The Scent of a Poet's Past by Cate Lawley

Author:Cate Lawley [Lawley, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cate Lawley

25

Two dead bodies in two days had me locked in my house for the remainder of the day. I didn’t want to chance stumbling on another corpse.

My rational mind said finding a third body today was so improbable as to be almost impossible.

Almost impossible.

So here I sat, in my cozy living room, on my teal sofa, with the warmth of a fire toasting my toes, because almost impossible wasn’t sufficient protection for my battered psyche.

Fairmont on his bed next to (but not too close to) the fire, me with my fuzzy blanket and apple tea—we were ready for a little snooze when a knock at the door startled us both.

Fairmont barked and leapt from his bed. I flinched.

“Zella? It’s Betsy.”

Only when my thundering heart slowed did I realize how frightened I’d been. As if the murderer would show up on my doorstep in broad daylight and attack me. Except…wasn’t that exactly what had happened to Alice?

Another knock, much quieter this time, was followed by Betsy calling my name.

I wasn’t afraid of Betsy. I’d been afraid of an unknown person, but not Betsy.

“Coming,” I called as I slipped from beneath the warmth of my blanket.

When I opened the door, I found her well away from the entrance and looking uncertain.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day, what with…everything.” She held up a cloth grocery bag. “I brought you some chocolate from a local chocolatier—she’s a friend of mine, and it’s really good—because I thought, you know, you could use some cheering up.”

“Thank you.” I accepted the bag with a smile. It was heavier than I’d expected. “I really appreciate your thoughtfulness, Betsy.”

“I also brought a few books you might find interesting. If you’re still—” She wrinkled her nose, and I noticed it was dotted with barely distinguishable freckles. “They’re Pablo’s. I thought you might be interested in them.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the bag, then realized I hadn’t invited Betsy in. My manners had vacated, right along with my backbone. Betsy certainly didn’t mean me harm, and it was cold outside. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

“Oh, no.” She grinned. “I’ve left the boys with our new cleaning lady, and that’s only wise for about five minutes at a stretch if I want to keep her.”

I’d met Betsy’s boys, and never a truer statement was spoken. They were a gang of heathens. Heathens I was certain would eventually become lovely young men, but at this stage, still quite a handful.

“Thank you. I’ll have a look. Today has been, well… Frankly, it’s been about as much as I can handle for one day. A quiet read seems just the thing.”

“I’ve only got the two books. I kept the debut collection, because even though poetry really isn’t my thing, it’s pretty good. Everything else I’ve read by him was kind of terrible. I also happen to have his most recent release, because all of the Sage County Writers Initiative members got a copy at our last meeting.

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