A Scent of Mystery (A Luke and Bandit cozy mystery Book 2) Read online

  A Scent of Mystery

  A Luke and Bandit Cozy Mystery

  Paul Regnier

  Paul Regnier

  A Scent of Mystery

  © 2021 Paul Regnier

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Nicole Shultz of Confident Creations

  Cover design by Kyle Shultz of Confident Creations

  YourConfidentCreations.com

  Created with Vellum

  For Bob Lange,

  who lifted me up when I was down.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Afterword

  Also Available: Canines and Criminals

  Also Available: A Tail of Mystery

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Paul Regnier

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Tonight was the closest thing to time travel I’d ever experienced. My trusty 1965 Mustang drove me through college and the start of my career, giving me a comfortable familiarity with vintage muscle car transportation. So when Cliff Belakey pulled up to my mom’s house in his black 2021 Range Rover, I was in for an automotive shock.

  The sleek leather seats, subdued interior lighting, and streamlined dashboard with luminous digital readouts made it seem like I’d stepped into a spaceship.

  Cliff, my mom’s boyfriend, was pretty excited about his new ride, so he offered to be our chauffeur for the evening. My mom, my best friend from high school, Kenny Goodwyn, my dog Bandit and I all piled into his futuristic SUV for a ride into town. The big silent auction was taking place in the park at the end of Main Street. This event might have seemed small potatoes in a larger city, but for our small mountain town of Crystal Falls, Idaho, it was a big deal.

  The trip down the mountain road felt more like gliding than driving. It was a huge sensory shift for my classic car sensibilities.

  Mom looked back from the passenger seat. “Isn’t Cliff’s new car nice?”

  “Heck yes!” Kenny spoke with enthusiasm from the seat next to me in the back. “This thing have seat warmers for the winter?”

  Cliff glanced back at Kenny in the rear view mirror. “You bet.”

  “Nice,” Kenny said. “Can I borrow it sometime?”

  “Kenny,” Mom responded in a scolding tone.

  “What? Too soon?”

  Mom was several months into a relationship with Cliff. Even though my dad had passed away about four years ago, it was weird to see her dating again. Cliff seemed like a good enough guy, and he was pretty well off, which meant good birthday and Christmas presents were part of the deal, but it was hard to get comfortable with the whole idea. Nice guy or not, he just wasn’t my dad.

  Bandit, my Tri-color Australian Shepherd, whined from the back. Where are we? I can’t see anything. Why do I have to ride way back here in this horrible cage?

  Through a science experiment gone haywire, I’d developed the ability to telepathically communicate with my dog. It was a strange talent that I could never imagine really getting used to. Plus, as groundbreaking as human-to-dog communication was, in actual practice, the majority of our conversations seemed to revolve around treats.

  “Is Bandit okay back there?” Cliff asked. “I bought the top-of-the-line travel crate. Has a great safety rating. Should be perfect for his size.”

  Easy for him to say. Bandit shook, making his safety harness jingle. He doesn’t have to ride in a cage.

  “He’ll be okay. Thanks Cliff.” I reached back and stuck my fingers through the crate, trying my best to stroke his fur. Sorry buddy. It’s a short trip. He’s probably right about the safety thing.

  Yeah, well, it stinks. Your car is way better.

  I grinned. At least to Bandit, my old Mustang was the superior vehicle.

  “So?” Mom turned back to look at us. “You boys looking forward to the silent auction?”

  “You bet,” Kenny said. “I just finished a two-week programming gig working on tax software. Talk about a snooze fest. I’m so ready for a night out.”

  Kenny was a self-proclaimed nerd whose computer programming abilities often drifted into hacker territory. His parents had moved out of state a couple years ago, and he ended up renting the room above my mom’s detached garage. By the time I’d moved back home after several years in the city, Kenny was comfortably embedded as a quasi-son. Between shared meals and town gossip, Mom and Kenny had formed a strange bond of friendship. I blamed myself for not visiting more during college.

  “How ‘bout you, Luke?” Mom said. “You excited about the auction?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The sarcasm flowed all too easily. “If it wasn’t for this seatbelt, I’d be doing cartwheels.”

  “It’ll be good for you. You need to get out more. You spend too much time sitting at your laptop and writing.”

  “I’m a journalist. Writing is my job.”

  “Which is why this auction is the perfect break for you.”

  “You realize I’m assigned to write an article about the auction, right?”

  My work for the local paper consisted mainly of covering chili cook-offs and spelling bees. Occasionally I’d get a really high profile story about a missing cat. It was a rough transition from being an investigative journalist in the city. Although I had to admit, being back in my hometown was really growing on me. There was a relaxed way of life here that gave you that elusive sense of peace most people took vacations to achieve.

  “Well,” Mom continued. “How often do you get to mix work with something fun?”

  “Define fun.”

