Scents and Sensibility by Wildeskind
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Act II
Blair tensed as he eyed Jim warily. He'd heard of sexual harassment in the workplace, but this was ridiculous. His mind went into overdrive with possibilities and theories. If the perfume was sending Jim's hormones into overdrive, then he had to snap him out of it. The image of hosing Jim down with some very cold water came to mind. Unfortunately he didn't have a hose handy. "Jim, you have to listen to me. It's the perfume talking. You have to focus here."
Jim reached out and hooked a finger on the neck of Blair's t-shirt, pulling him forward. His large hands framed Blair's face tenderly. "I am focusing, Blair. I want to focus all my love on you!" He gave Blair a big wet kiss on the lips before breaking out in howls of laughter.
Realizing he had been had, Blair gave Jim a hard shove, sending him stumbling back. "That was so not funny, Jim. I thought that you were really coming on to me."
Jim staggered back, his arm cradling his stomach as new wails of laughter escaped him. He wagged his finger at Blair. "You should have seen your face. Lock your door!" He snorted before laughing again. "Blair, that can't be the first time you've had a guy come on to you."
Blair smirked. That sense of humor was going to get Jim in a load of trouble one day. "Well, it's the last time you're going to do it. I don't want to think what I'd have to do if you did start chasing me around the loft."
"If that happens, just don't slow down. I always catch what I chase." He gave Sandburg a toothy grin.
Blair groaned. "Don't I know it." Dropping the topic of the perfume as a lost cause, he poked around on the Professor's desk. "Man, and I thought your filing system sucked." He picked up a pile of receipts and paged through them.
Jim sat down in the padded leather chair and looked through the desk drawers. "There's nothing wrong with my filing system. Some of us don't subscribe to the shoebox method."
Blair paused in the act of picking up another stack of papers. "Hey, don't dis the shoeboxes. It works. Some of us don't feel the need to be anal about organizing our lives. A little chaos shakes things up, gets the creative juices going. But I guess you're not having any problems getting the juices going today."
A drawer shut with a loud bang. "I thought we had dropped that topic. I don't see an address book in here."
Leaning across the desk, Blair hit the "on" button on a Dell computer sitting on the corner. "He was a man of science. Try the science."
"Hmmm, novel concept. Why is it I'm doing all the work here?" The mouse clicked away as he opened up random programs, searching for the elusive address.
"Because we could get the address at the precinct and because I am trying to get some insight into the victim. Take a look at this." He waved a sheet of paper in front of Jim's face, snatching it away before he could take it. "It's a receipt for a book written by a 12th century English knight. Don't you think it's a strange thing to find in a biochemist's study? I wonder where the book is."
A whisper of a familiar odor tickled the sentinel's nose. Sandburg put the receipt down and picked up another paper. Reaching over, Jim picked up the discarded receipt, breathing in more of the scent.
Oblivious of Jim's reaction to the receipt, Sandburg studied the new piece of paper. "This must be a sample photocopy of one of the pages from the book. Man, you got to love the way they wrote back then. I can't read it, but it's a lot better handwriting than most of the freshman papers that I read. I think this is an s here and this must be a v." He sighed, his mood making one of those lightning quick changes. "You know, I'd feel better if we could find the lady who was wearing that scent. "
Jim's pupils dilated, his heart rate increasing. "Uh, Chief."
"Maybe we could drive you around town and see if you catch the scent somewhere. I know Cascade isn't exactly small, but we could get lucky."
"Chief." He took another breath. His cheeks and lips were flushing a bright red. He squirmed in his chair. It felt as if someone had laid a live wire on him; his skin was humming.
"If Richards was the one who created the perfume, he might have some record of her. Maybe she was a close personal friend of his. Or even a test subject. Either way, we should be to find some sort of records on his computer." He looked up at his friend and partner, who was fixated on the book receipt. "Jim. Snap out of it. Jim." He snatched the paper out of his hand. The crisp paper sliced the webbing of Jim's thumb as it slid out of his hand.
"Ow! Dammit, Sandburg, you how much I hate paper cuts!" Lifting his hand, he sucked on the wound, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.
"I know how much more you hate zoning out. Man, it's like babysitting a teenage boy at a nudist camp."
