“Because his mother is the victim?”
“Yes, but no, I meant with his issues,” Ruby said.
“He has issues other than being greasy?”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “I think he’s a good looking guy, but I’ve had to pull him in a few times for DUI. I hope Mrs. Stewart’s death doesn’t push him over the edge. I always hoped he’d get clean and sweep me off my feet.”
“You read too many romance novels,” I told her, laughing.
“I know.” She giggled. “It does help the time pass, though. Listen, don’t be a stranger. Here’s my new number.” She handed me a card. I smiled and popped the card into my purse.
Max has a drug problem. Max also wears the same cologne as George. I hugged myself. It was starting to look like someone I knew was a murderer.
Chapter Four
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” Mother said. “Girard, get the table set for dinner. We’ve wasted the whole day.”
I slipped into the library with the Aunts.
“Mother should be busy for awhile,” I told them. “I think Max, or maybe George did it.” I outlined what I knew about the cologne and Max’s DUIs, as well as everyone in town thinking Leanne had had an affair with George.
“Oh,” Aunt Hazel said, “well done, that’s a good start.”
“Never mind about the murder,” Auntie Joe said. “I heard a certain handsome mailman is coming for dinner. Let’s talk about that.”
Aunt Sarah crossed her arms, glaring.
Auntie Joe frowned. “Was that a secret, dear?”
“Yes,” Aunt Sarah said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
My face was hot. “Stop, he’s an old friend that’s all.”
“He’s not old, he’s young and handsome,” Aunt Sarah said, beaming. Oh, I wanted to tug her hair. “He was delivering a box to the victim’s house. Maybe he has information.”
“He’s a mailman, not a super spy,” Aunt Hazel said, cutting her off.
I had a thought. “Can we use magic to contact Vanessa’s spirit and just ask her to tell us who the murderer is?”
Hazel blanched. “Oh no dear, most spirits don’t remember their deaths. It’s all very macabre talking to the dead. But speaking of magic, I got you this. I meant to give it to you at some point today. Happy Birthday, Ella.”
I took the present. It was prettily wrapped in white paper with green diamonds. I took the ribbon off carefully and a leather bound journal slid out. “Oh, it is beautiful!” I hugged the soft brown leather book. It had my name burned into the front. The pages were soft as silk.
“It’s customary to write down your thoughts, spells, and daily events, isn’t? I know with computers most people wouldn’t bother…”
“I will, it’s lovely,” I said, hugging the stately woman until her cheeks turned pink-tinged. “I’m so glad the three of you came here!”
“Yes, well,” Mother said from the doorway, “at least someone is. Dinner will be served in a half hour, dears.”
“Oh, admit it Jeanie,” Auntie Joe said, “you missed us a little.”
“Not one jot,” Mother said, closing the library doors. The aunts laughed.
“Not one jot,” Aunt Sarah repeated. “Do you know I believe her? I very much think she’s the one who sent us on that wild goose chase to Sussex.”
“Undoubtedly,” Aunt Hazel muttered darkly, “All the more reason to give the girl a good foundation in magic.”
“Yes. To that end,” Aunt Sarah handed me a beat up old leather bound book, “this is my very first journal. It has a lot of the basic spells in it. I want it back, mind. Just thought you could have a nose through and try a few things on your own. Less pressure that way.”
I nodded now, hugging both books. But before I could crack the spells open, the doorbell rang. “Oh, it’s Rory. How do I look?”
“Like you spent all day at a police station,” Aunt Sarah said truthfully.
“I am going to run upstairs and change. Do not scare him off,” I admonished.
The aunts laughed at me, but I zoomed up the steps before Girard could open the door. I ducked into my room and tossed all my clothes onto the floor. I pulled the closet doors open and stared. I had three sundresses and one pair of pants. Was it laundry day? What was Girard thinking, leaving me in a fix like this?
I pulled open some of the drawers in my walk in closet until I found a sleek pair of black pants and a top that hugged me but didn’t show too much. I freshened up my make-up and dabbed one of my personally designed perfumes behind my ears and rubbed it into my inner wrists.
