THE HERBALIST (Books 1-5) Read online

  “How do I know they’re not just water or alcohol or something?”

  “Is that your concern? That I’m a huckster?”

  “No. My concern is what you gave Lauryl Taylor.”

  “The things I sold Lauryl Taylor for her cough are made in commercial facilities, and are standardized.”

  “Exactly what did you give her?”

  “Elderberry cough syrup, eyebright, and Breath E-Z tea.”

  “Elderberry cough syrup! I thought the Elderberry plant was poisonous.”

  “I’m pleased that you know that, Deputy. But only parts of the plant are poisonous.”

  “What parts?”

  “Unripe berries, and especially the leaves.”

  “How do you know, then, that you didn’t accidentally get some leaves in there?”

  Melissa just stood looking at him. She was glad she meditated on a regular basis. This man was certainly beginning to irritate her.

  “I didn’t make the cough syrup.”

  “Really? There’s an elderberry syrup with one of those labels on it over there.”

  “Yes, that’s pancake syrup. It’s made from ripe berries and cooked. Nobody dies from ripe, cooked elderberries.”

  “So you say.”

  “Have you looked around Lauryl’s place to see what you might find in the way of poison?”

  “Why do you think she was poisoned?”

  “I don’t, but the way you are questioning me, you apparently think she was. I believe if you look in her kitchen, you will find a bottle of commercially prepared elderberry cough syrup. I can even give you the name of the manufacturer.”

  “How convenient that you know exactly where it is.”

  “I stepped into the kitchen to speak with Dr. Mercer today and noticed it sitting on the counter.”

  “Uh-huh. Or put it there.”

  “Deputy, your line of questioning is way out of line. Am I under suspicion or arrest?”

  “Everybody’s under suspicion right now.”

  “Well, if you are satisfied with the results of our conversation, it’s time for me to close up.”

  “I’ll be satisfied when I have a chance to look over the evidence left behind in the house.”

  “So why aren’t you doing that instead of coming over here harassing me about something which is completely conjecture at this point?”

  Okay, he had baited her, and she had finally swallowed the bait. She needed to calm down.

  Just then the postman came in with a package for her.

  “Fine, Ms. Michaels,” the deputy said, “We can continue this later.”

  She took the package from the postman, signing the card since it was certified mail.

  “Did that have anything to do with Lauryl Taylor?” he asked, gesturing toward the door.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Do they know anything yet?”

  “No, but it’s only been a few hours.”

  “Old Mike Dryden can tell you something.”

  “Tell me something, like what?”

  The man shrugged. “I’d rather you ask him,” he said.

  “It’s really none of my business,” she said. “That’s up to law enforcement.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Just thought I’d let you know.” The man turned to leave.

  “Uh—how did Mike Dryden happen to tell you?” she asked.

  “I was delivering his mail about the time the emergency crew arrived.” He waved goodbye as he pulled the door closed behind him.

  Melissa locked it, and Carl came in from the back.

  “You’ve been kind of scarce this afternoon,” Melissa said.

  “Yeah. Every time I tried to go out to the garden, somebody else would come up and want to talk about what was going on across the street. I refilled the vegetable bins and spruced up the displays, then I ducked out and went home. I didn’t just want to stand around here gawkin’.”

  “I understand,” Melissa said.

  “My wife said something strange,” he said. “Did you know Nash had asked Lauryl for a loan?”

  “I didn’t,” she replied, casually, although it immediately set her mind in motion. “How did your wife know?”

  “She’s friends with that woman bookkeeper at the bank, what’s her name, Katharine-something.”

  “Barnes.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, she told my wife that Nash and come in and asked for a loan, and they refused him. Then a couple of days later, Lauryl came in asking for a loan for the same amount, and they refused her, too.”

  “Wow. I think Katherine breached every privacy act the bank ever had in telling your wife that.”

  “Go figure, huh.”

  “Any idea why she told your wife?”

  “I guess—no, I really don’t know.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Carl.”

  Melissa sighed. The rumor mill had begun grinding away.

  Chapter 7

  When Melissa got home, she settled in with Sweet Pea. She picked up a book and attempted to read, but abandoned it after a few minutes.

  Between the deputy, the postman, and Carl, all in the last twenty minutes at the market, it had almost been as jarring as finding out Lauryl was dead earlier in the day.

  She hoped the deputy was just on a fishing expedition of his own and nothing official, except that she couldn’t forget the crack the sheriff had made earlier about her “witch medicine.” Honestly, she thought, people are so ignorant—even of the law.

  Of course she realized the sheriff’s department was likely not trained in federal food and drug laws, but still, she would have thought someone would have done a bit of research before they accosted her.

  She let it go. She thought about what Old Mike Dryden might have seen, but concluded that it was none of her business, and likely was some wild conjecture anyway. But what Carl had said, she found disturbing—not because of the information about the loan itself, but that Katharine had told it. She knew Katherine and wondered what ever would make her reveal a piece of information that could get her fired, and why tell it to Carl’s wife?

