Scent of Jasmine.

“In the hour between the dog and the wolf,” when the streets were still light and the walls of the houses were already casting deep shadows, a white Ford pulled up to a small house on a dead-end street. At its front entrance, cordoned off with yellow tape with the menacing inscription “Police. Crime scene. Do not cross,” a police car was parked illuminating the facade of the building with red and blue flashing lights. A little further away were parked a fire truck and an ambulance. Firefighters and paramedics were bustling around.

A man in a light blue shirt, white cotton pants, and blue sneakers got out of the car. The gray color was already visible in his disheveled hair and beard.

It was already October, and the Arizona fall was slowly taking its rights. A warm wind rustled the leaves of the trees and the detective turned his face to it. The sky was covered with clouds, through which not a single star was visible. It was drizzling, and the man was enjoying the cool weather. 

A crowd of onlookers had already begun to gather at the fenced area. Among them was a reporter.

“Excuse me, excuse me, Mr. Detective! The Arizona 24, Janet Smith. May I ask you a few questions?”

“No, no, no. I haven’t even seen the crime scene yet, and I don’t have any information.”

Waving the reporter off, Steven crossed the yellow tape. He approached the junior lieutenant who was already waiting for him, in order to find out more about the crime that had taken place.

“Hello, Detective Moore.”

“Hello, Roland. So, what do we know about the victim and the crime?” Steven asked, heading toward the house.

“A 911 call came in. It was a male voice, very similar to a broken audio recording, reporting a recently discovered female body. He also said that you were the one who should arrive at the crime scene. At first, we thought it was a joke, but we decided to check it out and came here. Well, it wasn't a joke."

"How strange. Maybe it was the killer who called? Have you checked the phone number?"

"Unfortunately, the call came from this house. Surprisingly, an hour before the 911 call, a call was made to the local police department from here, and a female voice ordered a Margherita pizza and an angel-shot."

"Interesting," Steven chuckled suspiciously. "Okay, what do we know about the victim yet?"

"Nothing much, to be honest. She was a young woman, about 30 years old. Black hair, 5' 5", thin. There are old cuts and scars on her arms, her throat was cut. Most likely, that was the cause of death."

"Have we identified her?"

"No, not yet. The neighbors didn't really know her, she was quite withdrawn, according to them. But they say she had a boyfriend and a black cat. During rare small talks, she made a strange gesture with one hand and bent fingers."

"Interesting," said the detective. "Okay, thanks for the information."

The junior lieutenant nodded and hurried out of the hallway, where Steven was standing already.

As soon as he entered the living room, he smelled the strong scent of jasmine.

Directly in front of him, not far from the wall, laid the body of a woman, face down. Her right leg was straight, and her left leg was bent at the knee, her right arm was hidden under her head, and her left was stretched out to the side, bloody hair covering her face. She was lying in a scarlet puddle of blood, and behind her, from another room, there was a very fresh bloody trail, as if she had crawled towards the exit. The sight was quite familiar to him, he had seen worse. 

“Judging by everything, the victim was crawling from that room. Perhaps from the killer,” the detective concluded in his mind.

Steven came a little closer to the corpse and squatted down.

In front of him laid the fragile, pale body of a woman. She was wearing a summer dress of green color, with a geometric pattern of cubes. On her thin and graceful wrists, scars from cuts were indeed visible.

“Suicidal tendencies?” flashed through the detective’s mind. “Perhaps it was suicide?”

In a way, Steven felt sorry for this young woman. How early and abruptly her life was cut short. Withered, barely having time to blossom and gain color.

A deep wound flaunted itself in an even scarlet-colored line on her neck.

“Has the murder weapon been found?” The detective addressed the policeman standing in the room.

“No, sir. But there is an assumption that it was an ordinary kitchen knife.”

“Oh, it’s obvious that this is a knife mark, smart guy,” Steven mumbled with his inner voice. 

The detective put on the gloves and carefully moved the hair away from the woman’s face.

Her face was calm and no longer depicted a single emotion. But for some reason, it exuded extreme fatigue and pain. Her mouth was half-closed as if she was taking her last breath. Her lips had already turned blue and perfectly complemented the color of the bruises under her eyes. Her eyes were completely closed, and this was perhaps even for the best because for some reason Steven did not want to see her glassy gaze at all.

Looking into her face, the detective experienced a wild feeling of déjà vu. He was confused, trying to understand what could be so special about this woman.

Her green dress with a pattern of intertwining cubes, her dark hair, now stained with blood, her tired face, and this sharp scent of jasmine - all this eventually resulted in one question in his head "Have we met before?"

***

It was one of those May days when we say that "nature has gone crazy." Actually, it was a typical day for Phoenix City. The heat was unbelievable, but by the evening, to everyone's delight, it had subsided and a light breeze had started to blow.

Steven walked along a small alley, throwing his jacket over his shoulder and loosening his tie. His mood was not so good. He suffered from nervous tension since the morning: first with the documents, then with the newly received statement of robbery and murder, and it all culminated in a quarrel with Senior Lieutenant Burke, as a result of which the detective now had a huge coffee stain on his jacket.

