Murder Makes Scents (Nantucket Candle Maker Mystery)
by Christin Brecher
About Murder Makes Scents
Murder Makes Scents (Nantucket Candle Maker Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
2nd in Series
Publisher: Kensington (February 25, 2020)
Mass Market Paperback: 272 pages
ISBN-10: 1496721411
ISBN-13: 978-1496721419
Digital ASIN: B07R6P9Z8M
Stella Wright loves creating candles at her Nantucket store—and she also has a burning passion for justice. Now, after visiting a perfume conference, she must solve a vial crime . . .
Stella and her globe-trotting mom, Millie, have come home from a perfume industry conference in Paris, where their trip was marred by witnessing the stabbing death of a young man. It’s a relief for Stella to be back on her picturesque island, with the comforting company of her cat, Tinker. But lingering danger may have followed them back across the ocean.
After someone breaks into her candle store, the Wick & Flame, Stella starts feeling spooked. And just as things threaten to ignite, Millie suffers a blow to the head. Stella receives an anonymous note claiming that her mother smuggled a secret formula out of France—and threatening her life if it isn’t returned. Now Stella’s picked up the scent of a cold-hearted criminal and an intriguing puzzle, and things are about to get wicked . . .
Millie gathered her belongings and struck a pose like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune.
“Welcome to the World Perfumery Conference,” she said to the camera, her arms gracefully directed to the map. “Here you will see—”
Her speech was interrupted by a collective cry from the far end of the conference’s reception area. A woman screamed, a man yelled something in French, another person cried out in Japanese.
As panic grew like a wave among the crowd, my mind went immediately to the worst. Shootings. Terrorism. I heard others around me express the same fear, which made my blood run cold. My beautiful morning, and our excitement about the afternoon’s panel, had suddenly been hijacked by chaos.
“What’s going on?” my mom said.
“I’m not sure,” I said. I considered that we should run for cover, as many around us were, but my instinct to fight usually wins over that of flight.
Suddenly, I saw a group of people forming by the Grand Ballroom. They were yelling and calling for help. Their circular formation suggested that a single person lay within their midst. In moments, the fear that had spread across the crowded lobby shifted to the sort of curiosity that accompanies drivers on a highway who want a glimpse of an accident. We were grateful it wasn’t us, hopeful help would come quickly, and slightly morbid in our desire to see the scene unfold. My mom and I took a few steps forward.
“Probably a heart attack,” she said.
“I hope the French paramedics are fast,” I said.
“Meurtre,” someone cried from the middle of the crowd.
My French is rudimentary at best, but there are words which, when said a certain way, and given the right context, can be universally understood. This was one of them.
“Did he say murder?” I said, but I did not need to wait for an answer.
The crowd in front of the Grand Ballroom parted.
I saw a hand reach out, followed by a head. I watched as a man, about my age, crawled forward in my direction. Instinctively, I reached out my arms. He looked up for a moment and caught my eye, but he did not say a word.
In the moment our eyes met, I saw that he was neither handsome nor ugly, neither flashy nor shabby. He was average on every level. The sort of person who could fade into a crowd and even into a small gathering, except for one thing.
There was a knife sticking out of his back.
~~~~~~
About Christin Brecher
Author Links
Purchase Links