  “Oh, come on now. It’s important for our town. Main Street needs renovations. The money they raise tonight could make that possible. Maybe even enough to make some upgrades.”

  “They should invest in a cell tower up here,” I said. “Reception is terrible.”

  “Landlines work just fine for me,” Mom said.

  “I heard they amped up the fireworks show this year,” Kenny said. “Not just kiddie sparklers and bottle rockets. We’re talking Weeping Willows and Comets and stuff.”

  “Yes, thanks to Carol Caddel,” Mom said. “And she’s doing it better, and charging less than the old company they used to hire.”

  “And she runs the most eclectic hardware store I’ve ever seen,” Cliff smiled.

  Mom chuckled. “Yes, she does have an unusual sense of style. But hey, that’s what makes life interesting, right?”

  “Exactly,” Cliff said.

  “Luke, I hear Brooke will be there tonight.” Mom went straight for the jugular in her silent auction sales
pitch.

  “Hm.” I tried to downplay my sudden interest. “Thought she had to work.”

  “She is working,” she said. “The chief wanted a police presence around the auction. There’s some pretty expensive items this year.”

  Mom is not a gossip by intention. But she’s a friendly people-person who’s spent most of her life in Crystal Falls. So as she puts it, she “hears things.” Over the years, she’s heard lots of things. There are times I’m afraid to ask her about someone for fear of the avalanche of personal details that may follow.

  “Well,” I said. “If she’s not too busy protecting and serving, maybe I’ll get a chance to hang out with her.”

  Kenny laughed. “Ten bucks says within five minutes you sprint over to talk to her.”

  “Ten bucks says you’re eating a churro first.”

  “Mrs. Cooper.” Kenny shot me a smirk. “Luke’s body-shaming me.”

  “Psh.” I shook my head.

  “Luke, stop,” Mom said. “I’m revamping my diet, and I’m encouraging Kenny to join me. I’m starting a program tomorrow and he said he’s interested.”

  “I haven’t promised anything yet,” Kenny said.

  “You should,” Mom said. “It’s easier when you go through the program with someone else. We can encourage each other to replace things like churros with healthier alternatives.”

  “What program is this?” I asked.

  Kenny shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re not gonna tell me?”

  “That’s right reporter boy,” Kenny said. “You don’t get to have all the answers. Maybe I feel like keeping it a secret.”

  “For real? Mom, you’re starting a secret program with Kenny?”

  “Yes. And I think you should be supportive.”

  “How can I be supportive if I don’t know what it is?”

  “You don’t need to know the specifics to be supportive.”

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Enjoy your secret anti-churro program. You have my blessing.”

  A few minutes later we rolled into town. Main Street in Crystal Falls was flanked with retail stores and city buildings. The street ended in a roundabout that circled a lush park, about the size of a football field. Crystal Park hosted most of the main events in our community. That is, if you can call cinnamon festivals and church potlucks main events.

  The park had several paved walkways leading to a white gazebo in the center. A few Douglas firs towered overhead like old sentries forever keeping watch. Willows marked the outer ring of the park, and tonight they were strung with twinkle lights, lending them a touch of magic.

  Crystal Park was alive with activity. Dozens of townspeople roamed through carnival style booths illuminated by a web of lights strung high above the crowd. Stars twinkled overhead, as if winking at our humble attempts at lighting the night.

  Cliff nabbed a convenient parking spot for the Range Rover, directly under a street light by the Crystal Bliss Bakery. Even though Crystal Falls had one of the lowest crime rates around, I’m sure he felt better with his shiny new spaceship tucked under the soft glow of a known crime deterrent.

  As soon as I opened the door and stepped onto the street, Bandit barked and pawed at the crate, jiggling the metal latch.

  “Easy boy,” I said. “Gimme a sec.”

  Despite my requests for doggie patience, he continued to paw at the latch.

  Cliff opened the back. “Guess he doesn’t like the crate.”

  “He’ll get used to it,” I said.

  Bandit barked. Will not.

  I opened the latch and helped Bandit to the street.

  He shook, and immediately sniffed the air. Ooo. Bacon. And hot dogs. And, hm, could be deer jerky, or maybe elk jerky, hard to tell from here. I’m so hungry. Let’s go!

  I patted his side. You can’t be that hungry. We had dinner right before we left.

  That was hard kibble. I smell all kinds of new, yummy things. He lunged forward, straining at his leash.

  “Hold on, buddy,” I said. “We’re going, we’re going.”

  Everyone got out of the car, and we headed toward Crystal Park, the lights and sounds of the crowd pulling us in like a tractor beam.

  Booths with carnival style games and deep-fried mystery snacks dotted the area. The breeze carried a hint of buttery popcorn. Rows of tables lined with objects for auction fanned out from the white gazebo at the center of the park. A thick crowd of townspeople meandered through the festivities. A group of pre-teen girls bolted past us, weaving through the slow-moving crowd, and laughing at some inside joke.