  She decided she needed to do some yoga and meditation. She usually did it shortly before bed, but considering how stressed she was feeling, she decided it was warranted now. She walked into her meditation room, instantly feeling her spirit uplifted.

  It smelled of Nag Champa, her favorite Indian incense. She thought about how the trappings of any ritual help to create a certain mindset. Just seeing her White Tara poster, smelling the Nag Champa residue, and hearing the softly falling water from her copper fountain began to relax her immediately.

  She lit a new Nag Champa stick and sat down in a lotus position on the beautiful emerald green zafu and zabuton cushions. She began by exhaling all of her stressful feelings, and inhaling the peace which surrounded her.

  She felt completely restored after twenty minutes. She was glad she had been encouraged to meditate while she was in school in Seattle because, having cultivated the habit, it restored her quickly.

  Now that she had freed her mind of the things which disturbed her, perhaps she could think about Lauryl more clearly.

  Melissa better understood Cindy’s concerns about Lauryl after their conversation, but she still thought they were unfounded. It seemed natural that both Cindy and Lauryl would have concerns about lung cancer after what their mother and sister had gone through, but Melissa was sure that she would have known if that were happening to Lauryl. It was just the kind of thing she would have known.

  What most people didn’t realize was that Melissa was gifted at “sniffing out” cancer, so to speak. Over the past three years, four of her patrons had contracted cancer. She had been able to persuade three of them to see the naturopathic doctor she had recommended without telling them what she had discerned. Two of them had trusted the naturopath’s diagnosis, followed the treatment protocol he described, and were now in remission. The third person had declined the holistic protocol, and was now taking chemo. The fourth perso
n hadn’t followed her suggestion to see the naturopath.

  She had just not intuited it about Lauryl, and she was pretty sure the ME’s report would bear that out. In fact, the only things she had intuited about Lauryl were: she needed to rest, to maybe detox her gut, and to eat better in order to restore her immune system.

  She thought back to the datura bouquet on the table. She couldn’t help finding that really odd. Lauryl’s yard was fairly well manicured; she paid a gardener to keep it up for her, and Melissa did not recall seeing any mature datura plants in Lauryl’s yard.

  Of course, Lauryl could have just picked some at the side of the road, but that would have been very out of character for her. No, Melissa was sure someone had brought them to her.

  As odd as she found it, though, she didn’t suspect that it had anything to do with her death. Even though it was highly toxic, the woman would have had to ingest several leaves or flowers for it to kill her.

  Right now, there were several odd things about it all, and nothing added up. She simply needed more information. She remembered what she had told the mailman when he suggested she talk to Mike Dryden. She didn’t really want to go around snooping and listening to gossip, but Lauryl had been one of her clients. She cared about each and every one of them, and for one to turn up dead with virtually no explanation was something she really cared about.

  Chapter 8

  She was surprised as she stepped out onto the street from her house the next morning and saw two county sheriff’s vehicles in front of her store.

  The vehicles seemed to be empty. Where were they? Inside talking to Flora?

  She found the door unlocked and stepped inside.

  The sheriff and a deputy sat at one of the tables drinking coffee.

  Flora was bustling around, loading the bakery case with muffins.

  “Good morning, Sheriff,” Melissa said, “what’s the occasion?”

  Flora opened her mouth to speak, but Melissa put up her hand.

  The sheriff looked at her as he stuffed the last half of one of Flora’s apple muffins in his mouth.

  “We’re having coffee,” he said, when it was only half swallowed.

  “Before I open the shop?” she asked.

  “Flora here didn’t seem to mind.”

  Melissa glanced at Flora who shrugged.

  “She tells me that you watched the house for Ms. Taylor when she was away at her shows sometimes.”

  “That’s right,” she said, not looking at Flora.

  “So that would mean you have a key.”

  Melissa swallowed. She didn’t want to lie. She knew it could be considered obstruction of justice, but she also knew she had nothing to do with Lauryl’s death.

  “She gave me the key before she went to a show.”

  “Is that the one that was on the bracket by the door, or the one she gave to her boyfriend, or…?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she said. The blood refused to flow to her brain right now because she was so tense, and she couldn’t think of a clever dodge.

  “Just wondering how many keys are floatin’ around out there?”

  Melissa gave no response to what she assumed was a rhetorical question anyway.

  “So where’d you get your license, Melissa?”

  “Which license would that be, Sheriff?”

  “A license to practice medicine.”

  “I don’t practice medicine, Sheriff. I’m an herbalist and I have an accredited degree in nutrition.”

  “Where’d you get your degree?”

  “From a college in Seattle.”

  “So, that degree in Washington gives you the say so to practice in Arizona?”

  “It’s not quite like a medical degree, Sheriff, although I am a registered nutritionist with the Pima County Health Department.”

  “We’re not in Pima County.”

  “Right. Well, perhaps you are unaware that the State of Arizona allows me to hang out my shingle and practice anywhere I like.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Practice what, exactly?”

  She was beginning to get annoyed but was attempting to keep her cool.

