Death Drops Read Online Free Page A

to me.”
    “Thanks, Merrily,” I said, verging on tears myself. “We’re all going to miss her.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “But why are you here? I told you to stay home.” I’d told Janice as much yesterday before she left. “We aren’t going to open today.”
    She wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t just sit home. I’ll drive myself nuts. I have to keep busy. Even if we aren’t open, I have things I can do, like ordering products, cleaning, stuff like that. Oh, and I have a message for you.” She handed me a message scribbled on a piece of recycled notepaper and took a sip of her drink. “This is for you. It’s from Mr. Matthews, Claire’s lawyer. He wants to see you right away. This morning. Now.” She chomped her gum a few times for good measure.
    I looked at the note with his name, address, and phone number. Mr. Matthews had been Aunt Claire’s lawyer for more than twenty years. I knew she’d been fond of him, and more important, trusted him. “Did he say why?”
    “No. Just that he wanted to see you.”
    “Okay, thanks.” I began to close the door, but she stopped it with her foot. “Like, he wants to see you right now.”
    “I know, Merrily, I just want to take a shower first.”
    She thought about this. “Well, okay. He just sounded like he was in a really big hurry to see you.”
    “Okay, Merrily, I’ll be down in a minute.”
    Closing the door after Ginger and Ginkgo scampered down the stairs, I went into my room, stripped, and headed into the shower. As the warm water gushed down over my head and body, I wondered why Mr. Matthews wanted to see me so urgently. Was it something about the business? About Aunt Claire’s will? Surely that could wait until after the funeral. I grabbed the organic green tea and fennel shampoo (not tested on animals, of course) and lathered up as I considered the possibilities.
    An hour later, after grabbing a quick breakfast of fresh fruit and granola with plain low-fat yogurt, I grabbed an umbrella and headed out. After a brisk walk through the raindrops in the tangy, salty morning air, I arrived at Aunt Claire’s lawyer’s office. Located upstairs in a two-story white house (a dentist’s office was on the first floor), it was smack in the middle of Main Street, one of two busy thoroughfares in town along with Front Street.
    Greenport had a quaint charm that came from its mix of longtime businesses such as the nautical ship and shore emporium, the drugstore, the old-fashioned department store, and the post office side by side with new, upscale boutiques, seafood restaurants, tea and coffee shops, antiques dealers, ice cream stands, and art galleries. I loved it and always got a thrill when I walked or drove through town, with its multicolored awnings, bright facades, and wooden signs. Tourists loved it, too. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, throngs of visitors packed the sidewalks sampling fare, shopping, and enjoying the seaside environs. Forbes even named Greenport one of America’s prettiest villages.
    Today, though, it felt like a dark cloud hovered over the town. I was sure that everyone was shocked and afraid by what had happened. A murderer was among us. On a practical level, townsfolk were probably also concerned about the effect a murder would have on business. Would tourists be scared away?
    I tried to shake off the cornucopia of fear I felt and knocked on Mr. Matthews’s office door. Receiving no reply, I went inside anyway. He wanted to see me right away, didn’t he? I stepped into the nondescript waiting area, which consisted of a threadbare couch, a few tired magazines, and a door that led to his office.
    Sitting down, I checked my iPhone for messages. I’d received three e-mails from my assistant, Patty, in L.A. regarding various patients, and I replied with a request to please refer the cases to my boss and fellow alum, William Cohen, as she had done with other patients since I’d been away.
    A few moments later, Patty