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

by Renee George

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Always,” she said. “At least where my cousin Fiona is concerned. She had a court appearance this afternoon.”

  Since Reese had instigated the information, I didn’t feel too much like a nosy Parker when I asked, “Anything serious?”

  “Damn girl ran a red light then blew a point-one-five on the breathalyzer. This one was two and half months ago. It’s her second DUI in the past twelve months.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Where’s she at now? Did they lock her up or something?” A blood alcohol over point-one-five carried a minimum jail time, along with fines and license suspension. I only knew this because my dad, God rest his soul, used to be Garden Cove’s police chief. Now, my ex-husband, Shawn Rafferty, was the guy in charge.

  “Nothing like that, though she’d probably be better off facing some real consequences. The prosecutor is an old friend of my uncle Reagan. Reagan owns half the commercial real estate here in town, so the prosecutor cut Fiona a break. She’s paying the fine right now, and her license has been suspended for a year, plus she has to attend AA meetings.”

  “Sounds like she could use the meetings.”

  “You don’t get sober just because a judge orders it.” I detected the bitter tone of experience in her words. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Well, hopefully this is a wake-up call for her.”

  A young woman with thick auburn hair and a body that rivaled J-Lo’s, including the curvy booty, trotted up behind Reese. “Hey, Cuz,” she said. “Ready to go?”

  Reese rolled her eyes. “Yep.” She nodded toward me. “Nora Black, this is my cousin, Fiona McKay.”

  Her eyes widened with delight. “Nora Black of Scents and Scentsability?”

  “One and the same,” I replied.

  Fiona scooted around Reese, threw open her arms and hugged me. She had a wide, gold-toned cuff bracelet on her left wrist, and it dug into my back.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “I love your lotions.” She held her bangle-free wrist up to my face. “I’m wearing your blond sandalwood and rosemary lotion right now. God, it’s yummy.”

  It was yummy.

  It also triggered a vision.

  “Come on, sugar,” Fiona said. Like all my scent-induced visions, I couldn’t see her face, but her voice, her hair, and her body made it quite evident this was her memory. “You promised to give me a taste.”

  A tall, thin man wearing a western shirt, a bolo tie, jeans that bagged a little, and pointy-toed, red and black cowboy boots, leaned his fuzzed-out face into hers. I heard some disgusting smacking of lips and tongues.

  After they finished kissing, the guy said, “I can’t deny you anything, dumpling.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of white powder. “I got your candy right here.”

  He opened the top and dabbed the drugs onto the meaty part of Fiona’s hand. I caught a glimpse of a watch with a dark face and some gold lines.

  “Are you all right?” Fiona asked, alarmed. “Hello? Reese’s Pieces, I think there’s something wrong with your friend.”

  Reese stared at me expectantly. “Did you just…?”

  I nodded. She was aware of my scratch-n-sniff psychic ability to tap into other people’s memories. I tried to convey my horror at what I’d seen, but Reese shook her head. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

  “What?” asked Fiona, frowning as she looked from me to her cousin. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Nothing,” said Reese. “See you later, Nora.” She grabbed her cousin by the arm and hauled her down the sidewalk and away from me.

  Reese hadn’t wanted to know about the memory. Was it because she suspected her cousin was into more than booze? My heart broke a little for the both of them.

  Chapter 2

  When I pulled into my driveway, I saw a familiar red truck parked on the street about six feet from my mailbox. My heart sped up as I turned off my car, undid my seat belt and got out. I met the green-eyed gaze of Ezra Holden, aka Detective Hottie. He stood on my porch wearing a black muscle-cut t-shirt, and damn, if it didn’t hug his wide chest and his large biceps in a way that made my nonexistent ovaries weep.

  His jeans were a no-nonsense straight leg, relaxed fit. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore skinny jeans. Thank God. He crossed his arms and watched me put my keys in my purse before walking toward him. Considering he hadn’t contacted me other than to text me some kind of bizarre dinner menu, I was surprised he’d shown up on my doorstep. And wow, did he look good. In fact, I was this close to changing my mind about him shimmying on a pair of skinny jeans. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell me the romance is dead already,” he said, half-jest, half-serious. “I hoped you’d be glad to see me.”