"I don't know anyone stupid enough to take a teenager to a nudist camp," Jim snapped. The leather chair slid back as he stood up and walked to the window. He threw open the sash and breathed in the untainted spring air. Birds were singing outside. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, letting his hearing roam outside. Rafe and Brown were wrapping up the crime scene. Feeling a little calmer, he turned back to Blair, who was waiting patiently for him. "Sorry about that, Chief."
"No, my remark was uncalled for. I'm just used to you pulling me off the women."
"I think we just found the clue that's going turn this around. Do we know who gave Richards the receipt?"
Blair picked up the paper gingerly, careful not to get any more traces of the perfume on his hands. "Hey, it's Isabelle Whittaker."
"You know her?"
"Yeah, she's a librarian at the Cascade Public Library. She also finds and sells rare books for special customers. She was my best source for finding research material."
Jim frowned. "I don't remember you dating her."
"That's because I didn't. Not my type."
That didn't sound promising. There weren't many women out there who weren't Blair's type. "What type is she?"
Blair blushed and stammered. "What? Well, she's a librarian."
A librarian, Jim thought. He was getting hot flashes over a librarian? "That's not very descriptive. Is she old?"
"No! She's my age. Well, maybe a couple of years older. She has her Ph.D. in library science and information technology. She helped rewire the library a couple of years ago. She's a very intelligent woman."
That sounded even worse. When a buddy started praising a woman's intelligence without mentioning a physical attribute, that usually meant that something was wrong. "Okay, so she's intelligent and educated. Is she pretty?"
Blair tired to hedge. "She's not ugly."
Jim felt like shaking him. "Sandburg, I need to know what she looks like. Will you just tell me?"
He held up his hands. "Okay, okay, she's five-foot-eight, long brown hair, Caucasian, hazel eyes, 135 pounds."
"And she's not ugly?" Jim asked dryly.
"No, no. Jim, you have nothing to worry about."
"Not with that glowing recommendation."
Blair gave a nervous laugh. "Jim, I thought you appreciated the inner beauty of women."
Jim ground his teeth, the paused for a second to deliberately loosen his jaw muscles. "Not when I'm having an irresistible chemical reaction to them. Then it's a purely physical thing. I'd hope that my glands would have good taste."
Sandburg shrugged. "I don't know why they would change their taste at this late date."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Jim, ever since I met you, 23% of the women you date are criminal, 35% are in high risk professions, and 27% don't stick around long enough for you to have a relationship with."
Jim calculated the percentages in his head. "Hey, wait a minute. What about the last 15%?"
Sandburg rolled his eyes. "Those are the ones the guys set you up with. They don't count because you didn't do the choosing."
Jim snorted. "Oh, like you do any better. At least my dates don't try to kill me."
"No, they try to kill me." There was a pause as Jim tried to judge how to take the hastily spoken words. Blair did a half shrug, his lips turned up in an apologetic smile.
Jim gave a bark of laughter. It felt good to be able to laugh about it, even if the words still packed a bite. "Well, Blair, I wouldn't take it so personally. They just don't want to share me with anyone."
They sat there for a moment, savoring the closeness their friendship offered that made it possible to speak of things that had hurt them all those months ago. Had it really been two years since Alex had killed Blair? It seemed as if forever had passed. Maybe it had been that long. "Let's get Jeffers' address and get going."
Blair plucked a sticky note off the computer. "Here we go. I found it while you were meditating."
"Great." He followed Sandburg out of the room, and waved goodbye to the uniform, who was still taking photographs. Jim grabbed Blair by the scruff of the neck and gently shook him. "By the way, those are some pretty impressive statistics there."
Blair grinned impishly up at him. "Yeah, they were for chapter twelve of my thesis: Sentinel Mating Practices and How to Survive Them."
Ellison and Sandburg were sitting at their desks going through reports when Rafe and Brown came in from the crime scene. Going to their own desks, they started to fill out the necessary forms for the current case. Rafe looked up from the 192A form to see Ellison reach down behind Sandburg to pick up a folder from the box between their desks. He blinked when he saw Ellison sniff his partner before going back to work. Not really sure he had seen what he thought he saw, he kept an eye on them as he continued to fill out his own paperwork.
