The murder weapon, in this case the thin cord to a phone charger, was just being dropped into an evidence bag as we walked into Dane's room.
"Wait," I said too abruptly to Officer Tremaine as he held the cord between tweezers. "I just need to smell that cord."
Officer Tremaine looked at Briggs for a rational explanation.
"Please hold onto that cord with the tweezers so Miss Pinkerton can smell it." Briggs' response left enough holes to cause the officer's thick brows to bunch into fuzzy caterpillars.
I ignored the quizzical expression and moved my nose along the length of the wire. I was unsure that I'd be able to smell anything on the narrow casing over the cord but was surprised how many scents I picked up. There was aftershave identical to the kind Riley had been wearing. It made sense that the two men might wear the same brand. It was a good, expensive fragrance too. The slightest hint of the metallic smell of blood wafted up from the center of the cord. It made sense if the cord had tightened and dug into Dane's neck. It was also possible his fingertips bled as he tried to pry the cord from his neck. There was one more scent, an oily scent that I couldn't match to anything in my vast mental encyclopedia of odors.
Officer Tremaine was apparently entertained by my sniffing session. His suppressed smile twittered in his face, wanting badly to break free.
I nodded politely at him. "Thank you so much. You can continue."
"Tremaine, when you're done with that, I need you to search this room and the victim's belongings for a Rolex watch." Briggs looked questioningly at me for more detail.
"It's gold with a silver dial," I added.
Briggs and I walked over to Nate. "No question that he died from strangulation," Nate said. "The red fingertips show he was working hard to break free of the cord. I don't see any other sign of struggle, but I'll know more when I get him on the table." Nate looked at the room service cart with the bottle of whiskey and cookies. "The odor of alcohol is faint, but perhaps you'd like the master nose to take a tour before I put him on the gurney." Nate had seen me at enough crime scenes to know all about my hyperosmia.
I walked to where Dane was stretched out on the carpet. Nate had moved his body so that he was flat on his back. I caught a whiff of his aftershave, the same scent I smelled on the cord and on Riley's mask. I lowered my nose inches above his face and then trailed it along his chest. It was always a little surreal being so intimately close to someone who was no longer living and breathing. It felt slightly wrong, rude, as if I was invading his personal space. Then there was always that terrifying, creeping feeling that the body presumed dead might suddenly move. That unsettling fear came from watching one too many horror movies and from the fact that, aside from the unnatural pallor of his complexion, the body was still a solid, muscular man who looked capable of movement.
Laundry detergent, soap, aftershave fragrances were mingling in my saturated olfactory cells. Just like with Riley's mask, nothing smelled out of place. I swept my nose back up and caught a whiff of something different. "Garlic," I muttered to myself. Sometimes, it was as if I was having a quiet conversation with my nose, as if we were two separate entities. "And lemon," I continued. "Garlic and lemon."
"What's that?" Briggs asked.
I sat back on my knees and peered up at him. "I smell garlic and lemon. They're not two separate aromas but rather they are layered on top of each other."
Nate clucked his tongue. "That has to be most talented nose this side of the Rockies."
Briggs grinned with pride as he gazed down at me. "The whole woman, nose and all, is pretty darn talented."
My cheeks warmed as I leaned down to smell along the sweater sleeves and Dane's hands. "A bit more of the garlic, lemon mixture." I reached his hand where the imprint of his missing watch was slowly fading. I smelled a stronger whiff of the same garlic, lemon mixture on his hands. There was also the light scent of marijuana on his fingers, a plant that had a distinctively skunk-like smell. It was not surprising considering Dane's last text to Riley mentioned a joint and munchies.
I reached my hand up, and Briggs popped me to my feet. "The only thing that seems out of place is the garlic, lemon smell. It's on his sweater and his hands."
"Do you know what kind of food they were eating at the party?" Briggs asked. "Wait," he continued before letting me answer. "It was Italian. That's why we changed our dinner plans."
