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

by Renee George

When Gio gave her an approving nod, she continued, “Then to complete the tour of Italy, you will finish with your choice of a deliciously rich tiramisu, traditional crème brûlée, or Cannoli di Rossi, the chef’s special of the night. It features chocolate-dipped cannoli stuffed with a cinnamon-and-almond-infused sweet ricotta and topped with crushed candied almonds. For the chocolate lovers, we have a bittersweet chocolate and raspberry flourless cake served with our homemade vanilla and raspberry swirl gelato.” She finished with a triumphant smile.

  My disdain for Gio had nothing to do with Clara—or his ability to cook amazing meals—so I nodded approvingly. “It all sounds yummy.”

  “Can I start your dinner off with some wine?”

  “Absolutely,” Gilly said. Her tart gaze landed on Gio. “A Zinfandel. And I’m gonna need the whole bottle.”

  I raised both brows at Gilly.

  She raised one back. “You’re driving.”

  I smirked. A tipsy Gilly was prone to fighting, and the way she was glaring at her ex, it wasn’t going to take much for her to waylay him. I looked at Clara “I’ll take an iced tea.”

  I watched as a pleased smile spread across Gio’s smug face. “So nice to have you here, Gillian. I wanted you to come to my opening night, but I dared not hope.”

  “Our being here has nothing to do with you,” I reiterated.

  He scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. Even so,” he softened his gaze as he looked at my BFF, “I hope you’ll stay for me.”

  “Do you have bail money, Nora?” Gilly asked me while holding Gio’s stare. “Because I think I’m going to need it.”

  “Yep. I got you covered.”

  Gio laughed, the sound rich and melodious. “Ah, Gillian. I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your wonderful sense of humor.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she said flatly.

  He didn’t stop smiling. I’d forgotten Gio’s ego was the size of a small galaxy. I honestly don’t think he comprehended that Gilly was serious. Nope. In his narcissistic mind, she was being coy and cute.

  “Don’t you have cooking to do?” I asked.

  He ignored me. “I hope you’ll try the filleto al gorgonzola. It is particularly good, and one of your favorites, if I remember correctly.”

  Gilly made a show of looking at the menu. “I’m in the mood for lobster ravioli.”

  “You mean the ravioli aragosta,” he said.

  Gilly put the menu down. “I said what I said.”

  The side of his mouth quirked up. “So, you want the lobster ravioli?” Cripes. The man was amused. Did he think Gilly was flirting with him?

  “Can you give us a minute?” I said to Gio. “I’d like some time to look over the appetizers.”

  The pretentious bastard didn’t bother to correct me. He gave a small flourish with his hand then nodded. “Of course. Please take your time. You are my guests.”

  When he walked away from the small table, I fixed my gaze on Gilly.

  She didn’t flinch. “What?”

  “You know what.”

  “There’s a reason I married the man in the first place.”

  “And there’s a reason you divorced him.”

  “And there’s a reason I’m staying divorced.” She thinned her lips. “Stop giving me the evil eye. I’m not planning to fall back into Gio’s arms, Nora. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. Give me some credit, okay?”

  “You deserve a man who will move planets to be with you. Gio wasn’t willing to stay in the same orbit as you and the kids.” I jerked my thumb toward Gio. “He will always put himself first.”

  “I know that, Nora.” She picked up her menu, effectively ending our current conversation. “I think I’m going to start with artichoke bruschetta.”

  Okay, then. Message received. “I’ll get the shrimp scampi, and we can share.”

  She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Deal.”

  It was a start. At least she was trying to forgive me for my pushy overprotectiveness. Maybe the need to protect people from themselves hadn’t just been my ex-husband’s flaw. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re a grown-ass woman, and you don’t need a lecture from me.”