A couple of minutes later Ellison handed the folder he had been working on to Blair and leaned down to get another folder. Again, he sniffed Blair before starting in on the new folder.
A dark hand came down in front of him, making him jump. "Hey, Rafe, I am not staying in here all day. Will you wake up?"
"Brown, "he whispered. "Did you see that?"
"See what, man? We still have some leads to track down on the Thompkins case. As soon as we finish here, we can cruise."
Rafe tugged on his jacket. "Ellison. Watch him."
"What?" Brown's voice rose in incredulity.
"Shhh." Rafe held his breath as he waited for any indication that the sentinel had heard. "Just watch him for a few minutes, okay?"
Rolling his eyes, Brown sat back down at his desk and pretended to fill out a couple more lines on his form. He was almost convinced that Rafe was putting him on when Ellison reached behind Sandburg. He came up with a manila folder. He paused, and sniffed Blair before opening up the folder and inspecting the contents.
"What the hell was that?"
Rafe shrugged. "I don't know. You don't think it's some sort of sentinel thing, do you?"
Henri looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Of course it's a sentinel thing. I sure as hell hope it's a sentinel thing."
Ellison closed the file he was working on and stood up. Blair followed suit, tossing aside the file he had been working on. Ellison picked up the file and stacked it neatly with the others.
"Where do they think they're going?" asked Rafe.
His partner shrugged. "Do we need to know?"
Rafe tapped his pen on his desk. "Ellison's acting really weird."
Brown snorted. "Weird is a way of life for those two. Maybe it's a new test Sandburg's come up with for him."
Rafe was impressed with this line of reasoning. "You think so?"
"Yeah. It makes sense. Remember when Sandburg was testing Jim's hearing? He played that music with those dirty jokes in the background. Jim would be sitting there and then he'd bust out laughing."
"When was this?" Rafe searched his memory for the aforementioned incident.
"Three weeks ago. You mean you don't remember that?"
"Yeah, I remember, I guess. How did you know about the tape?"
"I was in the bathroom attending to nature's call when Jim and Blair came in. Jim was laughing so hard that he didn't even notice me there. He told Blair if he ever ran a test like that again in the precinct he was going to have laundry duty for a week plus all the paperwork."
"And you think that Blair is running a test now?"
"You have any better ideas?"
"No. But I can't see what test Blair could come up with that would require Jim to sniff him."
"With Blair, it could be anything."
Jim waited until Blair's seatbelt was on before putting the truck in gear. "I don't know if this is going to work."
"Of course it will, Jim. You said it yourself: you used my scent to ground yourself in the mall. This is the same principle." He blinked as the truck left the artificial lighting of the underground parking lot for the bright afternoon sun. He knew this was going to work. It felt right.
"Yeah, but you were there and all I had to replace was the scent off a sweater. It's going to be different when the scent is from a real live woman."
"Trust me, Jim, it's going to work. You were so much more focused at the end of the trial run. There weren't any mistakes on the last forms you filled out. I don't think it's going to be much different with Ms. Whittaker."
Jim slowed down for a stoplight. "Ms. Whittaker? You mean you aren't even on a first name basis with this woman? How old did you say she was again?"
"She's thirty-three, I think, thirty-five tops."
"You make her sound like an old maid."
"She's not an old maid. Not really. I think that if the right man came along he'd find a lot of passion underneath that controlled exterior. You know what they say. Still waters run deep."
The light turned and Jim eased out into the intersection. Turning left, he gave Blair a sarcastic look. "They also say mountain-fed streams are cold."
Sandburg shivered playfully. "That's cold, man. Real cold."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Look, you're the one who can't say one good thing about the woman. All I have to go on is secondhand impressions from you." He slowed the truck again to let a car parallel park. The library was only five blocks away from the precinct, but it seemed like it was going to take forever to get there. He wanted the meeting over.
The Cascade Municipal Library looked like every other library Jim had ever seen. Two stories high, it was a sprawling brick building with tinted windows. The parking lot was surprisingly full. He hadn't thought a library would be such a popular spot in the middle of a weekday. They entered through the heavy front doors. Directly ahead of them was the round circulation desk. Three librarians stood behind the solid counter helping a couple of older women and a college student check out their selections. Jim immediately dismissed them. They were all too old, or the wrong race, to be Isabelle. A gathering of young mothers with toddlers was moving into a side room. Blair pulled Jim off into the reference section.
