Scent to Her Grave
Yasmine Galenorn
SCENT TO HER GRAVE
– A Bath and Body Novel –
– Book 1 –
YASMINE GALENORN
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published by Yasmine Galenorn
PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037
SCENT TO HER GRAVE
A Bath and Body Novel
Copyright © 2017 by Yasmine Galenorn
Second Electronic Printing: 2017 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
Second Print Edition: 2017 Nightqueen Enterprises
Cover Art & Design: Earthly Charms
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Welcome to Venus Envy
Acknowledgments
Foreword
From the Pages of Persia’s Journal: Lite Dreams Oil
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
From the Pages of Persia’s Journal: Juniper Girl Bath Salts
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
From the Pages of Persia’s Journal: Narcissus Dreaming Oil
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Biography
The sweet smell of success…
The fairest of them all...
Lydia Wang is the newly crowned winner of a local beauty pageant—and the queen of mean. Used to getting what she wants, she ends up in an fight with Persia over the store's newest acquisition: the Mirror of Aphrodite. Reflecting only the most beautiful aspects of the person looking into it, the mirror is a huge draw and definitely not for sale—no matter how much Lydia is willing to pay. Persia arrives at the shop the next morning to find Lydia dead, the mirror missing, and one of the shop's treasured employees the prime suspect. Trevor's arrest is a blemish on the reflection of the shop, so Persia decides to take matters by the nose. To clear his name, she must sniff out the signature scent of a killer.
Acknowledgments
When I first wrote the Bath and Body books, I was asked to use a pen name and so I did. The publisher had some reason for asking, and me getting the contract was contingent on the fact that I had to use a pen name. I chose India Ink for several reasons, but honestly—using a pen name made the books feel separate from me. I was never comfortable with doing so. Now that I have the rights back to these books, I’m releasing them again under my own name. As should have been done in the first place.
I only wrote three of Bath and Body books—I’m very proud of these books, but I learned quickly that, unless it has a paranormal element, I’m not comfortable writing it. So the series stopped at three books and that’s where it will remain. But they can be read in any order, and they aren’t dependent on each other to make sense.
As always, I owe so much to my beloved Samwise, who, through the years, has proved a stalwart, loving, and faithful friend and husband, giving me the best encouragement that I could hope for. I love you, don’t you ever forget that. Love to my cats, as always, And thank you to all friends who have encouraged and supported my efforts.
And lest I forget, thank you and a gentle nod to Aphrodite and Venus, who embody the essence of Beauty and all that it encompasses. And as always, to my beloved Mielikki, Tapio, Rauni, and Ukko, and to Lady Brighid, my Muse.
To my readers: I hope you enjoy these books. They’re a rare look into my writing that isn’t colored with the paranormal. As always, you can reach me via my Web site: Galenorn.com and I highly suggest you sign up for my newsletter to keep abreast of all my work!
~ The Painted Panther~
Yasmine Galenorn
Foreword
The recipes in this book are my own concoctions. I’ve spent many years blending magical oils, and here I give you—perhaps not magical recipes—but ones to heighten your senses, and bring new experiences into your lives.
Essential oils can be expensive, so yes, you may use synthetics if you can’t afford the pure ones, but bear in mind the fragrance may end up differing slightly. However, this should not be a significant problem. Also, some oils may irritate the skin, so if I make a note to the effect of “do not get on your skin,” I mean it. Cinnamon can irritate the skin. Black pepper and other oils can burn delicate tissue.
The oil and other bath recipes are obviously not for consumption, but I am stating it here to clear up any potential miscommunications: Don’t eat them or drink them. They’re meant to be used as fragrances, for dreaming pillows, sachets, potpourris, and the like.
“…thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty…”
—Lord Byron, 1788-1824
From the Pages of Persia’s Journal
Light Dreams Oil
Created a great blend for a relaxation oil this week. Works like a charm and invigorates the spirit while calming the nerves. My insomnia has decreased ever since I started using it. I’ve been using Light Dreams oil to scent dreaming pillows, homemade bath salts, unscented soap, sachets, potpourri. Aunt Florence thinks it will go over big, so we’re marketing it with a checklist of hints for restful sleep:
Change your sheets and pillowcases and add a vase of fresh flowers to your nightstand.
Dot your dreaming pillow or a sachet with Light Dreams Oil and let set for an hour to absorb the oil. Tuck inside your pillowcase.
Take a long, warm bath in lavender bubble bath.
Spend ten minutes on slow, even stretching to relax the muscles in your body.
Read a soothing book or magazine while sipping a cup of lemon tea.
Cover closed eyes with slices of chilled cucumber for ten minutes.
Slip into bed before midnight, to allow your body to catch the most restful hours of sleep.
