Chapter Eleven
The peony farm was a glorious sea of color, from vibrant scarlet to delicate oyster-pink, with dashes of sunny lemon and pure cream. And the fragrance! Carried by the light breeze coming over the bay, up the bluffs and across the peony fields—it teased her senses and tugged a smile to her lips. Bliss. Sheer bliss.
Ethan kept sniffing like a wolf, inhaling the air as if it was water. “This is incredible. They ought to bottle this up and sell it.”
“I thought you were the tough hard-boiled investigator,” she teased. “Since when are you so into fragrance?”
He shrugged. “Just a tool in the toolbox.” He shaded his eyes and scanned the fields. “Do you see S.G.?”
Next to one of the long Typar-covered beds of peony bushes, Kate straightened up and waved to them. With a bag slung
