Scent of Roses (3 page)

“No thanks. I wouldn't want to cramp your style.”

“You could bring Lisa. I'll be taking Elizabeth Conners.”

The name hit a cord in his memory bank.
Liz Conners.
She was four years his junior. Once, before he'd gone to prison, he'd been drunk and high and he had come on to her pretty hard outside the coffee shop where she had a part-time job after school. Liz had slapped his face—something no other woman had ever done—and he had never forgotten her.

“I thought she was married and living in Orange County someplace.”

“She was. She's divorced now, moved back to town a couple of years ago.”

“That so?” San Pico was the last place Zach would want to live. Coming up to visit his dad in the rest home and working on expanding the youth farm was the most he could manage. “Tell Liz I said hello.”

Inwardly he smiled, thinking he was the last person Liz Conners would be happy to hear from. He'd kind of thought Liz was the sort of woman who'd be able to see through a man like his brother. Then again, there was no accounting for people's tastes.

Carson said no more, just returned to the stack of work on his desk. Zach left the study without a goodbye and headed for his car. He was surprised Carson knew he had been seeing Lisa Doyle and he didn't like it that he did. He didn't like Carson knowing anything about him. He didn't trust his half brother and never had.

Whatever Carson might think, Lisa wasn't really his type. But she liked hot, raunchy sex, no strings attached, and so did Zach, and they had been sleeping together off and on for years.

And he didn't have to worry about getting a motel room when he was in town and Lisa didn't have to worry about picking up some stranger in a bar when she wanted to get laid.

It was a good deal for both of them.

 

Elizabeth looked up at the sound of a knock at her door. The door swung wide and her boss, Dr. Michael James, stuck his head through the opening. Michael, just under six feet tall with sandy hair and hazel eyes, had a Ph.D. in psychology. He had opened the office five years ago. Elizabeth had been working for him for the past two. Michael was engaged to be married, but lately he seemed to be having second thoughts and Elizabeth wasn't sure he was going to go through with the wedding.

“How'd it go with Raul?” he asked, another of the young man's supporters. Raul had a way of endearing himself to people, though on the surface he seemed to do his best to achieve just the opposite.

“He's decided to enroll in the program.”

“That's great. Now if he'll just stick to it.”

“He was excited, I think. Of course, Sam could sell sour milk to cows.”

“So you were impressed with the farm. I thought you would be.”

“It's really coming along. Carson has done a wonderful job.”

“Yes, he has. Though it seems to me everything he does is a bit self-serving. Lately, I heard a rumor he may be running for a seat in the state assembly.”

“I don't know him very well, but he seems community-minded. Maybe he'd be good for the job.”

“Maybe.” Though Michael didn't seem completely convinced.

They spoke for a moment more, then Dr. James left the office and the phone rang. When Elizabeth picked it up, she recognized Raul Perez's voice.

“I am calling about my sister,” he said simply. “I saw her this morning after Miguel went to work. She was very upset. She tries to hide it, but I know her too well. Something is wrong. Do you think you could stop by the house sometime today?”

“Actually, I've been meaning to get over there to see her. I'll stop by this afternoon. Will your sister be home?”

“I think so. I wish I knew what was wrong.”

“I'll see if I can find out,” Elizabeth promised and as she hung up the phone she wondered what it could be.

In a job where she dealt with family violence, drugs, robbery and even murder, it would take a great deal to surprise her.

I
t was after five o'clock, and the office was closed by the time Elizabeth was able to leave. She made the drive through town in the after-five traffic, nothing like the bumper-to-bumper, endless line of cars on the L.A. freeways she used to battle when she lived in Santa Ana, but enough to keep her stopped on Main Street through two sets of red lights.

Downtown San Pico was only ten blocks long, some of the store signs printed in Spanish. Miller's Dry Cleaners, perched on the corner, had a laundromat attached. There was a JC Penney catalog store, several clothing stores, and a couple of diners, including Marge's Café, where she had worked part-time in high school.

As she drove past the coffee shop, she could see the long Formica counter and pink vinyl booths inside. Even after twenty years, the place still did a brisk business. Aside from The Ranch House, a steak and prime rib restaurant at the edge of town, it was the only decent place to eat.

A few straggly sycamore trees grew out of the sidewalks that lined the downtown streets but not many. There were a couple of gas stations, a Burger King, a McDonald's and a sleezy bar called The Roadhouse out where Highway 51 intersected Main Street. The biggest boon to the area had been the arrival two years ago of a Wal-Mart, built to service the town and several outlying farming communities.

Elizabeth continued down Main and turned onto the highway, heading for Harcourt Farms. The little yellow house where Maria and Miguel Santiago lived sat just off the road in an area of the farm that included three other overseers' houses, half a dozen farm laborer cottages, and the big, white, wood-frame, two-story owner's house, which sat some distance away.

