“Unlikely. Fantasize about us. If I can’t sleep, I’ll just sit in my car and listen to your thoughts—my own private porn tape.”
“You’re kind of pervy for a gentleman.”
“Isn’t that what you like best about me?”
As he said this, he blew gently in my ear. I felt it in my toes. At that moment, I would have done anything he asked.
“That, and your hair.” I grabbed a handful and yanked playfully. “Now go home before I change my mind—your virtue could be in danger if you stay.”
“If only … goodnight.”
He peeled himself off of me and drove away, leaving me alone in the dark—in love, in lust, and in limbo. Was it possible to maintain this kind of closeness with him—fooling around but stopping before we took the final step? I hoped so, but the way I felt, I was beginning to doubt it. Maybe Dr. Reuben had some insight into this dilemma. I went upstairs to consult my sex manual.
Chapter 23
Ben had insisted on accompanying us on our research expedition to the mall. “I’m the only other person who smelled Dr. O.’s perfume. Jules doesn’t have the faintest idea what you’re looking for. Don’t you think another pair of nostrils could be helpful? I mean, there must be thousands of perfumes. Your nose will be worn out after a few sniffs.”
“I suppose you’re right. But no making fun of me,” I warned him.
“No more than usual.” He pulled into Jules’s driveway and honked the horn every five seconds until she came running out. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“She likes you well enough. All that honking will only help, I’m sure.”
Jules opened the car door and slid into the back seat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Why didn’t you honk?”
“Horn got stuck. Sorry.”
Why was he acting like a stupid teenager now? “BEN, DON’T TEASE.”
We were barely at the corner when Jules said, “Sasha told me what you did for her. Don’t blush. I’m impressed. She said you were very, um, how shall I say … dexterous.”
Jules cleared her throat loudly. I reached back and slapped her knee.
“You can call me Dr. Fisher, amateur therapist.” Ben blew on his knuckles.
“You think it would work for me?” she asked.
Jules was having too much fun. If she weren’t my oldest and best friend, I would have sworn she was making a play for him. Either that or she hated him—it was hard to tell which.
“STOP IT, JULES. YOU’RE EMBARRASSING HIM … AND ME.”
“I could see you playing for the girls’ team, Jules, but I don’t see Sasha as a switch hitter, no matter how much she wants to talk to you.” Ben glanced at Jules in the rear view mirror and laughed.
“Ooh, the kitten has claws. Maybe I’ll let you stay, after all.” Jules scratched at the back of Ben’s seat.
“STOP FLIRTING YOU TWO. WE HAVE A JOB TO DO.”
“Yeah, about that. Why am I here? I wasn’t with you at the restaurant, so I didn’t get to sniff the good doctor’s sweater. What use am I?”
“That’s exactly what I said, but Sasha thinks I’m a little too skeptical about her theory that Dr. O. is a hit-and-run driver with a guilty conscience and a nasty white wine habit. Apparently you’re much more receptive to her ideas, however nutty they are. Maybe it’s that artistic thing you’ve got going on.” Ben kept peeking in the mirror to gauge Jules’s reactions to his taunts.
“So I’m just here for moral support. That works for me. I’m not about to let you steal my best friend from me, Dr. Fisher, even though you’ve given her the ultimate gift … and, no, I’m not talking about your voice, Sasha.” Jules moaned quietly, just in case we’d missed her point. “I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. Your first ride on the merry-go-round, Sash, and you get the brass ring.”
Ignoring Jules, Ben crooned along with the radio. “Fly me to the moon …”
I loved his voice and the old-fashioned music he favored. Yet another unique and charming trait, although apparently not to everyone.
“Fine, I’ll change it. You struck me as someone who would appreciate a little Sinatra,” Ben said as he started pressing buttons on the dashboard, stopping at some Top 40 station. “I didn’t think you’d have such generic taste, Jules.”
“What are you talking about? Sasha, what is he talking about? I didn’t say a word.” Jules was totally perplexed. “But as long as you mention it, do you think we could listen to something from this century? I’m not as turned on by this retro crap as my best friend seems to be.”
Looking sideways, I clapped my hand over my mouth. Oh, shit. Did you just read her mind? I never told her about your special talent … well, your other special talent.
