the moment and pulled free. Jackson and Simon ran after him. This time, though, Dr. White lost his footing, and we watched as he tumbled over the low shrubs that edged the outdoor area and landed with a splash in the bay. A few people clapped. After a few moments, White sputtered to the surface, spewing expletives.

“Now, that's what I call a party,” Simon said, smiling.

chapter three

Willow McQuade's
Favorite Medicinal Plants

ASTRAGALUS

Botanical name:
Astragalus membranaceus,
Astragalus mongholicus

Medicinal uses: A pretty plant with pastel flowers, this important herb is often used in traditional Chinese medicine to support and enhance better immune function. In fact, in Chinese this herb is known as
huang qi
or “yellow leader,” which refers to the root color and it's go-to status as a healing tonic. Astragulus is commonly used to prevent and treat common colds and upper respiratory infections. The root of the astragalus plant is typically used in soups, teas, extracts, or capsules. Astragalus is generally used with other herbs, such as ginseng, angelica, and licorice.

Jackson and I woke up early the next morning, surrounded by our menagerie, my dog, Qigong, Claire's kitties, Ginger and Ginkgo, both tabbies, and Jackson's long-haired doxies, Rockford and Columbo. After we'd played with them and scratched them all behind the ears, we showered, got dressed, and headed downstairs.

When I stepped outside, I could feel the buzz in the air from all the Maritime Festival activities. On Front Street, vendors on both sides were getting wares ready to sell, artists competing in the Nautical Art Show were setting up in Mitchell Park, and the marina was full of sailboats, motorboats, and yachts. Soon the blessing of the oyster fleet would take place at the end of the Railroad Dock across the inlet. The sky was a crystal iris blue without a cloud in sight, the temperature, a balmy seventy-two degrees.

It was so nice out that we decided to eat alfresco on the porch. We had a breakfast of Merrily's French toast along with fresh strawberries and coffee while we reviewed what still needed to be done that morning.

“You got the tables and chairs right?” I asked Jackson. We were borrowing them from his neighbor.

“In my truck,” he said, sipping his coffee. “I'll set them up after we eat.”

The Nature's Way booth would be right in front of the store, which would make things easier for us. “Thanks,” I said. “I've got some great stuff to put out.”

Jackson nodded. “You do. It's a smart idea to sell some of the plants that you have featured in the garden.”

“I already texted Nate to remind him to pick up the
medicinal plants from Ollie's Organic Greenhouse on the way in. He'll get seeds, too. Hopefully, after people take the tour, they'll want to take plants and seeds home and start their own gardens. I'm going to offer paperback copies of Aunt Claire's organic gardening books, too.” My aunt had been a prolific writer and author, and her gardening book
Gardening, Naturally
had been a national best seller.

“Did the other stuff come in?” Jackson popped a strawberry into his mouth. The dogs sat at our feet waiting for small bites of French toast. He slipped them each a snack.

“The gardening aprons, hats, tool belts, and plant stakes with the Nature's Way logo came in yesterday.” I'd recently had the logo designed and was pleased with the result, which was the name, and an illustration of the store with the garden next door.

“If the clothes sell, you might want to think about carrying other items.”

“I don't think I have room, although I'd love to carry Life Is Good, Good Karma T-shirts.”

“You just need a rack to display them,” Jackson said. “I'll build you one if you want.”

“You are the best boyfriend,” I said, and leaned over to kiss him.

As I did, Simon walked up the steps. “Ah, the lovebirds.” He took the seat next to me and squeezed my hand. “I need to talk to you, Willow.”

I suddenly remembered the text I'd ignored the
night before.

“I can help you and me,” Simon began.

“What is it?” I asked suspiciously. I finished up my French toast, giving another treat to the dogs. “You said, you could help you
and
me?”

“Exactly.”

“This should be good,” Jackson said, sitting back. Simon was a friend, but he was not known for his altruism.

“Okay, you know I have writer's block, right?”

“Yeah, I sort of guessed.” I had noticed that Simon spent more time looking at his laptop screen than typing when he came in for breakfast.

