The Sweet Scent of Murder Read online

  “I could take a couple of days to look for her, Tommy, since we don’t have any major cases going, but I can’t promise you anything,” I said. “You’ve got to understand that I’ve never done a runaway before and if that’s okay—”

  “That means yes, Tommy,” Candy said. “Mavis always talks around something instead of saying yes. See? I told you she’d help you. Like, she’s really cool, huh? See what I mean?”

  I covered my smile. Candy had me pegged.

  Tommy expelled a deep breath, his expression grim. “Thanks, Miss Davis.”

  “So what are we waiting for, huh, Mavis? Ask Tommy all the names and addresses of Jeanine’s friends. Then we can get started. Time is money.”

  “Right, Candy.” Sarcasm was lost on her. “One thing, though. About the money, Tommy. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take it. I’ll just do this as a favor to Candy.”

  “That’s dead. Why, Mavis?” Candy asked.

  “Step outside for a minute, Candy,” I said. Then to Tommy, “Excuse us a minute.”

  Out in the hall, after I’d closed the door behind us, Candy said, “You have to take the money, Mavis. We need it. This is no time to be proud.”

  “Listen, Candy, I’m not taking money from a kid. I don’t mind looking around for a few days since I’m not doing anything, but two thousand dollars? I can’t believe you even asked him for it.”

  Candy stamped her foot. “He can afford it. They’re rich.”

  “Doesn’t matter. And you’ve got to let me call the shots. Don’t forget that you’re a kid, too, and I’m the boss here.”

  Candy huffed in apparent disgust, but after we exchanged a few more words, she got my message. Returning inside to Tommy, I said, “We’re not going to take your money.” I pushed the check back at him.

  Tommy didn’t pick it up. Glancing from me to Candy and back again, he said, “That’s awfully nice of you, Miss Davis, but I don’t want the money back. You take it and I expect you to earn it.”

  “Tommy,” I said, picking up the check and holding it out to him, “you keep your money. I said I’ll look around for your sister anyway.”

  Ignoring my outstretched hand, Tommy dug into his pocket and came up with his keys and a piece of paper. Throwing the piece of paper on my desk, he said, “I’m eighteen, an adult. If I can fight in a war, I can hire a PI. That’s the list of people who might know something.” He rounded my desk and headed out into the hall. “Thanks, Miss Davis. I’ll expect daily reports.”

  “Come back here, kid,” I called, pushing out my chair. “I’m not taking your money.”

  Tommy reached the front with me only a few steps behind, but he bolted outside without stopping, slamming the door in my face. By the time I got it open, he’d reached his car. “I’m not taking your money, kid,” I hollered. “I’ll hold the check in my safe for you.”

  He waved and pulled out, leaving me standing on my front stoop hollering like a lunatic. The nerve of kids nowadays. Where are their boundaries?

  Chapter Two

  “Tommy’s kind of a nerd, Mavis,” Candy said as we drove to River Oaks to see Melanie, Jeanine’s best friend. “But he’s nice.”

  “He didn’t look like a nerd to me. I thought he was a prep.”

  “Nah, dude, he dresses like a prep ’cuz he’s rich, but he’s a nerd all right.” She studied the piece of paper with Melanie’s address on it and watched for the right house. “Wow. Do you see that place? Looks like Twelve Oaks.” You couldn’t tell from looking at her, but Candy was into old movies and memorabilia in the worst way.

  “How can you tell the difference between nerds and preps?” The gap between our ages had just widened like a farm-to-market road turning into superhighway.

  “Nerds are brains, Mavis.”

  “I thought geeks were brains.”

  “They’re kind of the same thing.” She gave me a look that I can only describe as derisive. “Like they all hang out together and bring their lunch to school and wear glasses. They just act different. They don’t have girlfriends that are popular; if they have them at all, they’re just other nerds. Look at that house. The grass looks a foot deep. And those flowers. Wow.”

  “Tommy didn’t have glasses, Candy.”

  “Nah, but he used to. I bet Jeanine like made him get contacts so he wouldn’t be such an embarrassment to her, you know what I mean? Look, Mavis. A Rolls Royce and a Mercedes-Benz. Wait,” she said, glancing at the paper again, “this is it. Pull in, Mavis. This is Melanie’s. No wonder she always looks like she’s got on new clothes. I bet her closet’s the size of my bedroom, dude.”

  I drove between trees that lined a circular driveway and parked my wounded Mustang behind the Mercedes. I told myself that anybody could have a Rolls Royce or a Mercedes, but my Mustang was a classic. A collector’s item. There were only a few left in the world. Moneyed people didn’t intimidate me.

  “Okay, Candy,” I said as we approached the front door, “you just let me do the talking. Try to restrain yourself and don’t comment on their house. Wealthy people take all this for granted.”

  “Hey, like I’m cool, Mavis,” Candy said as she tugged at her jean jacket. “Don’t worry about me.”

  As we stepped onto the brick portico, I straightened my skirt seams and tucked in my blouse. I ran my fingers across my eyebrows, pushed my hair behind my ears, and, finally, punched the doorbell. By the time the butler—complete with livery—came to the door, I felt pretty confident.

