Adelle Laudan - Killer Scents

He gave him a curt nod before crossing the street.

Randy stood with his back to the wall and lifted the edge of the curtain slightly. Becca stood at the end of the long driveway talking to Jacob. If she saw him checking up on her she’d freak, but if his hunch was right, there was a very real possibility the killer watched their every move.

News of the missing journal prompted the team to start from scratch. It always bode well to have an object in mind when conducting a search.

“Hey, Randy, come take a look at this.” One of the officers called out to him from the top of the staircase.

Randy’s heartbeat fluttered as he climbed the staircase two steps at a time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if the wind had whispered across it.

The officer ushered him through the master bedroom to a door off to the side. “What is this?”

“It’s the doc’s sitting room.”

A strong sense of intruding caused him to pause in the doorway. He shuddered involuntarily, a little spooked to see the woman’s things exactly how she’d left them five years ago. Given the layer of dust coating everything, it didn’t look like the professor ever let his staff in to clean.

“Mable? Do you think you can spare a minute or two so I can ask you a couple of questions?”

The woman looked up at him, a stack of freshly laundered towels in her hand. “Yes, just let me put these away first.”

The housekeeper waddled up the hallway and disappeared into the master en-suite. Seconds later, she reappeared and he crossed the distance between them.

“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

“Come to the kitchen with me. I’ll pour you some tea and I can finish preparations for the professor’s supper.”

Randy welcomed the reprieve and sat on a chair at a huge island in the well-organized kitchen. The aroma drifting over from a big pot on the stove set his stomach growling.

“That smells pretty good.”

The housekeeper’s demeanor changed with the compliment, her eyes bright and alive. “Do you like soup?”

He nodded.

“Here, I’ll give you some and you can talk.”

He didn’t argue, practically drooling when she put a steaming bowl and two wedges of bread slathered in butter in front of him.

“Thank you.”

She smiled.

“How long have you worked here?” He dipped a corner of his bread in the dark broth. A medley of beef and vegetables exploded in his mouth. “Oh...now this is good soup.”

Mable giggled. “Thank you, it’s the professor’s favourite. I’ve been here for over twenty years now.”

He looked up briefly. “So you knew his wife?”

“The doctor was an angel. Oh, how she loved her husband. They shared the kind of love you see in movies.” She sniffled. “He isn’t the same man he once was. It’s like something went missing the day she died. Sadly, he loses his will to carry on the more time goes by without her.”

She took a picture down from the wall and passed it to him.

Randy saw what she meant. The professor in the picture was tall and proud, a hand lovingly resting on his beautiful wife’s shoulder. His other arm encircled a young man of about twenty. He didn’t recall seeing him in any of the pictures scattered throughout the house.

“Who is this?”

“That is Jeffery, their son.”

He dropped his spoon in the empty bowl. “I didn’t know they had a kid. I don’t think we’ve ever heard the professor talk about him.”

“It’s another sad story, I’m afraid.” Mable took the tissue out from her shirt cuff. “I think this is the last photo of them together.”

“Why is it a sad story?”

“Jeffery hasn’t set foot in this house since his mother died.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “He took it very hard.”

“Where did he go?”

“Jeffery still works here, mostly in the fields, but refuses to set foot in this house. The memories are too painful for him, and the professor rejects any offer to clean or dispose of anything Pauline left behind.” She shrugged. “Sometimes he stays in the bunkhouse after a long day in the fields, but his place is about a mile or so down the road, in the middle of the property with fields on both sides of him. I go there once a week and clean up a little. I often leave him a pot of soup like this. He’s a very kind and gentle man.”

“I didn’t see him the day we came and talked to the workers.” Randy didn’t talk to the son. He would have remembered since the guy would be so different from the rest.

“Is Jeffery working here today?”

“I saw him leaving very early this morning. I think he took a drive into the city.”

He stood. “Thank you so much for the soup. I think it’s the best I’ve ever had.” He leaned across the island and kissed her rosy cheek. “I’ll leave you alone now to get on with your day.”

He blew out a long breath and went in search of the chief.

Why does it feel like everyone is keeping Jeffery a secret? Not even Jacob mentioned him.

Chapter Twenty

“How did we miss something like this?” Randy slid a photo across the table.

Becca’s jaw dropped. “That’s him! I’m not going crazy. That’s the guy I told you I saw standing at the back of the greenhouse. Who is he?”

“Jeffery Davies.”

“How can that be? Why didn’t the professor or anyone else mention him?”

“Apparently he hasn’t set foot in the house since shortly after his mother died.” Randy teetered on the back legs of his chair. “The guy even lives on the property about a mile or so down the road.”

“Are you saying you think he’s our killer?”

He shrugged. “Well, I definitely think we need to pay him a visit.”

“How do you want to handle this?” She couldn’t sit still.

“Why don’t we just go out there and take a look around?” He gathered all of his papers and stuffed them in a file.

“Let’s take the bikes,” she suggested. The rain stopped long ago, and the sun had dried the roads.

“Why not? It’s not like we have enough on the guy to arrest him or issue a warrant.”

“I’m going home to clean up a bit. Do you want to meet here?”

“I’ll drop you off and go get my bike.” Randy picked up the file and put a hand on the small of her back. “I think a ride is just what the doctor ordered.”

She smiled. “Copy that. I’ll meet you back at the shop.”

Randy glanced at his watch. Come on Becca. He keyed in her number for the third time only to get a recorded message once again. She wouldn’t take off on her own, would she? Almost half an hour had passed since he’d dropped her off. Something isn’t right.

He hopped on his bike and rode across town to her place, breathing a sigh of relief to find her ride in the driveway. His respite was short-lived once he noticed her back door slightly ajar.

“Becca?” He drew his gun and cautiously stepped inside. It looked like the only light on was in the kitchen. The door connected with something behind it. He looked down to find her helmet on the floor.

“Shit!” He ran out of the house and kicked in the garage door only to find it empty. He ran one hand through his hair while he keyed a number in his cell with the other.

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