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of smell. He told me the few things he could smell were probably only sensory memories. Anything he couldn’t see, he couldn’t smell.”
    TJ knew an opposite argument could easily be made that his lack of smell and cigar habit made an accident more likely. But Gemma seemed convinced the man checked his gas connections religiously.
    “Did everyone know about those things, the cigar at night, and his sense of smell?” TJ asked.
    “Sure. He often joked about it.”
    TJ’s forehead wrinkled. “Did you tell the cops all this?”
    “To be honest, I don’t remember what I told them; so much was happening that day.”
    “Haven’t they been back to talk to you again?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Let me do some preliminary checking, and I’ll get back to you.”
    Gemma handed her a check with a lot of zeroes on it. “Take this now so you can get started. Do whatever it takes to find out what really happened.”

Chapter 8
    I fell asleep without incident after taking two over-the-counter PM pills recommended by the local pharmacist. I felt better knowing TJ Peacock was investigating Norman’s death, and after getting a full night of much-needed sleep, I felt ready to tackle the other things waiting for my attention.
    I hadn’t expected to be invited to the reading of Norman’s will. Touched to be one of his heirs, attending would mean facing Carter, my ex-husband. The last time I saw him had been at our divorce hearing more than two years ago. At the time, I felt like my world had ended, even though I had been the one to initiate the divorce. But time passed without him, and eventually I looked back on our marriage objectively and couldn’t deny a certain sense of relief at our parting, probably because I’d always preferred living alone.
    In the attorney’s offices, I was shown to an opulent conference room. Carter stood at the coffee station at the side of the room, looking fit and distinguished in one of his custom pin-striped suits. He was talking to Leong, Norman’s former wife. He left her side when he saw me and took me in his arms for a hug. “Gemma, it’s wonderful to see you. I’m so sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”
    I broke away from the embrace and felt my throat thicken and my eyes sting with our common grief. I wondered at my lack of feeling for this man who used to be my husband. We had parted amicably enough, although he never stopped trying to change my mind about the divorce. I was relieved when Norman’s attorney, Jacob Sanderson, made his grand entrance and announced it was time to get started. I moved away from Carter and took a seat at the end of a long conference table on the side nearest the door.
    Norman owned controlling interest of Cityscapes. Leong won stock in the company as part of their divorce settlement, and Carter owned the remaining shares. Carter offered me some shares as part of our divorce settlement, but I had refused. I hadn’t wanted anything from Carter, and despite my attorney’s objections, I agreed to settle for whatever Carter thought was fair. His guilt made him generous, and the lump-sum settlement turned out to be a substantial sum of money.
    I tuned out the introductory, lawyerspeak of the will, but my ears perked up when I heard, “I hereby leave my dear friend, Mr. Carter Roche, my entire interest in Cityscapes Inc. To my lovely, ex-wife, Leong, I leave all my other investments and accounts.” Sanderson held up his hand like a traffic policeman when whispers broke out around the table.
    He continued. “I cannot leave out my beloved Gemma, who’s been like a daughter to me since the first day she walked into Cityscapes. To her, I leave my house and all its contents, including the manuscript of my novel, which I feel certain she’ll have the fortitude to get published.”
    The attorney handed me a sealed envelope bearing my name. “Ms. Rosenthal, Mr. Teschler asked me to give you this letter.”
    He passed similar missives to Carter and Leong and