The Collector of Dying Breaths Read Online Free PDF Page A

fragments of ancient Egyptian pottery that Robbie had found, artifacts that contained a clue to a fragrance formula that might enable people to access their past lives.
    Through the ages mystics had used incense to access memories of previous lives, including Tibetan monks, who believed each new Dalai Lama was a reincarnation of the previous one. If there was a fragrance to aid in regressions, it could be a powerful weapon. A memory tool could help Tibetans foil China’s efforts to control who became the next Buddhist leader. China had incentive to prevent Tibetans from getting the formula.
    Being a practicing Buddhist, Robbie deduced the Chinese had sent an operative to steal the potential reincarnation aid.
    So he’d played along with the charade until he was able to trick the impostor into smelling a toxic essence designed to cause him to pass out. Then Robbie planned to call the police and get help.
    But what Robbie couldn’t have known was that the thief was an asthmatic; the fumes caused an attack that led to his death. Robbie fled in order to protect the pottery shards, but his disappearance suggested the possibility that Robbie had committed murder.
    Marcher was called in. Eventually Robbie’s name was cleared. Though it was proved he had acted in self-defense, her brother still had precipitated the death of a Triad member. Detective Marcher had warned them at that time that the powerful Chinese Mafia might seek revenge.
    Over the next year and a half nothing suspicious had occurred. Then Robbie got sick. The doctors couldn’t find any reason for why his body was failing, and failing so quickly. That’s when Jac had called the detective, and he’d begun looking into the possibility of a connection. Several times he’d reported in, but without any information. The last time he’d called was to offer condolences.
    “Mademoiselle L’Etoile, would it be possible to see you this afternoon?” he asked now.
    This task too would be a welcome distraction, and she agreed to a time and then returned to the dining room.
    The purpose of today’s luncheon was to plan for the future. The House of L’Etoile didn’t have a second in command. Jac and her brother owned the company jointly, but Robbie had been running it on his own. When they’d first inherited it, Jac and Robbie, having no heirs of their own, had decided they’d each leave their respective shares to their three cousins to ensure the company stayed in the family. At the time it had seemed a decision for the faraway future. It was impossible to Jac that future was now.
    She went into the dining room to rejoin her cousins. “I’ve heard the rift between our grandfathers was over a perfume,” Jac said as she poured wine for her cousins. She really only knew a few facts—that in 1941 the House of L’Etoile had been owned by Jac’s grandfather and his brother, Pierre L’Etoile. After a falling-out, Pierre sold his share of his firm to Jac’s grandfather, moved to Grasse and started his own company. Playing on the family name, L’Etoile—which meant “star”—Pierre called his firm Luna Parfums.
    “A perfume and a woman,” Marcel L’Etoile said as he buttered a piece of a roll. “Our grandfather was seeing a woman he was very much in love with. So of course he created a perfume for her. And of course she always wore it. One day he ran into her in the street, it was a day when they had no assignation planned, and she was wearing a different perfume. One that Pierre knew all too well. He’d watched your grandfather create it for a supposed wealthy client. The discovery that they were both in love with the same woman destroyed the brothers’ relationship, and ultimately Charles bought Pierre out.”
    “Who was the woman?” Jac asked.
    “Your grandmother,” Luc said with a rueful smile. “She’d met Pierre first and liked him well enough. But when she met Charles, she fell in love.”
    “She was seeing them both?” Jac pictured her