Elizabeth's car bumped over a set of abandoned railroad tracks not far from the house. She pulled off the road into a spot next to the driveway and climbed out of the Acura.

She had saved for two years to get the down payment for the car and she loved it. With its red leather seats and wood-paneled interior, it made her feel younger just to sit behind the wheel. She had bought the car because she thought that at thirty, she shouldn't be feeling as old as she often did.

She walked along the cement sidewalk past a flowerbed blooming with red and yellow zinnias. Elizabeth knocked on the front door of the house, and a few minutes later, Maria Santiago pulled it open.

“Ms. Conners.” She smiled. “What a nice surprise. It is good to see you. Please come in.” Maria was a slender young woman, except for the protrusion of her belly and her ever-increasing breasts. Her long black hair was braided, as she often wore it, and hanging down her back.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth walked into the house, which Maria kept immaculately clean. The girl, as neatly kept as the house, wore a pair of white, ankle-length pants and a loose-fitting blue-flowered blouse. Except for the tight lines around her mouth and the faint smudges beneath her eyes, she looked lovely.

“Miguel and I, we want to thank you for what you did for Raul. I have never seen him so excited, though of course, he tried not to show it.” She frowned as a thought occurred. “He is not in more trouble? That is not the reason you are here?”

“No, of course not. This has nothing to do with Raul. Except that your brother is worried about you. Raul asked me to stop by.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He thinks you are upset about something. He isn't sure what it is. He hoped that you might talk to me about it.”

Maria glanced away. “My brother is imagining things. I am fine, as you can see.”

She was pretty, with her big dark eyes and classic features, and more than six months pregnant. Elizabeth had come to know Maria and Miguel through her dealings with Raul and she liked them both, though Miguel's overly macho attitude could be irritating at times.

“It is hot outside,” Maria said. “Would you like a glass of iced tea?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

They sat down at a wooden table in the kitchen. Maria went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher, then popped cubes from an ice tray into two tall glasses and filled them with chilled tea.

She set the glasses down on the table. “Would you like some sugar?”

“No, this is perfect just the way it is.” Elizabeth sat down at the small round table covered by a flowered plastic tablecloth and took a sip of her tea.

Maria stirred sugar into hers, paying slightly more attention to the task than necessary, Elizabeth thought, wondering again what the problem could be. Raul was a shrewd young man. He wouldn't have called without good reason.

“It must be hard being alone all day this far from town,” Elizabeth began cautiously.

“There is always work to do. Before it got so hot, I worked in my garden. Now, with the baby getting bigger, I cannot stay out in the sun for so long. But I have clothes to mend and food to prepare for Miguel. Since we moved into the house, he comes home for lunch. He works very hard. I like to make sure he has something good to eat.”

“So the two of you are getting along all right?”

“
Sí.
We get along very well. My husband is a good man. He is a very good provider.”

“I'm sure he is. Still, I imagine he often works late, which means you are home by yourself. Is that the reason you aren't sleeping well?” It was a risk. She was guessing and a wrong guess might bring the young woman's guard up even more.

“What…what makes you think I am not sleeping?”

“You look tired, Maria.” Elizabeth reached across the kitchen table and clasped the girl's hand. “What is it, Maria? Tell me what's wrong.”

The girl shook her head and Elizabeth caught the sheen of tears. “I am not certain. Something is happening, but I do not know what it is.”

“Something? Like what?”

“Something very bad, and I am afraid to tell Miguel.” She drew her hand away. “I think…I think I might be getting sick like my mother.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Your mother had a tumor, didn't she? Is that what you mean?”

“
Sí,
a tumor, yes. In her brain. Before she died, she started to see things that were not there, to hear voices calling out to her. I think maybe that is happening to me.” Leaning over, she hugged her swollen belly and burst into tears.

Elizabeth sat back in her chair. It was possible, she supposed but there could be any number of explanations. “It's all right, Maria. You know I'll help you in any way I can. Tell me why you think you might have a tumor like your mother.”

Maria looked up, her hand shaking as she brushed away the wetness on her cheeks. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In the night…when Miguel is working, sometimes I hear noises. They are very frightening sounds, creaking and groaning, moaning that sounds like the wind but the night is still. The air in the bedroom grows thick, and so heavy I can hardly breathe.” She swallowed. “And then there is the smell.”

“The smell?”

“
Sí.
Like roses, only so strong I think I will suffocate right there in the bed.”

