The Scent of a Thief

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.”