Perfect Scents

by Virginia Taylor

  Calli washed her hands and picked up her phone, thumbing numbers while she ate her cheese sandwich. First, she confirmed the order for the pavers and the sand. Next, she checked with the paving company she had always used. The job would be a large one, and she had already booked the work team.

  “Monday next week,” she said, repeating the date, noting that the more she spoke, the better her voice. After concentrating for a moment, she realized she had hardly spoken to anyone in the past few weeks. Now with all her cat conversations, she almost sounded normal. Use it or lose it seemed to be the cure here, though when she forgot to drink she also did her voice no favors. To make sure of her hydration, she drank another two long cool glasses of water.

  “You don’t have any water either,” she said to the cat, and she filled a large breakfast bowl with water for her scruffy companion.

  “I’m off now. Keep yourself clean, or wash yourself, because if you aren’t shiny bright when I get back, some time tonight you are having a bath. No one ever got well lying around in their own dirt.” And she gave a reluctant laugh because she sounded like her mother.

  After rinsing out her cup, she closed the door behind her and stepped back into a clouded spring day. For a moment she paused, glancing briefly at the dividing fence. The Tudor house remained silent, but a distant clank and the murmur of male voices could possibly be the gang discussing their next hit while rattling their numchucks. Or not. Whatever the business of the people next door, she could mind her own.

  However, she was pleased to see that the gangster had left for the day. She knew this because his SUV hadn’t returned. Probably even thugs had regular employment. Nevertheless, her idle speculation about her tattooed, bottle-breaking neighbor could certainly hold elements of truth. He looked like a biker. Tattoos might be trendy, but his didn’t look arty, and the rev of the motorbikes last night had been threatening. Likely he had gathered together the other members of his gang to break bottles on a Sunday night, expressing an antisocial protest against recycling. She actually laughed aloud at her clever cycling pun as she pulled her gardening gloves back on.

  Despite the gray sky today, this coming summer was predicted to be as dry as the last. During winter, the judge’s garden had dried out considerably. Calli couldn’t remember the last time she saw rain, and she needed to install a new water-saving irrigation system before the heat set in.

  Since the whole garden would be changed, she would also need to change the hose grid. Although the old drippers had kept the garden alive, the new plan using less water would make the garden lush. In the meantime, she ignored the blockages and the leaks, managing to hand water the plants that showed the most wilt. Normally, she supervised the gardens she designed, leaving others to perform the hard slog. These days, she couldn’t afford laborers, but apparently venturing out of her comfort zone was doing her good.

  As she had supposed, performing the work herself kept her mind on the job rather than on her woes, the worst of which was caused by her decision to bankroll her partnership with Grayson. The people who cared for her, friends and family, had queried his background, but after the failure of two personal relationships with men from the “right” backgrounds, she had seen this as snobbery. She thought she had made a sensible choice, but she hadn’t.

  For the first time since the man she had trusted with her start-up business had left with her money and reputation, she realized that she had begun to relax. She appreciated being offered a chance, and she would certainly give the judge her best effort. He trusted her to do a good job despite her having such a pitiful record. All she wanted now was to reclaim her credibility with her family, friends, and anyone she had ever worked with or whom she knew.

  Sighing, she marked out the spot for the fountain in the back garden.

  Chapter 3

  Kell inspected the ceiling in the old laundry room. Normally, on Mondays his appointment book was filled with visits to prospective customers who wanted kitchen estimates. He’d done two last Friday, freeing up part of this week so that he could help with the demolition while he plotted the changes.

  “Good work,” he said to Trent who stood on the top of a ladder in the center of the old laundry building attached to the garage. Trent had been hired for a nominal wage and free board. “We should get a couple of hundred for this.”

  Trent grunted and shoved his crowbar under the hole he had made to remove the ceiling rose, cracking off half a sheet of plastered horsehair, which dropped to the floor amid the cloud of dirt and dust that had accumulated over a hundred years. Like Kell, he wore a white disposable coverall.

