Chapter 13
The drive to Scents and Scentsability felt endless. Ezra had let Reese know what was going on before driving me in his truck to the shop. Not driving had left my brain free reign to conjure up a thousand scenarios of what this jerk had planned for me next, each more disturbing than the last. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the person who had been taunting me and putting everyone I cared about in danger had finally taken things a step further.
When we arrived, Ezra parked haphazardly in front of the building. There was another police car out front, and I opened his truck door and was out before he could cut the engine.
Inside the shop, the mingled scents of essential oils and floral perfumes filled the air but brought me no comfort. I heard voices in the back and fast-walked through the door that opened to my workshop. Large pieces of glass were on the concrete floor, and the window next to the alley door had a huge gaping hole. But that’s not what stopped me in my tracks. My workshop...no, my sanctuary, had been violated. There was nothing obvious. No stools had been overturned, my cutting table was clear of debris, and the metal drying racks filled with my patriotic soaps were undisturbed.
Pippa was talking to Jeanna Treece and her partner Levi.
“Hey, Jeanna.” I mirrored her words from yesterday. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
She smiled genially. “I drew the short stick for the holiday weekend,” she said. “‘Fraid you’re stuck with me.”
“I’ll take you any day.” Frankly, I was glad Jeanna and her partner had been scheduled for the holiday weekend. I knew her and Levi well enough to trust them, and my trust was in short supply right now.
A half a minute later, Ezra joined us. “I have Reese and Broyles checking out the alley,” he said as he knelt by the bashed alarm system.
He inspected the damage. “Yep, as I suspected. They smashed it before it could go off.”
Pippa’s face was pale and drawn. “Nora, I’m so sorry. I should’ve checked out different security systems. This wasn’t cheap, but it also wasn’t super expensive. This is my fault.”
A few years ago, when several businesses were getting burgled, Pippa had the alarm installed. It looked like the only thing keeping someone from breaking in had been the stickers they gave us to put on the doors.
“You didn’t force this jerk to break into the place,” I told her. “He’s the only one at fault.” I tried to give her a reassuring look, but it was hard when all I felt was violated and vulnerable. “It’s okay, Pip. We’ll figure this out.”
Levi moved around us, taking photos and dusting for fingerprints.
I looked at my drying racks again, and something felt...off. There wasn’t any empty space. It was full the way I’d left it, and yet... “Look,” I pointed. “There’s a pure blue soap in there.” The others were red, white, and blue, so I hadn’t noticed it at first. “I didn’t put that there.”
“You sure?” Ezra said.
“I’m one hundred percent positive,” I assured him. “There should be another red, white, and blue soap there. It’s all from the same batches.”
Levi, who was wearing gloves, walked over to the rack to check it out. “It’s a darker blue than your other soaps, too,” he said. “More blueberry blue than Old Glory blue.” He sniffed. “And it smells different.”
“The Red, White, and Blue soaps should smell like strawberries, blueberries, and sweet vanilla cream,” I told him. “What does the other smell like?”
He looked back at me. “It smells like wintergreen mints.”
“Wintergreen?” I didn’t have any methyl salicylate, the chemical used to create wintergreen flavor and scent, so it hadn’t been made in my workshop. “Whoever put that on the rack wanted me to find it.”
“I think we all know who that someone is,” Jeanna said.
“The Scent Stalker,” Levi announced.
“The who?” Ezra asked with alarm.
Levi’s face reddened as he suddenly found his rubber gloves interesting to look at. Finally, he met Ezra’s gaze. “Sorry, Detective Holden. It’s the term a few of us have taken to calling this guy. It sort of stuck.”
“I swear if that name ends up in the newspaper, someone is going to end up on an extended leave,” Ezra threatened.
“Yes, sir,” Levi said quickly. “Heard.” He pointed at the soap. “Should we bag it?”
“Not yet,” I interjected. “I have to smell it.”
“It’s what the guy wants,” Pippa said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
“I wish it was that easy,” I told her. “But he’s already made a plan, and if I don’t at least try and figure it out, someone might get hurt. I can’t live with that on my conscience.”
“Whatever that man does is his fault, not yours,” she told me, throwing my words back in my face.
I smiled. “I see what you did there.”
She winked. “It was good advice.”
“Nora’s right,” Ezra said. “Her avoiding the vision isn’t going to stop the...uhm, this guy from pulling off whatever dumbass thing he has planned for today.”
