Scent of Gardenia (Scott Tucker Series)
Scent of Gardenia
By Dick C. Waters
Copyright © 2012 All Rights Reserved
Dick C. Waters
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, typing, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from Dick C. Waters.
This is strictly a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or fictionalized.
“Fool me once, shame on you;
Fool me twice, shame on me.”
Dedicated to “Our Mr. Kelley”
Frank Kelley
If we remember even half of what you taught us, and/or half the example you set – we will be much better people. Thank you for influencing our lives.
“Scott Tucker Series” novels
Listed in the recommended reading sequence:
Branded for Murder
Serial Separation
Scent of Gardenia
Fragrance of Revenge
Foreplay for Murder*
(*The Adult version of Fragrance of Revenge)
Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/author/DickCWaters
Prologue – December 1966
Life presents many opportunities, death presents a mystery.
She stretched on the mattress feeling the cool air on her naked body. Soon the image in the strategically placed mirror would not be hers alone.
Margaret didn’t believe in heaven or hell, but if they did exist, she knew it was the ‘fiery lake of burning sulfur’ for her. She had committed many sins in her twenty-eight years, but instead of altering her sinning ways, she decided it was too late to change. Besides, she enjoyed the benefits associated with being such a bad girl.
Having planned and struggled to implement the accommodations for over a year, she rewarded herself now for finally completing the project. She had even thought about and provided a means for them to go to the bathroom. It was not ideal, but it provided for the necessity. Showering was out of the question. She would have to give them a nurse’s bath, which immediately caused her to smile.
The compensation for laboring on the accommodations many nights until midnight was so close—when she closed her eyes she could almost imagine the man’s heated scent. It would have been so much easier to provide a single cell rather than five, but one man would only bore her—the thoughts of having the choice of up to five men, or all of them, caused her breathing to quicken.
*.*.*
Margaret dressed in her favorite sundress with only an insignificant touch of underwear. She sat on the pier bench watching the yacht dock at the adjacent float. The blond, shirtless man was finely tanned. She was close enough to see his excellent physique as he worked to tie the vessel. He wore only frayed cutoffs, the pockets showing bleached-white against his tanned thighs. It was hard to believe he could handle this large yacht all by himself. She wondered if a deer hunter felt what she was sensing, just before pulling the trigger.
*.*.*
She waited at the closest restaurant bar hoping for his arrival. It was a little early for dinner, but she anticipated he would be hungry after his cruise. She didn’t have long to wait. He was still wearing his cutoffs, but had donned a white polo and boat shoes. He sat down at the bar just two stools away. His faded white Boston Red Sox cap gave her a way of starting a conversation.
After he placed his drink order with the bartender she broke the silence. “Did you parrk your carr in Harrvard yarrd?”
His smile displayed the whitest teeth. “What gave it away?”
She reached for her non-existent hat, murmuring a soft laugh.
“Well, I am from Boston, and do like what the Sox are doing against the Yankees so far. I’m Roger Elliot, just coming into port. Are you a local?”
“No. I’m not from Bermuda. I’ve been here for almost a year now.” She was careful not to reveal where she came from. I may share that later with you in private.
Would you mind if I joined you?” Roger asked, with a hopeful smile.
“I would love the company,” she replied, finishing her daiquiri.
The bartender brought his draft. “Would you please get my friend here another of whatever she’s drinking?” He offered his hand to her. “You are…?”
“Margaret,” she said, filling in the blank.
“It’s very nice to meet you Margaret,” he said, saying her name almost to see how it sounded.
“It’s entirely my pleasure.” You have no idea how much of a pleasure you are going to be. She turned towards him. In doing so, her knee touched his bare thigh. The shock ran up her leg. She flipped her long red hair behind her ear. As she crossed her legs, her purse fell. She bent slightly to pick it up, but he reached down and fetched it. She watched his eyes checking out her assets. He looked ravenous and might be hungry too.
After enjoying their meal, he invited her to check out his yacht. The boat was a very fine specimen—he was even better.
An hour later she was showing him some of the local sights, then her house and finally her body. Three hours later she was moving his unconscious, naked body to the closest guest cell. Several hours later, his wrists and ankles were bleeding from the restraints. His body refused to respond any longer to her urgings. He had finally fallen asleep, or passed out.
She stood at the foot of the bed, paying particular attention to where the tan stopped. She was extremely satisfied with the success of this portion of her plan. Now she had to deal with his—no her yacht. Getting him to sign the bill of sale took some special prodding, but she had to admit she enjoyed the extra effort…he on the other hand hadn’t. However, she was careful not to inflict any permanent damage to any of his special parts. There was only a slight hint of blood left.
