“That means we’ll have to take turns getting down here an hour earlier. She’s really spooked, isn’t she?” I didn’t look forward to being on a restrictive schedule, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. Tawny had every right to be creeped out and, as our employee, her safety was our concern.
Auntie picked up the tray containing her cleaning supplies and shrugged. “She’s young, she’ll get over it. Until then, we’ll show up early and make sure she feels safe.” She smiled. “I think the girl will bounce back before too long. You can’t let fear rule your life, and I hope she’ll realize that in time.”
I was about to go through my station for a last wipe down when the door opened and Bran Stanton strode though. Bran was… how to put it… an interesting man. He and his sister Daphne had moved here about five years ago, from what Barb told me. I’d been intrigued when I met them both at a New Year’s party to which my aunt dragged me.
Fraternal twins, their resemblances didn’t end with looks. They had similar mannerisms, expressions, and finished each other’s sentences. I thought they might be a little younger than me, although I wasn’t sure. Both brother and sister had a timeless quality, a maturity not usually found until the later years in life. Together, they made an imposing pair. Neither one was married, although Daphne was supposed to be engaged to a professor who was on the teacher-exchange program for a year, over in England.
Bran peeked around the door, then waved before lugging in his briefcase and a tote bag. I caught my breath. Despite our previous encounters, it hadn’t registered just how handsome he was. Dark curly hair cascaded past his shoulders and was caught back in a ponytail, and a well-trimmed beard hugged his chin. He favored black jeans, like me, and was wearing a green tank top and, over everything, a black duster kissed the top of his motorcycle boots. Completing the picture, an Aussie bush hat perched on his head with carefree abandon.
He gently set down his briefcase and tote bag, removed his duster, then swept Aunt Florence up in a bear hug. “Hey, Miss Florence! You look younger every time I see you.” He sounded genuinely happy to see her.
“Bran, you’re a sweetie, but save your flattery for my niece,” Auntie said, but her cheeks were glowing as she motioned me over to her side.
I stepped out from behind the counter and held out my hand. “Nice to see you again.”
As his fingers brushed mine, a tingle of shockwaves raced through me and I pulled away abruptly, trying not to blush. He had magic hands, all right.
“Persia, good to see you, too. You look nice today.” His eyes flickered over me from head to toe, but with a respectful demeanor; not once did he invade my space. Before I could say a word, he turned to Aunt Florence. “Somebody killed Lydia? I don’t know what this world is coming too. Granted, she was asking for trouble. When you treat people like dirt, you have to expect that somebody’s going to object. But I can’t believe she was murdered like this.”
Aunt Florence nodded. “The girl made a lot of enemies. I’m just sorry Trevor got caught up in the maelstrom. He’s a good boy and I’ll stand beside him until they prove beyond all doubt that he killed her.” She sighed. “I’m not looking forward to our reopening tomorrow. The gossip mill will be going full tilt and you know that Heddy Latherton will show up, looking for dirt.”
Bran’s dimples crinkled. The deep lines belied how much laughter had passed through his life. “We’ll see what we can do about putting a stop to that before it begins.” He opened his tote bag and pulled out a short bundle of tightly tied sage—a smudge stick—and a Tibetan singing bowl. Venus Envy carried smudge sticks, as well as small singing bowls, although Bran’s was larger and more ornate than the ones we kept in stock.
Aunt Florence set out a few purple and white taper candles. “Do you need anything else?” she asked.
Bran studied the counter for a moment, and I had the feeling he was listening to something that neither Auntie nor I could hear. After a moment, he shook his head. “No, I’ve got everything. Why don’t you two come back in about an hour? I work best alone.”
Disappointed, I realized we weren’t going to be allowed to watch. I leaned on the counter. “You mean we have to leave? I thought we’d get to see you in action.” Nope, wasn’t just saying that because he was a handsome man. Not me. I could rationalize a better reason than that. After all, I had friends in Seattle who worked with psychic energy, but had never had the opportunity to participate and I’d always wanted to observe.