"Yes. I saw pizza and lasagna and garlic bread. Not sure where the lemon comes in. But that doesn't explain why I'm smelling it on his sweater. Dane came down to the party dressed as Prince Charming." I walked over to the bed. The costume had been checked for evidence but not bagged up yet. I picked up the blue coat and red cape and ran my nose around the fabric. There was a mix of smells, including garlic, tomato sauce and even beer. I put the costume back on the bed. "That's strange. I can smell the garlic again, but this time there's no lemon. It makes sense that his prince costume would smell like Italian food, but it doesn't explain why the aroma is on his sweater."
Nate patted his chest with both hands. "What if he tapped his chest frantically as the cord went around his neck? It could have come off his hands. Maybe he wasn't big on napkin use."
"That's very possible," I said. "Well, I'm finished with the nasal inspection."
"Briggs, how do you want me to take this body out of the hotel? Maybe the manager has the best route where we won't be seen by many people."
"Right," Briggs said as he walked to the hotel phone. "I'll give him a call and see what he suggests."
While Briggs made the call, I perused the room. The room service cart had been untouched, except it seemed both high ball glasses had been removed for evidence. The plate of cookies sat sadly in the middle of a white linen napkin. I stooped down next to it just to take a whiff around the items on the cart. My nose stopped short on the handle of the cart. "There you are again," I muttered. The lemon and garlic were slapped together in one fragrant aroma. A perfectly plausible explanation was that Dane grabbed the handle and transferred the lemon and garlic to the cart when he moved it to the corner of the room.
I walked across the carpet. Dane's reunion nametag was sitting on an itinerary for the weekend. Debra had the entire two day event planned out and printed neatly on stationary that was lined with the Rockmore Royals colors and school motto. After today's meet and greet luncheon, with the hyacinth centerpieces, the classmates were to enjoy a ghoulish night of festivities at the costume ball. She even had a costume contest planned for later in the evening. Poor Debra had worked so hard on this. The culminating event was to take place tomorrow morning with a Sunday brunch put on by Katrina's Elegant Edibles.
I moved the itinerary and picked up a card that was framed by bright orange jack-o'-lanterns. Listed in the center, in a creepy font, were the foods on the party menu. Various pizzas, lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, green salad and garlic bread. Desert was fudgy brownie sundaes. I was no chef but I couldn't understand where the lemon came in on the dinner menu.
Briggs finished his phone call. "The manager is coming up here to lead you to the service elevator and out the back entrance. That way you can avoid standing in a guest elevator with a dead body. He also preferred to not have the gurney rolled through the lobby," he said dryly. "He's asked the guests to stay in their rooms, but he can hardly enforce that. It's been a long time since I've been to a double homicide . . . thankfully. It's hard to keep track of it all," he said with a sigh. The long night was starting to get to him. He looked weary.
"I think we're looking at the first victim—" Nate started. "I think the balcony victim died after this man was strangled. After examining both of them, I'd say they died at almost the same time, but I think this victim has been dead longer. Rigor mortis was just starting to set in on this man. Of course, I got to him last, so it's hard to know for sure. But I'm solid in my conclusion that they died just a short time apart from each other."
"Yes," Briggs agreed. "All the events, including the alleged near-attack on Clive, all seemed to occur between eight and nine. And that's about the only thing I know for certain. There's an entire hotel of guests and workers who could be possible suspects, but I think we'll start with the man who wore a jester hat to the Halloween party." Briggs turned to me. "I'm sure you aren't anxious to watch the removal of the body. I've heard from Officer Clark. He's with Grady Ramone, waiting for questioning. Are you still with me? You look a little tired."
"I was just about to say the same thing to you. Maybe we can get some coffee down in hospitality after you finish talking to Grady," I suggested.
"Yep. Or maybe Grady will confess to everything and that will bring a swift end to an otherwise long night."
I took his arm as we walked out into the hall. "I always love an optimist."