Simon flashed me his very white Hollywood smile. “I came up with the perfect solution.”

“Really? Do I have a problem?”

“The summer season is upon us and you need more help in the store and the café. I need to do something menial to free up my mind so I can get creative. You know, like Albert Einstein when he worked in the patent office and discovered relativity?”

I knew where this was going. “You want to work here?”

“Yeah, you know, being a waiter and stuff, something brainless to rest my mind. Two birds with one stone. Am I a genius or what?” Simon looked exceptionally pleased with his solution.

“That's great, Simon,” Jackson said, knowing what I was in for. Simon could be helpful. He could also be selfish, self-absorbed, and unavailable. “It's also really nice that you think that Willow's work here is menial.”

Simon clapped Jackson on the shoulder. “That's not what I mean, big guy. She's the boss. I mean the
people who work for her.” He turned to me, giving me a puppy dog look. “So, what do you say, Willow? I can start right now.”

He was dressed in khakis and a white Izod shirt. He'd just have to put on a green apron. But could he be a waiter?

“Wait a minute, Simon,” I said. “Have you ever done this type of work before?”

“In college, sure, for a month or so, until . . .” He paused and looked at us.

“You got fired,” Jackson guessed.

“I'm a writer, I can't do work like this forever. But a week or so might help my creative process.”

I did need the help, especially during festival week. I looked at Jackson, who gave the idea a thumbs-down. But Simon was a friend and really, how much trouble could he get into? So I said, “We'll do a trial period and see how you do. How's that sound?”

“Put me to work, boss,” Simon said, grinning.

•   •   •

The first thing we needed
to do to get our booth ready for the festival was to bring out the tables and chairs. While Jackson and Simon went inside, I decided where to set up everything. Minutes later, Jackson came out by himself, with a folding table under each arm.

I knew what he was going to say before he said it. “Are you crazy, letting him work here?”

“I have to give him a chance,” I explained as we set up the first table. “I don't know if it will really help his writing or not, but Simon is a friend. Besides, I could use the help.”

“You just hit on the million-dollar question,” Jackson said. “Do you think Simon is actually capable of helping anyone besides himself?”

“He's got potential,” I said carefully.

Jackson started setting up the second table, adjacent to the first one. “Willow, you need to think about what's best for you and your business. Simon's just going to get in the way. He's already going on about how working here is going to free up his mind and make him really Zen. He said he could already feel it already ‘altering the vibration of his brain waves.' Talk about New Age blather . . .”

I shrugged, unsurprised. “So when he's unblocked, he'll leave. Hopefully, it won't take long.” I spotted the Nature's Way van take a left at the light, which meant that Nate would arrive at any minute. “I see Nate, good timing.”

“Don't change the subject. And if you have any illusions about Simon being a hard worker, he's only carrying one chair at a time.” Jackson motioned to Simon, who was making his way down the stairs, a folding chair in one hand, a muffin in the other.

Simon put down the chair and took a bite of the blueberry muffin. “Merrily is an amazing baker. She even let me taste a sample of the peach pie that she's making for the contest in Mitchell Park this afternoon. Delicious!”

“Yes, she's very talented,” I said. “Can you please get the other chair?”

It was already eight forty-five and the parade would start at eleven, which meant people would be congregating in front of the store soon.

“In a minute. I want to finish my muffin.” Simon took another bite. “You know what? Coffee would go great with this. Want anything?” he asked as he headed back down the walkway.

“No, we're okay, but come back soon.”

Simon, oblivious, waved and took another bite.

“Oh, yeah, he's going to work out just fine,” Jackson said sarcastically, his eyes still on Simon. “Please tell me you're not paying him for this.”

“Jackson, just accept him the way he is. Be Zen.”

“No one is that Zen,” Jackson informed me. “Not even you.” He shook his head. “I'm going to check out the garden one more time.” As he spoke, Nate parked the van, then took a flat of medicinal plants from the back.

“I'll meet you there after Nate and I set up,” I told Jackson. “We need to put up the ribbon.” I'd bought bright yellow ribbon from the hobby store and a new pair of oversize scissors to cut it with. “After that, I want to watch the parade at eleven.”