“Scent Stalker,” Pippa whispered as if taking the moniker out for a test drive. “Does it really fit, though?” She squinted as she thought about it for half a second. “How about the Fragrance Phantom, the Perfumed Prowler, or,” she snapped her fingers as if excited by the idea. “The Scented Shadow.”
“Don’t encourage them,” Ezra groaned.
“Besides, those sound like old radio shows from the nineteen twenties.”
“Is that the sort of thing you listened to growing up?” Levi asked.
I gave him a scathing stare. “I used to like you.”
Levi chuckled. “Just kidding.”
“Can I put him on an extended leave?” I asked Ezra.
He shook his head. “Not unless you take my job.” He switched his gaze to Levi. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it for you.”
“And that’s why I love you,” I told him.
He grinned. “I hope that’s not the only reason.”
I flushed and gave him an eye roll. “We’ll discuss all the reasons later. Right now, I should smell that soap. Who knows, maybe I won’t see anything.”
“We can always hope,” Pippa said.
“Officer Walters,” Ezra ordered. “Get the soap for Ms. Black so she doesn’t contaminate the evidence.”
I hadn’t been planning on handling the soap bar, but I let it slide. Levi had gloves on, so I was happy to let him hold it.
He carefully picked up the bar and held it out. I felt weird sniffing something in his hand, but a psychic girl had to do what a psychic girl had to do.
The strong odor of menthol, wintergreen, and eucalyptus emanated from the soap, and I focused all my energy on trying to block out all the other scents in the workshop. I inhaled deeply once more and felt a slight burning in my nostrils, then...
A person dressed entirely in blue—a blue hoodie, blue rubber gloves, and a full plastic Captain America Halloween mask—stands amidst the concrete walls of the dimly lit room. It reminds me of the same place where the popcorn memory was created. The air is thick with the scent of menthol, eucalyptus, and wintergreen, strong enough to clear out someone’s sinuses.
The mysterious maniac stirs the contents of the bowl with purpose, the glass clink of a stirring rod against the sides. Next to the bowl is a white silicone soap mold, its surface smooth and unblemished, ready to receive the liquid concoction. There are some bottles of clear liquids, their labels obscured in the dim light. What is he adding? He’s careful as he uses a glass dropper to add more ingredients to the mix.
As he finishes his witches’ brew, he adds five drops of blue food coloring and two bars of amber-colored soap. His movements are deliberate and precise as if he’s orchestrating some dark symphony. The color transforms into a vivid blueberry blue, and the menthol scent intensifies.
Then, in a voice distorted by his voice changer, he speaks with chilling confidence, mimicking the unique force of nature that is Jennifer Coolidge’s tone: “Light up the sky like the fourth of July. I’m coming in hot, dog, and the race is on. Wow, wow. Try an’ stop me. I’m unstoppable. Stop, drop, and roll, hero, or let it burn, baby, burn.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. I hear two clangs, like a clock striking. Captain America, with a muffled voice that is distinctly male, mutters, “Well, shee-it.”
Emerging from the vision, my breath caught in my throat, excitement tingling through my veins like an electric current. “He slipped up. He thinks he’s clever, but he’s finally made a mistake.”
“Oh, damn it, that burns!” Levi exclaimed, his voice sharp with pain, then he fumbled and dropped the soap. His latex gloves, now riddled with holes, revealed skin turning an alarming shade of brown. “What is this?”
Jeanna, also gloved, instinctively reached for the dropped evidence. Broyles, who must’ve entered while I was in the midst of my vision, intervened swiftly. “Don’t touch it. Not with gloves on,” he cautioned, eyeing Levi’s hand. “Get that washed off.” His gaze flicked to me. “Do you have any baking soda?”
“There might be some in the fridge. I use it to neutralize odors,” I hurriedly replied as Broyles dashed to the fridge. “What caused the burn on his hand?”
“If I had to guess, it’s nitric acid,” Broyles explained. “It eats through latex fast. The brown discoloration on the skin is a dead giveaway. Levi’s lucky it wasn’t fuming nitric acid. That stuff bursts into flames upon contact with latex.”
“I don’t feel lucky,” Levi gritted out, his hand held under the rushing water in my sink. “It feels anything but.”
The clear liquid the masked man had been so careful to concoct must’ve been nitric acid. Was that the ‘burn, baby, burn’ clue?
