Killer Scents (16 page)

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Authors: Adelle Laudan

BOOK: Killer Scents
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He opened his laptop and turned it on, typing in ‘makeup artist for hire’ in the search bar. In seconds
,
a list of artists from all over the world filled the screen. He refined his search to locations and hit enter.

The corner of his mouth lifted
,
and
he
clicked his cursor on the first link. His eyes scanned the page and found the address.

Perfect
.

Becca picked up the phone on her desk. “Polly, its Becca.”

“Hello there, what can I do you for?”

The girl’s strange attempts at humor were highly infectious. “How far back did you go when you searched
their phone records
for a connection between the victims?”

“Chief Thomson instructed me to go back five years. Why do you ask?”

“How much trouble would it be to go back even further?”

“No trouble
.
A
little bit of time, but no trouble. How far back do you want
to go
?”

“Ten years. Can you do it?”

Polly chuckled. “Of course I can. I’ll give you a shout when I’m done.”

“Polly?”

“Yes?”

“Can this
be
a priority?”

“Sure. Does the chief know about this?”

“Not yet, but I’m on my way to fill him in.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you sometime this afternoon.”

“You’re a doll
.
T
hanks
,
Polly.”

Her response came in the clicking of nails hitting the keys before disconnecting. 
She really is a doll, in a strange kind of way.
Becca leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs.

What about the objects in their mouths? Were they random, or did he have a reason for using those specifically?

Sandra Bedows, a morbidly obese woman. How did the birthday cake factor into the
equation? Is it a specific birthday cake? Did something happen at a birthday party?

Becca covered
her mouth and yawned.

The only thing I seem to be uncovering is more questions.

She couldn’t shake the feeling there was something she’d overlooked. She scanned the open files in front of her.

What can it be?

“Becca?”

She
looked up from a patchwork of strategically placed files to find Polly in the doorway.
Pink extensions added to her jet
black hair
, wearing a t-shirt that read, Happiness is Yelling Bingo.

“I think I found something.”

“Come sit.” Becca nudged the chair next to her with a foot. “What did you find?”

“I went back ten years like you asked, and I think I have your missing link.”

Becca’s heart raced in expectation. “Tell me.”

“They all shared the same psychiatrist at one time or other.”

Her jaw dropped
.
She
vaguely remember
ed
her sister mentioning
Susan went to
a shrink after
some
trouble at work. “What is the doctors’ name?”

“Pauline Knills-Davies.”

Becca’s mind scrambled for the connection.
Why does that name sound so familiar?
“Where’s her office?”

“I’m afraid we’re too late. She died five years ago, massive heart failure, right in her office at St
.
Helen’s.”

“St. Helen’s? That’s where
Darla and Susan
worked.” Becca
sat at the edge of her chair
. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“Maybe because her husband is Professor Olsen Davies.”

Her
jaw dropped
. “The professor? What the hell is going on?”

“Sorry, that’s all I could find out. I thought you’d want to know right away. Here’s the file, including her scheduled appointments.”

Polly rest
ed
a hand on her shoulder. “Becca?”

She
blinked rapidly. “Oh, I’m sorry
.
I guess I zoned out for a minute. Do you know if the chief is still
here
?”

“I thought I saw him head toward the exit
earlier
. Randy

s still
in his office
.”
She cracked her gum. “If you’re done with me, I have a date for Bingo. I’ll have my phone with me if anything comes up and you need me.”

“Thanks
,
Polly.
I hope you win the jackpot
!”

The quirky analyst guffawed. “I won’t quit my job quite yet. Toodles!”

Becca flipped through the pages in the file
.
Yup, there it is.
..
She underlined the words with her
fingertip
:
husband
,
Professor Olsen Davies. Her first instinct was to
take a
run out
and
have a chat with the professor, but that wouldn’t go over well with the chief. She sighed and pushed away from her desk.

I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor.
Dead man
walking
... Why did the line from the movie
Green Mile
come to mind?
She shrugged.

“Hey
,
you.” Becca
strode
into the meeting room. “We’ve uncovered a pretty interesting link between the victims.”

Randy
tossed his pen on a stack of papers in front of him. “Oh
,
really? You have my attention.”

“I asked Polly to go back a little further in all of the victims’ pasts in hopes of finding something.” She slapped the file down on the table. “They all shared the same shrink at one time or other.”

“Really? Where might we find this shrink?”

“Unfortunately she died five years ago.”

“Man, we can’t catch a break in this case.”