  “Of course, I’m glad to see you.” I glanced around. “But…I thought we were cooling it while your kid was staying with you.”

  “What? I never said that,” Ezra replied. His lashes, several shades darker than his sandy-brown hair, lowered at me.

  I recognized disappointment when I saw it. “I don’t know what to think. It’s been a week,” I told him. “You haven’t called or come by, and you only texted me once.” I shrugged. “And it wasn’t like I was going to bring over a lollipop, eggplant, tacos, and fireworks. I’m not a grocery delivery service.”

  He stared at me. “Nora, sweetheart, I was sexting you.”

  “What?” My eyes widened, and Ezra cracked his first smile since my arrival.

  “You know, sex plus text equals sext.”

  “I’m not that old. I know what sexting is.” I laughed. “But next time you should use your words, because I thought you were sending me meal suggestions.”

  He chuckled. “I was,” he said, his voice low. “Only you were the intended meal.”

  I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “How is a lollipop sexting? I mean, I get the eggplant.” I smirked. “And the taco. But a lollipop?”

  He pulled me into his arms and gave me a kiss that made my scalp buzz. “It means,” he said as he pulled back, “I want to lick you all over.”

  “Oh.” I blinked as my body reacted to his words. “Oh boy. Uhm, are you planning on coming in?”

  “I can’t,” he said. “Like you said, it’s been a week, and I wanted to see you. Even if it was only for five minutes.” He sighed as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ve got to get home. I promised Mason I’d watch the game with him tonight.”

  “Next time call me. Or regular text me, and I’ll make sure I get off a little early.”

  “And then we’ll both get off.”

  I smacked his chest. “Just not too early.”

  He grinned. “I’d love to take this conversation to a satisfying conclusion, but the baseball game starts in thirty minutes, and, speaking of tacos, I have to pick some up on the way home from the Taco Shake Shack for Mason and me. I can’t be late for the game. This is the first time I’ve had him for this long, and I don’t want to blow it with the boy.”

  I smiled, hiding my disappointment. “I get it. Kid trumps…uh, me.” I almost said girlfriend, but we hadn’t exactly gotten to the define-the-relationship stage. We’d been seeing each other regularly for a few months. But Ezra and I weren’t flaunting the fact that we were dating. And by dating, I meant Ezra cooking dinner for me at my place before we watched a movie. Or went upstairs for mind- and body-bending sex. We rarely went out. I wasn’t sure if that was Ezra’s doing or my own.

  His phone beeped. “That’ll be Mason,” he said on a sigh.

  “At least you’re having fun, right?” I asked. “Lots of dad-son bonding and all that good stuff.”

  “Most of the time. He likes to push it sometimes, but he’s a good kid.”

  “With you for a dad, I’m sure he is.” I was rewarded with another kiss. “He’s probably easy-peasy,” I said, using Ezra’s nickname as a way t
o tease him.

  He gave me a half smile. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you maybe want to meet him?”

  Cripes. Meeting the son. That was a big step. And yeah, okay, I’d been thinking about how Ezra hadn’t invited me to meet Mason. But now that he had, I was instantly worried. What would Mason think of me? Would he think I was…gulp…too old for his dad?

  “Sure,” I finally replied, not sure at all. “Set it up.”

  “Really?” The relief in his voice didn’t bring me any comfort. “I figured since you don’t want children…I don’t want to scare you off by moving too fast.”

  “Just because I don’t want kids of my own doesn’t mean I avoid other people’s children.” What did he mean, moving too fast for what? It wasn’t like I was in any danger of becoming the boy’s stepmother. I had no intention of marrying anyone ever again. I liked being happily un-wed. “Besides, teenagers are better than toddlers.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Well, yeah. They can practically take care of themselves. I’m in no danger of changing diapers or singing annoying songs about buses or baby sharks.”