  “Nutrition, Herbalism, actually, any healing modality I like as long as I don’t make outrageous claims and try to write prescriptions.”

  When she saw the look on the sheriff’s face, she immediately regretted her addendum. She just needed to answer his questions as simply as possible.

  “Any what?”

  “Healing modality.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “Any method of healing as long as I don’t claim to be a doctor or claim to cure anybody.”

  “The State of Arizona allows this?”

  “Yes, along with many other states.”

  There were a few seconds of silence, and then Melissa decided to turn the tables on the questioning.

  “Do you have an ME’s report yet, Sheriff?”

  “No.”

  “Has there been any preliminary cause of death postulated or filed?”

  “No.”

  “So, for all you know, Lauryl Taylor may have died of natural causes.”

  No response, just stares from behind their sunglasses. Finally, the sheriff spoke.

  “Why would a 45-year-old woman just succumb? You and Mercer both insist she wasn’t sick.”

  “It happens, Sheriff. I’m sure the ME will discover what caused her death, but until there is anything to indicate something other than natural causes….”

  “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, Ms. Michaels?” the sheriff asked, standing.

  Melissa didn’t say anything. She knew she wouldn’t be able to control her tone of voice, no matter what she said.

  He got in her face. “If I find any evidence whatsoever that you are practicing medicine without a license, no matter how you try to disguise it, you are going to prison.”

  She caught her breath at that. So Lauryl’s death was just an excuse for something else? She wasn’t sure what had brought this on.

  She just nodded. As they were going out the door, she glanced at the table, and saw evidence of numerous cups of coffee and muffins. Earlier, she would have asked him to pay for it, but for now, she was going to keep her mouth shut.

  *

  A little later, Miss Ada came in, and Melissa gave her permission to serve herself some tea.

  “Well, well, well,” Ada said. “That Nash Evans has stepped in it now.”

  “Oh, how so?” Melissa asked.

  “He’d be my pick for who killed Lauryl Taylor.”

  “Miss Ada,” Melissa said, softly. “We don’t know yet how Lauryl died.”

  “Ha! Mark my word, Missy. You’ll see.”

  Melissa was taken aback my Ada’s casual condemnation of Nash Evans. Nobody had even determined the cause of death, yet people were speculating, gossiping, finger-pointing. Melissa wondered how widespread this activity was. Was it a sort of parlor game? Did people choose their favorite, most-likely suspect and argue the merits of their case?

  Still, she thought, it wasn’t much different from what the sheriff was doing. In the absence of any data, the sheriff seemed to be trying to earn his salary by working his imagination overtime, and Melissa was sure she was his favorite suspect.

  *

  Melissa was thankful that the sheriff hadn’t darkened her doorway for several days, although she wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news.

  It was before eight o’clock, and she was up to her elbows in bun dough when her cell phone rang. Looking at the display, she saw it was Dr. Mercer.

  “Hey, Hal, what’s up?” she asked, cheerily.

  “Melissa,” he said, “the ME’s preliminary report is back.”

  His tone was very somber, and she didn’t think she was going to like the news she was about to receive.

  “Hold on a second, Hal,” she said. She held her cell phone between her chin and her shoulder while she wiped
her hands and sat down.

  “Okay,” she said. “What did they find out?”

  He cleared his throat. “Lauryl died of a massive shut down of her liver, kidneys, and spleen.”

  Melissa didn’t say anything for a few seconds, trying to assimilate the information. “What on earth caused that?”

  “Well, at the moment, nobody knows.”

  “What did the tox screen say?”

  “Well, that’s the weird thing. It was clear.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I were.”

  “Hal, you and I both know there are only two things that can cause that—prolonged illness and buildup of massive doses of chemicals and pharmaceuticals or…”

  “Or poison.”

  “Yeah. But if the tox screen shows nothing…”

  “Well, the ME is as mystified as we are, but he’s up to his armpits in alligators. He says they’ll hold her for a few more days and run more tests.”

  “What will the sheriff’s department do with this information?”

  “They can’t do anything until it’s ruled a homicide.”

  Homicide. A word no one liked to hear or think about, especially in a small town like this.

  “I’ve got to let you go, Melissa. My first patient is coming in. I just thought you’d want to hear as soon as I got word.”

  “I did. Thanks, Doc,” she said, disconnecting the call.

  A massive shut down of the liver, kidneys and spleen. Well, she hoped the sheriff’s department would be mollified for the moment, but she sure wasn’t buying ‘natural causes.’

  Cindy stopped by the shop later in the day after her classes. There was a momentary lull, so Melissa joined her at her table for a cup of tea.

  “They’re not releasing her body for a few more days,” Cindy said. “They have to run more tests.”

  “Yes, that’s what I heard.”

  “So, does it sound to you like she was really, really sick?”

  “We won’t know anything for sure until all the testing is finished, Cindy.”

  “Yes, I know, but what do you think?”

  “I think I can’t make up my mind until I have all the information.”

  Cindy sighed. “Well, I don’t think she suffered too much. At least she didn’t have to suffer like my mom did.”