  “I told you we should’ve got here early.” Kenny backhanded my shoulder. “It started over an hour ago. Now there’s gonna be lines for everything.”

  “Who knew?” I had to admit, the big turnout for a silent auction surprised me. “Guess this town is more starved for entertainment than I thought.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Mom said. “Cliff, should we see how your ski trip donation is doing?”

  “Sure,” Cliff said. “But don’t get worried if the bids are low. The night is still young. Hopefully we’ll bring in enough money to restore this town.”

  Mom grabbed his arm and smiled. “Isn’t he the best?”

  “He is the best,” Kenny said. “Driving us to town, donating ski trips, letting me borrow the Range Rover.”

  Cliff smirked. “Not a chance, Kenny.”

  “Oh,” Mom said. “Make sure you boys stop by Ellie Greyson’s garnet display. Her grandma just passed away and willed her and her sister Vicki the whole collection. You’ve never seen Star Garnets like these.”

  “I’ve never seen Star Garnets period,” Kenny said. “Is that jewelry?”

  “It’s the state gemstone,” Mom said. “And we’re the gem state so that’s saying something.”

  “Eh,” I said. “Pass.”

  “They say her collection is worth eighty thousand dollars,” Mom said. “It’s gorgeous, and Ellie’s mother, God rest her soul, was a dear friend of mine. At least take a quick look.”

  “I’ll go,” Kenny nodded. “Ellie’s hot.”

  Mom frowned at him.

  “But first, Mr. Benton’s table.” Kenny pointed ahead. “Mint condition Star Wars figures. We’re talking original trilogy collector’s items. And he’s got no idea what they’re worth.”

  “Aren’t those for kids?” I asked.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, in the seventies, maybe. Now, they’re rare sci-fi history that belong with a discerning collector.”

  I put up my hands. “My mistake. How much money you gonna waste?”

  “Invest. The word is invest.”

  A woman with long grey hair and a black duffle bag on each shoulder rushed up beside us. She seemed frazzled.

  “Carol?” Mom turned to the woman.

  Carol paused, her eyes darting around before focusing on Mom. “Oh. Betsie. Didn’t see you there.”

  “You alright?” Mom asked. “Need help with anything?”

  “Nah.” Carol wrestled with the weighty duffle bags that seemed to be pulling her to the ground. “Just setting up the fireworks display. Lots of show prep, and Larry, that lackadaisical nephew of mine, is nowhere to be found.”

  “We’d be happy to help.” Cliff held out his hand toward the closest duffle bag.

  “I ain’t gonna argue with that.” Carol handed it to him and wiped her brow with her now free hand.

  “Boys.” Mom turned to us. “We’re gonna help Carol with setup. We’ll meet up with you later, okay?”

  “You bet,” Kenny said.

  Mom and Cliff headed off with Carol. I broke out my cell phone and snapped a few photos of the festivities.

  “Come on,” Kenny said. “I need to bid on that Star Wars table. No time for your Instagram pics.”

  “These are for my article.”

  “Aren’t reporters supposed to have professional photographers?”

  “In a perfect world.” I snapped an
other photo. “Although, in a perfect world I’d be doing important things, not writing about silent auctions.”

  He shrugged. “Well, important is a relative term.”

  “Really? So, do you find my small town paper articles important?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t read them.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “No offense. I don’t read the typical news feeds. I get my information on the dark web.”

  “Sounds shady.”

  “I’m plugged into a hacker network. I could tell you behind the scenes stories that would blow your mind.”

  “Right. How ‘bout we save the conspiracy theories for another day?” I motioned forward. “Let’s check out the auction.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Yo, Kenny.” A guy who looked like he’d just hit drinking age walked up to us. His wavy brown hair was unkempt, and his patchy stubble was straining to become an actual beard. A brown box was tucked under his left arm and his right hand held a partially eaten candy apple.

  “Larry, ’sup?” Kenny lifted his chin in that laid back, cool guy salute kind of way.

  “Nothin’. You bid on anything tonight?” Larry took a bite of his apple.

  “Not yet.” Kenny nodded to me. “This is my good friend Luke Cooper. Luke, this is Larry Patterson.”

  “Hey.” Larry gave me a chin lift greeting. Apparently this was the millennial handshake.

  “Hey Larry,” I said.

  Larry looked down at Bandit. “That your dog?”

  “Yeah, this is Bandit.”

  Bandit barked. You got anything besides that apple? I’ve tried one before and it’s way too sticky.

  Larry smirked. “Cool dog. I like his mismatched eyes.”

  Mismatched? Bandit shook his head. How about unique and awesome?

  Larry zeroed in on two young blonde women walking by. “Hey Heather. What’s going on?”