She thought about sleeping with him the balance of the night, but knew she really needed to get some sleep. There would be plenty more days, and nights, to enjoy her new playmate. She went over to the side of the bed, leaving her panties strategically perched on him. That should give you something to remember me by.
He was in excellent physical shape, and extremely strong. However, even with all of that strength, he couldn’t control his own body once she worked her magic. She could feel the urge coming again, realizing she needed to leave before it was too late. There really wasn’t a need to lock the cell door, but she did it anyway. She took one long look before leaving.
Chapter 1
Cambridge Massachusetts—May 1968
Fortunately I was alone in my apartment going through today’s mail, which I didn’t have time to review in the office. Normally, this is no big deal, but today’s mail could be life changing in so many ways. The letter in my hands came addressed to me. The tranquil envelope gave no indication as to the explosive content. It was in an envelope with Bermuda postage and return address. Initially I didn’t recognize the name ‘C. Williams,’ but having read the letter twice already I know who she is.
Although her intent was not to wake up the demons of my past—it did. My hands are still shaking and many suppressed emotions are back again for me to deal with. I could feel her pain along with her frustration. I couldn’t put her letter down and had to read it again.
‘Scott, you barely know me. However, we have something that bonds us together. I was almost killed by the same man who almost killed Lisa, who later became your wife. Fortunately neither of us was killed. I was rescued by members of the task force, and
you were smart enough to rescue Lisa.
You and I have the painful memory of being held against our will. Now, my brother may have the unfortunate circumstance to be also held against his will. My brother disappeared here in Bermuda six months ago, along with several other men. I fear for his safety and that of the other men. I don’t know who to turn to, but for a reason I will share with you later in this letter, I thought of you.
You know what it’s like to face the end of your life, as I have, and as Lisa did that day. Although I don’t wish this fate for my brother, it is far better than believing he has already been killed. I have exhausted my resources here without any success, and the authorities seem to be making no progress and are now ignoring my pleas for updates and status. I have no one else to turn to.
Two years ago, my mother sent me the newspaper article about your wife being killed in that horrible auto accident in New Hampshire. When I received it, I gave some thanks for my life being spared and said some prayers for your wife.
Three days ago, when I felt God might not be hearing my prayers for my brother’s rescue—I took my bible down and said some additional prayers. When I opened my eyes the article about your wife’s accident fell out of the bible. I forgot I put it there years ago. I don’t know whether it was a message from God, or not, but I couldn’t overlook the timing. I think God knows you might be able to help. I have run out of options and my life is becoming a mess.
You know what it’s like to lose someone you love. You also personally know what it’s like to know your end is near, as I did that day years ago. I’m hoping my brother is not already dead, and I hope you can help me find him before his time runs out…if it hasn’t already.
I thought things were important in my life, but now I question everything—and unfortunately, I’m questioning my faith. As you may remember, I teach in a camp for young people. Recently, I find my ability to teach the way I used to…well, not up to my standard. Regrettably, it shows itself to the youngsters and I am now embarrassed to continue in this profession.
I apologize for those actions, and regret I’m losing hope…I also apologize for sending you this letter. You have had enough grief in your life. However, my back is against the wall and you might be my last hope…and maybe my brother’s. I am also sorry for the condition of this letter, but this is the third time I’ve tried to prevent it from getting wet—without any success.
I thought about not sending it, but you know by now, I couldn’t ignore the final thread of faith I have left.
May this letter find you and yours well. If you can find a way to help I would be eternally grateful. My brother’s name is Paul Williams, and as I said, he went missing six months ago. Enclosed are some articles about his disappearance and that of the other three men. I can be reached by phone at the number on the attached card, or at the school’s address.
Regrettably,
Charlotte Williams
The letter brought back the bad memories of three years ago. Lisa being held against her will by a madman who had killed two women and almost killed Charlotte. My own captivity at the hands of a crazy woman, who had teamed up to kill several men, but my life was saved. I looked at the picture of Lisa and me on our honeymoon and wished she hadn’t been killed in that car crash.
I was glad nobody could see my tears. I felt so trapped and it was hard to breathe. Twenty minutes ago the other letter I received indicated I passed the bar exam and could finally practice law in Massachusetts. That was a goal Lisa and I had planned for, but now it no longer seemed important.
Lisa’s not here to share the excitement. As much as I try, I still can’t believe she’s gone. Even though I wasn’t with her on that winter’s night, I picture that scene every day. She was driving on Route 93 headed to her parents’ house. The report said she and several other vehicles hit black ice and crashed into each other. The large semi behind her couldn’t stop either and hit her car broadside killing her instantly.
I had planned to be with her that night, but was delayed getting out of Boston. I still wonder if either my driving, or slightly different timing, would have prevented that outcome. I will never know, but those thoughts haunt me.
