26. Diem

26

Diem

“ L emme get this straight.” I kneaded the red rubber ball Tallus had given me months ago as I worked through another wildly left-field idea from the brilliant Inspector Clouseau wannabe who’d dumped a new theory on the table the second we’d gotten to the office. “You’re accusing Janek Piotrowski of murder?”

“No.”

“You’re accusing her of accessory to murder?”

Tallus rocked his head from side to side. “Umm… maybe?”

I stared. Tallus stared back. The uncomfortable moment we’d shared in the headquarters parking garage lingered in the background, and I wore the shame like an itchy wool sweater two sizes too small. I wanted to step out for a smoke to calm my nerves, but I worried Tallus would judge my weakness or blame himself, so I suffered.

“Thoughts?”

I chucked the ball aside and fidgeted with desk detritus. “If you were a real client, I’d return your deposit.”

“Aww, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. You’re a fucking lunatic.”

“Answer me this. Do you or do you not agree that these deaths could have been a result of mixing unregulated drugs with prescription drugs.”

“Yes. Case in point, Ezra.”

“Okay. So, let’s say the unregulated drugs aren’t illegal and can be purchased at a natural supplement store. Let’s say the mixing of excessive herbal remedies with higher doses of prescription drugs caused these people to go into cardiac arrest.”

“I’m not a fucking doctor. I don’t know if that can happen.”

“It can. It does. Google it.”

“Okay, so what?”

“If these eleven people were referred to Janek by Hilty or Rowena, do you believe it’s possible she was giving them something that could offset their regular medications and cause a life-threatening condition?”

“Again, I’m not a fucking doctor. I don’t know. Maybe.” My hands shook, and I could hear my heart pulsing in my ears.

“Calm down, sweetie.”

“I am calm, and stop calling me that.”

I was not calm, far from it. I was fighting the worst craving for a cigarette, no thanks to a whopping mixture of stress and anxiety.

Tallus pulled up a creaky plastic chair and sat down, facing me. “That was my Miss Scarlett, by the way.”

“What?”

“Miss Scarlett. From Clue. The game. You know it?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Tallus, it’s late. I’m tired. I don’t want to play games .”

“It’s only nine thirty.”

“And I haven’t slept in days.”

Tallus’s gaze softened with understanding. I looked away. It clearly wasn’t a secret that I was struggling with what was happening between us, but I didn’t want to shine a light on it any more than we already had. I didn’t want to revisit the parking lot conversation. The hand job on the couch, the numerous kisses… sex in my bed.

“If it’s about earlier, then—”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Your ‘Miss. Scarlett,’ or whatever the fuck, is weak as far as theories go. Even if the herbal stuff isn’t regulated by the FDA, naturopaths aren’t idiots. Aren’t they medical practitioners? That’s a lot of fucking school and training. They would take a drug history before handing you shit that would mix poorly with whatever you were on.”

“Fair enough. Although Miss Scarlett would probably need a client to request that consultation, right?”

“Tallus, for fuck’s sake. What the hell are we talking about?”

“Let’s give Miss Scarlett a rest for a minute. Moving on. Mrs. Peacock says that it’s Hilty or Rowena giving their vulnerable and suggestable clients something, and that maybe they’re buying whatever it is from Janek. Maybe it’s many things. Maybe Janek is simply an unwitting supplier. You don’t need a prescription to buy herbal drugs, D. Even if she does consult with customers and offer suggestions based on their medical history, who’s to say the medical history is accurate or that the person buying the supplies is the one taking them?

“We have eleven dead people who are connected to a known scam artist and her ex-husband who lied to us. You cannot deny they are up to something, and at its core, there is a strong possibility it’s drug-related. Unless you want to revisit the whole mind-control thing, but that theory, let’s call him Col. Mustard, died in the conservatory a long time ago.”

I yanked open a desk drawer and rooted through the contents in search of gum, candy, or something to alleviate the burgeoning craving searing me from the inside out. When I came up empty, I slammed the drawer and scrubbed my face and head before resting my elbows on the desk and pinning Tallus with a hard glare.

A fucking game. That’s what this was, and I’d set aside a week of my life because I couldn’t say no to Tallus. I’d given him my figurative detective hat and let him navigate the murky waters of a noncase.

