Scent of a Killer: An Ella Sweeting Aromatherapy Magic Cozy Mystery (Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies Book 1)

by Lisbeth Reade

  Maureen and Max were sitting on the other side of the aisle, but George Stewart was next to Father, with Leanne and Johnny in the row behind him. Leanne kept grabbing at the back of George’s and whispering. He brushed her off twice before the priest got up to speak.

  The aunts were spread out in the crowd, listening, with Hazel next to Garza, chatting amicably. Aunt Sarah was looking up to the front with a frown on her face, a funny lace hanky pressed against her cheek, similar to the one Auntie Joe had given Leanne in the kitchen. Auntie Joe was beside Rory.

  I took a deep breath. Everyone was in place.

  “It is a sad day when a good woman leaves us too soon,” the priest began. “Vanessa Stewart was a woman of great wealth, both material and spiritual. Mother of two and beloved wife, she also ran the best card game in town.”

  I wanted so badly to know what Rory had to say. At least he was nowhere near Leanne; that was sort of comforting. I went over the facts in my mind. George has a love/hate relationship with Vanessa. He had laughed when he saw the body. Was that nerves or more? He also wore cologne similar to the scent from the room. Leanne was the kleptomaniac. But she seemed to have the most to lose by killing Vanessa. What about the twins? Was Vanessa holding on too tightly to her purse strings? Would killing her make sure they had enough money to keep up with their particular appetites?

  I bit my lip. I put some more clues together and a clearer picture was beginning to form. But how could I take my suspicions to Detective Garza without having her punish me for even more interference? I’d have to have proof.

  I watched as the twins got up and spoke about their mother. I kept coming back to Max callously shoving his own sister down the steps. If he could do that to Maureen, he was definitely capable of killing his mother. The yelling at Leanne in defense of his mother had thrown me, but not if he was just looking for an excuse to get rid of his father’s old mistress and his half-brother. The less heirs hanging around, the better, right?

  “I miss my mother,” Maureen said, voice shaking. “She was a tough old thing, stubborn and impossible. She could not see reason if it hit her with a brick. But she was a wonderful person. She took care of all of us. Isn’t that right, Max?”

  “My mother didn’t understand me,” Max said. “She didn’t like my lifestyle. She, ah, didn’t approve of anything I did, really. Now she’s dead. I miss her.” Max looked at the casket. A pained expression crossed his face. He grabbed Maureen’s arm and steered her off the dais. A woman behind me gasped. Maureen stumbled after him, whispering to him fiercely while he looked stonily ahead.

  A familiar scent hit me in the face. I was so surprised, I jumped up. Mother thought I was going up to speak and beamed.

  Dang it. I had no choice now. I gathered myself and walked to the front. “Ahem. Vanessa Stewart was my mother’s best friend. I grew up with Max and Maureen.” Speaking of the twins, they were arguing at the back of the room. I had to get after them. “This is a hard thing for all of us,” I said. “Vanessa was a batty neighbor and a good friend. I’ll miss her. Like everyone in this room, Vanessa touched my life and I will never forget her. All we can do now is remember her as she was, vibrant and loud.” I stepped off the dais to a smattering of laughter.

  Rory grabbed at my arm as I went by and Aunt Sarah tried to wave me down. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “It’s about the packages…I think it could be important.”

  I let him take my hand and lead me to the second room where coffee and tea was set out for the mourners. I liked holding his hand. I hope I didn’t sigh too loudly when he let it go. “What’s up?”

  “The packages,” Rory said with a guilty look. “I sort of got another one on my truck and it may have opened.”

  “Oh, you bad boy, Rory,” I said. My face going to split I was smiling so hard.

  “Oh, I really am,” Rory said.

  Growl. That certainly raised the temperature a few notches.

  My face must have showed what I was thinking, because he blushed. I laughed, and then he did, too, and then we shushed each other.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “Remember how you said the cologne smelled the same as George’s but different? But the package that smashed smelled exactly like it?”

