The Scent of a Thief

Written by Steve Shrott

Detective Cheryl Barnes shook her head at her partner, Robert Simmons. “I can't smell a thing.”

“Great,” he replied. “Your allergies act up on the day we investigate a robbery at a perfume company.”

The pair drove into the parking lot of Rosewood Perfumes. Robert took a look around while Cheryl talked to the owner, Mr. Walters, a short man with a sad expression on his face. He wore a tie with a four-leaf clover and rubbed a rabbit’s foot with one of his hands.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” the man said softly.

“How much money was stolen?” asked Cheryl.

“None.”

“None? But you called in a robbery.”

“They stole something more valuable -- perfume.”

“Oh? How many bottles?”

“One vial.”

Cheryl stared at the man, wondering whether he was sane. “That’s it? Maybe you could explain a little bit?”

“I can’t. I’m too upset. I’d suggest you talk to my secretary, Betty.”

Cheryl nodded and walked over to Betty Simpson’s desk. Betty appeared a moment later with a donut and coffee. Cheryl noticed that she was middle-aged and walked with a limp.

“I feel so sorry for Mr. Walters,” Betty said. He’s such a nice man. I had trouble finding a job a few years back, and even though I didn’t have any experience, Mr. Walters made me his secretary.”

“Does he always carry a rabbit’s foot?”

“Yes, he’s very superstitious. Up on his wall, he has two horseshoes. Before he starts each day, he rubs both of them.”

“Maybe you can tell me a bit more about the stolen vial.”

“I don’t know too much. But Mr. Walters and the staff have been working on a special perfume. This morning, a vial of it went missing. He doesn’t want to believe that a staff member took it. He thinks of us as family.”

Cheryl nodded. “When was the missing vial noticed?”

“When I came in -- around eight o’clock -- I heard everyone talking about it.

“What time did you leave last night?”

“Around six.”

“When does Mr. Walters go home for the day?”

“Normally, the same time as me. But last night, he had an appointment to see Mr. Danby at eight.”

“Oh?” Cheryl removed a pad from her pocket and wrote the name down. “Who is he?”

“A competitor in the perfume industry.”

“A competitor? Why would Mr. Walters want to speak to him?”

“They have a friendly rivalry. Every few months or so, Mr. Danby comes by to boast about his new product line or find out about ours. He runs a super-successful company himself.

Cheryl nodded, then wrote something down on her pad. “If I wanted to find out more about your new perfume, whom would I speak with?”

“Darlene. She’s Mr. Walters' assistant.”

A few moments later, Cheryl entered the laboratory and stood next to Darlene Herman, a tall, broad-shouldered woman. “Can you tell me about your latest project?” Cheryl asked.

“Certainly.” Darlene pointed to the glass vials sitting on a wall shelf, numbered from one to twenty.

“They contain samples of our newest scent: Intrigue.”

Cheryl removed one of the perfume vials and examined it closely. “They look like they're full of water.”

“Yes, but they actually contain pheromones”

“Pheromones?” asked Cheryl.

“Those are the chemicals that make us more attractive to the opposite sex.”

“Interesting.”

“It's going to triple our sales.” Darlene smiled ear to ear.

“You seem very excited about it. Do you get a percentage if it’s successful?”

“No, unfortunately not. But Mr. Walters said because of all the hard work I’d put in, he’d give me a promotion once it reaches the market.”

“Was it you who noticed that a vial was missing?”

“Yes. Due to Mr. Walters’ superstitious nature, we always make sure that there are two number fourteens and no number thirteen. But now there’s a thirteen and only one fourteen. That’s how I knew something was wrong.”

“So someone took one out and switched another in?”

“Yes, from those empty vials over there.” Darlene pointed to several vials on the table.

Cheryl made another note on her pad. “Is there anyone else I can talk to?”

Darlene thought a moment. “Perhaps, the janitor. That’s Mr. Harrison. He might have seen something.”

A few moments later, Cheryl spoke to the curly-haired janitor. He was a tall man who wore thick, black eye glasses. “How long have you been working here, Mr. Harrison?”

“Just a short time. They hired me a few days ago. But I've already given my notice.”

Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “So soon?”

“Yes. I've heard they've had several janitors leave. It's not a friendly place.” The janitor shook his head. “It’s unbelievable. I'm a professional. They don’t have to tell me what to do. These people make their money the easy way … a desk job. I have to work like a horse.”

“I see. What time did you begin cleaning the lab floor last night?”

“About 7:30 p.m.”

“Did you see Mr. Walters?” Cheryl asked.

“Yeah. Just as I went into the lab, he left. I didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything to me.”

“Thank you. That's all I need to know.”

The janitor grunted and left the office.

Cheryl walked out into the hall and called her partner over. “I think I know who stole the vial.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “Even with allergies, I can still sniff out a thief.”