“What do we do from here?” I asked, regulating my temper. I needed to be alone so I could think through the trajectory of my life. So I could smoke a few cigarettes. I didn’t know if I was coming or going anymore. Tallus had thrown so many curveballs I was getting hit from every angle.

“Since I work tomorrow, can you go chat with Janek?”

“Chat with Janek.”

“Yes.”

“Me.”

“Yes. I have faith in you. Your conversation skills are getting better by the day.”

“And what exactly are Janek and I chatting about? Am I supposed to ask if she sold Hilty an excess of herbal bullshit potent enough to kill a man?”

“No. Play it smooth.”

“Smooth.”

“Yes.”

“Define smooth.”

“Feel her out. Get an idea of her relationship with the neighboring hypnotist. Are they friends? Enemies? Does she see him in a positive light or as a flake of a doctor not worth his salt? See if they work together, share patients, or offer referrals. Maybe she can give you information about the toxic effects of the drugs she sells. I don’t know, Diem. Play it by ear. Read the room. I’d go with you, but I can’t afford to take the whole day off, and I’m already going to see if Kitty can stay late so I can leave early and intercept Memphis before his appointment with Madame Rowena.”

My gaze turned caustic. “Why?”

Unaffected, Tallus smirked, “Because I’m going to take his appointment and get my ass inside that woman’s freaky voodoo establishment to see what I can learn. If she’s up to something, I’ll figure it out.”

He looked so damn proud of himself. So confident in his goals. So self-assured. Even when the whole fucking case was based on nothing more than an intricately woven fictitious story he’d come up with one night when he couldn’t sleep, he glowed. Was he so desperate to be a detective that he had to create cases out of thin air?

A thought dawned on me. Was he doing this so we could spend time together? Was it because I’d spent months stalking him and showing up at his door unexpectedly for a quick fuck? Was it because I couldn’t take it further, and he was giving us a nudge?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. I was overthinking.

I wasn’t in a position to contradict Tallus. I didn’t have theories because I couldn’t see past the ludicrousness of what we were investigating. True, I saw something in the details, but I hadn’t devised a better game plan. Fuck it. I either played by Tallus’s rules, or I forfeited.

And even though I couldn’t give him the date or relationship he wanted so badly, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Something told me we could never go back to where we’d once been. If I ended this nonsense case, there would be no more stalking. No more drunken fucks in the middle of the night.

No more hope.

No more Tallus.

“All right.”

Tallus’s face brightened like he’d expected me to shut the whole shitshow down. “Really?”

“Col. Mustard is rightfully dead, but Mrs. Peacock holds more water than Miss Scarlett. I’ll talk to the naturopath tomorrow, but don’t hold your breath.” The likelihood of me finding any groundbreaking evidence was slim to none.

Tallus left not long after that, maybe recognizing I was at my limit or simply tired of my bullshit. Who knew? He didn’t kiss me goodbye or make me uncomfortable with overt flirting, touching, or suggestions. He offered a simple, reassuring smile and a wink and told me to get some sleep.

The minute he was gone, I gave in to my craving.

***

The supplement store smelled like a freshly mowed lawn. Tightly packed rows of wooden shelves lined the shop. Colorful bottles, packages, and jars displayed everything from teas to organic food supplements to essential oils and vitamins.

Along the back wall was a line of bins similar to ones I’d seen at the Bulk Barn, but these contained loose leaves from plants or flowers, raw seeds, and clumps of other organic material I couldn’t identify. In another area were hundreds of bottles containing tablets, capsules, powders, and extracts.

They sold beeswax, natural soaps and cleansers, minerals, spices, aloe vera plants, and a bizarre array of wooden bowls and recyclable kitchen aids to replace the toxic one-time-use items typically bought at shopping centers.

I was the only customer, so I wandered a while before a woman, short in stature and with a warm skin tone, emerged from the back. She wore a white lab coat that mimicked a doctor’s, had a chain around her neck where wire-framed glasses hung, and carried a clipboard. A pen, wedged behind her ear, held back midnight black hair, pin straight and square around her face. A few strands shone silver. I guessed her to be in her midfifties.