  I nodded buzzing with excitement.

  “That’s because the package isn’t just cologne. It’s perfume too.”

  I absorbed the information. “So it was a mixture. It was both. That’s the difference.”

  “How did she end up smelling like both?” Rory asked.

  “I’m guessing she was wearing one and someone poured the other over her,” I said, thinking.

  “But why would someone do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I bit my lip, trying to think. “They had to be covering something up, something that would lead us to the killer.”

  “There you are,” Auntie Joe appeared.

  “You’re supposed to be staying close to the twins,” I told her.

  “I know. They disappeared into a small room for the family. Hazel is still tailing George. But the service is nearly over, so everyone is about to come in here now. I thought you might want to go back to the chapel and snoop around.”

  “You’re right,” I said, hugging her. “Oh, tell Aunt Hazel to avoid Garza. She knows the knife was hers.”

  Auntie Joe put her hand over her heart and nodded.

  “I’ll be right back,” I promised. I slipped into the room, just behind where George stood whispering to my father.

  “Can’t imagine where the blasted thing’s gone. Had it for years.”

  “I told you to get rid of that gun years ago. They’re not even legal in the states,” my father admonished.

  George frowned. “I had it this morning. I moved it from my safe to Vanessa’s years ago. I grabbed it when I was looking for the will and put it on the night table.”

  “Did you find the will?”

  “Yes,” George said, gritting his teeth. Father didn’t press.

  “I’m sure it will turn up,” he assured George.

  “I know, but right now it would be best if it doesn’t show up while that detective is loitering. She thinks I killed Vanessa. What do you think she’s going to do if she finds the Luger? Hmm?”

  Aunt Hazel was near them, eavesdropping. I sidled over to her. “What did you find out?”

  “George Stewart is a prince among men,” Hazel said. “Three separate girlfriends, all under forty and vying to be the next Vanessa. He also likes a bit of drink and gambling.”

  “Gambling?”

  “Oh, yes,” Aunt Hazel confirmed. “He’s made three texts to someone about a football match. My eagle eyes don’t miss much.”

  Mother was speaking now. “Vanessa Stewart was a brave, wise woman who cheated at cards…”

  I felt a twinge of guilt for not paying attention. But I had smelled the scent again and I was tracking it like an Aromatherapy bloodhound. If I could figure out which one of the twins it was, that would be one more tick in the murderer column. But which was it?

  Mother stopped speaking and I applauded her with the rest of the crowd, creeping towards the front of the room. Maureen’s phone went off. As she opened her purse to take it out, a slip of paper fell out. I held my breath, keeping my eye on the little folded white square at her elegant feet. That could be a clue.

  I looked up to see Aunt Sarah staring at Maureen with an odd look on her face. When Maureen moved into the other room I swooped in and scooped up the piece of paper. It had a phone number scrawled on it. I pocketed it. Aunt Sarah came over as I was walking the perimeter of the room to see if anyone else had dropped goodies for me.

  “What did you find out?”

  Aunt Sarah frowned. “Not much. Most people liked Vanessa, even if they thought she stole their jewelry. A few of the same rumors about Leanne’s boy…rumors about Max’s drug habits and who owes who money.”

  “You have a look on your face. What’s up?” I asked.
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br />   “I don’t know. I had to have someone point Maureen out to me, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen her before.”

  “I saw her in the coffee shop when I was hounding Leanne, did you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Aunt Sarah said shaking her head. “But that must be it. Where else could I have seen her?”

  “Just stick with the plan,” I told her.

  “I know, but so far it isn’t working. No one is saying anything. They’re all pretty loyal to one another. The Stewarts keep giving us the slip. Also Detective Garza is looking for you.”

  “Well I better avoid her,” I said. “I definitely haven’t stopped snooping.”

  “Yes, but have we learned anything?”