  Ezra laughed. “That’s fair.” His phone beeped again. “I better get going.” He let go of me and stepped back.

  “If you decide you want to try that sexting thing again, maybe use actual words,” I said. “The eggplant is funny, but the taco is gross. What were the fireworks for?”

  “The orgasm I plan to give you.”

  I grinned. “You are very good at generating fireworks.”

  He backed me up against the front door, his voice low and growly. “Keep talking like that and Mason will be watching the game on his own.” And then he kissed me stupid.

  Mason did not watch the game on his own, because like the good person I am, I sent Ezra home to his son. I had jumped in the shower to get ready for dinner with Gilly and was drying my hair when my phone chimed out a notification. I didn’t want to mess up another sexting session with Ezra, so I reached for my reading glasses on the end of the vanity and knocked them into the trash bin.

  “Damn it!” Luckily, they’d landed on top, but I had to wash them, dry them, and find the lens-cleaning cloth before I could put them on and see the words. I unlocked the screen with the fingerprint scanner on the back.

  The text was from Gilly, not Ezra. I opened it up.

  I need you, the text said. Gio is on his way here with the twins.

  I texted her back. He sent the twins home early? What a jerk. I re-read her text and let out a shocked breath. Then I added: Gio is in Missouri?

  Yes. He rented a car at the airport. They’ll be here soon.

  Holy freaking crap, Gilly.

  Right?! I need backup, STAT.

  Gio had been toxic for Gilly. She’d been nearly ruined when he’d decided to dump their marriage and their kids to run off to Vegas for the career he could never have in Garden Cove. Gilly had offered to move with him if it would save their relationship, but Gio wanted out of the full-time husband-and-dad gig. In other words, he was a good-for-nothing dickbag.

  I’m on my way, BFF. Remember, I always keep a shovel and garbage bags in my trunk.

  LOL. Thank you. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 I can always count on you.

  Chapter 3

  Gilly lived in a two-story home on a cul-de-sac near two others, though the one on the left now sat empty with a For Sale sign in its yard. The owner, Mr. Garner, had nearly gotten Gilly put in jail for murder after he’d stabbed her abusive ex-boyfriend, Lloyd Briscoll. Granted, he had a good reason—Lloyd had strangled his daughter to death.

  It turned out while Mr. Garner had stabbed Lloyd in the stomach, he hadn’t actually murdered the louse. So, the old man had taken a plea deal, and spent four weeks in jail for assault with a deadly weapon and obstruction of justice. After he was released, he and his dog Godiva moved to Santa Rosa, New Mexico, to be near his sister. I didn’t blame him. Garden Cove had offered him nothing but heartbreak.

  Gilly opened the front door wearing a black body-contouring dress that showed off her every curve, and she’d put on full makeup, including fake eyelashes and coral lipstick that complimented her skin tone and her dark eyes. Her chestnut-brown hair had a fresh, glowing aura about it and not a gray hair in sight. I guess her threat to go gray had been squashed by L’Oreal.

  “I will not let that bastard see me frumpy and haggard, Nora,” she said. “I won’t do it.”

  “You’ve never looked frumpy, honey. Not even on a bad day. Right now, you look va-va-voom. Gio will swallow his tongue when he sees you.”

  The pinched look around her eyes relaxed. A slight smile turned up the corners of her perfectly painted lips. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “What the hell is he thinking coming here? What does he want?” Her worried stare met mine. “You know he wants something. He never does anything nice without expecting something in return.”

  Yeah. Her ex was all kinds of selfish. Giovanni Rossi had been the head chef at the Rose Palace Resort until he got his dream gig in Las Vegas. He’d taken the job then asked for a divorce because he wanted a fresh start without his wife and two small children.

  Even ten years later, I got pissed off about what he’d done. I never spoke ill of the jerk in front of the twins because Gilly wanted it that way, but I hated him. What he did to Gilly, up and leaving like he did, made him a monster in my book. I would never forgive him.

  Instead of sitting on the couch, Gilly stationed herself by the front window. I shut the door behind me, put my purse down on the bottom step of the stairway leading to the second floor, then joined her.