“Good morning. Can I help you?”

“Janek Piotrowski?”

She smiled. “That’s me.” She indicated a name badge clipped to her lab coat.

“I have questions.”

Her smile grew, and she placed the clipboard on a nearby counter. “And I might have answers.” After a thorough up and down, she crossed her arms. “Let me guess. You work out.”

I frowned. “Yeah. So?”

“Muscle pain?”

“No.”

“Joint aches?”

“What?”

She pursed her lips and tapped a finger against them. “You want to build more muscle?”

I glanced at my bicep, where it strained my T-shirt. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Never mind. How can I help you?”

“I have fucking questions. Didn’t I say that?”

“You did, with less hostility the first time.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

Janek waved a hand for me to proceed.

How the fuck did I wind up with a job that required polite conversing? Tallus hadn’t defined how I should get the information he needed, so I was doing it on the fly—and failing in under five minutes.

Grumbling obscenities under my breath, I tore my wallet from a pocket and showed Janek my PI credentials, properly introducing myself.

“Investigator?” She glanced from the ID card to me.

“Yes.”

Her friendly smile faltered. “Is something the matter?”

“Couldn’t say. I jump through hoops for Scooby snacks.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I’m looking for information about your… job and… products.”

She tipped her head to the side, waiting for me to go on.

I snatched my credentials back and shoved the card into my wallet with excessive force. “Look, lady, all I want to know is if anyone off the street can walk in and buy this shit?” I motioned to the junk piled on the shelves.

“Shit?”

“Stuff. Fuck. Herbs. I don’t know. The pills. Ointments. Magic potions. The dried flowers in the bins at the back. Can anyone walk in and buy them?”

Janek’s lips tightened. “Yes.”

“Great. Perfect.” I looked around. “Is any of it toxic?”

“Is any of what toxic?”

Was I not speaking English?

I snapped a bottle off the shelf. “Any of it. Like this.” I rattled the plastic bottle full of pills. “If I took the whole bottle, would it kill me?”

Why was she staring at me like that?

“Mr. Krause, I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at. Do you need me to call someone?”

“Call someone?”

“Are you feeling ill?”

“Am I… What? No. Why would you… I just want to know if this will kill me.” I shook the bottle.

“Do you want to die, Mr. Krause?”

“What? No. Jesus. I just want to know if it’s toxic in large doses?”

Janek stared at me a long time before shifting her attention to the bottle in my hand. “No, Mr. Krause. It’s fish oil. If you took the whole bottle, your stomach would probably rebel, and you’d vomit. If you didn’t, you would likely have bloating, nausea, cramps, and diarrhea. There is a slim chance it could cause bleeding, but it’s highly unlikely, and it wouldn’t kill you.”

I frowned at the bottle of fishy gelcaps and threw them carelessly back on the shelf.

Janek stood it properly next to the others and recrossed her arms as I scanned the supplements and snagged another, reading the label that time. Good. Something I’d never heard of.

“What about this one? If I ingested this whole bottle, would it kill me?”

“How about you tell me why you want to die, Mr. Krause.”

“I don’t want to fucking die. I want to know if it’s possible to make it happen.”

“Are you feeling suicidal?”

“Homicidal at the moment,” I said under my breath.

Janek shifted her weight and surreptitiously checked the front door to the shop. “So you’re itching to do away with an enemy?” She raised a brow, her smile less authentic and shakier.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Believe me, lady. If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t do it with fish oil or whatever the fuck this is. It would be a lot more hands-on and a lot bloodier.”

“Well, good to know because you wouldn’t succeed with fish oil.” She plucked the new bottle from my hand and put it neatly back on the shelf. “Nor would you succeed with Moringa leaf.”

I was losing control of the situation. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d had it to begin with. A clatter sounded somewhere in another room before I could figure out how to get us back on track. A dark-haired guy in his early twenties with the whisps of a wannabe mustache emerged from a storage area.

“Jan, which part gets logged again?”

“In a moment, Darcy. I have a customer.”

“Okay. Crap. Sorry. Um… I’ll just…” he thumbed over his shoulder.

“You could take the garbage out if you have a minute. The truck comes in the morning to empty the bin.”

