Roses and Revenge

by London Lovett

  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I suspected the murderer might be closer than she imagined.

  Briggs returned to where I was standing.

  "Detective Briggs, this is Hazel Bancroft. She is an administrative assistant who pretty much runs the whole company while no one is looking." I managed to work up a friendly wink at Hazel. She seemed more than pleased with my compliment.

  Briggs pulled out his notepad to write down her name.

  Hazel stretched her neck up to try and look at the notepad. "What are you writing down?" she asked.

  "Just your name. I'll be taking a statement from everyone who worked with Mr. Edmonton. But if you wouldn't mind, right now I need to talk to Miss Pinkerton alone."

  Hazel seemed reluctant to leave my side. "Go on, Hazel. I'll talk to you later."

  She nodded. "Nice meeting you, Detective Briggs. And of course, if there's anything you need, you just have to ask." We watched as Hazel hurried back to the others. Jacob had turned his focus away from his employees and on to his ex-employee. Our gazes caught for a fleeting second before Briggs led me to a more secluded place between the trailers.

  "That tall man, that's Jacob Georgio, the owner of Georgio's?" Briggs asked.

  "Yes, that's him."

  "And he—you and him—he was your—"

  "We were once engaged if that's the question you're trying to formulate."

  "Yes." He looked properly embarrassed about his prying question. He pulled out his notepad to move on from the topic. "It seemed you smelled something on the pillow that was possibly used to smother the victim."

  "Possibly?" I asked enthusiastically. "So it's possible something else was used? It's possible the pillow had nothing to do with the murder?"

  His dark brow arched. "I wouldn't use the word possible. The same clay mask that was on the victim's face was on the pillow. And the pillow was sitting right next to the couch. I would say it's highly likely that it was used by the perpetrator. Just like I'd say it's highly likely that you smelled something significant on that pillow."

  I peered at him questioningly.

  "Your face blanched and you looked very distressed right after you smelled the pillow."

  I pulled my coat closer around me, for no other reason except it made me feel better. "I smelled a certain cologne on the back of the pillow. It's a special blend of cedarwood and cypress with a bergamot oil twist."

  Briggs blinked those annoyingly attractive eyelashes at me as he waited for me to elaborate. I knew the ingredients meant nothing to him, but they meant a great deal to me.

  "It's a very unique blend that the chemists created for one person. It's not on the market. Or at least not that I know of," I added. Obviously sensing my distress, he was being extra patient this morning. I took a deep breath. "The Georgio's chemists created the cologne for Jacob Georgio."

  "Are you certain it's the same scent?"

  I shrugged. I wanted to be anything but certain. "We were—we were together at the time. Jacob let me create the cologne because—" I had no idea just how difficult this would all be until I began saying everything out loud. "He wanted to be sure that I liked it."

  Briggs' jaw did that little twitch thing that happened occasionally. I'd learned that it was his police detective way of hiding any emotion he was feeling. I'd theorized that his suppressed feelings had to come out somewhere and that the twitch was his release, his spout on the tea kettle.

  He jostled himself out of whatever had taken over his thoughts and suddenly remembered he needed to write things down. He pulled out his notepad and flipped it to a clean page. He pressed his pen to the paper but looked back up at me before writing. "So you created the scent. You recognize it as the custom fragrance that only Jacob Georgio wears?"

  It felt as if my head was filled with cement as I nodded. "But you'll have it analyzed, right? I mean my nose could be wrong."

  His left brow shifted up to show doubt on that last statement. He was right. My nose was always pretty spot on. Darn my hyperosmia. And then, I silently reminded myself, there was the second aroma on the pillow. One that was even easier to discern than the cologne. "Clove cigarettes," I said quietly as he wrote his notes.

  Briggs looked up. "Clove cigarettes? You smelled that too?"

  "Yes. On the pillow. They have a very distinctive odor and if a person smokes one, it permeates their clothes, just like a tobacco cigarette."

  "Is it possible the deceased smoked them?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Not that I know of."

