By three thirty we were sitting in an office at Fragrances Worldwide Incorporated on Fifty-seventh Street. I’d loved perfumes all my life and never knew they were created in a place like this. Yet here I was, in the sunny headquarters of this multinational corporation that supplied perfumes for big names like Givenchy, Dior, Lauder, and Halston. Benita wore sleek zebra print pants and a beige silk blouse. I had on a cerulean blue halter dress with a flared skirt and scooped out neckline. Knowing I’d be among scent-conscious people, I’d put on an upscale yet casual cologne. Ralph Lauren’s Pure Turquoise. Cassis, night-blooming cereus and patchouli.
Tim “the nose” was one of about thirty perfumers making up an elite group at FWI. He was clearly disappointed with the gift I’d chosen from my box of Gwen’s possessions. Pardon me. The 1910 D’Orsay perfume bottle could be a museum piece. On the phone when I made up the story about a gift I believed Gwen intended for him, he had warmed up, and even sounded anxious to meet with Benita and me. All of a sudden he became a snoot again. And nervous. What gift was he hoping for? The coveted tablet?
“So, are you two the executors of her estate?” A wall of glass and the Manhattan skyline formed a backdrop for Tim, who slouched behind a crescent-shaped desk that was covered in a sea of bottles and glass vials. He was a chubby forty-something with a Dr. Evil voice and short brown hair combed straight forward. He wore oversized Armani pants with a slim-fitting jacket and a long silk scarf tastefully draped around his neck. All in shades of brown. His eyelashes were painted with mascara, and his subtle touch of green eye shadow matched the color of his tinted contacts.
“No,” Benita said. “We were her best friends.”
Tim seemed suspicious, so I added, “Gwen’s brother gave us some of her things. As well as her suicide note.” Benita shot me a dirty look. On the way here we’d agreed not to give out too much information. But we needed to get a dialogue going if we wanted to learn anything from him. “Wasn’t it tragic? I know Gwen was working with you on a perfume for the last three months. Do you have any ideas about why she would take her own life?”
His eyes darted side to side and his lips went bitter lemon. Was it guilt? How much would Tim stand to gain by getting rid of Gwen and taking her mysterious tablet? He dropped his chin and stared at his hands as he spoke. “I keep asking myself the same question, especially since Gwen knew she’d have a humongo deal before the year was out. Of course, when Raffy introduced me to Gwen she warned me about her mood swings.”
Why hadn’t I taken Gwen seriously when she’d mentioned this to me? Some friend I was. “A deal, for her new perfume, the one she named Heaven’s Daughter?”
“Heaven’s Daughter. Puh-leez.” He placed his fingertips on his cheek. “I dumped that name in a hurry and gave it a good old-fashioned number for our tests. Later, the company that bought it would’ve christened it with something hip.”
“So, somebody actually wanted her perfume?” Benita asked.
“Are you kidding? Any company would pay big bucks to own a perfume like Gwen’s. She could’ve had her pick. Especially now with Givenchy and Donna Karan putting out limited edition naturals.”
Benita leaned forward, looking like she needed more convincing. “We called the offices of several fashion houses and asked about her perfume. No one seemed to know anything about Gwendolyn Applebee.”
“We weren’t at that stage yet. Even FWI wasn’t involved. I took Gwen on as a personal project. Wanted to test things first, see if her claims were real. I wasn’t going to risk making an ass of myself with my associates.”
Tim reached into his pocket and produced a pack of Altoids. “Just had lunch.” He opened the tin and held it out. We passed. He placed one in his mouth and danced it around with his tongue making squishy sounds. “According to a recent news report, Altoids are the best for odor in general, Listerine mints for covering up garlic, and Starbucks mints for coffee.” He forced a smile. “I’m a fool for test results. Don’t care what subject. Anything for a little empirical data.”
Fascinating. I went back to hardball. “What financial arrangements did you and Gwen have? You must’ve had some investment to do all this work with her. And what kind of claims were you testing?”
There was a knock on the door. An assistant in a lab coat trotted in and asked Tim to evaluate a scent. I watched, intrigued and somewhat envious of a person who earned a living smelling beautiful things.