Ben slapped his forehead. “Shit,” he said under his breath.
“WE’RE HERE.” Not a moment too soon we had arrived at the mall.
Jules pulled me aside and we walked a few steps ahead of Ben as we crossed the parking lot. “What’s with him? Is he crazy?”
I just shrugged. What could I say?
“The funny thing is I was thinking that Sinatra was a total snooze and why couldn’t we listen to something less Paleolithic. But how could he know that?”
“WEIRD.”
Would she figure it out for herself? Or would she hopefully forget about the whole thing when she got distracted by some shiny object in the cosmetics department?
“All right, ladies: deep, cleansing breaths. Where do we begin?”
Ben inhaled slowly and ushered us into the hall of mirrors that was the makeup department. There had to be a thousand different perfumes on display, along with cosmetics and powders and soaps. Trying to isolate a single scent among this jumble of fragrances would be difficult.
“Sash, are you crazy? There’s no way you’re going to be able to pick out one perfume when they’re all mixed together.”
Jules had barely spoken when a young woman in a cocktail napkin that passed for a skirt teetered over in stilettos, offering us a spray of a new scent, Kinky, in a black glass bottle wrapped in tiny silver chains.
Ben winked at me. “Is that for men or women?”
“We have a scent for each, sir. Would you like to try it?” She was practically purring as she stood next to him, her impressive breasts not so accidentally brushing his arm.
“What if I hate it?” Ben looked like he was about to lose it. “I’ll be stuck with it all day.”
We have work to do. Stop flirting with Bambi. By the way, what do fake boobs feel like?
Ben’s obvious indifference to her charms made the situation amusing. She was smoking hot, and she was definitely making a play for him, but he wasn’t buying, no matter how hard she sold it.
“Why don’t you see if you like it on me first?” She slid her pale, slender wrist under Ben’s nose. “Does it do anything for you? Kind of sexy, isn’t it?” Definitely not talking about the perfume.
“You know, I really think I’m more of a Brut guy. I’m not sure I’m ready to get Kinky.”
I took his hand and led him away. Are you having fun?
“I’m having the best time. Jules, are you having fun yet?”
Jules just stared at him curiously. Apparently the lipstick and perfume had failed to take her mind off what had happened in the car. In an effort to get back to business, I tried to describe what I was looking for.
“IT SMELLED LIKE FLOWERS, FRENCH SOMEHOW.”
“That definitely narrows things down, Sash. French, flower? Hardly any perfumes fit into that category.” Jules took a deep breath and shook her head. “You realize we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, assuming you even remember the smell after sniffing all this crap.” She sneezed.
“I’LL REMEMBER THAT SMELL UNTIL THE DAY I DIE. IF IT’S IN THIS STORE, I’LL FIND IT.”
But what if it wasn’t in this store? Or any other store?
“So let’s be logical.” Ben walked over to one of the glass counters where an older woman in a low-cut blouse stared into space, clearly
wishing she were anyplace else. “Ma’am, do you think you can help us? We’re looking for a certain perfume. We don’t know what it’s called, but we know what it smells like.”
She looked relieved to have something to do. “It won’t be easy, but we can certainly try. Can you describe the scent? Most perfumes fall into one of several categories: floral, citrus, musky, vanilla, tropical. If you could focus the search a bit, that would be helpful.”
“It’s definitely floral, and it smelled French. Does that make sense?”
“Sure, it’s a place to start. Instead of a thousand perfumes, we can look at a few hundred.” Was she being encouraging or sarcastic? It was impossible to tell.
One hour and fifty bottles later, we had nothing, other than stuffy noses and throbbing sinus headaches. Nothing smelled even remotely close to Dr. O’Rourke’s perfume. Ben agreed with me. Whatever she had been wearing was no run-of-the-mill department store fragrance. This wasn’t going to be so easy. But if it were simple, then it probably wouldn’t be my life.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Perhaps the scent you’re looking for is a custom blend, in which case, you’d have to ask the person who wears it. But most people who go to the trouble and expense of commissioning their own fragrance don’t like to share. Also, there are many perfumes sold in Europe that aren’t imported to the United States and can only be purchased overseas. Good luck with your search.” The saleswoman turned to another customer.