I descended the stairs slowly so I wouldn’t be out of breath. Endurance induced breathlessness, anyway. But when I entered the kitchen, I saw Max sitting at the table. Grrr. What was he doing here?
Helping himself to some of our fine cabernet, that’s what he was doing. Brought up short, I tried to recover by being formal. “Good evening, Max.”
“Ella, you look scrumptious. How come we never dated?” He smiled, almost rakishly, but his heart wasn’t in it.
I looked closer. His eyes were red rimmed. Guilty conscience? Or was I judging him too quickly?
“Probably because you used to shove me in mud puddles,” I told him.
“Oh, was that you?”
Mother entered and smiled. “Hello Max, I’m so glad you took me up on my offer. Where is your sister?”
“She declined,” he said. “It’s been a trying day.”
“Yes of course. That’s why I invited you here. Can’t let you go hungry and I’m not much for sending over a casserole. You’re welcome to some of cook’s excellent services.”
“Very kind of you, Mrs. Sweeting,” Max said. “But I think I’ll stick with the cabernet.”
The doorbell rang. I spun around as Girard escorted Rory into the dining room. He was in an ever so slightly faded but clean pair of dress pants and a lovely soft blue sweater. He smiled when he saw me but it turned into a frown when he noticed Max.
“Oh, it’s the mailman is it?” Max smiled darkly. “Snuck a peek at any good magazines in that tin can of a mail truck?”
“Tampering with the mail is a federal offense,” Rory said stiffly. He turned to me. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, you were invited. Max was, too, but not by me,” I muttered. “Please come sit.” I moved him to the seat on my left as the Aunts came into the room and flopped into random chairs. Aunt Hazel took Father’s spot. He came in from work, saw her and sat down next to her while Mother glared at her darkly from behind a glass of sherry.
“Hello, everyone,” Father said. He nodded to Rory and turned to Max. “Your mother was a wonderful friend. She will be missed. Can I offer you a cigar?”
“No,” Mother growled. “Smoking will help no one.”
Father patted his inner coat pocket and winked at Max, who shook his head.
“No thank you, I don’t smoke cigars. I appreciate your hospitality. Maureen has been inconsolable.”
“It’s weird to see you without her, honestly,” Rory said bluntly.
“We were rather close, weren’t we?”
“Were?”
“My sister is in love with her new man of the week,” Max said with a sigh. “I always fall out of favor during her love affairs. Plus, she has a new hobby.”
“Crochet?” I asked.
“No,” Max laughed. “Can you imagine? No, she’s in love with the ponies.”
“Horse racing?”
“Yes, but not just horse races. Craps, poker and a few other games of chance.” Max said.
“Is she any good at poker? I could get a game together,” Father asked.
Max smirked. “You wouldn’t want her in your game.”
“Why?” I asked.
I leaned in to hear an answer but Girard chose that moment to walk in with the soup. We were each served a small bowl of minestrone to whet our appetites. The table fell silent, and the quiet combined with the tangy scent of tomato and basil set m
e thinking. What could have happened between Max and Maureen to create a gap between them? What must Rory think of Max being here? Too many thoughts ran around in circles in my head. This certainly was turning into the most eventful birthday. And I’d thought twenty-one had been exciting.
“Oh, Ella,” Rory began. “Cindy told me how you helped her with her skin. She looks fantastic. Glowing really. I heard her say nothing else had helped until you whipped up one of your magic potions.”
I nearly choked on my soup. Rory fell silent, disconcerted.
“Yes, she’s a miracle worker, our Ella,” Auntie Joe said, needling. “A real modern day wizard you might say.”
Aunt Sarah laughed into her soup.
Mother tried to look like she was taking their comments in stride, but I could see from the set of her mouth that she was seething.
Max pushed his bowl away after a few mouthfuls. What was that about, I wondered. I caught his eye. He held my gaze, saying nothing.