  Flashing my ID, I said, “My name’s Mavis Davis. We’re here to see Melanie, sir. Is she at home?”

  He sniffed and flexed his nostrils as though we emitted an odor and, with a bored expression, opened the door wider. “You may wait in the resource room.”

  It seemed he meant the library. And what a library. I swear they had almost as many books as the Houston Public. I stared in awe. Candy wandered from shelf to shelf and read the bindings.

  “Mavis,” Candy whispered, “come look at some of these books.”

  “You don’t have to whisper, Candy,” I said in a normal tone. It somehow sounded unnatural as it echoed through the room. I wanted to tell her that we were just as good as the folks who owned that house, but it didn’t seem quite the time or place to begin a new lecture series.

  “Like there isn’t one paperback in the whole place, Mavis. These books must have cost a fu—a ton. Look at the other side of the room,” she said, pointing. “Like a whole section of DVDs.”

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “You think they’d let me borrow some? They’ve got all the classics, Mavis. Like I don’t know where they got them. Some of these I’ve been looking to rent, but can’t find ’em.”

  “No, I don’t think they’d let you borrow them, Candy. It’s not like you and Melanie are friends, right? Compose yourself.”

  “Miss Davis?”

  A young sophisticate-type posed in the doorway. I hoped she hadn’t overheard us. She had a flawless look—as though she just came from finishing school. Layered pastel clothing draped her body as though made to order. Blonde hair cut in the latest style framed a classic face with bloodshot hazel eyes ringed by smeared mascara.

  “Hi,” I said, “you must be Melanie.” I extended my hand. She floated over and shook it. Other than Candy, who probably isn’t representative of the norm, I’m not sure how teenage girls greet people, but that seemed to work all right.

  “Hey, Melanie,” Candy said almost shyly.

  Melanie glanced at Candy who stood near the DVDs. For a moment I feared she wouldn’t acknowledge Candy’s greeting. A lump formed in my throat, but Melanie glanced at me, back to Candy, and said, “Hello, Candace.”

  I’d never thought of Candy as a Candace before.

  “Would you care to sit down, Miss Davis?”

  “We’ll only be a minute, Melanie. I want to ask you a few questions about Jeanine Lawson.” Her face showed no reaction. “Have you heard from her?”

  Melanie sa
t in an antique armchair. “Please, sit a minute,” she said. “You, too, Candace. Come sit down.”

  Candy shrugged, and we crossed to the sofa together as though joined at the hip.

  “Tommy called and said you’d probably contact me, Miss Davis. I told him that I didn’t know much.” Melanie stared into her lap. “I want to help,” she whispered with a glance at the doorway, “but I don’t want to get Jeanine into trouble.” She sat with her knees together, her feet resting to one side, crossed at the ankles. She was as graceful as the models at the YWCA charm school classes my mother had forced me to attend at age thirteen. I wondered whether Melanie’s type had to take classes or if they were born knowing how to stand, walk, and sit.

  “Tommy’s worried that she might already be in trouble,” I said.

  “I know.” Her eyes flitted around the room like a butterfly and came to rest on mine. “Jeanine didn’t spend the night here. She just asked me to tell her mother that she did, but her mother talked to my mother, so I didn’t get a chance.”

  “Like do you know where she went?” Candy asked.

  “I’m not sure. She was real confused about something.” “What?” I asked.

  Melanie glanced at the doorway again and leaned toward us. “I don’t know. Something to do with her mother.” Candy and I exchanged bewildered looks.

  “Do you know what they had argued about?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, but it must be real bad if I haven’t heard from her.” Her eyes darted from one of us to the other, and she chewed her lower lip.

  “Melanie,” Candy said, “like it’s okay to tell us what you know. Everything you say will be kept in the strictest confidence.”

  I knew then that Candy had been reading detective novels again.

  “Besides her mother, do you know of anything else that was bothering her?” I asked. “Anything that might make her want to leave home?”

  Melanie stared at me for a moment, her forehead wrinkling. “She’d been having problems with her boyfriend.”

  “Oh yeah?” Candy asked. “Like what kind of problems?”

  “He wants to get married.”

  “At sixteen?” I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know boys ever wanted to get married, much less when they were still children. “Was he serious?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am,” Melanie said. “Jeanine actually considered it. They talked about getting an apartment of their own and everything, but she decided she didn’t love him enough.”

  “Wow,” Candy said. “Like that’s heavy-duty.”

  Melanie nodded. “She figured her mother would cut off her allowance, too, and that wouldn’t do.”

  With the size of Tommy’s bankroll, I completely understood. I should have such problems. “Is that all settled then, Melanie? I mean, between her and her boyfriend?”

  “Yes. She told him a couple of weeks ago.”

  “So that couldn’t have been the reason she left then, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Are you sure you don’t know what happened between her and her mother, Melanie?” Candy asked. “Like you know you can tell us.”

  Melanie shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell me, and I can’t think of anything else that was bugging her. She acted kind of funny, but if it didn’t have to do with her mother, I don’t know what it could be.”

