Flashback (Kendra Michaels #11)

“Nice. I’ve gone there for facials a couple times.”

Paula shook her head. “Wow. Anything else?”

“Well, speaking of extravagant, you’ve stayed in a Waldorf Astoria Hotel recently. Maybe in New York?”

“Park City. I went on a ski trip with some college friends.”

“Fantastic. I’ve never been there. I hear it’s nice.”

Paula held her head in her hands. “This is unbelievable.”

“Not at all. I just learned to pay attention at a time of my life when I had to.”

Paula crossed her arms in front of her. “How could you possibly know I recently stayed at a Waldorf Astoria?”

“Your hair. You brought home some hotel shampoos and you happened to use one today. I’m smelling their house brand, Salvatore Ferragamo. The Waldorf Astoria version is the only one that smells this way.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“Then you wouldn’t have guessed that Massage Envy uses Obagi Professional-C Serum. It’s available other places, but almost every time I’ve smelled it, the wearer has just been there for a massage.”

“Huh. Allergies? I don’t have itchy eyes or anything that shows.”

“No, you usually see that in the springtime with grass and ragweed pollen. This time of year, when we get almost all our rain, it’s more about mold and getting a post-nasal drip. I thought I could hear a slight rattle in your breathing a couple of times.”

“A slight rattle? I could’ve had a cold.”

“You could have if I hadn’t seen a distinctive outline in your front right pant pocket. It looks like a wide squashed tube with a straight bottom. That happens to be the exact shape and size of the most popular allergy medication in the country. It’s Flonase, right?”

Paula reached into her pocket and pulled out the green-and-white bottle. “Yes, it is. I didn’t want to meet you with snot running down my face.”

“I think we both can be grateful for that.”

Paula pocketed the container. “But I’m not carrying diabetes medicine.”

“No. That brings us back to smell.”

Paula’s eyes widened. “You can smell a diabetic?”

“You have a slight fruity smell on your breath.”

Paula covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God.”

“It’s not a bad odor. Seriously. It’s sweet smelling, a product of diabetic ketoacidosis. That odor is an early sign of diabetes. It’s good you caught it so early, before it’s taken hold.”

She put her hand down. “Good to know. But I think I’ll start carrying travel-size mouthwash, just in case.” She looked down at her clothes and shoes. “Still, there’s no way in hell you could know about my dogs. Bill didn’t even know about them. There’s nothing on me that could tell you that.”

“Sure there is.”

“What?”

“Look at the backs of your hands.”

Paula raised her hands.

“Like a lot of dog owners, most of the sun you get each day comes when you walk them. You obviously use retractable leashes with handles you slip your fingers through. I say ‘obviously’ because those handles have left untanned stripes across the backs of your fingers. You see those on a lot of dog walkers, especially if they don’t wear sunscreen on their hands. The stripe on your right hand is larger than the one on your left, clearly because that leash handle was a bigger size for a bigger dog.”

“You’re right.” Paula suddenly sounded sad. “I always held Bruno with my right hand. But how did you know he—?”