  “This is your home, Gilly. Bought and paid for by you without any help from Gio. You can tell him to get right back into his rental car, turn around, and keep driving until he hits the Pacific. And drowns.”

  “He’s their father, Nora,” she said, miserable. “Whatever he did to me, I can’t let that effect my kids.”

  “He abandoned all of you,” I told her. “You’ve been both mom and dad to Marco and Ari for the past ten years. Gio has been a father in name, sperm, and blood only, not where or when it counts.”

  She sighed. “Tell that to Marco. He couldn’t stop going on and on about how much fun he and his dad had riding the roller coaster at the top of the Stratosphere. I haven’t heard him that animated or happy in years, Nora. Years.”

  “He’s almost seventeen years old, Gils. And you’re the one person in his life that he knows will love him no matter his mood.” I hugged her. “He trusts that he can show you every part of him, and you’re not going to disappear. Gio will never be able to say that.”

  Gilly patted my back. “You’re right. But all the ‘Dad this’ and ‘Dad that’ has gotten under my skin, you know?”

  I let her go and stepped back. “I do know. Gio waltzes back into their lives after ten years and you have to pretend it doesn’t rip your heart out.” I didn’t mention that if Gio stayed true to form, he’d hurt my godchildren all over again. I already knew Gilly had that fear. But what was she supposed to do? Life wasn’t always easy. I imagined the hardest lesson a parent had to impart to their children was how to deal with pain. Hadn’t I dealt with that lesson at the age of fifty, watching my mother waste away with brain cancer?

  “Gio is your past, but he’ll always be a part of your life because of the kids.” I gave her a sympathetic look. “How long before he gets here?”

  “Ari texted me right before you got here.” She rubbed her upper arms as if warding off a chill. “So, any minute.”

  On cue, headlights shone their way up her street, a glowing beam swiping across her gauzy, champagne-colored curtains.

  Gilly grabbed my hand, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. “That’s them,” she said.

  I watched as Gio the jackhole got out of a red mini SUV. I groaned inwardly when I noticed he was wearing slim, tapered black dress pants—the dressy version of skinny jeans—and a tight black, short-sleeved polo shirt. Worse,
he still had all his hair, even if it was more silver than black now.

  “Oh, God, Nora. He still looks delicious.”

  “He looks like a turd squeezed into a black sausage casing,” I said.

  She snorted. “Liar.”

  I shrugged. “It’s what I see.” And it wasn’t a complete lie. To me, Gio would always look like something that should be flushed twice. I took a deep breath to calm myself for the sake of my godchildren. They didn’t need to see Aunt Nora lose her mind over their dad. Frankly, he was lucky I’d left my gun at home.

  Gio opened the SUV’s back door and Ari scooted out, her duffel bag over her shoulder and her arms crossed over her chest. Marco might have been happy to spend time with his father, but Ari looked like she’d spent her entire vacation sucking lemons. Poor kid. Maybe she’d seen her father for what he really was…a narcissistic liar.

  Gilly nudged me with her elbow. “They’re coming. Move.” She pushed me away from the window. “Move!” she said more urgently. “I don’t want them to think I’m anxiously waiting.”

  “I’ll run Gio over with my car. Just say the word.”

  “Maybe wait for the kids to go to bed first,” she said with a weak smile.

  I chuckled and brushed her shoulder with mine. “Good plan.”

  The door handle rattled.

  Gilly grimaced.

  The door opened. Ari walked in, slid her duffel bag across the floor, then hurried across the living room and threw her arms around her mom’s neck. Gilly appeared startled for a moment, then she closed her eyes and hugged her daughter back.

  Abruptly, Ari disengaged. She cast a look back at her brother then raced up the stairs two at a time.

  Gilly raised her brow at her son. Marco shrugged. He kissed his mom on the cheek then smiled at me. “Hey, Aunt Nora.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t invisible. “Hey, kiddo.” I raised my hand. He high-fived me then headed up after his twin.