For Whom the Smell Tolls: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (A Nora Black Midlife Psychic Mystery Book 2)

by Renee George

  Ezra cringed. “Fancy.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He took my hand. “Sorry about tonight.”

  “Me, too.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I just saw Fiona today, Ezra. She seemed…jubilant. I…” I shook my head. “What do you think happened? It looks like she was dressed up for a party. Maybe she’d been on one of those yachts. She had a ring on earlier today, but it isn’t on her finger now.” What if whoever had given her the ring took it back? She could have done some binge drinking to forget. Only, I hadn’t smelled any alcohol on her when I’d pulled her from the water. “Do you think she had too much to drink and just…” I made a dive motion with my hand.

  “I didn’t see any obvious evidence of foul play,” Ezra said. “But the coroner and the medical examiner will have the final say.” He snuck a quick kiss. “I miss you.”

  Those three little words quickened my pulse. “Do you have to stay here?”

  “It’s probably an accidental drowning, and the water patrol is stopping all the boats to see if anyone saw anything. There’s nothing really left for me to do here tonight.”

  I cupped his cheek. “You look exhausted,” I told him. Or maybe I was projecting. I was sad, tired, wet, and sore. The combination had me yearning for my bed. “You and Mason should head home. I think he’s rattled.”

  “I’m sorry our date took a terrible turn.”

  “I’m sorry, too. For a lot of reasons. That poor girl.”

  He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that.”

  By the time I got to work the next day, my back ached as if someone had taken a jackhammer to my spine. It certainly wasn’t emergency-room worthy, but if it kept up, I would call my doctor. I probably just needed a good muscle relaxer and a few days of rest. Unfortunately, since it was Friday, and Memorial weekend was in full swing, neither of those things were going to happen.

  Pippa and Gilly had tried to talk me into staying home, but I knew if I’d stayed home, I would’ve had finding Fiona on a constant loop in my head. I still thought about her today, but the shop and its customers gave me enough distractions to keep me from letting her death overwhelm me.

  However, allergies didn’t care about your emotional or physical well-being, so by the afternoon, my throat was scratchy and my sneezes epic. I’d taken the Pseudo-Act, Claritin, and the nasal spray, and the combination of meds made my skin feel buzzy.

  “You’re glassy-eyed,” Pippa said. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

  I pshawed at her with a quick wave. “If I took days off for allergies, you wouldn’t see me until September.” Truthfully, I had cried on the way to work. Fiona had been so young, still in the bloom of her life, and now she was gone. It was tragic, and it had stirred up emotions in me about my mother. Most days I could think about Mom without falling apart, but today was not most days.

  Gilly’s last client had been at noon, so she’d gone home for the day. While the morning had been busy, the afternoon had slowed down considerably. There was only one guy in the shop right now, a tall man with short dark hair and graying sideburns who was studying the ingredients on the men’s shampoo bottle. This was the fifth time this month he’d been in the store, but the first time he actually looked interested in buying something.

  “There are no parabens, waxes, or sulfides in our shampoos,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “I’m allergic to apple pectin. It makes my head itch, so I always check the label.”

  With my allergies, I knew all about itchy. I gave him a bright smile. “Well, it’s your lucky day. There is no apple pectin in any of our products.”

  While the man shopped, I went into the workroom to grab a box of soaps to restock a nearly half-empty shelf.

  When I came back out, I sneezed, and yipped at the quick stab of pain in my low back.

  Pippa crossed her arms and glared at me. “You should go. I’ve got this.”

  “I’m right as rain,” I told her. “I have no plans to leave you on your own with the holiday crowd.”

  “There’s one guy in here.” He looked up at her. She gave him a polite smile. “And we’re glad you’re here.” In a harsh whisper to me, she said, “Fine, if you insist on staying, I insist on some intel. I know your date went south last night, and you don’t want to talk about Fiona,” Pippa said. “But I have to know. How was it with Easy’s son up until then?”