"Okay, see if you can locate her in here."
Jim closed his eyes and opened his other senses to their surroundings. Using his sense of hearing, he tracked down the people in the building. A rich feminine voice caught his attention. The contralto was reading a story to the group of toddlers they had seen coming in.
"And the first little piggy built his house from straw. The second little piggy built his house of sticks. But the third little piggy built his house out of bricks."
It was the voice of an attractive woman. A woman who knew what she wanted. The nuances of the voice played like a symphony to the sentinel's sensitive ears. He had to find the owner of that voice. Following it, he crossed the lobby to the cul-de-sac where story time was in progress. Standing behind the crowd of young mothers and toddlers, he had a perfect view of the Voice.
She was in her mid to late thirties, with long curly brown hair and snapping hazel eyes. The features of her face were a bit sharp, as if someone had been hasty when they were putting them together and had only sketched them out. Her chin was too pointy and her mouth on the small side, but her hair was a rich mahogany, catching the light with red highlights. His fingers itched to bury themselves in the long curls. Her siren's voice wrapped itself around him.
Blair was behind him. "Hey, man, that's not Isabelle Whittaker."
Jim breathed in through his nose, scenting the air like a big cat. Her scent was unmistakable. He felt the desire to reach out and pull her to him, bury himself in her soft flesh. "Chief, that is the woman I smelled on the sweater and on the receipt. That has to be Isabelle Whittaker." He breathed in more of her scent, intoxicated. His skin was humming with desire. She was beautiful. She was his!
Blair said, sentinel soft. "Hey, Jim, cool it with the breathing. Dial it down or something. There are children here."
Struggling with his base instincts, he dialed down his sense of smell. But that voice was still there, stroking him with its richness. And her hair beckoned him, teased him by rippling as she turned another page. She held the book up for the children to see the pictures. The book pushed up her breasts beneath her sky blue T-shirt, emphasizing that they were in perfect proportion to her slender body. Not too big, not too small, but just right. His fingers itched to find out if they were as soft as they looked.
A hand fastened itself on his arm, tugging him away. Sandburg whispered in his ear. "Jim, if you don't get out of here right now, you're going to embarrass both of us. Come on." Jim hesitated for a second before allowing the hand to pull him away. He continued to listen to her voice as he walked blindly away.
Cold steel smacking him in the face brought him to his senses. "What the hell?" He had run into the metal divider of the library doors. Rubbing his throbbing cheek, he followed Sandburg outside, away from the presence of his personal siren.
His guide was patently unsympathetic. "Well, if you watched where you were going, you wouldn't have hit it, now, would you?" He pulled Jim's hand away from his face to get a better look.
Jim jerked away from him, annoyed. "If you had told me the truth about Isabelle Whittaker, I could have prepared myself better. That woman is more than not ugly! She's beautiful!"
Giving up on inspecting Jim's face, Blair walked to a waist-high brick retaining wall bordered by orange tulips, putting some distance between him and his stressed out partner. He sat down on the wall. "I don't know about beautiful, but she's certainly had a makeover done. The Isabelle Whittaker I knew wore glasses. Her hair was always scraped into a bun or braid and she liked to wear these ugly brown or gray clothes. She was the stereotypical librarian. It took me a couple of minutes to recognize her in there with those kids. Wow."
Absorbing this information, Jim hesitated only a minute before stalking over and sitting on the cool bricks, leaving three feet between himself and Sandburg. He started the cycle of meditation techniques that his guide had taught him to center himself. He also focused on his guide's scent, hoping to drive out the beguiling scent that had him so worked up. Blair's scent meant sanity. He needed sanity right now.
Slowly, he became aware of the sounds of birds around them, the laughter of children as they entered the building and the growl of cars driving up and down the road. Their exhaust fumes made him cough. Dialing down his sense of smell yet again, he put his hand out to where the shadow ended and the sun began. The contrast of heat and coolness was increased by his sentinel abilities. Feeling sufficiently calm again, he turned back to Blair, who had been discreetly monitoring him.