“Now what, Scooby Doo?” Jules seemed to have recovered her good humor, which in Ben’s company meant sarcasm.
“I don’t know, Shaggy. Back to the Mystery Mobile for a Scooby Snack? What do you think, Velma?” Ben threw his arm over my shoulder. Even in defeat, he made me smile.
“WHY DO I HAVE TO BE VELMA? I WANT TO BE DAPHNE. SHE’S THE PRETTY ONE, ISN’T SHE?” I hadn’t watched that cartoon for years, but I did remember that Velma was the homely one.
“Yeah, but Daphne’s stupid. I’d rather be with the smart, plain girl than the beautiful idiot. Beauty fades, but brains last forever,” Ben said.
“So what are you saying? Sasha’s a Velma?” Was Jules trying to make trouble or just following the game to its logical conclusion?
“JULES, DON’T START.” Ben had told me many times he thought I was beautiful, and that was good enough for me.
“What I’m saying is that if I had to choose between brains and beauty, which I don’t, because Sasha is way hot and incredibly smart, but if I had to choose, I would always pick brains. Smart is much sexier than cute. Just my opinion. Does that make you insecure, Jules? Because you know I think you’re really pretty.”
Jules and Ben continued to do this almost fighting, almost flirting thing, all the way back to the car. I still couldn’t tell whether they liked or despised each other.
“WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU TWO? JULES, ARE YOU CRUSHING ON MY BOYFRIEND? BEN? IT’S TOO CREEPY. COULD YOU GUYS JUST BE NORMAL WITH EACH OTHER?”
We got in the car and Jules promptly started kicking the back of Ben’s seat.
“Nothing, Sash. We’re just playing. Your beau is cute, but he’s way too old for me. I’m into Coldplay, not Cole Porter. But that 1950s thing is perfect for you, Sasha, and he does have a killer body. I have to give him that.”
“You’re making me blush, Jules. Should we call a truce? We’re making Sasha uncomfortable.” He turned around and the two shook hands. “No more insults?”
“Agreed.” But Jules held up her other hand, fingers crossed.
“NOW THAT WE HAVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP SQUARED AWAY, WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THE PERFUME?”
This expedition may have been a lark for the two of them, but to me this was a serious business. That smell was the key to getting my voice back.
“I have a wild plan. Why don’t you just ask Dr. O. where she got it? If she had it custom made, you’ll know she’s the one.” Ben glanced over at me as he drove. “Or is that too confrontational for you?”
“Curly has a good idea. Why not just face her head on? If she’s guilty, she’ll either collapse at your feet, begging for absolution, or she’ll kill you to cover her tracks. Whatever happens, at least you’ll know.”
Considering Jules was the one who had started this whole investigation, climbing trees dressed in camouflage and watching old Hardy Boys episodes on DVD, she seemed awfully blasé about it now. She did have a short attention span, and I guess my progress in solving the crime hadn’t moved swiftly enough to hold her interest.
“I could go for something, too. Let’s stop and get something to eat,” Ben said.
“What the…? How did you know I was hungry? What’s going on?” Jules looked from Ben to me and back again.
“Um.” Ben cleared his throat a couple of times.
What’s wrong with you? You never make that mistake, ever.
Ben shrugged his shoulders, and Jules leaned forward between the two front seats.
“HE MUST HAVE HEARD YOUR STOMACH GROWL.” It was a lame attempt to explain away Ben’s behavior, since I could see that he didn’t want to tell Jules about his unusual gift.
“No, my stomach didn’t growl. What aren’t you telling me? Is this some kind of freaky Jedi mind trick?” Jules narrowed her eyes.
I looked at Ben and nodded. Maybe it was time.
“I can read minds, Jules. That’s how I knew you were hungry,” Ben said softly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.
Jules punched him in the arm, hard. “Are you kidding me? You actually want me to believe you’ve got ESP? Sash, your boyfriend is a total whack job. You know that, don’t you?”
“IT’S TRUE. BEN KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT I’M THINKING, WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, WHAT EVERYBODY’S THINKING.”
“Nobody can read other people’s thoughts. Why are you two mindfucking me? It’s mean.” Jules rarely got angry.