The assistant held out a blotter that looked like a skinny white Popsicle stick. Tim discreetly deposited his mint into a tissue and prepared himself with a drink of water. He waved the blotter beneath his nose, paused, then said, “This juice needs help. Will you please do what I asked with the top note? Make it greener.”
When the assistant left, Tim’s face took on an expression I couldn’t quite read. Kind of like an angry hamster. “You ask a lot of questions. Who sent you?”
Benita and I exchanged a quick glance. “Nobody,” I said. “Why?”
Tim huffed and pushed back his chair. “I think you’d better leave.” He went to the door with a righteous stride and opened it. “Out. Now.”
We walked toward the perfumer, who waited at the entrance like a smug security guard. This couldn’t be happening. Tim was the only person who could help us discover if the perfume-tablet connection had anything to do with Gwen’s death. I refused to leave without getting a step closer to the person who wanted my friend murdered. Even if it was the man in front of me.
I let it fly. “Gwendolyn Applebee did not kill herself. She was murdered. A group of men were hired to make it look like a suicide. We believe it might have something to do with her new perfume, but the police won’t help us based on speculation. We intend to uncover who was behind it and why. And frankly, a lot points directly to you.” I handed him my business card. “Give us a call when you’re ready to talk.”
Tim looked at the card. He pushed the door closed before we reached it.
Had I won him over? Or was this the part when the guy pulls out a gun with a silencer and wastes the two babes who knew too much?
“You’re the sex therapist,” he said. “Her old buddy.”
“Gwen told you about me?”
“Honey, Gwen filled me in on you as soon as the tests results came in. You were at the top of her show-and-tell list. I also remember her canceling that idea and deciding to clam up till a contract was signed. Gwen got so paranoid I don’t think she’d have told her priest.” He flitted his fingers in space. “Please have a seat.”
Benita and I did an about-face and returned to the chairs in front of his desk. I thought back to how Gwen had been afraid to jinx her opportunity by telling me the full story. Let’s hope I’d get it now.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, perched on the corner of his desk, “but one can never be too careful. You see, I also have reason to believe Gwen was murdered.”
Was I surprised? Not really. A perfumer had to have keen instincts. Then again, he could be putting on an act. Trying to throw us off. “I didn’t mean to spook you,” I said. “We have misgivings about most people these days.”
“Honestly, I had nothing to do with Gwen’s death. We got along famously.” His sad tone sounded genuine. “I really liked her. She was brilliant and creative. I got off on the idea of an oddball outsmarting everybody and getting filthy rich. I don’t deny wanting her perfume formula. You have no idea what I would give to have it. But I wouldn’t kill for it. How long do you think someone like me would last in a prison? Puh-leez. Anything but that. And even though Gwen and I kept the nature of our project secret, plenty of people here knew we were working together. As you’ve said, I’d be the first one accused.”
“Then you should be willing to help us,” I said.
“I am.” He jammed in another Altoid as if it were a downer he badly needed. The man would’ve been a good subject for my paper on Erikson’s oral gratification theory. Pursing his lips, he gave the mint a quick isometric suck. “Listen, someon
e hacked into my computers right around the time of her death. I feel certain it was related.”
“The computers here at FWI?” Binnie asked. “They’re networked, right?”
He nodded. “FWI’s system is enormous. The hacker managed to find a backdoor route into my files. I’m sure they were hoping to get Gwen’s perfume formula. But I don’t have it. In fact my file on her fragrance had a record stating that the eccentric creator, Ms. Gwendolyn Applebee, refused to reveal her formula to anyone, including me. And that she was adamant about keeping samples in her possession, allowing me only one tiny vial to work with on my own. So, Gwen’s nuttiness might have saved my ass. But I’m still walking on eggs.”
This perfume formula had to be the “recipe” Curtis asked for in the Hummer. But why? Everybody was making counterfeits these days. “Did your company investigate?”
“They did,” Tim said, “but they weren’t able to determine who gained access. Just between us, I think I know who was behind the hacking. And I’ll bet it’s the same person who put the hit on your friend.”
“Have you gone to the police?” Benita asked him.