  Kell moved out of the way, his eyes covered with one hand while he adjusted his facemask. “Do you like the garden next door?” he asked, still annoyed the little dickhead had threatened him with a spray can.

  “It’s okay if you like classy gardens.”

  “That’s what I thought. He’s got a gardener, a young lad.”

  “How young?”

  Kell shrugged. “Eighteen, maybe. The kid is working there alone, if you believe that.” He glanced up at Trent. “He threatened to tag me, but he’s not such a smart-arse as he thinks. I got him to tell me the name of the neighbor. He’s a judge.”

  “You don’t see him around much.”

  “His cars haven’t moved from the carport since we’ve been here. The house looks deserted.” Kell took a leap to the side. The next plaster length thudded to the floor, scattering the accompanying detritus to the far corners of the room.

  “And an eighteen-year-old is digging in the garden?” Trent waggled his eyebrows, almost concealed behind the layers of filth dropped on him from the roof cavity. “If you see him burying something, you might want to make sure it’s not a body.” He laughed.

  “He doesn’t look tough enough to dig a hole, let alone drag a body into it,” Kell said sourly. “He’s a skinny little thing.”

  “It’d be interesting, though, if we discovered a serial killer.”

  Kell started stacking the shattered lengths of ceiling. “It wouldn’t be interesting to kill a judge. It’d be downright bloody stupid. I’d start out with someone less noticeable, like a handyman.”

  “But if you were killing so that you could steal money, judges earn a bit.”

  “There you are!” said a satisfied female voice. The doorway darkened as Vix Dee, Kell’s sister-in-law entered.

  Kell straightened, removing his mask to smile at the pretty blonde wife of his older brother, Jay, the architect who had found this property and advised Kell to take out a mortgage to buy the best deal Jay had seen in years, or so he said. “I hope you didn’t hear Trent plotting a murder.”

  “No. I heard you. Which particular handyman do you plan to kill?”

  “Other than Trent? None of us earn enough to make the effort worthwhile.” He brushed the dust off the shoulders of his coverall.

  “I brought lunch for you both.” She smiled at him. “It’s not often you take days off work and since you’re taking those days off to do more work, I thought I could help by supplying food.”

  Trent backed down the ladder. “Great.” He removed his mask and wiped his sleeve across his dirty face. “I can’t tell you how much I didn’t want to buy a pie.”

  “Why would you buy a pie when you must have a houseful of leftovers from the barbeque last night?” Vix shook her head. She had contributed most of the leftovers, if not most of the main meal. She thought she had to feed the world, and her wealthy family certainly supplied more than their fair share of good healthy sustenance to the less fortunate.

  “I ate the cold sausages for breakfast.” Trent, as skinny as three-ply, decided he needed more protein than Kell, who had to content himself with pretzels and a tomato salad, which he hadn’t particularly minded although he wouldn’t admit that to Trent who thought he had scored.

  “I have a rather large basket of food I need to get rid of before everything spoils. You’ll have to come out t
o the car and get it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a few pork pies in amongst everything else, but I think it’s mainly the usual for this time of year—oranges, honey, pâtés, cheeses, a ham, rye bread, nuts, too, I think. I took out the fresh vegetables because I knew neither of you would, um, have time to cook healthy meals.”

  Kell nodded, faking detachment, but he honestly thought Vix was the most adorable women he had ever met. He had never known anyone quite as generous as her, or quite so embarrassed by her wealth. He tried not to be embarrassed by her wealth, too. Accepting gifts he could never pay back was hard, but Vix knew this and suffered with every thoughtful gesture she performed. He and the others could do no less than appreciate her consideration.

  “Since you brought bread, we could set up a table and stop for a while.”

  “Fortunately, I brought a tablecloth, too.” She laughed.