  “So where do you think she went, Melanie?” I asked. “Does she have other friends she could be staying with?”

  “She could be anywhere, Miss Davis. I’m sure she has enough money to get by for a few days, but I really think I would have heard. There’s always someone in our group who’s getting mad and going off, but everyone knows about it. Word gets out.” She leaned toward me, her fingers fiddling with the piping on the arm of her chair. “Usually we hide each other from our parents, in the closet or something, but all our friends know where we are. I don’t know where Jeanine is.” She shook her head. “I really don’t.”

  “She’s not in your closet right now?” I asked.

  “No. Really. And I called around to her boyfriend and some other kids. I would have told Tommy. Now I’m worried, too. Do you think she’s run away for real?”

  “I don’t know, Melanie.” I stood. It didn’t seem likely that she really knew where Jeanine was, and if she knew something about Mrs. Lawson, she wasn’t going to say. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.” She rose and came close to me. “Jeanine’s my best friend.”

  I handed her a card. “Would you put the word out at school tomorrow that I’ll be on campus and that if anyone knows anything, it’s all right to talk to me? And call me if you hear anything?”

  “Okay. Will you let me know if you find her? Tell her to call me on my cell.” She wiped away a tear.

  Even rich kids need hugs. I gave Melanie a little one.

  Her mouth turned up in a funny smile. “I hope you find her.”

  “Thanks, Melanie. I’m sure she’s just fine.” I hated lying but thought reassuring the girl to be the better part of valor.

  “I guess we’ll jet out of here,” Candy said.

  “Yes, let’s go, Candace.”

  After dropping Candy off, I hit every section of the Galleria shopping mall, which took until closing. No one recognized the girl in the photograph as anyone who had been in lately, though several people recognized her as a regular customer. I decided to get a good night’s sleep and try at the school the next day.

  Friday afternoon, I went to the Lamar High School campus. Although I got permission from the head of security to speak to Jeanine’s counselor and vice principal, citing privacy laws, they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me anything. And since security ushered me not only back out of the school but off the campus, I couldn’t get any information from anyone else, either. If anybody had seen anything unusual on Tuesday, I’d be the last to know.

  Since I wasn’t allowed to set foot on campus unescorted by a security guard, I positioned myself across the street and watched the school’s front entrance. I felt frustrated that I wouldn’t have access to most of the kids and hoped Candy would do better. Seconds later, what seemed like a million kids of all colors, shapes, and sizes converged, leaping and bounding as they made their exit like a jubilant mob.

  A few had to pass where I stood and I flashed Jeanine’s picture, asking if they’d seen her after school on Tuesday. A couple of kids stopped and actually listened to me, but no one knew anything.

  To most of them I called out, “If anyone knows the whereabouts of Jeanine Lawson, please call me. My name’s Mavis Davis. I’m in the book under investigations.”

  Several kids seated themselves on the stairs and pulled out their books, beginning their homework. I ached to cross the street to speak with them but spotted a security guard with his eye on me. Finally, I leaned against a light post, catching a lingering kid or two walking my way as I waited for Candy. The sun beat down on my head, perspiration dampened my pits, and the concrete sidewalk burned through my shoes. About fifteen minutes later, Candy came jogging up, out of breath. “What took you so long?” I demanded.

  “Like I was doing my job, Mavis. I got a lead. A kid saw Jeanine get into a car with some dude.”

  Chapter Three

  “So where’s the kid?” I straightened up and started for the car.

  Candy followed me. “He had to jet out of here. His mom kept honking for him.”

  “Why didn’t you come get me? I’ve been out here for ages.” We stopped on the sidewalk. I was about to reach for her neck but caught myself. After all, she was just a child. She couldn’t possibly know that security barred me from the campus or how frustrated I felt.

  “Don’t worry, Mavis,” Candy said. “I’ve got it all down right here.” She made a production of pulling out a spiral notebook that heretofore she had concealed inside her binder. “When I get some bills paid, I’m going to get one of those electronic notepads. So much easier to carry around than paper notes, don�
�t you think?”

  “No, I don’t think you need to spend that kind of money.” I tapped my toe and held out my hand. “Hand them over, Candace, dear.”

  “It’s getting so you can’t take a joke, you know, Mavis.” She slapped the notebook into my hand, her bracelets jangling. “And, like, I think they cost five hundred or more, just so you know in case you want one for yourself.”

  “I have no sense of humor after waiting in the sun. I feel like a grilled T-bone. Probably smell like one, too.”

  Her notes read: “White dude, 40s, white Saturn sedan, Texas plates, around 3:30 Tuesday.” Below, she had added: “She hugged him.”

  Candy shifted her weight over to one foot, crossed her arms around her binder and books, and pouted at me.

  “You done good, kid.”

  She beamed. “Thanks, but could you do me one favor?”

  “Name it.” I hooked my arm through hers as we walked the rest of the way to the car.

  “Don’t ever call me Candace again.”

  I would have laughed but for the deadpan expression on her face. “Now who can’t take a joke?”