“Not necessarily, we know her husband.”

Randy punched her on the arm playfully. “Come on, enough already.”

“Professor Davies
.
His wife, Pauline Knills-Davies
,
died of a massive heart attack in her office at St
.
Helen’s.”

“Wow, no shit, eh?”

“Yup, the same hospital my sister
and Susan
worked at. All seven of the
victims
were a patient of hers at some point.”

“I guess we need to pay the professor another visit.”

She
glanced at her watch. “It’s a little late to be visiting the old guy now.”

“I guess so. How about we meet with the chief first thing in the morning? We can fill him in and take it from there.”

Becca
gasped and put her hand over her heart as she staggered back against the wall. “Are you suggesting we do things by the book?”

He
chuckled and opened the file. “It can’t possibly be just a coincidence, can it?”

“I don’t know. We checked out everyone who works on the farm, and the professor is hardly in any shape to be kicking over a motorcycle and murdering seven people.”

H
is pen
tapped against a
stack of papers. “Something doesn’t add up, but I’d bet anything the answer is out there.” He stroked his stubbly jaw.

“Maybe after a good night’s sleep it will all come together.” Becca stretched out her arms cattishly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I guess fluffing your pillow is out of the question?”

Becca
stopped in the doorway and looked
back at him
, fluttering her eyelashes. “I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

“You don’t play fair.” He watched her leave, shifting in his chair to accommodate his reaction to the swing of her hips. It was nice to see her less guarded, more herself.

We need to solve this case
.
T
he sooner the better
.

With this new discovery, sleep would definitely elude him. He opened his laptop. 
Let’s see what I can find out about the good doctor.

167

 

KILLER SCENTS

Chapter Eighteen

 

The sky darkened with
each
click of the odometer. A somber silence filled the SUV,
everyone
lost in their thoughts.

Becca wasn’t looking forward to searching the professor’s home and hoped he didn’t take it personally.  “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I guess we’ll know when we see it. Something, anything that might fill in the blanks and lead us to the killer.” Randy
glanced back at her
. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

Becca shrugged. “Yes
.
I’m not crazy about doing this to him, but I’m okay.”

“Try not to worry, Becca. He’s a smart man and
he’ll
understand why we have to
do this search
.” Chief turned down the long driveway to the house.

A crack of thunder preceded torrents of rain.

Maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t be doing this.
She
nibbl
ed
on
her bottom lip
.

The short distance from the vehicle to the porch drenched them. She couldn’t remember the last time it rained this hard.
Thank God we’re not riding in this.

The same woman
they met on their first visit
greeted them. “Come in out of the rain.” Mable closed the
door
behind them. “Let me get you some towels, I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Becca smoothed her wet hair
,
knowing all too well the funky things rain did to it. Once they were towel
-
dried, the housekeeper ushered them into the library. Ten
-
foot walls flanked rich mahogany shelves, brimming with books. Hopefully it wouldn’t come down to going through this room. The professor obviously took great pride in his collection.

Several minutes passed before they were served mugs of hot coffee, and the professor arrived, this time with the aid of a walker. Pain etched tiny lines around his eyes.
G
ray
ness
tainted
h
is
normally
flushed complexion.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. This damp weather isn’t kind to these old bones of mine.” The professor shuffled across the room to sit in a leather chair behind his desk. “I’m a little confused why you’re here
again.
I thought you searched
everywhere
.”

“Yes
,
we did, but we never searched your house,
s
ir.” Chief sat at the edge of his chair. “There have been a few interesting developments we need to talk to you about.”

The p
rofessor steepled his hands under his chin. “Please, go on.”

He sat quietly while the chief told him about his wife’s connection to the victims, coupled with the flowers
.

Do y
ou see why we
had
to come back?”

His weary sigh
filled the room
. “Maybe I can save you some time. What exactly are you looking for?”

Randy stood. “I wish it were that cut and dr
ied
. I guess we’re looking for a connection between your wife’s patients and whoever killed them.”

“I can’t think of
anything
you
might
find here to solve your mystery.” He struggled to stand. “I’m going out to the
sunroom
. I don’t have the energy to deal with all of this.” He waved a hand over his vast collection of books. “There’s hundreds of thousands of dollars accrued here. Please be gentle.”

Becca rushed to his side. “Let me walk with you.”

The old man
smiled weakly and began a slow, painful exit. Once they reached the
sunroom
she made sure
he
was seated comfortably before pulling a deck chair beside him.