  “Fine. Kids love me.” I opened the box of soaps and started shelving them. “Did we sell all the chocolate-mint soap yesterday?” The chocolate-mint was part of a new ice cream scents line I was trying out. I’d designed them to look like scoops of mint chocolate-chip ice cream and had packaged them in plastic parfait cups. We’d had twenty on the shelf yesterday.

  “Okay, Miss Avoidance,” she said. “Hint taken. And, yes, a lovely woman all the way from Chicago bought what we had. She said they were adorable and would make wonderful gifts.”

  “That’s fantastic.” I’d needed a pick-me-up, and hearing that someone loved the soaps enough to want to share them made me happy. “My next batch should be completely cured by tomorrow. I’m thinking about making a Neapolitan soap, chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, and sliced to look the way my mom used to cut the ice cream on special occasions.”

  “Yum,” Pippa said. “We could do a rum raisin, too.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Nobody likes rum raisin.”

  “I do.”

  “Weirdo.”

  She laughed. “It’s really good.”

  “Yuck.” And success. We were no longer talking about me and my disaster of a date.

  Pippa went to the cash register to ring up the customer who had decided on an argan oil shampoo with tea tree and peppermint, great for dandruff, and a coconut conditioner that was surprisingly popular with men. The secret was using coconut cream from the milk, and not coconut oil. It was nourishing to the hair, and bonus, it smelled like a day in the tropics.

  More customers came into the shop, and soon, Pippa and I were too busy to chat, which suited me fine. And for a short while, I was able to forget about Fiona McKay and her heartbreaking demise. For a short while…

  “I heard she was a waitress out at Portman’s on the Lake,” a short woman with khaki shorts and a red tank top said.

  Her friend, taller but rounder, wore a pale-yellow sundress and sandals. She nodded. “I heard she killed herself over a married man.”

  “Really? I was told it was an accident. From what I hear, she had a history of drinking. A real party girl, if you get my drift.”

  The entire shop got her drift. I clenched my fists.

  The sundress lady said, “Either way. If you live hard, you can’t blame anyone if you die young.”

  My ears burned at the insinuation that Fiona had somehow deserved her fate because of her reputation. I slapped my hand down on a display case harder than I’d intended, but it got their attention. I faked cheerful civility. “Can I help you all find anything today?” I asked with a tight smile.

  “Just browsing,” Khaki Shorts said.

  “We heard your shop had some great creams. We live a town over,” Yellow Sundress added, even though I hadn’t asked. I could give two craps where they came from, considering it was taking everything inside me to not tell them where they could go. “We like to shop local when we can.”

  “Hell nice. How, I mean. How nice. Well, you just let me know if you need any assistance.” I’d be happy to help them pull their heads out of their asses.

  Pippa took my elbow and guided me away from them. “Those two bitches are not worth it,” she told me, reminding me why I loved her so much. “I’ll upsell the crap out of them, and we’ll take our revenge by taking their money.”

  “Have I told you lately how awesome you are?”

  Pippa snorted. “Not nearly as often as you should.”

  “Well, then let me just say it again. You’re awesome.”

 
The door chimed and my knees wobbled as Reese McKay, her hair pulled back in a tight bun and she was wearing her uniform, hurried toward me. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Uhm, in private?”

  “Yes. Can we step outside?”

  “Let’s go back into the massage room, it’s quiet and soundproof.” I wasn’t sure what she was going to say to me, but just in case it included yelling and crying, it seemed like the safest place to take her.

  Reese nodded then gestured for me to lead the way. Once inside the room, Reese closed the door behind her. Her energy was manic, and frankly, it made me nervous.

  “I’m so sorry about your cousin,” I said. “Such a dreadful accident.” I couldn’t get Fiona’s visage out of my mind. I rubbed my fingers together as I remember how cold her skin felt.

  The young cop banged her hand against the door. “This wasn’t an accident. You were there, Nora. You found her. You had to have seen something—anything—that might help me discover what happened to her.”

  “She drowned,” I said. Her sudden outburst shook me. “I know it can be hard to accept.”