Jeanna interjected, “I’ve called an ambulance.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Levi protested through clenched teeth, then winced. “Ow, ow.”
Broyles retrieved a two-pound bag of baking soda from the fridge and began pouring it over Levi’s drenched hand. After a few moments, he asked, “Feeling any better?”
Levi gripped his hand firmly, then uttered, “It’s not worsening.”
“Good.” Broyles gave Levi a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Keep it under running water until the paramedic arrives.”
“Quick thinking, Broyles. Well done,” Ezra commended. “How do we contain the caustic substance? And is there a risk of explosion? If I remember correctly, nitric acid and glycerin combine to form nitroglycerin, right?”
Broyles chuckled. “Not without sulfuric acid. And truthfully, if it were nitro, it would’ve blown up when Levi dropped it on the hard floor.” My eyes widened at the revelation. “Yep, kaboom. Enough to wipe us all out.”
I winced. “Glad to have dodged that.”
“Butyl rubber gloves or some other tool should be safe for handling it,” Broyles instructed Ezra. “And we can transport it in a glass dish.”
“I’ll leave the specifics to you,” Ezra deferred.
The soap’s composition lingered in my mind, one ingredient away from one of the most volatile explosives. Nitroglycerin required minimal provocation to detonate. You didn’t need to be a demolition expert to grasp the gravity of the situation or its potential lethality.
Had the Scented Stalker, as Levi dubbed him, attempted to produce nitroglycerin and failed? The attention-seeking lunatic spoke of illuminating the sky like the Fourth of July. If he had indeed created such a large quantity, it would’ve been catastrophic for us all.
“Nora, you mentioned he made an error,” Ezra interjected. “What did you witness?”
“It was him,” I recounted, “dressed entirely in blue this time, sporting blue rubber gloves and a Captain America mask. He was mimicking Jennifer Coolidge and said, ‘Light up the sky like the fourth of July. I’m coming in hot, dog, and the race is on. Wow, wow. Try an’ stop me. I’m unstoppable. Stop, drop, and roll, hero, or let it burn, baby, burn.’ All while making the soap.”
“Isn’t ‘stop, drop, and roll’ from ‘Legally Blonde’?” Pippa, who had been unusually quiet, chimed in.
“It’s bend and snap,” Broyles corrected, looking sheepish. “I have a friend who’s a fan of the ‘Legally Blonde’ movies.”
Reese entered. “Any potential evidence in the alley has been collected and sent to the station.” She surveyed the room, puzzled. “What did I miss?”
“Apparently, Jennifer Coolidge tried to blow us all up,” Pippa said, simplifying the events while exaggerating them.
“Not Jennifer Coolidge.” Reese’s brow furrowed, forming a deep crease. “I adored her in ‘Legally Blonde.’”
Jeanna and I exchanged knowing glances. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth.
Ezra cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation. “Where did he go wrong, Nora?”
“There was a chiming, more like a clang, in the background, like an old clock striking two,” I recalled. “I don’t think he expected me to hear it, because when the clock chimed, he muttered, ‘Well, shee-it,’ sounding like a man. Muffled, but definitely male.”
“Would you recognize it if you heard it again?” Ezra inquired.
“He had a mask on, so I’m uncertain. I didn’t recognize it during the vision.”
“It’s not much,” Broyles acknowledged.
“But it’s a lead,” I insisted. “At least now we know our suspect is male.”
“White and over forty,” I added.
Ezra met my gaze. “How did you determine that?”
“Ari deduced it,” I explained. “She said anyone born after nineteen ninety wouldn’t have used EZ Reader as a clue. They’d have used God from ‘Bruce Almighty’.”
“Valid point,” Levi agreed. “I would’ve gone with his character from the Dark Knight trilogy.”
“I know him from ‘The Bucket List,’” Jeanna contributed.
“Regardless, white male, over forty,” I reaffirmed.
“Fantastic,” Reese remarked dryly. “That narrows it down to about a thousand guys in Garden Cove.”
“Including me,” Broyles confessed. “Just hit forty. Although, in my defense, I have no idea who EZ Reader is.”
I was eager to conclude this discussion before I got labeled a Boomer again. “What about the other stuff? Do you think he was talking about the soap?” Because I didn’t think so. Something told me the nitric acid was a warning, a prelude to something much bigger. This wasn’t just revenge for this psychopath. He was enjoying the game and was playing to win at any cost.