  I had. I just wanted to be sure. “Maybe, but I need proof. I wish there was some magic spell I could use.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aunt Sarah had gone to join the others, and I was alone. My head throbbed. I had almost all the clues, but certainly not enough to go anywhere near Detective Garza yet. I just needed a bit more. I needed something….

  I searched the room again. Could Maureen have dropped any more papers? Maybe there were some personal articles left in a corner that could sort out my scent suspicions. I honestly felt like I was pushing my luck at this point. So when a few mourners popped back into the room I jumped and ducked into the small room at the back of the funeral parlor.

  The room was a private space for family members and I figured it would be empty, affording me a breather. Instead, Max and Maureen were there, whispering angrily at one another. They spun to face me when I entered. Lovely. Look at me entering the lion’s den like an idiot.

  “What do you want?” Max asked angrily. “I’m having a private moment with my sister.”

  “I just, ah, wanted to give you my condolences,” I lied. “I am so sorry for your loss.” I walked up and gave a startled Max a big hug. I inhaled as discreetly as possible. I moved to Maureen and did the same. The scents didn’t match. But when I backed up and smelled them mingled together…The broken package was right. The scent was both of theirs mingled. So was it both of them?

  No, on top of the fact that Maureen fiercely loved her mother, I couldn’t see the two of them working together to murder their mother. The twins had always been close, until recently when they’d started drifting apart. When Max had graduated from idiotic to scary. When he had started pushing his sister down stairs and dragging her around in public like a naughty pet dog. They wouldn’t have planned the murder together.

  But Max could have forced her to help him cover it up.

  I gulped.

  That was it. That made all the clues slip together neatly like the jigsaw puzzles Father liked to keep out on the kitchen table when I was in grade school.

  Max had murdered Vanessa, then forced Maureen to help conceal his crime. He’d taken the knife from Aunt Sarah’s bag at the restaurant. He’d —

  They were both staring daggers at me.

  The logical think would be to get out of the room, to run and tell Garza. But she wouldn’t do anything unless I had solid proof, except lock me up on obstruction of justice charges, or something.

  “Maureen,” I started, not knowing yet what I was going to say. I couldn’t think of anything, so I leaned forward and hugged her again, faking a sob over her shoulder.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this,” Max said. He quit the room. Oh great, he was getting away. Although this did give me the opportunity to talk to Maureen alone, and maybe get a confession out of her.

  Maureen stiffened and tried to disentangle herself from me. “If you’ve finished, I have more important things to deal with than fake mourners,” Maureen said.

  Was she scared? Was she afraid Max was going to kill her so she couldn’t talk? How would he do that, though? He didn’t have a gun or anything — the gun. George’s gun that he’d told Father about, the one that disappeared. Oh my god. I had to get Maureen out of here before it was too late.

  “Maureen,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice and sound reassuring. “You don’t have to lie anymore. I know who killed your mother.”

  Maureen paled. “You… what?”

  “Do you, did you wear the same perfume as Vanessa?”

  “Yes,” Maureen picked up her purse. “Why?”

  “I think…”

  Maureen came closer to me, grabbing at something in her purse. “What do you think?” she asked as her phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse but it was slippery and escaped her. I managed to catch it and glance at the screen.

  “Racetrack,” I breathed. It was the same number as on the paper that had fallen out of her bag before.

  She snatched the phone out of my hands and stared at me. “What? Don’t look at my calls!”

  “You’re a gambler,” I breathed.

  “So I gamble,” Maureen said. “What does it matter to you?”

  The IOU in Vanessa’s hand was Maureen’s. The smell wasn’t Max’s cologne. It was George’s cologne and Maureen’s perfume. Puzzle pieces started to snap into place. “It doesn’t,” I stammered. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Forget what I said. I am so completely wrong right now.”

  “Are you?” Maureen got between me and the only door. “What were you going to tell me just then? Hm? Who killed my mother?”

  “Max,” I breathed, hoping she would believe me or that saying his name would conjure him. “Let’s go get him. Detective Garza’s here. She can arrest him.”