"Okay, Chief, now what do we do? Your scent replacement technique didn't work."
Sandburg rolled his eyes. "Well, did you try it?" He held up his hands as Jim started to reply. "What I mean is that you looked out of it in there. Like you said, Isabelle Whittaker was a shock, to both of us. I don't think I was totally focused in there either."
Jim mulled over what he remembered of the experience, using Sandburg's scent to keep himself grounded. It had been a shock to see the mystery woman who had been twisting his emotions into a knot. He had expected to be put off by her physical appearance. Instead, it had only increased his attraction. "Yeah, I think the shock of seeing her in person did put me off my stride. Let's try it again."
"You sure? You don't need more time to, uh...."
"Cool off? I think it's like falling off a horse, Chief. You get back on, even if you've broken your arm. It's just harder the next time if you wait."
"You did that?"
"What, falling off a horse? You're not a real horseman until you do." He remembered how Steven had been goofing around, waving his crop. Jim's horse, young and skittish, had thrown him. The sickening crack as the bone broke had been worse than the pain that followed.
Sandburg's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "No, I mean getting back on the horse with a broken arm."
Jim snorted. His father had insisted that he get back on and ride back to the stable. "Yeah. Hurt like hell."
Getting up, they entered the library. The alcove where story time was held was emptying. Most of the mothers and toddlers were gone. Jim and Blair waited until the stragglers were gone before Blair waved at Isabelle. She sauntered up to them. Blair didn't remember her having that swing to her walk either.
"Hello, Mr. Sandburg. How are you doing today?" Her words were cordial, but her tone was cool. Jim wondered if Blair had any outstanding fines or something.
"It's Blair, Ms. Whittaker. This is my partner, Jim Ellison." Her hazel eyes did a once-over, taking in every detail with a glance. They lingered for a second on his shoulders. Standing up a bit straighter, Jim sucked in his stomach.
She held out her hand. "Jim, is it? Hi, call me Isabelle." Her voice was like warm honey pouring over him. Even with his sense of smell dialed down, his excitement levels were rising. Dialing up the smell a little bit, he used Blair's technique to filter out the smell of the perfume, replacing it with his guide's. His desire didn't disappear, but it became manageable.
He wrapped his hand around her cool, delicate one. He could feel the calluses on the tips of her fingers from typing and handling books. His fingers tingled where they touched her skin.
Experimentally, he rubbed his thumb on the top of her thumb. He felt her pulse jump. She wasn't unaffected either. A discreet cough reminded him that they were in a public place. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure's all mine." Her smile should have been illegal. "How can I help you?" The tone of her voice made it plain that she would willingly help him with anything he wanted to suggest. What had happened to the cool librarian Blair had described? Jim looked at her eyes again. They were dilated with desire. Desire for him. Suddenly his eyes began to water uncontrollably. He turned away just in time to let loose with a series of powerful sneezes. Sniffing, he looked up to those haunting hazel eyes.
"Are you okay, Jim?"
Blair handed him a handkerchief from his pocket. "Oh, Jim has allergies. You don't happen to have any perfume on?" Jim looked at Blair suspiciously. He hadn't sneezed before because of her perfume.
Her hand rose to her slender throat. "Why, yes. You don't think he's allergic to it?"
"I don't know. Do you know what's in it?"
She shook her head. "No, a friend of mine made it. I know it has some rose oil in it. Other than that, I don't know."
He sneezed again. The only time he sneezed like this was when he was around freshly cut sage. He sniffed cautiously. The pungent odor hit him, sending him into a paroxysm of sneezing. That rat! Sandburg had brought some sage with him!
Isabelle took a couple of steps back from him. "I'm sorry, it must be me. Is he going to be okay?" The last was directed at Sandburg as Jim was still trying to get his rebellious sinuses under control. How much had Blair brought with him? He wiped his nose with the handkerchief, then realized with horror that the fabric was infused with sage oil. Shoving it back at his partner, he headed to the bathroom. He had to get the smell off.
He heard Blair making excuses before following him.
Pushing through the heavy door, Jim turned on the tap and started to flush his eyes and mouth with water, scrubbing his hands with the liquid soap from the pump. He heard Sandburg check the stalls for occupants before locking the main door.