  “No,” Reese said. The anger in her voice was replaced with anguish. “This was not an accident, Nora. Fiona didn’t just fall off a boat and drown. I won’t believe it.”

  “Is this your gut?” I asked, trying to be supportive. I understood the need to lash out, to try and find something or someone to blame when it came to loss. I got stupid irate with my mom’s doctor when he’d told us that her cancer had progressed to a point where treatment might give her a few extra months, but only if we were lucky. “Or did the medical examiner find any evidence that her death might be something more…sinister?”

  “They’re leaning toward an accident for now, but—” She shook her head. “Fiona was an excellent swimmer, and her blood alcohol was only point-zero-one. I’ve seen that girl swim a pond twice around on a fifth of whiskey.”

  “What about drugs?”

  Her mouth opened, and she looked as if she might punch me.

  “I saw something in a vision,” I clarified.

  Reese sighed then nodded. “Outside the courthouse.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wondered.” She sighed again. “Even so, I know there’s something more going on with her death, and I owe it to my aunt and uncle to find out.” She took her phone from her pocket and opened her voicemail. “She sent this to me yesterday, and she mentioned you.” Reese pushed play on a message that had Fiona’s name and was dated for four forty-two yesterday afternoon, only a couple hours or so before she was found.

  Reese, please call me as soon as you can. Fiona’s voice was shaky. Emotional. I’ve screwed up bad. I know you said not to call you, but this time…I…I’m in real trouble. I promise, this is the last time. Please call. If… If something happens to me, tell Nora Black thanks for the hand.”

  “I ignored her. I ignored the call. She’s dead, and it’s my fault.” Reese gripped my hand. Tears crowded her eyes. “She knew something bad was coming. So, please, please, Nora. Help me.”

  Chapter 7

  My chest pinched with anxiety. Fiona had sounded distraught, and the message had come shortly before she’d been found in the lake. Coincidence? Maybe. But I understood why Reese wanted to believe it was foul play. Guilt was a powerful motivator. “Have you played Fiona’s message for Ezra?”

  “Yes, but he said it’s not evidence of wrong-doing. Not even circumstantially. Fiona doesn’t say how she’s in trouble or with who.” She put her phone away. “I even went to the chief. The voicemail isn’t enough to open up an official investigation.”

  “I get it,” I said. I knew my words might fall on deaf ears. I said them anyways. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened to your cousin. There’s nothing to say that answering her call would have changed the outcome.”

  “I don’t need a therapy session, Nora. I need practical help.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a detective.” My stomach felt sour. “Coming to me is the most impractical thing you can do.”

  Reese McKay circled her pert nose with a finger. “You can tap into that supernatural sense of smell of yours and find out what really happened to my cousin. Fiona had her problems, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

  Empathy welled within me. I wanted to help Reese. Still. My gift wasn’t exactly reliable. And I wasn’t sure Reese was right about Fiona being murdered. “I can’t predict how or when I’m going to have a vision, and I certainly can’t pick and choose what memories I see. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “You solved two murders, one of which was a cold case from ten years ago, Nora. If anyone can help me, it’s you.” She reached out and took my hand. “I know I can’t bring her back. But I can get her justice. I knew Fiona better than anyone…she was like a little sister to me. I’m telling you, she was murdered.”

  I admired her staunch belief in her cousin. I’d felt the same way when Gilly was accused of killing her ex, even with all the evidence stacked against her. Reese’s request for me to use my aroma-mojo to look into Fiona’s death made my inner alarm bells ring. Yet, all my excuses seemed lame in comparison to her heartache. “I can’t promise you anything, Reese,” I said, lightly squeezing her hand and letting it go. “But I’ll try.”

  Her visible relief made my stomach roil. Reese was putting a lot of faith into my sniffer’s ability. More than I had.

  I recalled how distracted Fiona had looked in the pharmacy when Phil Williams had shown up. It certainly hadn’t taken her long to make herself scarce. Could he have been part her of her trouble? “Did Fiona know Phil Williams?”