“Hey, I cared about Gwen, too, but I’m not going to get myself killed over her. If it’s the man I think it is, believe me, he’s not the kind of person you want to piss off. Right now I’m just waiting for the day when I can stop looking over my shoulder.”
I knew the feeling. “If you give us this person’s name, we promise never to tell anyone where we got it.” I held my breath.
Tim flung his head back in a sarcastic laugh. “Hah. As if he wouldn’t guess.”
“You said you’d help us.” Benita spoke through clenched teeth and looked ready to explode. I put my hand on her arm hoping to settle her down. If we pushed too hard and lost him, we were sunk.
Making his way back to his chair, Tim sat down and folded his hands neatly in front of him. “Sorry. I need time to think. Give me a couple of days.”
My feisty roommate sprang from her chair, swiped aside a bottle on his desk and yanked Tim out of his seat buy his lapels. “We don’t have a couple days, Mr. Nose.”
Tim’s fingers made a feeble effort to pry her hands loose. He caught my eye. “Call off your Doberman or you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
Oh great. Would getting arrested for assault qualify us for an extension on Curtis’s deadline? “Stop it, Binnie. Let him go.” I grabbed her shoulder. “He has no clue how lethal our situation is.”
“Sorry. I just lost it.” She released Tim. He dropped into his chair, shaking a bit, a combination of panic and indignant rage on his face.
Benita returned to her seat, and I gave Tim a rundown of my Hummer encounter, minus the pussy wager. When I told him about our one-week deadline and the threat on our lives, he gawked at me with an open mouth. But the thing that really moved him was Gwen’s journal note saying I knew where the tablet was. His demeanor changed. Suddenly he wanted to be my best friend and help joggle my memory. Interesting.
“So,” I continued, “according to both you and Raffy, Gwen’s perfume was created from instructions on this tablet nobody can find. But I’ve heard there are computers that can analyze smells and show the blueprint of any fragrance without knowing the original formula. Is that true?”
“Yes,” he replied. “We have that technology here. I’ve already copied the scent of Gwen’s perfume. No problemo.”
“Then how come you don’t have the formula?”
“If only it were that easy.” He massaged his brow with his fingers. “The computer was unable to precisely identify some of the ingredients she was using. Believe me, I’ve tried over and over. Made several versions with synthetics and even a few with naturals. I could match the scent, but the effects we got from the version made by Gwen simply cannot be replicated. And without those results, we’re left with just another so-so perfume. Of course, if I had the tablet and another talented archaeobotanist to experiment with me…”
“You mentioned results. What kind are you talking about?” I asked.
“You missed out on the best part of the story.” Tim leaned forward like a gossip with material suitable for Page Six. His voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “Gwen’s formula happens to be an extremely powerful and unique aphrodisiac. But, get this. The juice doesn’t work when it’s on a man’s body, only when it’s on the skin of a woman.”
Benita and I looked at each other and let out a simultaneous “What?”
After a hesitant giggle, I asked if he was joking.
“No,” Tim said. “This perfume not only makes a man go bonkers over the woman wearing the stuff, it gives him frequent and longer lasting erections. Naturally, our tests showed the effects vary according to the conditions. It’s most intense after about ten minutes in close quarters. You know, candlelight dinner in a quaint restaurant. Backseat of a taxi. Living room sofa.”
“What if it backfired?” Benita asked. “A woman wearing this fragrance in the street could get mauled.”
Tim shook his head. “Not so. Those ancient perfume-makers were brilliant. The aphrodisiac property seems to be activated by pheromones, but only female pheromones. You know, those biological secretions women release when they’re sexually aroused to communicate with the male olfactory system. In other words, if a woman is not attracted to a man, or if she feels uncomfortable or inhibited, her pheromone production level shuts way down. Meaning, the chemicals in the perfume have nothing to interact with.”
Recalling Gwen’s face gleaming with excitement the day she told me her newest fragrance was going over the top, I didn’t doubt Tim was telling the truth.
But Benita did. “Maybe your test results were bogus. Shouldn’t they be conducted by an outside company?”
