Scent Of Roses. Kat Martin

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