  Kell shook his head with rueful amusement and wiped his hands down the sides of his filthy coverall, catching Trent’s glance. They both knew she had come to fuss over them like a mother hen. When they were building the theater set she painted, she had done the same. Jay was the luckiest man in the world. But Jay had made his own luck. Kell intended to make his own, too.

  Kell envied his brother nothing other than his wife, who he richly deserved. Jay was the older brother who had cared for his siblings the way a parent should, working to support them while their father drank. Kell didn’t like to remember the bad times, but since his toughness had been formed by the bad times, he had little choice. “Where did you park?”

  “Out the front. You parked across the drive and so I couldn’t get in.” Her voice held a tone of accusation.

  Kell nodded, indicating the plaster sheets on the floor. “I was about to pack this rubbish into the truck bed.”

  Vix lifted her shoulders. “So, I sincerely hope I don’t embarrass you.”

  Wary, Kell scratched his ear. He couldn’t guess why the way she had parked her car would embarrass him, but as he reached the driveway gates, he spotted a bright racing red in the street. “A Ferrari,” he said in awe.

  She looked guilty. “Jay hasn’t seen it yet. He won’t be pleased, but I’ll only have it for a couple of days. My father sent over the basket in it. He thought it was time I had the Beamer serviced.”

  “You shouldn’t let him boss you around like that,” Kell said, trying to sound severe. “Hell, if my father did that to me….” He glanced at Trent.

  “And if my father did that to me…” Trent shook his head, his eyes bright with suppressed laughter.

  She pursed her lips. “I know you both think I’m ungrateful, but I live in a conservative area of town. This car does not suit my lifestyle.”

  “It suits mine.” Kell ran his hand over the polished hood. He wanted to lie there, arms outstretched, hugging the expensive car, but instead he shrugged and tried to look detached. At that moment, the gardener from next door poked his head out of the driveway of the judge’s house. His skinny face disappeared quickly.

  Kell frowned. He hoped the kid wasn’t scouting before doing something nefarious, but what could the kid do? Steal a car? He seemed to have left an old heap of his own in the carport. The judge probably told him not to park on the street. A car like that would give the classy neighborhood a bad look.

  “You know when we were talking about murder?” he said to Vix. “The neighbor next door is missing and a kid is hanging around the place.”

  She looked surprised. “That’s Adrian Ferguson’s house.”

  “How do you know?” Kell said, and he wished the words back. Vix and her family knew everyone rich or connected.

  “It’s a heritage house. It’s listed. Everyone knows Adrian owns it. Aside from that…” She looked uncomfortable. “He’s a friend of my father.”

  “Have you seen him recently? The judge, not your father.”

  She shrugged. “I think he is touring the Mediterranean.”

  “Why would you think that?” He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at her.

  “Because he and his wife went with my stepmother’s sister and her husband.”

  Kell sighed. “Let’s get this basket indoors.” He grabbed one handle and Trent took the other.

  “If he was dead, I would have heard, because my stepaunt certainly would have said something to my stepmother.” Vix walked down the side of the house.

  Once this area would have been sheltered by an open veranda with a view onto a tennis court, but the roof had long since been dismantled, which saved Kell the trouble of knocking off the tiles. And the old tennis court had been lost in the weeds. “Well, the kid is up to something.”

  “I’m sure Adrian will be very glad to know you are keeping an eye on his place.” She opened the back door of the house and stepped aside so that Kell and Trent could enter ahead of her. “If someone is planting a bomb to surprise him when he gets back, he would like to know before he opens the front door.”

  “You may think this is funny, but the kid was wearing a disguise and snooping around.” Kell walked through the back lobby to the kitchen.

  Vix followed behind Trent. “I’ll go and talk to him.”

  “Then he’ll know we’re onto him,” Trent said, puffing a little. He grunted as he helped lift the wicker hamper onto the table. “It’s best if we keep cool.”

  “Do you believe he is doing something wrong, or don’t you?” Vix gave them both a schoolteacher frown.