“Okay. Cool. On it.”

Darcy vanished but reappeared almost immediately. “Sorry. Fresh garbage bags would be?”

“Bottom shelf of the supply closet.”

“Thanks. Sorry.” Darcy gave a wave of apology and was gone.

“I’m training a new employee. Lost our delivery slash stock boy the other day. He got arrested for possession with intent to distribute. Lovely, right? Last time I do anyone any favors.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. Look, if you answer my questions, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I’m not sure I understand your questions, Mr. Krause. So far, we’ve talked about your suicidal or possibly homicidal urges. Perhaps you could elaborate on your needs.”

I scrubbed my face, reminding myself to talk nice, use manners, and stop fucking swearing. “Is anything you sell regulated?”

“Meaning?”

“Can it be bought by anyone walking in the door?”

“Yes.”

I growled. “Yes, it’s regulated, or yes, it can be bought by anyone?”

“It can be bought by anyone.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Isn’t it possible you might sell something that in great quantities or when mixed with another medication or drug or alcohol might cause death?”

“Like acetaminophen? Like Aspirin? Like Benadryl? Like any number of over-the-counter medications you commonly find on the shelf at the pharmacy?”

“I get it.”

“I don’t, Mr. Krause. What are you asking?”

“Let’s say I have muscle pain.”

“Do you have muscle pain?”

“No. Let’s say I do. I go to the doctor, and he prescribes opioids.”

“Unlikely.”

“Good fucking god. It’s a fucking make-believe scenario, can you just—”

A crash sounded from the backroom, followed by, “Fuck. I’m okay. I’ll clean it up.”

“I should really check on my new employee before he hurts himself taking out the garbage.”

“Don’t you worry about drug interactions?” I spat. “Overlapping effects? Precipitating preexisting conditions or overmedicating someone who is already on a slew of other drugs? Jesus Christ. Could your shit mix with the doctor’s shit and kill someone?”

Janek looked more annoyed by the second. “If someone with chronic health issues came to me looking for a specific remedy to alleviate a specific symptom, I would probably suggest a consultation. During the consultation, I would review the drugs the person is taking. I would discuss various alternatives and formulate a treatment plan that would boost their current treatment plan. I would caution them against certain combinations that might precipitate issues. If they were willing, I would make an appointment and meet with them again in a month to evaluate how things were going.”

“I told him that.”

“Told who, Mr. Krause?”

“Do you get a lot of referrals from doctors?”

“No. Most professionals in the medical community don’t believe in natural remedies because they feel they are untested.”

“But they are untested, aren’t they?”

“Are we finished, Mr. Krause?”

“No.”

Janek sighed.

“What about a doctor like your neighbor? Someone who’s already advertising medical cures using methods that are a little… unconventional.”

“Dr. Hilty?”

I stayed silent.

“You think his methods are unconventional?”

I breathed instead of responding because the woman was going to give me a pulmonary embolism if I fought with her for much longer.

“I’ve seen a few of Dr. Hilty’s patients over the years. He sends them my way if he feels my assistance might aid their recovery. We have an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“I think I’m done answering your questions.”

But I wasn’t done asking. “Do you keep track of the patients Hilty sends you? How many are there? What kind of issues do they claim to have? Do you monitor—”

“Unless you’re making a purchase, I’ll see you out, Mr. Krause.” Janek pursed her lips, and her hard-set eyes carried a threat. This unflinching woman would have no qualms about calling the police if I caused a problem, and the last thing I needed was law enforcement involved.

“It would help the investigation if you could—”

“Buy something or leave.”

I hedged, glancing around the store. My blood was hot, and my skin itched. “Do you have anything to help cut back on cravings?”

“What type of cravings?”

“Cigarettes.”

The naturopath stared at me for a beat before weaving down an aisle and plucking a white plastic package from a shelf. “Steep it in boiling water for at least five minutes and drink it like tea as many times a day as required. You can sweeten it with honey if you find it too sharp.”

I turned the bag over in my hand and scowled at the ingredients. “It’s fucking ginseng.”