  "Which of your coworkers smoked clove cigarettes?" He readied his pen as if waiting for a list. I wished there had been a list to give.

  "Jacob is the only person I know who smokes clove cigarettes."

  Briggs wrote the name down but didn't look up this time. He avoided eye contact completely. He knew this was extremely difficult for me. He took his time finishing his notes and then closed the pad and stuck it back in his coat pocket.

  "I've known Jacob a long time. He just isn't capable of murder. I just thought I should add that." Unfortunately, saying it didn't help relieve the guilt I was feeling.

  Briggs finally looked at me, but there was a long, significant pause before he spoke. "Thank you for your help with this, Lacey." He almost never called me Lacey. "I'll let you go. I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you. As do I."

  Chapter 17

  I knew I wasn't going to be able to just slip away. Everyone stood around looking dazed, confused and distraught. Autumn was clutching a paper bag to her face, apparently staving off another fit of hyperventilation, and Lydia stood with Alexander, both with faces so pale, they looked close to throwing up. While the others were consoling each other, Hazel seemed to count on me for comfort. The moment Briggs left my side, she raced over and glued herself to me.

  Jacob had wandered away from everyone else to make phone calls. This was going to be a big shock to the board members and everyone else back at the office.

  Hazel and I watched him pacing back and forth in front of the manor, with his phone stuck to his ear. "I wouldn't want to be him right now," she said.

  My face snapped her direction. "Why not? What have you heard?"

  Hazel's lips rolled in and disappeared. She was rightly confused by my abrupt line of questioning. I was so on edge I hadn't thought before speaking. "Oh, you mean because he has to tell everyone back home." I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little out of sorts about all of this."

  Naturally, I hadn't mentioned one thing to anyone. My investigative work was strictly business. I had to keep my personal connections to the murder out of the way. It was going to be hard.

  "I confess I know little about Jasper's life. Did he have a large family? A significant other?" I asked.

  "As far as I know, he was living alone in his apartment in the city. I think his parents live somewhere in the Midwest, but from what Lydia has told me, they were estranged. He hadn't spoken to them since he was a teenager."

  "That's always so hard for me to fathom, not speaking to my parents. After I dropped out of medical school and then gave up my nice position at Georgio's, my parents were still speaking to me. I'm pretty sure there is nothing else I can do to disappoint them, so our relationship is solid."

  "Same here. And my parents are my landlords. Talk about putting a strain on the relationship."

  "I bet they'll miss you a lot when you move."

  "Move?" she asked.

  "When you take the position at Tremaine's Fashion House."

  "Oh yes." She laughed lightly. "With all that's happened, I nearly forgot about my new job. No wonder Jacob always calls me a scatterbrain."

  "He does? Hazel, if there's one person I would never refer to as a scatterbrain, it's you. He takes you too much for granted. I assure you, he'll notice when you're gone."

  "I think so too." Activity around the trailer had ramped up, which meant they were likely to remove Jasper's body soon. "Do they know what happened to Jasper?" Hazel asked.<
br />
  "I think so, but I'll have to wait and let Detective Briggs fill everyone in." Once he left my side, Briggs had disappeared inside the trailer. He had been in there for a long time collecting evidence.

  Hazel and I were just about to join the others when Briggs appeared in the doorway of the trailer with Nate.

  "Who is that man with the detective?" Hazel asked.

  "That's the coroner. It looks like they're getting ready to move Jasper's body."

  That statement shook Hazel. I regretted saying it so plainly. I kept an eye on the activity as I hugged her. Briggs' gaze swept the area. It landed on me for a brief moment. I could read his thoughts as if they were written across his forehead. It seemed I was getting more experienced at detective work. I knew exactly what he would do next.

  Briggs walked down the steps and strode purposefully across the lot to Jacob. Jacob saw him approach and quickly finished up his phone call. I studied Jacob's reaction, trying to find some indication of guilt or worry on his face, but all I saw was the same pale, drawn look that the others were wearing.

