Killer Scents (6 page)

T
he
unpleasant
bitterness churning
in her
stomach increased tenfold with the
putrid
stench of death
coming
from the house.
She
squatted and drew in a shaky breath.

Randy
crouched beside her and spoke discreetly. “Are you okay?”

Becca
pressed her lips together firmly and gave him a definitive nod. “Let’s do it.” She straightened her stance and gave her professional persona full rein
, a
mastered trait garnered over twenty years living on the
ugly
side of life.

Once inside, an eerie silence settled upon the room like a blanket of fog. The coroner kneeled beside the latest victim, a man. His eyes
remained
wide open,
and
blood caked the
flawlessly
aligned holes where the needle
had
pushed through his lips.
A perfect hole i
n the center of his forehead
looked like
the killer
had
painted
it
on.
The man clasped the long stem of
a fuchsia
azalea
in his bound hands.

Disturbingly peaceful
. 

Chief Thomson
stepped
out of
the kitchen and padded across
the room
to join them.

“
Detectives,
”
h
e said, stone-faced. “Jeffery Dunn, thirty-eight years old, computer tech.”

“Did you find anything that might link him to any of the others?” Randy
let his
gaze
wander
the room.

Their boss
shook h
is head
. “Not that we can
see
.”

Becca
frowned. “I don’t see a box.”

“That’s because there isn’t one.
None
of the other crime scenes
had one
either. This guy does a thorough cleaning before he leaves.”

“How did he get in this time?”
she
asked.

The chief shrugged. “No sign of forced entry or a scuffle of any kind. There is one difference to this
case,
though.”

“And that would be?”

“The neighbour called the cops after seeing a motorcycle leave the driveway. The old gal
ha
s lived in this neighbor
hood
for years and never once saw a bike at
the victim’s
house. In fact, he rarely had visitors. When she phoned over and didn’t get an answer, she called 911.”

“A motorcycle? The press is going to have a field day with this, bad-assed bikers and all,” Randy folded his arms across his broad chest.

“Did anyone see a motorcycle at the other houses? A delivery truck maybe?”
asked Becca.

“That’s a good question.
There is no
report
of
a delivery truck or a strange car out front.”

“I bet
nobody
even thought to mention a bike
,
” Becca added.

“I’ll get somebody on that right
now
.” Chief Thomson strode out to his car.

Becca moved robotically
. It was like
she
’d
flipped a switch to transform the confident, self-assured woman he was falling for
in
to a stone-faced, no-nonsense cop.

While
she talked
with the coroner and one of the crime
-
scene techs, Randy took the opportunity to
call
the professor. A woman named Mable
answered and
schedul
ed
them a visit the following morning.

Hopefully
Becca would
agree
to take the rest of the evening
off
, giving him time to research Professor Davies.

The motorcycle added an interesting twist to the case. Unfortunately the press would undoubtedly blow the
biker
aspect way out of proportion and everyone who
rode
a bike would be suspect, putting even more emotional strain on the city.

By the time they
were ready to leave
the crime scene
,
the sun had begun its decent,
lighting
the horizon ablaze in shades of orange and pink.

“Why don’t you go home and take it easy for the rest of the night? It’s been a long day, and I think you could use a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go home and take a long soak in the tub.” She
wrinkled her nose
at him. “Sometimes you act more like a father than a partner.”

He moved in close enough to feel her breath on his face. “Trust me, Red. I have no desire to be your father. How about I share that bubble bath with you and remind you how good we are together?”

Becca pressed her palm against his chest and pushed him back a step. “Trust me, I don’t need a reminder.”

“Is that a no?” Randy trailed a finger down the hollow of her neck. Her shiver had him grinning sheepishly.

“How about you ask me again
after
we find this guy?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Randy
insisted following her home and
seeing her
to the door.

“This really isn’t necessary. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a cop. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Humor me. I’ll be back here by nine bells. Try to get some sleep.”
He
turned on his heel and
descended
the porch steps.

“If I’m a good girl, can we stop for ice cream tomorrow?”

He chuckled to himself on
the
way back to his bike.

You can have anything your heart desires, Red.

For the first time since
Susan
’s death,
Becca
slept through the night without a nightmare. Dare she feel hopeful about
their visit with
the professor
in just a little while
?

She
sifted through
pictures of
the
different
flowers
The Florist
left in
his
victims’ hands. How were these beautiful
images
connected to the strange items he left in their mouths? I
t
was
more than
his signature, something he went to great lengths to orchestrate.

The rumble of a Harley approaching
brought a smile to her face. She padded across the
tile
floor to a full
-
length mirror in the hallway.
At a
light rap
on
the door
,
she quickly swiped gloss across her lips and slipped the tube in
the
front pocket
of
her jeans.

“Come in.”
She
inched
the
door open
,
and her partner poked his head inside. “Have a seat. Can I get you
some
coffee?”

Randy
shook
the hair from his eyes “Sure. We’ve got a little time to kill before
we’re due at the farm.” He pulled out a chair and sat, careful to keep his feet on the mat in front of the door.

“Don’t worry about your boots.” She poured him a cup of coffee, inwardly pleased he cared enough not to step on the floor.

He reached for his
mug
at the same time
she set it on the table, his hand lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. Flustered,
she
addressed the photos.

“It’s
ironic
how beautiful
the flowers
are. Why
does
he leave them behind after doing what he d
oes
to the
poor souls
?”
He sipped from his mug.

She
shrugged. “I’ve been asking myself the same question.
Maybe the
professor
can shed some light on this
whole sordid mess.”

Randy gulped the rest of his coffee down. “Well, there’s no sense in sitting inside on a
beautiful day like this. It’s a nice run through the country to his property
.”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” She smiled. “I’ll just grab my helmet and we can head out.”

Randy squinted against the bright morning sun and slipped on his sunglasses. It was
a beautiful day to be out on the bikes
. Too bad it wasn’t under different circumstances. He wouldn’t mind getting
reacquainted with the gal he’d only known as Red
.

Her bike
,
parked outside the garage door, sparkl
ed
in the sun. Some serious time went into buffing the chrome.
You
g
otta love a woman who takes
such
pride in her
ride
.

The back door
banged
shut
,
and Becca locked it before putting her helmet on.
She’d tied her
oversized denim shirt around her tiny waist. The black tank
top
revealed three quarter sleeves of colorful tattoos
up her arms
.
The edge of another tattoo peeked out from her scooped neckline. Several colourful feathers
cupp
ed the curve of her milky white breast.
The memory of her naked body quickened his pulse.

Tall, tattooed and mysterious.
He grinned sheepishly.

It didn’t take long before the wind worked its magic, bringing a rosy glow to Becca’s cheeks. She looked over at him and flashed a bright smile as he pulled up beside her.
He
swallowed hard and shifted in his seat to accommodate his
arousal
.

Oh
boy,
I’m screwed if just a smile has this effect on me.
Maybe she’s right and I
need to
rein in my wayward libido
to
focus on th
is
case
. We’
re on the trail of a serial killer, and for
Becca, it’s personal.