“Will you need help making the arrangements, Max,” Father asked. “Vanessa was so dear to Jeanie. We would be happy to lend a hand.”
“Thank you,” Max started to say, but stopped as footsteps approached in the hall.
We all looked up to see George Stewart in the doorway, accompanied by a rather disapproving Girard.
“Hello all,” he slurred. “Hello Jeanie, you’re looking even lovelier than ever.”
Father bristled and gripped his fork tighter.
George turned to his son. “Max, let’s go. We have things to discuss.”
“Celebrating already?” Max’s face was expressionless as he stood.
“This is how I mourn,” George said, pulling a flask from his suit pocket. “Care for a nip, anyone?”
“Oh George, really,” Mother said. She stood as well, genuinely distressed.
“We will be having the wake as soon as the police release… as soon as,” George trailed off. “I’ll be having the wake soon. I expect it will be a lavish affair. It’s what she would have wanted. Max?”
Max stood up and passed by me, his face still unreadable. Rory and Father stood until they left the room. Girard followed them out, then returned with our entrées. Rory looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I just shrugged.
“Which one of them do you think did it?” whispered Trouble beneath the table.
“They all smell sweaty to me,” Livvie responded.
Mother put down her fork and pushed her plate away. Father gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Do you think he did it?” she asked, her voice rather shrill.
“George? Please,” Father snorted.
“He tried to kill you once,” Jeanie said.
“Mother?”
“Oh, Ella dear, don’t worry about it,” Father said. “It was years ago. We were both full of love and lust.”
I winced.
Mother slapped his arm and eyed me.
Father laughed. “George used to court your mother, but I stole her away from him. He’s never gotten over her. Would you? Look at my gorgeous wife. My beautiful daughter,” Father beamed at the aunts, “And my lovely extended family! I even have two cats currently. I am a lucky fella.”
“You dated George Stewart?” I prompted, looking at Mother.
“It was when we were young, still in high school. It ended before college. Vanessa and I competed for him. She won him in the end.” Mother wiped at her eyes.
Father seemed a bit agitated. “He’s no prize. What about that time…”
Mother hushed him. Father settled down and started eating his dinner. “Vanessa was a beauty,” he muttered. “She deserved to live to see at least one of those kids get married and have kids of their own. Instead we’re talking about her wake. So sad.”
Dinner conversation turned to other topics. My mind kept rolling over and over the facts, but it was no use, not with Rory sitting beside me. I was dying to ask him about the package and maybe his opinions on the case — once I filled him in. Finally dinner ended and I practically dragged him upstairs to my room.
“Okay, spill,” we said at the same time. “No you first.”
I held up my hand to stop him. “This morning we went to get jewelry back from Vanessa. She was dead in her bedroom. The police interviewed my family and Vanessa’s and Leanne.”
“Do you think she had to tell them,” Rory asked.
“What?”
“Leanne, do you think she had to tell them that Martin is George’s?”
“Who told you that,” I asked, startled.
“Leanne,” Rory said. “We dated for awhile two years ago. She said she and the old man had had a few fun weekends.”
“Did Vanessa know?”
“I don’t know, honestly,” Rory answered. “Leanne never talked about Vanessa. Not even to complain about her. I got the feeling she might have been afraid of her.”
“Why continue to work for her then?” I thought out loud.
“Listen,” Rory said, “you’re not thinking about getting involved are you? Because you shouldn’t. You should let the police do their job.”
I bristled. “It’s not like I can. My aunts and Mother are on the suspect list. I’ve got to clear them.”
“No one would think your mother…”
“Vanessa stole jewelry from Mother all the time and they fought over George when they were younger. Detective Garza isn’t just going to forget that. Theft is a motive.”
“What if the killer comes after you? What if he or she puts two and two together and gets Ella? You think you’ll be safe? I guarantee Vanessa thought she was safe. I can’t let you do it alone. I’m going to help you.”
My stomach flipped. He wants to help me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt. Wait! Does he think I’m helpless? “I am quite capable of investigating on my own.”