"You okay, Jim?"
"No, I'm not okay! What were you trying to do, Sandburg, poison me?"
Blair took the sage from his pocket. Carefully sealing the plastic evidence bag, he moved to the other sink and washed the exterior of the bag. "I'm sorry, Jim, I didn't think it was going to be that bad. You must be sensitive from all the olfactory input you've been getting."
Turning off the water with a vicious twist, Jim pulled a fistful of paper towels from the dispenser. He cursed at the sandpaper texture of the recycled brown paper as he blotted at the moisture on his face. He snarled at Blair. "No, Blair. I don't think so. Did you have to rub your handkerchief with sage, too?"
Horror dawned in his guide's face. "Ohmygosh, I must have wiped my hands on it when I picked the sage. I'm so sorry, Jim. I just wanted Isabelle to think you were allergic to the perfume so she'd wash it off!"
"Well now she thinks I'm deathly allergic to the stuff. I can hear her in the other bathroom now, washing it off. Are you happy?" Another time, he would laugh at the situation. Right now, all he wanted to do was put his hand through a wall. His body was still tight with desire and his eyes burned from exposure to the sage.
Blair paced up and down the bathroom, pulling at his hair. "Yes. No. I'm happy she's washing it off, but I'm not happy I almost poisoned you." Whirling around again, he stalked to the sink and started to scrub his hands, turning the hot water wide open.
Jim sighed. He knew Sandburg was only watching out for his best interests. "Next time, warn me, okay?"
Sandburg finished washing his hands, waving them in the air to get the excess water off. "Okay. I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it. I guess I underestimated her charms. Did the scent displacement technique work?" He grabbed some of the brown paper towels, scrubbing his hands until they were bright red.
Jim grabbed them out of his hand and tossed them into the trash. "The sce... oh, yeah. Instead of feeling like jumping her bones right then and there, I just felt like getting her alone and jumping her bones."
Blair gave him a wan smile. "That's some improvement. There should be more when we get out of here. Let me see those beautiful baby blues." He reached out for Jim's head.
Patiently letting Blair peer into his eyes, he wondered why these things happened to him. The amount of sage oil on the handkerchief had probably been negligible. Dammit, he felt like a kid who had scraped his knee.
Sandburg made a clucking noise. "They're a little red, but otherwise okay."
Jim looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were inflamed, the skin around them splotchy and swollen. "Blair, I look like a drunk after a three-day binge!"
"So wear your sunglasses. It's not like you can't see with them on indoors. Besides, Isabelle is going to feel terrible that she poisoned you. You know what females are like when they feel guilty."
"I don't want her to feel guilty. I want her to feel...." He stopped at Blair's raised eyebrows. "What?"
"You do realize this is purely a chemical reaction."
"You do realize how long it's been since I've met a decent woman who's single and without any major psychological problems or a criminal record? Besides, I don't think it's all chemical."
"Jim, you've been drooling over her scent all day. Why would you think it is not chemical? You don't even know her in any sense other than smell."
"I know what she looks like, what she sounds like, what she feels like. I'd like to know how she thinks. Besides, after she gets rid of the perfume, we'll find out whether it's the perfume or just her."
"Oh, this is going to be good. You're going after a woman because her perfume turns you on. Oh, man, I can't wait to see how this turns out."
Blair's enthusiasm struck a note of dread in Jim. "Hey, you are to stay out of my love life, capish?" There was no telling what disaster could happen if Sandburg decided to help matters along. He did not need lessons in love.
"Hey, no problem. You don't want my help, fine. Just as long as you make sure it's her you're attracted to." He unlocked the bathroom door.
Putting on his sunglasses, he tapped Blair's shoulder for emphasis. "You just stay out of it."
Isabelle was waiting alone behind the circulation desk. The two detectives joined her at the big counter. Her manner was subdued, her gaze lingering in on Jim's face before dropping to his chest. There were watermarks on her T-shirt. "Are you okay?"
Jim smiled reassuringly, despite the lingering burning of his eyes. "I'm fine. A little cold water did wonders, and I'll take something when I get home."
"Right. I washed off the perfume. I didn't realize it was so strong. I thought I only dabbed it on."