  “Not that I know of.” She peered at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I mean, of course, she knew of him. He’s a major player in the resort business in town. But she’d never mentioned him to me. Why?”

  “When I saw her at the pharmacy yesterday, she’d seemed nervous right before Phil Williams walked down the aisle where we were standing.”

  Fiona shook her head. “I wish I knew more about Fiona’s life, but she wasn’t forthcoming with her personal life. Mostly because she knew I wouldn’t approve. Damn it. I hope she wasn’t involved with Williams. He’s the worst kind of scum.” She rubbed her palms against her pants “I think your best bet is to start with Players Restaurant at Portman’s on the Lake,” Reese said. “Fiona told my aunt Jenny that she was working last night, and as far as I know, it’s the only job Fiona has…had.”

  Well, crap. Gio was the new head chef of Players Restaurant. The last thing I wanted to do was get anywhere near him. I’m sure the place would be packed with tourists, so hopefully, he’d be too busy to leave the kitchen. He’d only been in town for two days and wouldn’t know anything about the girl, so I didn’t need to talk to him.

  I thought about the missing ring. “What about her boyfriend? Would he know what she was up to?”

  “Fiona didn’t have a boyfriend.” Reese hunched her shoulders. “That I know of. Damn it, Nora. I’ve been keeping my distance from Fiona for the past couple of months. The DUI had kind of been the last straw for me. She told me she was getting her shit together, but…” Reese held her hands out, palms up. “I didn’t want to hear it. And now she’s gone.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do my best for you. But Reese, you have to be prepared for answers you might not like.”

  “I know,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes. “I know.”

  At the end of the workday, my cellphone rang. It was my generic ringtone, which meant it was most likely a spam call, but I checked it anyway. It came up on my display as Garden Cove Police Department. Was it Ezra? No. He would have called me on his cellphone.

  On the next ring, I picked up the call. “This is Nora Black,” I said.

  “I’m aware,” said a familiar voice. “I called you, after all.”

  “Hello, Shawn.” Why in the world was my ex-husband calling me? We hadn’t talked since the Lloyd Briscoll case. While we’d
left things cordial, with Shawn thanking me for my help, he’d given me the impression that he hoped to never cross paths with me in a professional setting again. I think my new ability freaked him out, especially since it had given me vulnerable glimpses of his home life. “What can I do for you?”

  “I…uhm, Leila. She said she ran into you in town yesterday. You all are having lunch or something next week.”

  “Yep,” I confirmed with a tiny bit of trepidation. “On Tuesday. That’s okay with you, isn’t it? I just, well, I like Leila.”

  “I’m not trying to keep you away from her,” he said. I detected a hint of defense in his tone. “That’s not the reason I’m calling.”

  “Oh. Good. So…why are you calling?”

  He paused, then said, “I’m worried about her. I wondered if maybe you might have…you know,” he made sniffing noises, “seen something.”

  Oh, lord. I was beginning to feel like the local crystal ball. “My sinuses were clogged when I ran into Leila, and since my gift is tied to my ability to smell, it would have been impossible to get any kind of reading.” I was glad I didn’t have to lie, because if I had seen something Leila wanted to keep private, I’m not sure I would have told Shawn.

  “She’s been acting different lately,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “Like she’s…I don’t know. Not herself.”

  I didn’t know Leila well, so I wasn’t sure what “acting different” entailed, but she had seemed fine to me when I’d run into her. Good, even. But Shawn sounded worried. “She mentioned getting off chemo a month ago. Maybe she’s still dealing with side effects.”

  “Maybe. She was supposed to start a new round last week, but her doctor says her immune system isn’t bouncing back from the last three-month course. She can’t take it again. Not until her white blood cell counts are back up.” His voice choked.

  “I’m sorry, Shawn. I didn’t know.”

  “She’s putting on a brave face,” he said. “If the cancer doesn’t turn around in the next week or two, the doctor says a bone marrow transplant might be our best option.” He paused again. “The boys are getting tested, just in case. And the hospital is doing a donor drive to test as many folks as possible.”