He laid one hand over my own, and I felt weak in the knees. “Lydia died violently. That kind of death can leave a stubborn mark on the energy of a place. Even if she passed through the veil quickly, the act itself embeds what I call a psychic engram onto the area.”
I looked at him quizzically. “Engram?”
“Think of it this way: The memory of the act becomes imprinted in the space in which it took place. That’s what often happens when people talk about hauntings. The spirit doesn’t necessarily hang around, but sometimes the energy of the death itself does. I need to focus in order to clear the shop and, frankly, I can’t do that with you around. You’d distract me.” He beamed at me, throwing me off guard.
“I suppose I could be insulted by that, but I’m not.”
He winked, then abruptly turned back to double-check his supplies. Oh yeah, he was charming all right.
“Come on, Auntie,” I said. “Let’s go talk to Barb.”
We headed over to the bakery. Dorian was in the back while Barb minded the counter. She brightened when she saw us.
“I am so glad you’re here,” she said, immediately filling a plate with doughnuts and hot buns. “Today has been the day from hell. You wouldn’t believe the rush we’ve had.”
We settled in at a table and she joined us, bringing the iced tea pitcher with her. “What’s going on?” my aunt asked.
“What do you think? Lydia’s death. Since you were closed this morning, everybody and their brother popped in here to ask what I knew about Trevor being arrested. People seem to think that since Persia and I are such good friends, I’m harboring secret information. I can’t seem to convince them otherwise.”
I picked up a chocolate éclair and bit into it. The creamy filling flooded my mouth in one big wave and I swallowed, then licked my fingers. “Well, I wish I did know something more. I might be able to help Trevor if I did.”
My thoughts wandered back to the message on the answering machine. Kyle had promised to do his best, but he had been skeptical whether they could make out any more than we had.
Barbara leaned back in her chair. “Well, I wish to hell whoever killed Lydia hadn’t run off with that mirror. It was one of a kind. Trevor certainly wouldn’t have had any use for it.”
“True,” I said. The missing mirror bothered me, too. I knew it related to Lydia’s murder, but I couldn’t figure out how or why. Kyle didn’t seem to think it mattered, but I had a gut feeling that the murder and theft were linked and if we solved one, we’d solve the other.
Ever since Barb had given me the mirror, I’d noticed something odd about it. Aphrodite’s Mirror reflected hidden assets—as if reaching into the soul and pulling all of a woman’s charms to the forefront; a beauty the majority of women never recognized as being their birthright. Almost as if the looking glass could reveal a glimpse of all the qualities they wanted to project to the world… confidence, sexiness, poise.
All attributes that Lydia possessed, except for personality. The fact that she’d wanted it so much told me that maybe it revealed a hidden spark in her, too—something that she’d never been able to dredge to the surface. There had to be a link between the theft and Lydia’s murder.
“What are you thinking about? You seem a million miles away.” My aunt polished off her doughnut and finished her coffee.
I told her. “It’s ludicrous to think that Trevor would take the mirror after he murdered her. He had no motive. Men weren’t attracted to the mirror.”
> “I know, but we have to give Kyle something to go on if we expect him to act. And he may be right—the connection may be incidental. That’s a hard lesson I’ve learned over the years; never jump to conclusions because you may well be wrong.” She sighed. “I wonder how much longer Bran is going to be? I’d like to get everything ready to open up again tomorrow. It’s going to be awkward at first. You and Tawny need to prepare for a rush of curiosity seekers.”
Great. Just what we needed—people who buttered their bread on misfortune. “You can bet your ass Heddy Latherton will be in,” I said.
Auntie grimaced. “Don’t remind me. That woman has done more harm in this town with her mouth than a kissing bug with mono.”
Barbara glanced at the clock. “Almost seven.” She stood and yawned. “I hate to break this up, but we’ve got to close up shop. You’re welcome to stick around, but I need to give Dorian and Ari a hand.”