“San Pico is famous for its roses. They've been growing them here for more than forty years. Occasionally, you are bound to smell them.” She clasped the young woman's hand once more, felt how cold it was, felt it trembling. “You're pregnant, Maria. When a woman is carrying a baby, sometimes her emotions get mixed up.”

“They do?”

“Yes, sometimes they do.”

Maria glanced away. “I am not sure what is happening. Sometimes…sometimes it seems real. Sometimes I think…”

“You think what, Maria?”

“That
mi casa es encantada.
”

Elizabeth spoke passable Spanish, had to in order to do her job. “You think your house is haunted? Surely you don't believe that.”

Maria shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I do not know what to believe. I only know that at night I am very afraid.”

Frightened enough that she had been unable to sleep. “But you aren't saying that you've actually seen a ghost.”

She shook her head. “I have not seen it. I have only heard its voice in my head.”

“Listen to me, Maria. Your house is not haunted. There are no such things as ghosts.”

“What about Jesus? Jesus came back from the dead. He is called the Holy Spirit.”

Elizabeth leaned back in the chair. She had been doing social work since she graduated from college. She had dealt with hundreds of unusual problems, but this was a first.

“Jesus is different. He's the Son of God and he isn't haunting your house. Do you really believe there's a ghost in your bedroom?”

“There is a ghost—or I am going to die like my mother.” She started to cry again.

Elizabeth rose from her chair. “No, you're not,” she said firmly, stilling Maria's momentary lapse into tears. “You are not going to die. But just to make sure there isn't a tumor, I'm going to arrange for a visit to the clinic. Dr. Zumwalt can do a CAT scan. If there's anything wrong, he'll be able to tell.”

“We do not have the money for something like that.”

“The county will take care of it, if Dr. Zumwalt thinks the test needs to be done.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No. They just take a picture of the inside of your head.”

Maria rose from her chair. “You must promise not to tell Miguel.”

“I won't tell your husband. This is just between you and me.” She could only imagine what Miguel Santiago would say if he found out his young wife had started to believe their house was haunted.

“We will go to the clinic tomorrow?”

“I'll have to make the arrangements. I'll call you as soon as I know the date and time, then I'll pick you up and take you there myself.”

Maria managed an uneven smile. “Thank you.”

“Raul is going to ask me if you're all right.”

“Tell him I am fine.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I'll tell him I'm taking you in for a checkup just to be sure you're okay.”

She nodded and flicked a glance toward the bedroom. “Tell him not to tell Miguel.”

 

Carson Harcourt drove up in front of the two-story stucco fourplex on Cherry Street, climbed out of his Mercedes and started up the walkway to apartment B. The area was quiet, the neighborhood one of the safest in town. He was only a few minutes late and he figured, at any rate, Elizabeth wouldn't be ready when he got there.

Women never were.

A brisk rap on the door. He was surprised when a fully dressed Elizabeth Conners pulled it open.

Carson's gaze ran over her floor-length dark blue sequined gown and he found himself smiling. His spur-of-the-moment invitation to the benefit was nothing short of genius. He had noticed she was pretty, of course. He'd had a hunch, once she abandoned the boring but professional business suits she always wore, she would be far more than that.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, meaning it. She was a little taller than average and slenderly built. As he assessed her curve-hugging gown, he saw that she had nice full breasts, smooth shoulders, a small waist and well-shaped hips.

I should have done this sooner,
he chided himself.

“Thanks for the compliment. You look very dashing yourself, Carson.”

He smiled. He'd always looked good in a tux. The black showed off his blond hair and blue eyes, and the single-button style set off the width of his shoulders. Too bad it was still so damned hot. He'd only been out of the air-conditioned car for a couple of minutes and already he was sweating inside the collar of his white pleated shirt.

“Let's get going. It'll be cooler in the car.”

Elizabeth nodded and took his arm. Carson led her toward his silver Mercedes and settled her in the passenger seat. The air conditioner blasted full force the moment he turned the electronic key in the ignition. It had been a while since he'd had time for female companionship. As he glanced over at Elizabeth, he thought that maybe it was time for that to change. He would see how well they dealt together tonight.

The benefit was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carson led Elizabeth through the milling crowd, waving to a few friendly faces, heading toward the front of the room. He stopped at the no-host bar and ordered a glass of champagne for Elizabeth and a scotch-and-soda for himself. They made conversation with a few of the guests, Sam Marston, head of Teen Vision, Dr. and Mrs. Lionel Fox, one of the organizations biggest contributors, a couple of high school counselors.

“Elizabeth! I didn't realize you would be here!” It was Gwen Petersen. She was there with her husband, Jim, district manager for Wells Fargo Bank, and apparently she was a good friend of Elizabeth's.

“I hadn't planned to come until Carson was kind enough to invite me. I meant to call you. I've just been so busy.”