  Jacob's face changed some as Briggs spoke to him. Then he turned and led Detective Briggs toward his own trailer. This was it. Briggs would be looking for evidence that matched what I'd found in Jasper's trailer. And I was sure he'd find plenty, or at least enough to take Jacob in for questioning. None of this was making sense, and all of it had me feeling more than a little sick to my stomach. For once I wished I hadn't dug my nose into police business.

  Chapter 18

  Instead of Nevermore waking me with a claw sharpening session, he nudged me softly with his head. Since he slept on the end of my bed, he knew I'd had a rough night. I had probably burned more calories from tossing and turning in my bed than I'd burned all day at work.

  I lifted my hand to rub Nevermore's head. My arm was heavy along with the rest of my limbs. But my heart was heaviest of all. I had finally dragged myself away from the depressing scene at Hawksworth Manor a few minutes after the coroner's van had gone down the hill. Alexander and Autumn were holding each other up as we watched Nate drive his van past, slowly and respectfully, much like the Hearst in a funeral procession. The ensuing sobs and hugs stopped abruptly though when Detective Briggs walked Jacob Georgio to the police car. Their boss was being taken in for questioning. Fortunately, none of them knew that I was partly to blame for that. I'd spent the rest of the work day, totally distracted. Ryder insisted I go home early. Which I did. I spent the rest of the afternoon huddled in my house with my two companions, Kingston and Nevermore. It was selfish, but I was relieved not to have to talk to anyone else for the rest of the day.

  Nevermore nudged me once more for good measure and jumped down from the bed. I pushed off the covers and sat up. It felt as if I'd just finished a marathon instead of a night of sleep. I'd spent a good deal of the restless night hours trying to comprehend the possibility that Jacob was a cold-blooded murderer. But no matter what line of thinking I took, I couldn't come to that conclusion. The one question that kept popping up was what motive did Jacob have? Jasper was somewhat demanding and spoiled, but he was also an asset to the company. Sales and stocks went through the roof after Autumn and Jasper became the faces of Georgio's Perfume. As much as I had always wanted to take some of the credit for the perfumes, in the back of my mind I always knew that the reality was most people couldn't smell the subtle differences in the perfumes. Advertisements boasting that gorgeous, romantic people like Autumn and Jasper used Georgio's Perfume did much more to persuade people to buy the perfume than my microscopic tweaks to the formula.

  I pulled on my robe and slippers and headed down the hallway to Kingston's cage. A low-flying helicopter rattled the house as I pulled off the cage cover. Kingston flapped in alarm, sending a few downy black feathers from the cage. They stuck to my slippers.

  A knock followed the buzz of the helicopter. I sighed, sure it was Hazel. I was glad to be there for her, but at the same time, I'd forgotten how needy she could be. I'd basically ignored my Port Danby friends because Hazel had taken up so much of my spare time.

  I walked to the door. Hazel was holding a tissue in her hand. She quickly wiped her nose and shoved it into her coat pocket. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to stop crying." She pushed past me. "Everything is such a mess, and now they've got Jacob in custody."

  I shut the door. "They do?"

  "Well, he's at the police station waiting for his lawyer to join him before he answers any more questions. Remember Baxter Redmond, his lawyer? He's on his way. I personally don't think he's the right lawyer for a murder charge."

  "Wait, what charge? Has Jacob been charged?"

  Hazel looked baffled. "Isn't that what it means when they take someone in for questioning?"

  "No, not necessarily. And what motive would Jacob have? None of this makes sense."

  Hazel walked right into my small living room and took off her coat. Apparently, she was staying for breakfast. "Well, between you and me, I think this is all Lydia's fault," she said as she looked around for a place to put her coat. I took it from her and hung it next to mine.

  "Lydia? Why do you think that?"