We gathered our purses as Bran stuck his head in the door. “You can come back now, ladies,” he said, giving Barbara a little wave.
“Okay then,” she said, her hands full of empty trays that were on their way to the dishwasher.
Even from the outside, Venus Envy looked better—there was a welcoming feel to the door and the moment I entered the shop I could feel the difference. The energy had shifted. The shop’s aura sparkled as brightly as the counters. I caught a whiff of burning sage, a comforting scent that soothed my frazzled nerves. I’d gotten in the habit of burning it regularly back in Seattle and now realized just how much I missed the woodsy aroma. As I glanced around the shop I realized that whatever energy had been knocked out of kilter by Lydia’s murder was back in alignment. The air felt clean again, the gloom swept away by some cosmic broom leaving light and clarity in its wake. If Lydia’s spirit had lingered after her death, there was no sign of her now.
Aunt Florence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is so much better. Thank you, Bran.”
He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Not to worry, Miss Florence. You shouldn’t have any problems now.” He paused, looking a little uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Auntie asked.
“There is one more thing… I didn’t know whether to bring it up or not.”
“Go on,” I said, curious.
He slid his hands in his pockets. “All right, then. While I was smudging the shop with the sage I had a sense… I suppose you’d call it a flash. I think there’s a man who holds the key to a lot of Lydia’s secrets, but he’s hidden from my view.”
“You don’t know who it is?” I asked, curious. Intuition was something I understood.
“No, I don’t. And I don’t have the faintest idea where you can find him. I wasn’t going to mention it because the information seems so nebulous, but then thought maybe I should.” He stopped, looking slightly embarrassed.
Auntie and I glanced at each other. Well, we had called him in for his expertise, and he was offering what he could.
I squinted, trying to think. A hidden man who holds many secrets… That could be just about anybody. That was one reason I tended to steer clear of dabbling in spiritual matters; things were seldom cut and dry and—as one friend had told me long ago—spirits could lie just as much as people. Now plants, plants were honest. Their essences contained specific energies, attributes, and qualities, and I got along just fine with them. People—they were another matter. But Bran wasn’t pushing himself into the spotlight and he seemed to understand how vague he was being.
“Hmm. You can’t pick up anything else?” Auntie said.
Bran shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.” He paused, closed his eyes, then after a moment shook his head. “Nothing. Well, that sucks. I wish I could help more, but at least your shop’s clear.”
He was right on track there. He’d done a wonderful job of cleansing the shop, and was trying to help in his own way.
Aunt Florence patted his arm. “My dear, your advice is appreciated. At some point, we’ll know what you’re talking about. How much do I owe you?” She opened her purse but he waved her off.
“Forget it. You always know you can call me if you need me. Just steer a few people my way during the summer. Besides, I like doing this. It makes me feel like I’ve given back to the universe a little for what I’ve received, you know?” He slipped into his duster, plopped his hat on his head, and gathered his things. On his way to the door, he turned around and said, “Persia, are you doing anything this coming weekend?”
I caught my breath. Granted, I wasn’t in the market for a relationship, but that didn’t mean I planned on staying celibate. Bran was gorgeous and seemed a likable fellow. In fact, I got the feeling he ran deep behind that fancy-free façade. I tossed him a slow smile. “What did you have in mind?”
He returned my smile and upped the ante a wink. “I thought we might check out Gardner’s Gym. They have a rock climbing wall, and I heard that you wanted to give it a try. If I’m not mistaken, you’re keen on hiking and mountain climbing, right?”
I glanced over at my aunt, who was trying to hide her amusement. Only two people knew how interested I was in trying out that wall—Barbara and Aunt Florence. Auntie must be the leak. I rolled my eyes at the smile lilting over her lips and turned back to Bran. “I’d love to go. Sunday good for you? Maybe sometime in the afternoon?”
He tipped his hat. “I’ll pick you up at your place around three,” he said, then slipped out the door into the deepening dusk.
