As Promised…
To whet your appetite while you wait for the release, here are the opening pages of Scent of Murder.
Chapter 1
“Hay un remedio para todo menos la muerte.”
“There’s a remedy for everything except death.”
— Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616), Spanish Author
I am Issy Castillo, a first-time Spanish professor at Gold Mountain University in Boulder, Colorado. On this lovely full moon evening in May, I have become a suspect in the murder of a colleague. A colleague with whom I was hoping to begin a romantic relationship tonight.
Instead, I found myself kneeling over Eddy Calderon’s body, clutching my own scarf with which the drama professor had been strangled. Forget my aspiration to return to my hometown to teach after earning my doctorate back East, reconnect with family and friends, and explore my Hispanic roots. Put aside my desire to build a career as a respected Latina academic. No! First and foremost on my agenda is finding the killer and clearing my name before the police arrest and charge me, and bring shame upon me, my school, and my entire family. Ay, Qué lío! What a mess!
I was in my campus office Saturday night—the picture of innocence—which I was!—writing a letter of recommendation for a student, but the words didn’t flow. Little noises—creaks, rustlings, clanking pipes, imagined or real footsteps above my head—disturbed my concentration.
When the phone rang, I almost jumped out of my skin.
“I’m back in my office finishing up some business,” said Eddy. “Come up soon and we’ll go for that pizza. Eddy Calderón, Spanish theater professor and new friend, had invited me to go with him for a late snack after rehearsal for a medieval morality play he was putting on for a department fundraiser. I knew Eddy was interested in me personally. We’d even kissed once. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said. “I want to finish writing this letter.”
“Listen. Suzanne, Dolores, Javier, and maybe Miguel want to join us.” He sounded apologetic about inviting the head of the teaching assistants, the Portuguese lecturer, and two graduate students, all of whom were involved in the play. “Suzanne’s been itching for us all to get together. And social interaction does help build cast solidarity. We won’t stay long with them, I promise.”
“No problem,” I said, but my heart sank.
“Also, I keep forgetting to mention that your scarf has been hanging on the back of my door since Baldo’s party.”
Baldo, or Baldomero Vigil, was department chairman. He’d held a kickoff summer barbecue last Sunday at his home to foster faculty solidarity. Which it didn’t.
“Gracias. I forgot I left it in your office after the party. I’ll get it when I come up.”
“Cruz!” I exclaimed aloud while attempting to tame my wild hair and apply fresh lip gloss in the bathroom. Somehow, I’d managed to let twenty minutes slip by writing that letter.
I sped through the basement, up the two flights of stairs, and down the corridor to Eddy’s office as fast as my sandal heels could take me. Not wanting to appear too eager, I slowed my pace as I got closer. His door was ajar, and the light was on.
“Sorry I’m late.” I announced, “but it took forever to finish that . . .” I stopped short as I collided with something solid. Eddy was stretched face-up on top of his Indian rug with my scarf wound tight around his neck. His red-rimmed eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling and his face and neck had turned dark red.
“Eddy!” I cried.
I knelt by him, and with one hand, ripped away the scarf that had left a deep horizontal contusion around his neck. I bent close to his face and registered a cloying sweet scent. Putting my shaking hand to his nose and mouth, I checked for breathing then felt for a pulse. Lifeless!
Shivering almost uncontrollably and blinking back tears, I scrambled in my purse for my cellphone. At the same instant I heard the voice at 911 come on the line, Suzanne, Dolores, and Javier appeared at the doorway. On seeing Eddy’s body and me, crouched over it with my scarf in one hand and phone in the other, their faces blanched.
“What have you done?” shrieked Suzanne.
“You’ve killed him!” shouted Javier.
Dolores screamed, “Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!”