  “I am a grown-ass woman,” she agreed. Her eyes softened. “But I’m glad I have you in my corner. I know you’ll always fight for me.” She glanced meaningfully at Gio. “I’m not a fool, Nora. He’s charming and gorgeous, and I’ll admit, I am not immune to it. I loved him enough to marry him and give him children. That kind of love doesn’t just disappear. But I will never trust him again. So, no matter how much I might want for things to be different, for Gio to be a different man, I’ll never forgive him for what he did to our family.”

  She was throwing out a lot of nevers, but all I could think about was the love not disappearing. I didn’t want Gilly to hate her ex-douchebag because that was giving him too much emotional space in her heart. I wanted her to say she was indifferent to the man. Indifference was the bane of love and hate. Indifference allowed a person to move on.

  Clara arrived back at our table with a bottle of Zinfandel, two wine glasses, and a tall iced tea. She made a show of pouring a small amount into a glass before handing it to Gilly to test.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Gilly told her. “Just give me a good pour.”

  Clara’s eyes bugged. She was trying to impress her new boss, and Gilly was not making it easy. “Of course.” She tipped the bottle and poured until the glass was three-quarters full. She looked at me. “I’ve brought you a glass in case you want to share.”

  Gilly smiled. “Have a little, Nora. One glass isn’t going to get you drunk, and it will pair nicely with the shrimp scampi.”

  “Fine. Just a little, though.”

  Clara’s smile widened. “Excellent.” She only gave me two fingers worth then set the bottle down. “What would you like to start with?”

  “Shrimp scampi and artichoke bruschetta,” Gilly said.

  “Great choices. And for the piata principale?”

  I would have ordered a carbonara, but it wasn’t on the menu. “I’ll take the chicken pesto tortellini for my main dish.”

  “And I’ll have the ravioli aragosta,” Gilly said, using the Italian for lobster ravioli now that Gio wasn’t around. “Can you bring extra fresh-grated parmesan to the table as well?”

  “Definitely.” She finished writing our order. “I’ll take your dessert order when I bring out your entree. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  I’d come to the restaurant to ask about Fiona, and now seemed as good a time as any to get started. “Hey, I’m so sorry to hear about the server you guys lost yesterday. Fiona McKay, right?”

  Clara stiffened. “Yes, that was a shame. Fiona worked here for a long time.”

  I nodded sympathetically but noticed Clara didn’t seem too broken up about it. “Were you two close?”

  “Not really.” Her eyes darted toward the cooks and back to me. “I really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Clara said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “She quit a few days ago. It really left us in a lurch. Especially with a new chef. Chef Rossi has been such a good teacher, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

  “Lucky,” I repeated then pivoted back to Fiona. “Was Fiona seeing anyone?”

  Clara widened her eyes then shook her head. “I should really put in this order for you.”

  The room was full of strong food scents, but nothing that was triggering a memory for Clara. Even so, I could tell the server knew something more she wasn’t saying.

  I scanned the kitchen. Chad, the cook who’d pulled out my chair, was paying a lot of attention to our conversation.

  I dove in with my next comment to gauge Clara and Chad’s reactions. “I’m the one who found her. I pulled Fiona’s body out of the lake.”

  Clara clasped her order pad to her chest, her mouth dropped open, and her gaze skittered to Chad, whose cheeks turned redder than the marinara sauce he stirred. He dropped the spoon ont
o the counter and stared at me, his eyes clouding with a mixture of something akin to fear and anger.

  He left his station and headed toward the back. “I’m taking a break,” he said. “Five minutes.”

  An older man moved from cutting vegetables to Chad’s station and picked up his spoon to continue stirring the pot.

  I caught Clara’s arm before she could get away. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

  Overwhelming scents of earthy beef and garlicky marinara took me under.

  Lights illuminate the mostly empty parking lot. A woman walks toward an orange four-door hatchback. It’s chilly, and the wind bites at her face. The moon half-hidden by large, dark clouds, like a storm is coming. She spies a man and a woman in front of a blue truck and increases her pace.

  “I have to go,” the woman says. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and even with the parking lot lights, I can’t tell the exact color.

  “Why do you want to leave?” he says. “Your whole life is here. What about your family?”