Blair broke in. "You probably did. Jim's very sensitive."
Both Jim and Isabelle stared at him. Looking uncomfortable, he started to back away. "Uh, hey, Jim, I have a book I need to look up. Let me know when you're ready to go." As he trotted off to the stacks he whispered, "Five minutes, man. You disappear, I'm coming to find you."
Jim chuckled. "Sorry about that. He feels gu--, uh, protective of me."
"Right." She turned to him, tossed her hair away from her face and smiled, her eyes soft. "So, how can I help you?"
The brown flecks in her hazel eyes fascinated him. They were like the deep shadows in the forest, intriguing. He belatedly realized that she had asked him a question. "Excuse me?"
"How can I help you? I'm assuming you didn't come here just to see me. Blair's been coming to the library for years and this is the first time he's brought such a handsome man with him."
Thinking quickly, Jim pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket. "Do you recognize this?"
She took the paper and scanned it. Anger and a trace of fear crossed her face. "Where did you get this?"
"Professor Richards' study."
The fear flashed in her face again, those hazel eyes searching his for reassurance. Her voice was low and distressed. "He's not in any trouble is he?"
Jim could hear her heart racing. Suddenly realizing that Richards might have been more than an acquaintance, he put a hand on her arm. His voice was soft with regret. "I'm sorry, Isabelle. His housekeeper found his body in the greenhouse this morning."
Isabelle covered her mouth, her face going so white that Jim thought she was going to faint. Her eyes clouded over as she began to shake.
Cursing, Jim walked around the counter. Gathering her in his arms, he guided her back into the maze of offices behind the circulation desk. Ducking into an empty office, he sat her down in a chair. Kneeling beside her, he chaffed her wrists. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head slowly. "I just didn't think it could happen. It doesn't seem possible." Her eyes seemed to snap into focus. "How did he die?"
Jim rubbed her wrists gently. "It looks like he had a heart attack, hit his head and died." His hand moved up her arm, stroking the soft skin soothingly. He tried to ignore the faint traces of the perfume rising from her shirt.
She sniffled even as she leaned into his touch. "I'm sorry. It was just a shock, that's all. I was expecting to hear from him any day now. He was so close to perfecting his formula."
His hand found its way to her back. He could feel the individual muscles beneath his fingertips. She was so small compared to him. He wondered what it would feel like touching her bare back. "What formula was that?" he asked absentmindedly, trying to keep the conversation going.
She blushed. "He was working on something to do with aromatherapy."
His hand stopped as he absorbed this tidbit of information. He could tell she was holding something back, but he didn't want to push too hard. "Did it have something to do with this book?" He handed her the receipt for the alchemist's book.
Her hazel eyes welled with tears as she looked down at the piece of paper. "I guess so. He thought he would have a major breakthrough with this book. He talked of rediscovering the ultimate scent." A single tear ran down one pale cheek.
Jim wiped it away tenderly, conscious of the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He pulled his hand back, not sure what he wanted. "Rediscovering the ultimate scent?" His voice invited explanation.
Isabelle closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath as she fought for control. The words tumbled out. "The book was a medieval text written by a knight who had been in the Crusades. It was rumored that he had saved the life of a powerful magus and that the magus had given him the recipe to a perfume that was so bewitching that no man could resist. He had no use for the formula, but he wrote it down in his journal." Her hands were twisting in her lap. Jim gently pulled them apart and held them. She continued with her story.
"When the knight got back to England, he found his estates had become rundown in his absence. All he had left was his wife and their three daughters who were a bit long in the tooth for their day. Desperate to save his lands, they say he brewed up a batch of the perfume and gave a vial to each of his daughters. He then held a grand tournament, inviting the richest men in the kingdom.
"Each daughter was to wear one drop on her wrist. But the oldest daughter was vain and wanted all the men to notice her, so she switched her sisters' vials with rose water. On the day of the tournament, she doused herself with the perfume. The men went wild, fighting each other to get her. They were so intent on reaching her that they overwhelmed her and she was crushed beneath the weight of the armor. The father was grief-stricken. He found the other two vials and tossed them into the fire, vowing to never use the recipe again. The journal in which he had written the recipe mysteriously disappeared soon after."
