Killer Scents

He made the drug deal a year ahead of his killing spree. Am I setting myself up to get caught if I venture into that part of town? He didn’t exactly blend in with the street people. In fact, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

I can wear a disguise. His excitement mounted at the prospect.  How am I going to pull this off without looking like an amateur? It’s not like wearing a Halloween costume where everybody knows you’re wearing one. If any of those guys suspect I’m not the real deal... He needed it done by a professional, one of those fancy make-up artists used on television.

Where the hell am I going to find one of those? He shrugged. Maybe... From the drawer he pulled out the thick Yellow Pages and flipped through them. It’s a long shot.

Costumes...nothing but retail outlets.

Make up...a kazillion listings for women’s makeup.

Frustrated, he shoved the book back in the drawer and shut it with a bang.

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. Thanks, 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 remembered 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 rested 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