  “They’ll be glad I’m not around to embarrass them.”

  “What about me?” His voice is full of sorrow and ache. “I love you.”

  “I can’t stay in Garden Cove anymore,” she says. She places a hand on her stomach. “I have too much to lose if I stay. Come with me, Chad. I’ll have enough money in ten days to support us both until we can find our own way.” She moves her hand from her belly to his chest. “Together.”

  “You know I can’t leave right now. I’m on probation.”

  “You can run. We’ll go to Mexico. You’ll be free too.”

  When he doesn’t respond, Fiona says, “Ten days. If you change your mind, tell me.”

  The woman walking toward them stumbles, pitching forward. She loses her grip on the takeout box she’s holding. The box bursts as it hits the ground and spills the spaghetti with marinara sauce.

  Clara extracted her arm from my grasp and looked at me oddly. “Please, excuse me. I need to put your order in.”

  The moment the waitress walked away, I looked at Gilly.

  “Did you see something?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Fiona had been seeing Chad, long enough for him to declare his love. Was he aware of her drug habits? The only way I would find out was to ask. I looked toward where Chad had disappeared out the back.

  I stood up from the table and put my cloth napkin on my seat. “I think I need some fresh air.”

  Chapter 10

  Chad stood outside the back door of the kitchen at the bottom of the steps. He had a lit cigarette in one shaking hand, flicking a lighter on then off with the other.

  I approached with the caution I’d have exercised with a wild animal. I cleared my throat to alert him to my presence. He stared off at the clear, starry sky, unaware of me. I noticed the speaker buds in his ears. No wonder he didn’t hear me.

  My knees didn’t love stairs, so I used the rail as I took the four steps to the bottom one at a time until I was standing behind him. Luckily, a bright lamp anchored above the door offered plenty of light for me to see. I tapped on Chad’s shoulder.

  He swung around, his eyes hard, his body tensed for a fight.

  When he saw it was me, his eyes remained wary, but his shoulders and arms relaxed. He removed the earbuds, putting them into his pocket. He took a long drag off his cigarette and, after he blew out a large cloud of smoke, he said, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  “I’m sorry I’m interrupting your break. I couldn’t help but notice you were upset when I asked about Fiona. Did you know her well?” I wondered if Chad would be honest.

  “I met her four months ago when I started working here, and we were on most shifts together.” His voice was thick and hoarse. The lamp made the wetness in his eyes sparkle. “Yeah, I knew her,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged, took another drag, then flicked the lit cigarette out into the employee lot. Glowing orange bits scattered when it hit the ground. “You were there, huh? You found her?”

  “Yes,” I told him. “I was getting some air down by the water when I…saw her.”

  “They say she drowned.”

  I nodded. “From what I know, it’s true.” Shawn had said there was water in her lungs.

  He shook his head. “Fiona loved the water. She was even scuba certified, or whatever they call that.” His stare grew distant as if thinking of better times. “I swear the girl was born with gills. It’s hard to believe she drowned.”

  Chad’s praise of Fiona’s swimming ability lined up with Reese’s. Still, it didn’t mean her death wasn’t an accident. It simply could have been a tragic irony.

  “I’m friends with Fiona’s cousin. You might know her. Reese McKay. She’s a police officer here in Garden Cove.”

  “I know who she is. Fiona introduced me once when her cousin came into the restaurant. She used to go on about Reese being the only person she could trust.” He glanced away. “Besides me.”

  “The news must have been a shock,” I said. “How long were you two a couple?”

  He gave me a sharp look. “We weren’t. Not really. We were friends. I…I just…”

  I knew from seeing Clara’s memory that they were more than just friends. “You loved her.”

  His whole body clenched, his shoulders almost rising to his ears. “You have to understand. Fiona was like the north star for me. She felt like the way home. Until she didn’t.” He crossed his large arms over his chest in a hug. “Christ, I need a meeting.”

  “A meeting?”

  He huffed, and the pungent aroma of black coffee and stale cigarette smoke surrounded me.