“Yes. With a touch of valerian root, skullcap, oat straw, and holy basil. Ginseng is well known for alleviating nicotine addiction. It weakens the effect of dopamine, which is the natural chemical released into your body when you smoke. Hence, you get less pleasure from the act. The other ingredients are calming agents. They help relax you, reducing stress and anxiety, which are known triggers for those who smoke.”

“It will reduce my stress and anxiety?”

“It will help.”

I took every fucking pack off the shelf and piled them into my arms, then paused and narrowed my eyes. “If I drink all this in one day, will it kill me?”

“No, Mr. Krause, but it might make you pee a lot.”

On the way out of the store—with abso-fucking-lutely no new information about our case—I examined the contents of the brown paper bag where Janek had packed my purchases. I was ready to run home and brew a whole goddamn pot after that conversation. Inside, at the bottom, I found the receipt and a white rectangular card.

Tugging the card free, assuming it was a business card, I stalled. It was a suicide prevention hotline number. Why was this my life?

I threw it back into the bag and tossed the whole lot onto the passenger seat of the Jeep as a clatter sounded from the corner of the parking lot near the strip mall’s dumpster.

By the look of it, Janek’s new employee was having a hell of a time taking out the trash. One of the half dozen black bags he carried had ripped and its contents lay scattered on the ground, empty plastic bottles rolling along the uneven pavement, glass from broken jars spread in shimmering piles.

The kid cursed and threw the remaining garbage bags into the bin before staring at the mess he’d made. He removed his ballcap and chucked it as he spewed enough profanities to put me to shame.

I recognized the reactive, unrestrained burst of anger and knew intimately how such an immediate loss of control over something mundane could feel all-consuming. I empathized with how the internally burning fire destroyed the reasoning center of your brain, making you act out impulsively. Outsiders thought you were overreacting when in truth, you’d been holding your shit together for so long all it took was a spark to set it off. Like a broken garbage bag.

The kid’s rage burned itself out. Cheeks flush, chest heaving, he gave a stray bottle one last good kick and planted his hands on his hips to properly survey the mess.

I didn’t know why I did it. It wasn’t like me to get involved in other people’s affairs, but something about the kid drew me in. I didn’t know how I knew, but he was a kindred spirit.

I sauntered over and picked up his hat, brushing it off with a few good whacks to my leg.

The kid, I couldn’t remember his name, glanced up, dark shadows circling his eyes, lips hooked in a snarl, and with two matching hot spots high on his cheeks.

“Bad day?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the building. “It’s a lot to learn, and she acts like I’m a fucking idiot, but god help me if I don’t play nice. I’m already on probation. This is the first job I’ve been allowed to have. I can’t lose it.”

“Group home?”

The kid nodded. “You don’t happen to have a smoke, do you?”

“Hang on.” I returned to the Jeep and found the half-empty pack I’d tossed in the console that morning. “Keep it. I’m trying to quit. Got a bag full of tea instead.”

The kid actually laughed. “That herbal shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Sucker.” He lit up, and I stared longingly as he inhaled and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Need a hand?” I gestured at the mess decorating the asphalt.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll get a broom and a new bag and take care of it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Darcy.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Why?”

I found a business card in my wallet and offered it to the kid. “Krause. Diem. If you ever want to learn to punch a bag and get the ugly out, give me a call. Trust me, it helps.”

Darcy glanced from the card to me, looking unsure what to say. I didn’t know what I was doing. I hated kids, especially teenagers. I had no patience for their stupidity, but something about this one gave me pause. I saw myself at his age, on the cusp of disaster, thinking no one understood.

Darcy noticed my scars—everyone always did—and pocketed the card. “Thanks.”

I handed him the ballcap, and he wedged it onto his head, wiggling it until it sat right. The store logo was emblazoned on the front. Green spindly leaves on a vine, their edges sharply cut. JP in gold cursive on either side. Curved underneath in smaller, texted embroidery was the word SUPPLEMENTS.

I glanced at the sign above Janek’s store. JP Supplements. Same leafy design. If I held my head the right way, they could almost pass for a bunch of pot leaves, not likely what the naturopath was going for.

Then something Janek said earlier came back to me, and I stood there dumbfounded as several pieces clicked into place.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I gotta go. Call me, kid. I’m serious.”

I raced back into the store. I needed to ask Janek one more thing.