“Did your wife ever talk about her cases with you?”

“Pauline had a steadfast rule never to bring work home with her.” H
is
voice cracked
. “It wasn’t until after she passed
that
I came to know just how deeply her patients affected her.”

“How so?” 
She
hated pushing him, but he might know something
helpful
and not even realize it.

“Every night after work, she closed herself in her sitting room to write in a
journal
.” He coughed into his hand, his pale blue eyes mist
ing
. “My wife’s death was one of the darkest times
in
my life. Night after night, I wandered through this house lost and heartbroken. I usually passed her sitting room,
but never
strong enough to venture inside. A year
went by before I found the courage
to visit her there
.”

Professor pulled tissues from a brightly colored box and dabbed at the dampness under his eyes. Becca wasn’t sure how to console him so she simply laid her hand atop his and remained quiet.

“I stepped into her
room
and the sheer magnitude of her lingering presence
had
me stumbl
ing
back out into the hall. Inside, everywhere I looked
, there she was
. A display of photos on a side table, her clothes hanging in the closet, and her robe draped over the back of a settee.” The muscles of his neck
flexed
. “I remember sitting in her chair, the scent of her perfume still linger
ing
. The drawer sat ajar, just enough to catch a glimpse of her
book
. I bet I sat for an hour or more with it on my lap, my palm flat against its cover.”

Becca noted the toll his memories were taking on him. “Perhaps we can finish this talk later. I’m sorry to bring up such painful
memories
.”

Professor Davies looked into her eyes. “Not to worry. You

re like a breath of fresh air in my life. I’m sure your team will want to hear about the
journal
, and I trust you to keep some of the more personal details of our conversation between us.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

The professor nodded his consent.

“The killer has left me a flower a couple of times now. Do you know the significance of a purple rose?”

He arched an eyebrow. “
Purple roses primarily stand for enchantment.”

“Enchantment? Are you saying he’s in love with me?”

He shrugged. “That is one definition, but from what you’ve told me, I tend to lean toward another interpretation.
The Florist is infatuated with you. As hard as he tries he cannot resist you. He might even believe you’ve cast a spell on him. However, I don’t think it’s sexual in any way. The Florist has probably never met a woman quite like you. I’d bet money his attraction to you is more of an obsession.”

“Isn’t that wonderful.” She rolled her eyes, feeling ill and disgusted.
“Thank you
for all of your help
. I’ve grown very fond of you
, so
I hope we can remain friends after this whole sordid affair is over.”

The man
nodded slightly
before he rest
ed
his head against the back of his chair and briefly closed his eyes. “Nothing could have prepared me for what I read
on those pages
. She never let on how deeply her patients affected her. I only read the first couple of entries and had to stop. Her patients were very sick individuals. So much so, much of her time at work was spent fearing for her life.”
His grief
-
stricken eyes searched hers. “Why didn’t I see it?” His voice cracked.

“I’m sure she didn’t want to bring
her
fear into this house. I believe your wife loved you very much and wrote in her
diary
every night to get the remnants of the day out
of her head. She wanted to
offer you all of her love without the ugliness of the day inter
fer
ing.”

Professor blinked back the tears in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lift
ing
.

“Where is this
journal
now?”

He shrugged
. “I don’t know. I’m positive I put it back in her drawer, but it wasn’t there a few weeks later when I went to read more.”

“When was this?”

“At least four years ago, maybe more.”

“Weren’t you curious to know what happened to it?”

“I saw it as a sign from my wife not to read any
further
.”

She
rubbed the top of his hand
, k
nowing all too well how a grieving mind can twist realit
y
. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sure you’re right in thinking that.”

He smiled. “Your job shows the ugly side of mankind, as did my sweet Pauline’s. Don’t let it get the best of you.”

Becca envied the love he and his wife shared and couldn’t imagine the profound loss of being
left
behind
.
The
caretaker arrived with tea
just as she was leaving
.

“Hey, there you are.” Randy descended the grand staircase. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m good.”
The rain had stopped and she now
squinted against the sun shining into the foyer. “Tell everyone to keep their eyes open for his wife’s
journal
. Apparently she
sat in her sitting room and
wrote in it every night. It went missing over four years ago. There might even be a small collection of them.”

“Listen, I’m going to step outside for a breath of fresh air. I take it you have everything under control here?”

“Don’t go far.”

Becca put two fingers to her temple in a salute. “Yes
,
sir!”

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