  “The program works if you just keep working it,” a man says. His face is unclear, but I can’t miss the tattoos on his arms and neck. It’s Pippa’s guy, Jordy Hines. “I’ve been clean for twelve years,” he says.

  “Does it get easier?” a woman asks. I recognize her thick auburn hair. Fiona McKay. She’s popping a rubber band against her left wrist. “I mean, will I get to a point where I don’t want the drugs anymore?” She drops her hand to her belly. “I need to stay clean now.”

  “I wish addiction worked like that.” Jordy chuckles softly. “I still have days when I miss the high.” He takes a drink of coffee then leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, I can go weeks, months even, without jonesing for the obliteration, but then sometimes it’s a daily struggle. But that’s what meetings are for. That’s what a sponsor is for.”

  A guy sitting next to the girl says, “I’ve been sober for two years. Meetings work.” It’s not hard to make out that it’s Chad. He places his hand over Fiona’s red, whelped wrist. I notice a scar, thick and at least two inches long, under the whelp.

  When I came back from the memory, Chad was staring at me. “I better get back inside,” he said.

  “Wait.” I straightened my shoulders. “Fiona had drugs in her system when she died. Do you know where she would have gotten them?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “That’s not possible. Fiona has been clean for months now. She wouldn’t.” He scratched his head then jammed his lighter into his pocket. “She wouldn’t be on drugs.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I reached out and touched his arm. “Is it because she was pregnant?”

  “How did you…” He stared me, frowning. “ She didn’t tell anyone. Just me.”

  All the belly touching in the visions had been a big hint. Gilly was like that when she was pregnant with the twins, always rubbing her stomach. “How far along was she?”

  “Almost three months,” Chad said, his eyes full of sorrow.

  Fiona’s DUI had occurred two and a half months ago. I wondered if it happened before she knew she was pregnant. “Were you the father?”

  “No.” He heaved a sigh. “But I would have taken care of her and the baby as if it were my own.”

  “Who then?”

  His expression was raw with loss. “I don�
��t know. She wouldn’t tell me. Now, I’ve really got to go.” He gave me a wide birth as he walked around me and went up the steps to the door. At the top stair, he turned to me. “Fiona was smart and funny and gentle. She’s the kind of person who picked up turtles to help them cross the road so they wouldn’t get run over. She left cat food out for strays in the trailer park where I live, and she captured spiders and took them outside. She had her troubles, but she was a good person.”

  I nodded, emotion choking my throat. “Thank you for telling me,” I said.

  He went inside without another word.

  My encounter with Chad left me with a few answers and so many more questions. She’d been in Narcotics Anonymous and she’d been pregnant. Had that been in the medical examiner’s report? This added a whole new level of complication surrounding Fiona McKay, and it begged the question—where was she expecting to get all the money to move out of town? And why was she in such a hurry?

  Also, that scar on Fiona’s wrist. Even when I’d found her, she’d worn a wide cuff bracelet on her left wrist. Was it to hide the scar? Had she attempted suicide in the past? Did Reese know? She hadn’t said Fiona was suicidal.

  Could Fiona have drowned herself as a way to escape whatever trouble she was in? And was that trouble related to drugs or to her secret pregnancy? Or both?

  Also, Jordy was in NA. So many flippin’ revelations from one little vision. Did Pippa know her man was a recovering addict? The meetings were supposed to be anonymous, but I couldn’t take the knowledge back. Did it matter if Pip knew? He was sober now and had been for twelve years, but I couldn’t shake his words. I still have days when I miss the high.

  The antipasto had arrived by the time I returned to the table. Gio stood over Gilly, his hand on the back of her chair as they chatted. She was nodding and not screaming. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the pleasantries going on between them, but again, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my life.

  I sat down and Gio excused himself.

  The scampi was in a small cast iron serving platter, and the jumbo shrimp were still sizzling.

  “It’s hot,” Gilly said as she picked up a piece of bruschetta spread with artichoke dip and melting cheese.