We’ll Always Have Paris

“So you want me to believe that even though you were standing over the body holding a gun, you didn’t kill her.” 

“If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your prerogative. Just know that you will regret not finding the true murderer, Officer.” 

“The true murderer is sitting across from me. All I need is a motive.” 

“...Have you ever been to Paris, Officer?” 

“I'm not... I don’t see how that’s pertinent to the case.” 

“You see all the pictures, you watch all the movies, you hear all the songs. You expect perfection. A certain je ne sais quoi if you will. The Champs Elysées, the Eiffel Tower, the cobblestone streets and those lovely sandstone buildings. Not to mention all the couples holding hands, madly in love. Then you sit crammed in a sardine can for twelve hours, the Mona Lisa is half the size you thought it would be, and the metro stations smell like piss. Every couple is fighting because when you're with someone for long enough, that's what you do. Long story short, that is the experience you would have if you arrested me.”

“It would smell like a train station frequented by public urinators?” 

“You would be incredibly disappointed.” 

“I’m already disappointed that you won’t confess to your crimes.”

 “And I’m disappointed that you can’t distinguish between the smell of Tom Ford cologne and the stench of a criminal.” 

“You don't smell like Tom Ford.”

“What a discerning nose you have, my dear. I thought you might recognize the scent, but I couldn't be sure.”

“It's Officer to you, Mr. Petrarch.”

“Of course, Officer, pardon me. What cologne am I wearing, then?”

"A fragrance that is faintly citrus, with a hint of neroli and sandalwood laid upon a musky tone. That combination of scents is used by very few perfumeries in the world, and the largest perfumery that sells this fragrance is located in Paris."  

"You seem to be very familiar with the fragrance. Do you work at a perfumery in your spare time, or have you worn it before, Solana?"

"My... Someone I knew wore it, a long time ago. I haven't forgotten the smell since. It's quite distinctive."

"You seem to be justifying your rather garrulous response. It's okay to admit that you cared about him, you know."

"And it's alright for you to admit that you are the murderer."

"You keep pausing when you speak, Officer, leaving one sentence half-begun and discarding it to form another. Is that a common tic with you, or do I simply make you flustered?"

"I will ask the questions here, Mr. Petrarch.”

"Then, please. Ask me from which perfumery I purchased this scent." 

"Tell me, sir."

 "I bought this bottle from Paris a week ago, at the same time that the victim went missing. I have bought this bottle every year on my wedding anniversary."

"You're married?"

"I was married a long time ago. My wife left me, however, when a terribly malicious rumour was spread about me."

"And ever since, you've done your best to live up to that reputation?" 

"You know, most people would say they're sorry for my loss."

"Was it really much of a loss for you?" 

"I lost everything on that fateful day, Solana. Everything that mattered."

"If it mattered so much to you, how could you leave?"

"Why would it matter that I left? My wife deserted me the day she heard those rumours. I lost her mind and heart before I ever packed a suitcase."

"Maybe you never possessed her at all." 

"You want to ask me if I'm the murderer. I can tell you that I'm not, and you can ask the owner of that Paris perfumery where I was that night. Laurence is not an old friend. In fact, he hates my guts, but he adores his craft." 

"I've already checked with Laurence Stuart. He told me of your whereabouts that night and seemed pleased to hear that you might be in trouble with the law."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because three days later, you boarded a flight home from Paris and shot a woman three times."

"Why would I shoot her, Officer? Explain that to me, so I can understand what motive I would have to kill a complete stranger."

"She was an employee of Laurence's, was she not? Perhaps the feud extended both ways."

"I had never met her before. Laurence's employees are selective and very few."

“That seems like a convenient excuse.” 

“Don’t beat around the bush any more. We both know who really killed her, Officer Petrarch.” 

“I don’t go by that name anymore.” 

“But you never filed for divorce. Why did you kill Octavia Simpson?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’ve been honest with you. Now you can be honest with me. Is it because three years ago, Lorraine told you that I was sleeping with Octavia? And you believed her?” 

“If that were true, why would I wait so long to kill her?” 

“You weren’t waiting. You were biding your time.” 

“How was I going to frame you? What mastermind am I to get the gun in your hand?” 

“You were at the airport and you swapped out my firearm for yours.” 

“You must be crazy to think I care enough about you to frame you for murder.” 

“Not crazy. Correct.”

“I haven’t thought about you once in three years.” 

“You’re thinking about me now, aren’t you?” 

“So you killed a woman for me to notice you?” 

“They’re pulling the security footage aren’t they? They’re going to find out what happened. You’d better confess now or never, Officer Petrarch.”

“The same goes for you, Mr. Petrarch.” 

“Excuse me! I need to… um... I’m here to tell the two of you that Mr. Petrarch is free to go. The security cameras caught it on tape. It was a mugging.” 

“What? How did we miss that?” 

“Well, Solana, looks like I’m a free man. Do you want to get dinner tonight?” 

“Only if you stop talking about the Paris metro station.”