  "After we each had our private chat with the detective, Lydia and I compared notes. Apparently, she blabbed all kinds of office gossip to the man." Hazel sat with a flourish on the couch. She'd come to my door in tears, but she seemed to have gotten over the emotional moment quickly. "Lydia told him that Jacob and Autumn had been dating these past six month and that lately, Autumn and Jasper had been doing some heavy flirting. She let him know that they were once a couple as well." Hazel lifted her nose in the air for a whiff. "I hate to be a bother, but do have any coffee? With everything that's going on the catering crew basically threw up their hands in strike and told us to get our own coffee and breakfast."

  "I was just going to make a pot."

  Hazel followed me into the kitchen. "Poor Jacob," she lamented as she watched me fill the pot. "Lydia should have kept her mouth shut. There was no reason for her to bring up any of the stuff she said, and I told her as much. Now she's not talking to me."

  "Maybe Lydia just thought it was the right thing to mention." I hoped no one would ever find out about the evidence I'd found but something told me those hopes would be dashed soon enough.

  "I think her decision to say something was self serving. She's so angry at all of them, Jacob and the other board members. And the models, for that matter." Hazel leaned down to pat Nevermore on the head. My cat was waiting for breakfast and therefore, had little interest in a pat. I reached into the cupboard for a can of cat food.

  Hazel's last comment had pricked my amateur detective ears. "Why is Lydia angry?"

  "She found out that Autumn and Jasper were making three times what she was making, and when she asked for a raise, Jacob had to turn her down. In his defense, he did take it to the board for a vote. But I know she was still mad as heck about it. She said once her contract with Georgio's was up, she was going to pack up her cameras and tripod and head for fairer skies."

  "Maybe you could find her a position at Tremaine's," I suggested as I pulled the creamer out of the refrigerator.

  "Yes maybe."

  Another low flying helicopter rattled the house. This time it didn't faze Kingston.

  "Ugh," Hazel grunted, "the locusts are already swarming the town, anxious to get a story."

  "Locusts? The media? That was fast."

  "The second news of Jasper's passing went up on his Facebook page, the story was everywhere. People didn't know him by name, but they certainly knew him as that hot looking man in the Georgio's Perfume ad. And since he was murdered, well, that's extra big news."

  "See, and that makes the entire notion of Jacob killing off his model even more silly," I said more to myself than to Hazel. "This will be horrible publicity for the company. Why would Jacob sabotage his own company's reputation?"

  Hazel shrugged. "For love?"

  I shook my head. "Like I said before, none of this
makes sense." I needed to go to the station and talk to Briggs. The motive was thin at best, and besides his freedom, Jacob had everything to lose from Jasper's murder. Autumn was a beautiful woman, but I just couldn't see Jacob throwing away everything to keep her. But then maybe I was just being a jealous ex. I let my mind mull that possibility for a moment. No, that was ridiculous. I'd barely given the man a moment's thought since . . . well, since he walked into my new hometown.

  I poured Hazel some coffee.

  "I'm going to get dressed, Hazel. I have to get to the shop, but I need to make a few stops first."

  "Darn, I was hoping we could have breakfast. It looks like we're all going to be stuck here for the rest of the week until this horrible nightmare is sorted out."

  "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a rain check on breakfast."

  Chapter 19

  I had a good hour before I needed to open the shop. It gave me just enough time to walk down to the station and see Briggs. Or so I thought until I came up against a wall of news reporters and cameras. I suppose it was naive of me to have thought this murder would have gone unnoticed by the public.

  Officer Chinmoor had been given the unenviable job of keeping the press back and warning them not to block pedestrians on the sidewalk. His warning resulted in a few of the camera men moving their unwieldy equipment off the walkway. I pushed through at the first sign of an opening.

  Officer Chinmoor didn't recognize me in my coat and scarf. He put up his hand to stop me from entering the station. "Oh, Miss Pinkerton," he said, "it's you. Is Detective Briggs expecting you?"

  "Yes." I hated lying but decided this was one of those necessary white lies. A man's whole life was at stake.

  Chinmoor pushed open the door. I hurried inside so he could pull it shut behind me before a pushy reporter squeezed through.