“Nobody’s mindfucking you. It’s true. Go ahead. Think about something,” Ben urged as we sat in the parked car.
After a few seconds, Ben smiled and said, “I’m not going to repeat what you were thinking, Jules, because I was raised not to use language like that, but I can assure you that my parents are legally married and I was not conceived out of wedlock.”
“Lucky guess. I’m not convinced,” she growled.
“JULES, YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS. THINK ABOUT IT. WHO WOULD MAKE UP SOMETHING LIKE THAT? ISN’T IT LOGICAL? WHAT GUY WOULD WANT ME IF HE HAD TO LISTEN TO A ROBOT VOICE ALL THE TIME?”
Having gotten used to Ben’s gift, I couldn’t understand why Jules was having such a hard time wrapping her head around it.
“Okay, Jules, think of a word, a very strange word, a total non sequitur, and that will be proof.” Ben turned and stared deep into Jules’s eyes. “Would it help if I wore a turban or carried a crystal ball? I know you’re an actress, and it’s all about the props with you guys.”
Jules squinted back at him, gnawing at her lower lip. “Okay, smartass, what word am I thinking about?”
“Really, Jules? I should be insulted, but I’ll cut you some slack. You were thinking of the word ‘charlatan.’” Jules gasped and Ben held out his hand. “Now that you know, you must swear on your life not to tell anyone. Not that most people would believe it, but I would rather not be seen as a walking parlor trick.”
Jules pumped his hand vigorously and crossed her heart twice. “To the grave. This is too cool. You really know what everybody’s thinking?”
“When they’re in relatively close proximity.”
“So you know all the things I’ve been thinking about you?” Jules asked, looking embarrassed and contrite.
“Everything … from the jealousy to how you want to see me naked.”
Ben was clearly enjoying having the upper hand. Jules’s usually fair skin was the color of a ripe tomato.
Don’t overdo it. You’ve made your point. Be nice to her. She’s my best friend.
“What about me?” Ben asked.
You’re my best boyfriend. Totally different
category.
“No, you can’t do that,” Jules interrupted. “You can’t do that mind-reading thing with Sasha when I’m around. Sorry, Sash, but you have to use the box. I don’t like feeling left out.”
“FAIR ENOUGH. SORRY. I WAS JUST TELLING BEN TO STOP HASSLING YOU.”
“That’s okay, then. Ben, you heard what Sasha said. You have to be nice to me, and no more listening in on my thoughts.”
“Fine, I’ll try to tune you out, but it won’t be easy—you’re really loud, even when you’re thinking. Come on, ladies, I think this revelation calls for hot fudge sundaes. My treat.”
Chapter 24
“Welcome, Sasha. Are you feeling better? Food poisoning can be a nasty business.”
“I’M FINE.”
My panic attack in the restaurant had gone unnoticed; in her mind I was simply the victim of iffy seafood. I was certain she would get suspicious once she thought about it, but after so many years, she was probably feeling invincible.
“It was so nice to finally meet Ben. He is a delightful young man, and very attractive, I must say. He seems to care about you very much. You’re a lucky girl.”
She settled in her usual spot and picked up her pen and legal pad. Still debating how I was going to handle this visit, I was on edge.
“I AM.”
Too keyed up to make conversation, I answered in monosyllables. Unlike Jules, I was a terrible actress. Dr. O. was bound to sense something was up if I didn’t pull it together.
“IS DR. PARSONS YOUR BOYFRIEND?” I would start slowly, ease my way into it.
“No, just a friend. Like you, I’m a single girl.” There was nothing girlish about her. “I was married for more than twenty years, but I got divorced about four years ago.”
Right around the time of the crash. More support for my theory, although I’m sure Ben would see it as a coincidence you could drive a moving van through. A million things happened four years ago—not just my accident. But still …
“DO YOU HAVE ANY CHILDREN?” As long as she was feeling chatty, maybe I could extract some useful information from my prime suspect.
“No children, I’m afraid. My greatest regret in life.” She smiled sadly and looked down at her ringless left hand. “Wait a minute. I’m the therapist. I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions.” Clapping her hands together, as if to dismiss all the bad thoughts and redirect our session, she took a deep breath. “So, Sasha, what’s going on with you? Any memories swimming to the surface?”
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