*.*.*
After we were married, we had a wonderful year together. Being married to Lisa was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. From the time we met we couldn’t get enough of each other. We were even lucky enough to survive our separate encounters with different serial killers. However, it’s a shame we can’t fulfill our dreams of a future together. “Lisa, I miss you with all my heart…I wish you were here with me,” I screamed.
I know I need to get over her loss. However, two years is not enough time. We made so many plans together, but now I question their importance. I would give up everything to have her back with me. I’m fortunate in a way that one of our plans wasn’t fulfilled. Having a child, or children, would be so much worse. It would be difficult raising them without their mother.
I could feel my anger building again. I had to get my mind off something I couldn’t do anything about. I was glad I was alone and no one could see these tears. I should be happy to be licensed to practice law. However, the pursuit was something we both worked so hard to accomplish. Right now, I don’t think I could practice law—my heart wouldn’t be in it. I know I need to focus on what I’ve been doing. Maybe someday my feelings will change and I can happily share this milestone.
I picked up the other letter dated May 15, 1968—Scott Tucker, Esq. and put it in my dresser drawer because I didn’t want anyone to know I had passed the bar exam.
Now, only one thing remains—how am I going to handle Charlotte’s situation, which is something I might be able to do something about?
Chapter 2
I had a restless night’s sleep. I’ve had quite a few of those since Lisa’s accident. I wanted to get out of bed and rush into the office, but this morning I couldn’t move. I know Lisa would be upset with me if she could see what my behavior has been. I’m not happy with it either. It’s so out of character for me. I have always been driven when it came to school, until I met Lisa. It was just the opposite when it came to women. Lisa changed all of that.
I looked at our picture on the nightstand. It was taken on our honeymoon aboard a cruise ship. You could tell we were two people in love. I realized this wasn’t very productive and I needed to snap out of it. I took a deep breath, jumped out of bed, and headed into the bathroom.
I looked at the image in the mirror, wondering what happened. I remember what I used to see. I was told I was handsome. The square chin, blond hair and blue eyes added favorably to the package. Lisa used to put her finger in my dimples, which made me blush. I was in good shape and still continue to exercise. In fact, after exercising I seem to have a more positive outlook on things. However, it’s more strained now. Even Colleen, the office secretary, asks me more so lately, if I’m okay. Lisa would be very upset with my behavior. I could hear her telling me to knock it off.
I wasn’t happy with my behavior either, having made a commitment to get on with my life. I couldn’t change what happened, I could only influence things going forward.
When I finished shaving, I thought the image in the mirror had a resemblance of the guy I once knew. I climbed into the shower without waiting for the warm water. The shock of the cold water reminded me of our many showers together. I was surprised the smile didn’t crack my face.
*.*.*
The door to our office was locked. I was glad I made it into the office first. We had a friendly competition, which amounted to the last one into the office had to buy doughnuts the next morning. Despite all of my melancholy, I had only bought a few times. We all contributed to the coffee fund. I always put extra into the fund because of my guilt at not buying doughnuts. I turned the lights on and kicked the thermostat up slightly to take the chill off.
About six months after Lisa and I were married, which is coming up on three years, Paddy expanded his private investigation firm
. He added his long-time friend Mike Miller. Mike was a Boston police detective and worked with Paddy on two task forces. In fact, Mike was influential and convinced Paddy to add me to the task force as well. Mike and I became close friends while we worked together on those serial-killer task forces. He convinced Paddy to expand his office focus into business process improvement. My Harvard education fit with that endeavor. Paddy also added Colleen to assist with clerical duties, like she did previously on the task force. Now, Charlotte’s letter pleading for my help could seriously impact that focus. I’ll have to share her letter with Paddy.
I liked my connection with Mike and Paddy, but I especially liked the reputation we were building helping companies improve their performance. Several business studies were done, including some at Harvard and MIT; indicating computers were going to have an even more dramatic impact on company effectiveness and efficiencies starting in the seventies. Our reputation for obtaining positive results was bringing an ever-growing list of clients. I personally liked the feeling of making a difference. Paddy was happy as well, commenting that the office was finally making money.
As I walked back to my office, I was glad Paddy had chosen this office arrangement. My office, which was down a short hall leading from the reception area, was next to Mike’s and adjacent to the conference room. Paddy’s office was on the other side of Mike’s. There were two other smaller offices along the hall nearer the reception area.
Bill Story, our computer techie, occupied one of them. However, he always seemed to be at the MIT laboratory using their computers. Holly Compton occupied the other office. Holly could be distant at times, but she was truly gifted when it came to investigation work. She also spent most of her time out of the office on assignment.