  Kell inclined his head to the side. “I think it’s unlikely that anyone would employ a gardener to spray blue spots on the lawn, especially when they’re away.”

  “So, I’ll talk to him. You two would only scare him off. At the moment you look like a couple medical examiner’s assistants. And with your masks, you would be downright scary. Lunch will be ready as soon as you are.” She raised her eyebrows at their garb.

  “If she wasn’t my sister-in-law, I would suspect her of wanting to check out my body,” Kell said to Trent.

  “She’s seen better.” Trent was already struggling out of his filthy white coverall as he headed toward the bathroom.

  “Let’s hope he leaves the bathroom clear for me,” Kell muttered, having been annoyed by Trent’s habit of leaving his towels on the floor of the bathroom for the past three days.

  Vix seemed to be on another track entirely. “You know, this is a beautiful house.” She glanced around the kitchen.

  “I don’t see it, myself.” Kell couldn’t imagine who would want a kitchen double the size of the average living room, with a tiny laundry and bathroom opening into the same space. He would need to reconfigure. “I could make this room look pretty special, but it’s not worth too much bother.”

  “Isn’t it listed?”

  “That’s why I got it at a bargain price. Every other buyer wanted to knock it down.” His mouth hitched with dissatisfaction. “I only have permission to get rid of the later-built outhouses. I want to do a quick reno and then get on with my life.”

  “The brickwork is something special,” she said, completely ignoring his words again and getting right back onto her own track. “My gran’s house was like this. When she sold it and went to live with my father, the man who bought the place added on a modern extension.”

  Exasperated, he raked one hand though his hair. “I suppose that’s what will happen here. I’m not a builder. I’m a chippy, and I do interiors. I can’t afford to waste money on extensions. I need to get in quick, make a profit, and get out.”

  She sighed. “My mind sees this place all spruced up and beautiful again.”

  Lifting one palm, he rubbed a thumb over the ends of his fingers. “Money. When I can afford altruism will be the time for me to think that way.”

  Her cheeks turned red and she nodded. He didn’t like bringing up her situation, but he had only stepped onto the first rung of success, unlike her father who had built a taller ladder and hauled his family to the pinnacle. One day Kell might do th
at.

  “Your turn,” Trent said, returning a little sprucer than when he had left. “It’s a shame we don’t have any clean plates.”

  “They’re in that cupboard above the sink.” Vix shot him a frown. “Don’t try your helpless act with me. I’m married to Jay who can set a table as well as I do.”

  “That’s because he’s been domesticated. I’m still training Trent,” Kell said on his way to the bathroom where he yet again picked up Trent’s towel and washed.

  By the time he returned, the card table in the center of the kitchen had been spread with a red tablecloth and dotted with white plates. Bread, ham, cheese, pickles, and a salad to eat, and he was a new man. Vix left the food in the fridge and took the basket back, likely for her father to refill.

  Kell liked knowing that one of the richest men in the state was putty in his gentle daughter’s hands.

  * * * *

  The afternoon flew by while Calli concentrated, referring again and again to her diagrams. She wanted sudden views in the garden and hidden nooks. She wanted beds of color, patches of sunlight, and swathes of green. On paper, her plan seemed feasible. While she ducked through the old haphazardly planted undergrowth, the job looked bigger than she could manage. However, she had to manage. She had made a mess of her personal life and her business life, and she was tired of being used.

  She whacked at the stake marking one of the curved edges for the front garden, using her righteous energy productively. For too long she had been no more than her parents’ daughter, and she had to find another self. If she wanted to change herself and her life, she had to do so now. Before she finished this job, she would be a whole new Calli. She gave an extra whack to the next stake.

  During the afternoon, she finished shaping the new front garden. Re-plotting the complicated back garden would take her more than a week, in her estimation. She stripped off her gloves as she returned to the cottage and the cat, who greeted her with a raised head and a blink.