Under the pressure of these thoughts, the detective did not notice how he had passed the turn to the parking lot. Cursing under his breath, he looked around and decided to sit down on the nearest bench to rest a little and put his thoughts in order.

He sat down on the bench and leaned forward slightly. Putting his elbows on his knees and closing his eyes, he sighed heavily, putting all his fatigue into this sigh.

Steven sat and enjoyed the moment with his eyes closed. He felt the wind swaying his tousled hair and tickling his cheeks, covered with thick stubble. The sun was shining right into his eyes, but it was pleasant to feel its warmth. A light scent of jasmine was coming from somewhere. This state of nature gradually calmed him down, allowing him to forget about the detective's pressing problems and immerse himself in some unknown, ephemeral world.

Suddenly the odor of jasmine became stronger.

“Sir, are you okay?”

A gentle female voice brought him out of his trance. He opened his eyes slightly to see who had disturbed him.

A young woman leaned over him, putting her hand on his shoulder. The rays of the setting sun played in her slightly tousled black hair. The bottom of her green dress with a cubic pattern swayed slightly in the wind. A strong scent of jasmine wafted from her.

“I noticed you sitting like that and I wondered if you were feeling unwell. Do you need help?”

Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could feel that it was clearly showing concern.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Nothing to worry about,” Steven assured her.

“Oh, good, fine...”

The young woman straightened up and removed her hand from his shoulder, looking away as if embarrassed. She hesitated a little, sitting down quietly and awkwardly on the bench next to him.

They sat together, in peace and quiet.

After sitting like that for another half minute, Steven began to rummage through his jacket and pulled out a cigarette case. Taking one cigarette, he began searching for a lighter but was unsuccessful.

“Damn!” he cursed. “It must have fallen out.”

The detective sat with a downcast face and a cigarette in his mouth. This day clearly couldn’t be any worse, but it managed to be.

“Do you need a light?” the girl sitting next to him suddenly said.

He was a little surprised by her offer but still agreed.

“I’d be very grateful.”

She started searching through her purse and soon pulled out a shiny metal lighter and handed it to him. He managed to notice a black circle on her palm.

“Like a black spot,” the detective thought.

Click — and clouds of bluish smoke began to swirl above their heads.

This evening, nature played with all the colors of the fiery palette. The sky was motley with shades of pink, red, orange, and yellow. The sun was slowly hiding behind the mountains in the distance, casting its last rays on the trees, buildings, and people. There were almost no clouds, and the rare ones stretched out parallel to the horizon, dissolving in the purple waves of the sky.

“Beautiful sunset today, huh?”

“Yeah...” Steven quietly agreed.

Finally finishing his cigarette, he stubbed out the butt and stood up from the bench.

“Well, thanks for the lighter. I think I should go.”

“Thank you,” the brunette replied.

“For what?”

“Just for the company.”

The woman raised her head and looked at him. Now that her face was fully illuminated, Steven could see the same anxiety he had felt from her earlier.

The woman was still very young, she could have been about 30 at most. Her face was clear, almost wrinkle-free, except for dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes were full of despair, pain, and anxiety. Probably, she was not enjoying life. The detective looked straight into them, fascinated, and it seemed to him that he could see her soul, screaming at the top of her lungs for help: “Help me, please! I can’t take this anymore! I beg you! Save me!”

He was stunned and unable to take his gaze away from her eyes. She blinked and looked away, lowering her head again.

“S-sorry...” the woman said quietly and continued, “I… I need...” and then fell silent.

Then she immediately got up from the bench and hurried away. And she disappeared so quickly that he did not even have time to say anything.

That evening, Steven could not get the stranger’s gaze out of his head for a long time. It seemed that this was the only thing he remembered about her. Bottomless and absorbing, it completely enchanted the detective, depriving him of the opportunity to say anything.

He could not forgive himself for not even asking her name or address, because it was a fleeting meeting that was unlikely to happen again. But deep in his soul, Steven still hoped to see her again.

***

"Yes, we've met before!" everything fell into place in the detective's head. And the puzzle continued to come together: order a Margherita pizza (1), the "angel-shot" (2), the single-handed gesture (3), the black dot on the palm (4) - there were cries for help, but no one heard them.

___________________________________________

(1) “Order a Margherita pizza” - Sometimes people call 911 and pretend that they’re ordering pizza, because they’re in an abusive relationship and asking for help.

(2) An “angel-shot” isn't a shot or a drink. It's a code that sends a signal that you need assistance.

(3) “The single-handed gesture” - The signal is performed by holding your hand up with your thumb tucked into your palm, then folding your fingers down, symbolically trapping your thumb in your fingers. It was intentionally designed as a single continuous hand movement, rather than a sign held in one position, that could be made easily visible. The Canadian Women's Foundation introduced the signal in Canada in 2020, and the Women's Funding Network introduced it in the United States in 2020. 

(4) “Black dot campaign” - A symbol used by victims of domestic violence to signal to others that they are in an abusive relationship. The campaign has been criticized for being potentially harmful to victims because professionals may not be trained to respond to the symbol.