His eyes flashed her an incensed look. “I told you, these were just preliminaries. What do you take me for? I’m a professional. I would never represent a project that put my reputation on the line without first making sure it was the real deal.”
“How do you know one of the test subjects isn’t behind Gwen’s murder?” I asked.
“They were told nothing,” Tim said. “Not even my coworkers at FWI had a clue about the secrets behind this juice. Gwen functioned as my nameless assistant. She wouldn’t allow any samples to be taken away by the test group. Insisted on spraying each person herself. And the participants never met each other or had any way of learning what responses the others had. I know. I recorded all the data.”
Bang, there it was. Another piece of Gwen’s poem: “You will meet the scribe, magician of a million creations.” A person who records data—a scribe. And a perfumer is certainly a magician in his own right.
Our scribe was still talking. “I not only conducted the tests, I also took part as guinea pig. I’d read about those studies showing how gay men and women respond the same way to sexual scents, so I wondered if the perfume would work on my skin. Zero results. Boo-hoo. After all the arrogant, self-centered dickheads I’ve dated, I only wish it had. However, when Gwen doused herself and invited me to her place for dinner…Well, we ended up screwing on her table. And I’ve been gay for the last twenty-four years.” A bad-boy smirk. “She must have been attracted to me.”
Gwen always did have a tendency to choose men who resembled rodents.
“Of course every woman’s got to worry if the competition’s bought the stuff,” Benita said.
Tim waved her off. “All great discoveries come with risks. Our findings were positively astounding. Exactly what Gwen believed right from the start. Exactly what the ancient prayer on her tablet predicted. Male subjects involved all described the same experience. A state of being extremely aroused sexually, combined with a sort of dreamlike euphoria over the woman. Almost worshipping her.”
“Wow. How long does this intoxication last in a man?” I asked.
“Can’t say. Findings only gave us so much,” Tim replied. “But I do know the female subjects reported no violence. Their men acted subservient, adoring and eager to
please them. Imagine what women would pay for that. This fragrance could revolutionize the entire perfume industry.”
“Not to mention revolutionizing the balance of power for women,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s the part Gwen was ecstatic over. I just saw it as a fun way to get rich.”
All this blew me away. To think Gwen actually recreated an ancient formula possessing the power to turn men into drooling sex slaves. “No wonder she was so paranoid about it.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Tim said. “Gwen wanted total control. Even wanted to set up her own factory to make the perfume. But to try and become a supplier for a large-scale fashion house like Lauder or Dior was absurd. When I told her it would be standard procedure for FWI to take over production of the fragrance once it sold, well, she got all upset. She was fanatical about being the only one privy to the ingredients of her formula.”
“Except, why would someone have eliminated Gwen if she was the one and only walking talking source?” Benita asked.
He shrugged. “Simple. Either they didn’t know or else they figured they could hire another cuneiform expert to do what Gwen did.”
“But with all your secrecy, how did this person you suspect find out about it?”
Clenching his fists, he bowed his head. “I told him. While we were in bed. You know how it is. People tend to get loose-lipped after good sex. I was feeling giddy, and I teased him, saying we were going to put him out of business.”
“He’s in the perfume business?” I asked.
“No.”
“What business is he in?”
Silence.
My nerves could take no more. “Tim, it’s very possible one person has died thanks to your big mouth. Let’s not make it three.”
Blinking back tears, he said, “FWI also makes fragrances for drug and household products. That’s how I met Kyle Drummond. He’s the CEO of Milotech Pharmaceuticals. The manufacturers of Erosynol, their bestselling product. It works better than Viagra. Kyle offered me five hundred thousand dollars to slide him Gwen’s formula. He wanted to make it into a pharmaceutical product for Milotech. The cheap bastard could’ve offered me five times that. He’s worth close to a billion. Of course, I didn’t have the formula. So, he talked me into making Gwen an offer. And when Gwen refused to sell it to him, Kyle tried to find another copy of the tablet. Went to several archaeologists and learned these tablets were often duplicated. But not this one. No one could find him a copy. They searched everywhere, even the black market. Believe me, if one exists, he’d have found it.”
Aphrodisiac Page 13