“Oh, I know,” Rory said. “Aromatherapy prepares you for it. They have the crime stopping techniques class in-between the basic uses of tea tree oil and chamomile, right?”
I bit my lip. “I’m not stupid. I can add up the clues. I can ask questions. People are definitely going to be more willing to talk to me than the police.”
“Yes,” Rory answered. “But I can help you do that.”
“With your vast knowledge of zip codes?” I shot back.
“Touché,” he said with a laugh. “Two heads are better than one, right? Please, let me help you.”
“Fine,” I said.
He laughed and hugged himself. We stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. He had the nicest eyes, all large and well-lashed. He seemed to be studying me, too. We started fidgeting.
“Why is this awkward all of a sudden?” I said, then covered my face with my palms. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“I was thinking the same thing, but it’s really easy to work out,” he said.
“Really?”
“We haven’t been alone together since we were in school,” Rory said softly. He coughed and looked around the room. “So show me your potions, and things.”
I gave him a dirty look but his face was open. Was he genuinely interested? I lead him over to the long table. “This is where the magic happens,” I said lamely.
He laughed. “So what is all this?”
“Most of these are essential oils. Everything is all natural. I also make my own powders and tinctures. Mother grows lavender and marjoram so I pick and dry. This year I am going to be growing a few different types of mint as well as some grasses.”
“Wow, and all I do is deliver the mail,” Rory said touching a bundle of drying golden sage.
“About that,” I said, taking his hand off of my herbs and putting it back on his chest. “Do you know if that box you broke today is a regular order of cologne?”
Rory shook his head. “Vanessa gets a lot of packages. Leanne would know. But they get something at least twice a week.”
“From the same shipper?”
“Not sure, I think if I saw some of the labels it might jog my memor
y. Max gets a lot of envelopes, the padded kind. Maureen gets cards. George gets all sorts and Vanessa gets magazines mostly and bills.” Rory looked down at his chest and I realized my hand was still holding his against his nice warm chest. I let go as if burned. Residual warmth clung to my fingers. I wiggled them.
“I should go,” Rory said. “I’ll call you, partner.”
Chapter Five
I couldn’t sleep. I sat up late into the night pouring over Aunt Sarah’s diary. It was better than thinking about the murder. The first couple pages had held some steamy stuff about an old beau named Harry. The rest was less steamy but more practical. Half of the herbs in my aromatherapy stash were listed as the basis for most of the simple spells.
I got out of bed and grabbed a handful of ingredients. Into a bowl went some mint leaves and frankincense oil, as per the instructions. Instinctively, I added a few drops of jasmine oil and then the arrowroot. Working from the page, I kept adding ingredients until I’d made a paste that smelled oddly similar to the cologne in Vanessa’s room.
I closed my eyes and tried to will it to work. It smoked. A little blue fairy light appeared for a second and then fizzled out.
I glanced at the page and then into the bowl. “Well, that didn’t make a gem stone.”
I tossed it into the trash and curled up in bed. Maybe I shouldn’t have added some extra ingredients. The scent followed me into my dreams. I saw everything again, except this time Vanessa was standing there annoyed. She didn’t do anything except tap her foot impatiently. “What do you want me to do,” I asked, approaching her. She pushed me away from her and I fell to the ground, sending up clouds of the cologne. I was surrounded by it, choking on it.
“Wake up,” a voice purred in my ear. A paw tapped me on the nose. “You’re dreaming loudly.”
My eyes popped open. “I have to get back into that room,” I said.
“That’s nice,” Livvie said. “Now roll over so I can curl up on the warm spot.”
I did move over but I didn’t go back to sleep for a long time. Finally I got out of bed, grabbed my new leather bound diary, and started making notes. If I could put all the pieces together and help Detective Garza find the killer it would help my entire family get out of trouble — plus, maybe Vanessa would go haunt someone else’s dreams.
Scent of a Killer: An Ella Sweeting Aromatherapy Magic Cozy Mystery (Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies Book 1) Page 4