Blend and store this oil (as with all oils) in a small, dark bottle. You will need a bottle and stopper or lid, an eyedropper, and the following:
1/4 ounce almond or apricot kernel oil (a good unscented base)
25 drops sandalwood oil
25 drops lilac oil
10 drops lavender oil
12 drops lemon oil
8 drops carnation oil
OPTIONAL:
dried lemongrass clippings (5-10 pieces, about 1/4 inch in length)
a small piece of rose quartz or amethyst (you can use chips off a gemstone chip necklace)
Using an eyedropper, add each fragrance oil to the almond oil, gently swirling after each addition to blend the scent. After adding all the oils, cap and shake gently. At this time, add a few clippings of dried lemongrass and/or a piece of rose quartz or amethyst to the bottle for added energy, if so desired.
Rose quartz crystals promote peace, happiness, and love. Amethyst promotes healing. The lemongrass clippings will intensify the scent and add a decorative t
ouch. Keep oil in a cool, dark place—if left in the sun it will lose potency. As always, remind customers to avoid eating or drinking this oil, and to keep it out of the reach of children and animals.
Chapter 1
WHEN I FOUND myself flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling with the edge of a stair jutting into my shoulder blades, a premonition told me that the week was about to be shot to hell, but I never expected to end up embroiled in the middle of a murder case.
My lack of foresight was probably a good thing, considering my tendency to jump in feet first, damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead. After all, my nickname when I was a little girl was Imp, short for “impetuous.” Over the years, I’ve learned the hard way that there’s no escaping your destiny, and if the fates want to roast you over a fire and serve you on a platter, you might as well just open your mouth for the apple. So when destiny comes knocking, I yank open the door and invite her in, suitcases and all.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” I leaned my head back to stare at Delilah, who flicked her tail at me from her perch on the landing above.
She’d darted under my legs as I headed down the stairs, then looped around back up to the landing. At least I hadn’t gone tumbling down the entire flight. Instead, when I tripped, I flailed, regained enough balance to grab hold of the railing, then toppled backward, like tall timber, rather than face first to the waiting hall below. Yeah, a typical Monday, all right.
The inky spot on her squashed-in nose seemed to pulsate with a life of its own in stark contrast to the rest of her white fluffball of a body. Sixteen years old and well on her way to senility, Delilah had considered me “the enemy” ever since I’d moved back home. She was certain I was trying to usurp her place in Aunt Florence’s heart and I couldn’t convince her otherwise.
I pushed myself to a sitting position. My lower back popped and I grimaced. That sore spot hadn’t been there before. I glanced over my shoulder at Delilah, whose eyes were positively sparkling.
“You’re crazy as a bedbug. You know that, cat?”
With a thwap, her tail smacked the floor and she turned to sashay up the stairs to my aunt’s room, her work for the day complete, her bloomers swaying with every delicate paw-step.
I tested myself for any broken bones. Nope, none that I could find. I had a background in Aikido and Tai Chi, but neither had left me prepared for the machinations of a jealous cat. Moving my shoulder again, I decided that the only damage done was a couple of bruises from where I’d managed to catch myself on the railing. At least I didn’t break my neck. I’d live. Yeah, Mondays sucked rocks.
With a quick shake to scatter the dust bunnies that now complemented my black jeans and tank top, I dashed down to the kitchen. I was running late and didn’t have time for breakfast. As I yanked open the refrigerator, a sandwich in a Tupperware container caught my eye. Yay! Auntie had left me a sandwich. She knew that without food I’d be a basket case by midmorning. Grateful, I snagged up the ham and cheese along with my purse and hit the door. Twenty minutes late and counting. Not good. Not good form to keep customers waiting. Not good business juju.
I edged the odometer up a notch, running through my to-do list for the day. Tawny had scheduled four appointments for me at Venus Envy, my aunt’s bath and beauty shop. And we were out of Lite Dreams oil; I needed to whip up a new bottle. That in itself wouldn’t take long, but blending it into the lotions, soaps, and bath salts we sold in the Dream-Song line, well, that required a little more skill. Maybe I could snare—oh, shit. I hit the brakes and swerved over to the shoulder of the road.
As I fumbled through my tote bag, my stomach twisted. I’d lost the lesson plan I’d written up for the self-defense class I had recently began teaching at the local community college on Sunday evenings. I knew that I’d put it in my tote bag yesterday, and I didn’t remember taking it out.
I closed my eyes, trying to recall the last time I’d seen it. An image of lamb chops drifted through my mind, distracting me briefly. Yum, I could go for a lamb chop, grilled medium rare with rosemary and garlic.
With a shake of my head, I brought my attention back to the matter at hand. The image of the lamb chops reminded me where I’d left my notes. Last night, I had dinner with Barb at the Book Wich. While searching for my credit card, I placed the lesson plan next to me on the seat of our booth and forgot to put it back in my purse. Since the Book Wich ran a barebones lost-and-found box, chances were good that it had been recycled. Anything that looked like a pile of papers had probably ended up in the trash.