“Auntie!” I whirled around but Aunt Florence grabbed her purse and pointedly ignored me as she jingled her keys and headed for the door.
“Let’s go. The Menagerie will be starved and we’ll catch it for sure when we get home.”
I stood my ground, hands on my hips. “You told Bran about me, didn’t you?” Somehow, she must have picked up the fact that I thought he was cute.
She gave me a gentle smile and slipped her arm through my elbow. “Persia, you probably don’t realize this, but you have the same eyes that your mother did—dark and soulful, so deep that a person could fall into them and never come out. I miss Virginia, but you carry her genes, and her passion, and her strength of will. Good God, you remind me so much of her.”
I’d seen pictures of my mother. We could have been twins.
“I miss her, I think. I don’t remember much about her, you know, except for her perfume. She wore Shalimar.” I closed my eyes, conjuring up the all-too few images that remained from my tender years. “When she used to get ready to go out at night, she’d sit at her dressing table and put on her makeup, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.” A vague memory of my father shouting at her filtered through the image, but I blocked it away. I had so little left of her, I didn’t want it tainted with his anger.
Auntie seemed to sense what I was thinking. “Your father was a cold man. I’m sure he never meant for her to follow him across the world, and I’m sure he didn’t want to hurt her. But he was a player, and your mother was blind when it came to love. One of her faults.”
“I wish I’d had longer to know her,” I said as Auntie locked the door.
“And I wish I could have given you more of her. I’m afraid that I wasn’t able to teach you some of the lessons she would have. Virginia was a loving woman, open and vulnerable, yet strong and set in her ways. One gift she would have given you, one you’re going to need, is how to open up, to let someone through that gate you bar so tightly.”
As we headed toward the car, I tried to shrug off her comment. I didn’t want to open up my gates and let the world in. “What do you mean? I lived with Elliot for six years.”
She stopped under the streetlight, pulling her voluminous jacket tighter. The light shrouded her like a warm halo in the deepening evening. “Persia, tell me this. Did you really ever love him? Truly? You never talked about him like you did. No,” she said as I began to protest. “Don’t think I’m criticizing you or that I think you should have
stayed with him, because he turned out to be pond scum. But in your heart, didn’t you know it would be over if he ever got to the point where he asked you to say ‘I do’?”
I frowned, scuffing the ground. Maybe Auntie was right. Had I chosen Elliot because I thought he was safe, because I couldn’t envision him as husband-material? I’d never once complained about the lack of proposals, never once felt jilted or slighted when he cancelled plans to work late, though now I questioned just what that “work” had consisted of.
Not sure what to say, I sidestepped the question. “So, tell me about Bran. Does he help his sister run her bookstore?” I asked, climbing into the passenger seat and making sure my seatbelt was tightly fastened. Auntie had a way of making me hang onto that belt for dear life.
She gunned the engine and laughed. “Oh no, my dear. During the summer he runs a tourist boat and teaches scuba diving and swimming. During winter, he teaches classes on woodland survival skills and rock climbing at the community college’s adult education center. He’s a real outdoor nut.”
My heart began to race faster. My aunt had me pegged, collared, and stuck in a box. “Scuba diving? Survival skills? Maybe I’ll have to sign up for one of his classes,” I said and grinned. Hey, so what if I already knew my way around a snorkel and I could build a fire without a match? Refresher courses never hurt anybody.
AUNTIE MADE POPCORN so we could have something to munch on while we watched the New Detectives. I checked for phone messages, wondering if we’d have a repeat at home of the message we’d received at the shop, but the only person who had called while we were out was Jared.
I glanced at the clock. Too late to call him back tonight, so I jotted a note in my Day-Timer to get in touch with him tomorrow. Just as I finished the phone rang and, startled, I dropped my pen.
Kyle’s voice rang out from the other end. “Persia, that you?”
“Yep, it’s me all right. What’s up?” My gaze wandered over to the television as Auntie flipped it on and settled in her rocking chair.
Scent to Her Grave Page 10