“Sounds good,” Jackson said, giving me a kiss.

So while Nate and I set out the plants, seeds, and merchandise, Jackson looked over the garden and Simon had coffee.

•   •   •

After we set up the
tables, I got the ribbon and scissors from my office and went over to the entrance of the garden. I could see the procession for the parade lining up on First Street by the ferry and the Maritime Museum. The local high school band, horses, ponies, and rescues from the local animal shelter who always
marched in the parade were already in place. Behind them, I glimpsed giant floats and after them, the first of the classic cars pulling into place.

I noticed Sandra and Martin's booth near the movie theater. I hoped that they would take a tour of the garden later. Other vendors, closer to Nature's Way, were selling everything from T-shirts to nautical crafts to hot dogs and lemonade.

Jackson walked over to me, brushing dirt from his jeans.

“Everything okay in the garden?” I asked, wanting things to be perfect. “Should I take a walk-through?”

“No need,” he said. “I just had to replace a plant that some critter ate. But don't worry. Now it all looks great. We're ready.”

•   •   •

Visitors crowded the sidewalk as
the parade made its way down Front Street to Main Street. Kids shouted with delight as tractors pulling carts drove past with those onboard throwing candy to the crowd.

“Don't you just love mermaids?” Simon asked, as a colorful float with six mermaids rolled past.

“I guess so,” I said. “I never really thought about it.”

But I couldn't help being charmed by the parade. The local high school band had never sounded better, and even the dogs looked like they were having fun, wagging their tails, barking at their owners' sides. Everyone was having a good time.

“Looks like our old friend is here,” Jackson said to me. He nodded toward a man in the crowd, standing
beside his young wife and toddler son.

“Oh, great. My favorite person.” It was Detective Koren, my nemesis in all things murder. Even though I solved my Aunt Claire's murder and the mystery of who had killed a Hollywood producer last fall, he still resented my amateur sleuthing skills and my success rate. As always, he was dressed impeccably, but today he went for the casual look, khaki shorts and a polo shirt. Just to bug him, I threw him a wave. He pretended not to see me.

I turned my attention to the next float, which featured a plywood pirate ship, with a skull-and-­crossbones flag and several menacing-looking pirates. They circled the ship and growled at the crowd as they sang “A Pirate's Life for Me
.
”

Next up were antique cars of every size, shape, and color. Riding in the cars were the mayor and the Village Board, but I didn't see Joe Larson, who had championed White. I hoped this meant that he wouldn't be at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the garden.

The parade ended at noon, and soon after that we all gathered in front of the garden gate. Merrily closed the store temporarily and came out, along with Hector and Allie, my in-house acupuncturist and masseuse, who took a break from their appointments to attend. Aunt Claire's boyfriend, Nick, our beloved yoga teacher, was there as well. Nick had encouraged me to fight for my garden project and ignore the naysayers. He'd become a good friend, especially now that Claire was gone.

It seemed everyone who had worked with and loved my aunt—from her pet-rescue efforts to her Scrabble club—turned out, and so did others who shopped at
Nature's Way and considered her a friend. I knew she would have been very touched.

On the left side of the trellised garden gate, there was a brass plaque that read: Claire Hagen Memorial Physic Garden: Forever in Our Hearts. Peace, Light, Love
and Blessings to All Who Enter Here
.
The mayor and the trustees, except for Joe Larson, stood to the right.

“Thank you all so much for taking time out of your busy Maritime Festival weekend to remember a truly wonderful citizen of our beloved village,” Mayor Hobson began. “Claire Hagen always had a kind word for everyone and never said no to a request for help, be it for people or our four-legged friends. So it is my great honor to introduce her niece, Willow McQuade, who is carrying on her work at Nature's Way and in the community.”

The crowd clapped, and this time there were no dissenting voices.

I stepped toward the gate. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Thank you, everyone. I am very touched and moved by your show of support today. I know that it would have made Claire deeply happy. What would make her even happier is the fact that you'll learn so much by visiting this garden and hopefully take this knowledge and put it to use in your own lives.