  “Oh, can she?” Maureen said.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “So let me go get her. Before he hurts you, or worse.”

  “I don’t think so,” Maureen said sweetly. She pulled a gun out of her purse.

  Stupid, stupid Ella. How did I walk right into this situation? “Yes, we can use that to stop Max,” I said lamely. There was no way she was going to believe me. There was a reason why I had dropped out of the drama club in high school. I was the worst actress in town.

  “Drop the act Ella,” Maureen said, brandishing her gun. “Or I’ll drop it for you.”

  The only thing saving me was that we were in a funeral parlor loaded with people. She couldn’t drag me out kicking and screaming someone would see. And that gun would make an awfully loud sound in such a tiny room. Maybe I could reason with her. Get her to let me go. It was worth a try.

  “You… you can’t shoot me in here. Someone will,” I told her, as a swell of music started up in the other room. She grinned. “…hear.”

  She cocked the gun. “Oh, well we’re not going to stay here are we?”

  “We’re not?”

  Maureen shook her hair out and plastered on a sad face. “No, I am so distraught that you are going to take me home.”

  “I am?” I heard the shake in my voice and bit my lip.

  “Come over here and take my arm so I can keep my lovely little gun trained on you,” she said. “Move.”

  I had no choice. I walked over to her and she tucked the gun and her hand into the purse and pointed it towards my side. “Now, let’s leave. You make a fuss and I start shooting. Maybe I’ll start with your mother.”

  I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to cry. No time for that right now. I had to think my way out of this. Maureen led me out of the room and we walked past a few mourners, who turned to greet us. Maureen poked me with the gun and I said, “I am going to take Maureen home.”

  My mother came up. “Maureen darling, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Oh, thank you, no,” Maureen said sweetly, every inch the sad daughter. “Ella is going to take me home. This is all just too much for me.”

  She even let my mother hug her while she jabbed the gun harder into my side. I winced, but Mother was looking away and didn’t see. I gave her a smile. I didn’t want to risk a lie since I was God awful at it. She might get suspicious, and I didn’t want to think about what Maureen would do then.

  “Let’s go, Ella,” Maureen said, voice quavering.

 
“Ok,” I managed.

  And then we were outside, walking to her car. My legs wobbled, threatening to collapse. “Maureen, you’re not going to really kill me, are you?”

  “I think I have to, Ella. You know too much.” She handed me the keys. “Drive.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll tell you as we go. Get in the car,” Maureen pulled the gun free of the purse but kept it out of sight. She needn’t have bothered. The parking lot was empty. Everyone was inside mourning Vanessa. When we were finally on the open road I felt a bit relieved. At least family was safe.

  “Take a left up here and then follow it out to the highway.” Maureen’s voice was steady and calm.

  “I really did think it was your brother,” I tried.

  “Of course you did,” Maureen said. “Turn here. Give me your cell phone.”

  I handed it over and she tossed it out the window. Dang. I loved that phone.

  Maureen relaxed against the seat. Seeing her up close I saw the signs of stress and strain. Her skin was milky pale, with purple splotches underneath where her cheekbones poked through, and I wondered if she’d stopped eating. Obviously her conscience was getting to her. At least, I hoped it was. Otherwise I was not getting out of this alive.

  “Since you’re going to kill me, do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “What am I, a cartoon villain?” She glared at me. “Just drive.”

  I lapsed into silence for a few seconds. “You have to want to tell someone the truth. Does Max know? Or Mr. Stewart?”

  “No,” Maureen said. “No one knows except for you, and soon you won’t know either.”

  I recognized the route we were on. It lead to the cabins in a small weekend resort about a half hour from town. Everybody who was anybody had a cabin out there, including us. But no one was there most of the year, which made it a good place to do away with someone. We really only used ours two weekends out of the year. Mother hated roughing it.

  “I don’t have my keys,” I said to let her know I was on to where she was taking me.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Maureen said quietly.

  “Why? Do you have your keys?”