She shook her head sadly, as if it was all nonsense. "The book was donated to the library by the family of a deceased patron. I knew Uncle Jacob would be interested so I bought it from the library and gave it to him for a birthday present. The book was written in a mixture of Latin and old French. He knew enough Latin to translate part of the text. He became obsessed with the idea of the ideal scent soon after that. He even learned French to be able to read all of it. He became a hermit after that, working on his project. He even ignored his own research assistant. When I saw him a couple of days ago, he was very excited. Almost glowing." She turned away from Jim as more tears streamed silently down her face. It was obvious she had been close to her Uncle Jacob.
Jim tenderly pushed a strand of curling hair out of her face before wiping away the tear. "Shh. It's okay."
She looked up "I should have gone to see him this morning. I thought he had just gotten caught up in his lab." She shivered, rubbing her arms as if she couldn't get warm enough.
Jim recognized the signs of the onset of shock. "Does the library have a kitchen or something? Somewhere you can make tea?"
As if summoned, Sandburg poked his head into the office. "Uh, Jim...." He broke off as he saw Jim's arm around the pretty librarian.
"Sandburg, could you get Isabelle here a hot cup of tea? And make it sweet."
"Sure. Tea. Hot and sweet." His head disappeared from the doorway.
Jim tugged on Isabelle's arm, pulling her up. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his strong arms around her, trying to stop the shuddering.
She laughed again. "It's not even summer yet and already they turn on the AC. It gets a little warm and they turn on the AC."
Jim rocked her back and forth. "Shh. It's okay. Shh."
Blair appeared again, a hot cup of tea in his hand. "One cup of tea, hot and sweet."
Jim took the tea from him and handed it to her. "Here you go, drink up." He watched as she took a sip of the steaming tea. "I'm so sorry, Isabelle."
She inhaled the steam from the tea. "It's silly, really. I mean, I knew he was starting to slow down. He had lived a hard life and since his wife died, he hadn't been the same. I just didn't expect him to die like this." She put the cup of tea down and grabbed a tissue off the desk. She blew her nose. They all ignored the embarrassingly loud honking noise she made.
She leaned her head against Jim's shoulder. "I just can't believe he's dead." She snuggled closer.
Jim became aware that he was holding a very appealing bundle in his arms. A bundle who was part of a case he was actively working on. At least until the M.E.'s report officially listed the cause of death. Ignoring the thought, he gave her another hug. "I'm sorry I had to tell you your uncle died."
"He wasn't my uncle. I just called him that." She leaned back against him, squirming a little to get comfortable. "His wife was my mom's best friend."
He swallowed a groan as her soft bottom rubbed against a very sensitive part of his anatomy. The scent of the perfume still clung to her, despite her thorough washing. The combination was wreaking havoc with his concentration. He tightened his grip on her again. Mistaking the action, she leaned back against him. The movement almost undid him. He stood abruptly, steadying Isabelle as she stumbled.
Blair stood also. Seeing the distress on his friend's face, he blurted out, "Uh, Jim we'd better get going. We have that meeting in half an hour. We're cutting it close as it is."
Discreetly tugging at his jeans with one hand, Jim moved from behind Isabelle. "Yeah. I forgot about the meeting. Are you going to be okay?"
She blinked up at him. "Uh, yeah, I think so."
Impulsively, he leaned down and gently kissed her. Her lips were like roses, velvety soft. Pulling back, his lips hovered over hers, tasting the sugary sweetness of the tea on her breath. Unable to resist, he kissed her again, lingering, nibbling on the outer corners of lips before sucking on her lower lip. She opened to him, sighing with pleasure. Dipping his tongue into her mouth, he tasted her. He was distantly aware of someone coughing, loudly.
Ignoring the noise, he continued to explore her mouth, running his tongue along her teeth before engaging her tongue. A sharp pain in his back distracted him for a second time. Realizing that his partner was trying to get his attention, he eased his way out of the kiss. Her tongue chased his, but he clamped his lips tight. He was still on duty, after all. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and let her go. She sank down on the chair.
"I'll call you later, okay?"
Isabelle nodded weakly. "Okay."
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This page last updated 1/17/01.