With a sigh, I pulled back onto the road and shifted into high gear. That lesson plan would take me a good two hours to reconstruct and, like an idiot, I’d also left the handouts on the table. To add insult to injury, I hadn’t bothered to save it on my laptop after printing it out. Aunt Florence had warned me, and I’d laughed her off. I printed it out, why should I bother saving it? Stupid, but par for the course.
Thoroughly ticked, I didn’t notice the cruiser hiding behind the blue spruce at the corner of Oakwood Avenue and Lake Park Boulevard. The siren startled me out of my thoughts and, with a groan, I pulled over to the shoulder again, brushing the hair off my face where the wind had blown it into my eyes.
A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that today was indeed the day from hell. Kyle Laughlin, Gull Harbor’s ever vigilant chief of police, swaggered over to my Sebring. Joy, joy, and more joy. Kyle and I had never been on the best of terms. When I was in seventh grade, Kyle had developed a crush on me, but I’d been after his cousin Jared, who was in my homeroom class. And when I accepted Jared’s invitation to the Gull Harbor Harvest Dance after turning down Kyle, it caused a rift that had lasted until I left for college.
Six months ago, when I’d returned to Gull Harbor, I’d hoped that the intervening years might have taken the edge off their rivalry, but apparently I’d been wrong. Even though his cousin had come out of the closet, Kyle still acted like I’d refused him yesterday. He was still playing king of the hill with Jared, who now worked over at Gull Harbor Community College. Jared and I had rekindled our friendship when I moved back to town, but Kyle had remained as sour and prudish as he’d been when we were kids.
“Well, hello Leadfoot,” he said, leaning down to peer in my window. “You taking lessons from your aunt? With her, I look the other way because Miss Florence is an institution in this town, but I’m afraid I just can’t do that with you. Come on, out of the car.”
Grumbling, I grabbed my registration and insurance card, and dug through my purse for my license. I handed them to him as I stepped out of the car and leaned against the Sebring, wondering how much this little faux pas was going to cost me.
He glanced at them and then grinned. “I’ll just call these in and be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Call them in? You know who I am, Kyle!” I squelched an impulse to wipe that smirk off his face. He didn’t have to call in my info! Everybody who owned a police scanner would hear the call and I’d be the talk of the town as far as gossip went, especially if old Heddy Latherton got wind of it. She’d make Auntie miserable, gloating over the fact that her nieces never got ticketed.
Kyle shrugged and sauntered over to his cruiser, where he got busy on the radio. Within less than a minute he returned, thumbed open his ticket pad and commenced writing me up. A gleeful look spread over his face. “The speed limit on this stretch is forty. You were zipping along at fifty-five.”
I flashed him a cold stare. “Kyle, you are two years older than me, so quit playing Big Daddy and wipe away that smug look. You aren’t funny and this isn’t an episode of Cops.”
“Feisty as always, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on an unpleasant tone. “You might want to remember that I’m the law on this island. Maybe you can find a touch of respect somewhere in that jaded little heart of yours?” He leaned toward me and waggled his finger in my face. “That snot-nosed attitude might have worked in Seattle, bu
t around here? I don’t think so.”
If there’s one thing I hated, it was having some local yokel patronize me. Without thinking, I snapped at his finger and he yanked it back just in time to prevent my teeth from making contact. Oh shit! I swallowed and glanced at his startled face, wondering what the punishment was for trying to bite a cop. Not exactly a bright idea, even though we had been schoolmates.
“Uh… Kyle?” Was he going to throw me in jail for attempted assault? I wouldn’t put it past him.
He cleared his throat and examined his finger. I sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the fallout, but he just slowly tore the paper off the pad. “You know, next time you’re running late, you should plan ahead.”
Not waiting around for him to change his mind, I grabbed the ticket out of his hand and jumped back in my car.
“Gotta dash. Later!” I threw her into drive, swung back onto the road, and made tracks. A glance in the rearview mirror showed him staring at my retreating dust, scratching his head. Good. He’d have something to think about next time he decided to get in my face.
As I reached the center of town, I slowed down and turned onto Island Drive, Gull Harbor’s main drag. I eased into my parking spot in front of Venus Envy, leaned back, inhaled slowly, then gathered my purse and tote bag. Over ten minutes late for my first appointment. Couldn’t ask for a better start to the week. Nowhere to go from here but up.
Tawny motioned to me frantically as I raced through the door. “Your appointment is here,” she said, her voice low. Her short spiky hair was strawberry today. Yesterday it’d been platinum. And the gemstone stud adorning her nose now matched her hair. At least she was color-coordinated.
