American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

Upon hearing the conversation, Jack curiously looked around. He typically didn't casually enhance his senses, especially his sense of smell.

In Western countries, and even in that Asian island nation striving to Westernize, body odor is a common issue. Most people use deodorants or antiperspirants, and perfume is almost a necessity when going out.

If he dared to enhance his sense of smell indoors, it would undoubtedly be a nightmare. However, under normal circumstances, people around him paid close attention to hygiene, and as long as he didn't focus on it too much, he could tolerate it.

"So, is the killer sensitive to a particular perfume?" Taylor instinctively brought her arm up to her nose, sniffing. She had deliberately sprayed herself with perfume before leaving home today.

Reid shook his head. "Perfume is a synthetic scent. The victim, on the contrary, might have been a woman who didn't wear perfume. I suspect the killer suffers from hyperosmia—an over-sensitivity to certain smells, and they're fanatically drawn to it. That could be the motive."

Jack was quite familiar with the term hyperosmia. He had seen a Russian drama in his previous life where a detective with an extraordinarily sharp sense of smell had this condition. The character could detect the smell of explosives on a passenger sitting at the other end of an airplane cabin.

This detective was constantly troubled by various strange smells in his daily life, making him eccentric and forcing him to wear a special nose plug when going out.

While the show might have exaggerated a bit, having an overly sensitive sense of smell wasn't exactly a blessing in Western countries. Jack had come across some statistics suggesting that 90% of white people and almost 99% of black people had issues with body odor.

It wasn't that Cyris people were inherently cleaner and didn't have this problem. Rather, during the long process of evolution, some Cyris people lost a small segment of their genes, leading to a significant degeneration of their apocrine glands. As a result, these individuals became a minority with almost no body odor.

The apocrine glands are mainly located in the armpits, ear canals, eyelids, and below the navel. When the fatty acids and pheromones they secrete are excreted with sweat and broken down by bacteria, they produce a strange smell reminiscent of fennel mixed with cumin.

As human civilization progressed, those whose apocrine glands had degenerated, resulting in less fatty acid secretion and lighter body odor, ended up with pheromones that were more noticeable and attractive to the opposite sex. Over time, these individuals became the majority in East Asia.

Thus, the percentage of Cyris people with body odor became relatively small, roughly around 6.5% of the population.

Jack also noticed that body odor seemed to vary from person to person. Many people might have experienced being inexplicably drawn to the scent of someone they admired after physical activity during their adolescence.

In literature, this is often described as the "fragrance of a young girl" or the "pleasant smell of soap" on a boy. But this scent perception varies—what person A finds attractive, person B might not even notice, and it's even less significant between members of the same sex.

Western women pay great attention to managing body hair, including underarm and pubic hair, as a way to reduce body odor and enhance the appeal of their natural scent.

"If the killer, as Reid said, is trying to extract a woman's scent through chemical means, wouldn't that require some special equipment?" Emily said, seemingly having an epiphany.

Reid, reminded, immediately jumped up from the couch. "Yes! I can make a list for Garcia. The killer would need lab equipment like beakers, glass test tubes, and a ceramic or glass container large enough to hold an adult woman's body."

Then he suddenly froze, slapping his right hand into his left palm in excitement. "I also understand why the skin was removed from the soles of the victims' feet."

He continued, "In high school, I did an experiment using methanol to separate chemical components. The teacher asked us to cut off a small portion of the raw material for sampling and comparison with the result. The sample size was precisely a 2x2 inch square."

Jack handed him a thermos filled with beef soup. "Conveniently, you can also bring some dinner to Garcia. She's probably still at the station helping you track down that methanol and chloroform."

Afterward, everyone said their goodbyes. As Rossi was leaving, he recited a passage that sounded familiar to Jack, something along the lines of "only familiar scents can fully awaken past memories."

As Jack began his daily workout, he kept pondering this line. It wasn't until he finished his workout and was in the shower that it hit him—the passage was from Vladimir Nabokov's novel Lolita.

Meanwhile, Emily was out in the backyard tending to his vegetable garden. She seemed to have a strong interest in gardening and loved fiddling with plants and flowers.

Their platonic cohabitation was harmonious. Though Emily occasionally teased Jack about his two-timing (she only knew about two), after spending time together, she had actually grown to sympathize with him.

After all, being pursued by two excellent women at the same time wasn't exactly an easy situation.

"But could you at least stop wandering around the living room in just your shorts after showering?" Emily also had her complaints about Jack.

Fresh out of the shower after a comfortable workout, Jack looked innocent. When no one was home, he didn't even bother wearing shorts. The temperature in Los Angeles hovered around 20-30°C year-round, so after a couple of laps around the living room, he'd naturally air-dry. He didn't see the point of using a towel.

Emily took a deep breath, her nostrils filled with a scent she couldn't quite describe, a mixture of soap and something else pleasant. For a moment, she could even sympathize with the killer.

She snapped back to reality, giving Jack's chest a playful slap, saying through gritted teeth, "Put on a shirt, or you might find yourself with yet another female admirer."

Was that supposed to be a threat? Jack smiled wryly as he slipped on a t-shirt. Like Angela, Emily was better off as a platonic friend. Things were simpler that way. If they got too complicated, no one would be happy.

The next day, Jack drove his "Mammoth" to work as usual, with Emily in tow. Midway, they received a call from Rossi, and they changed course, heading toward the Hollywood Hills.

Near a mountain road not far from the iconic "HOLLYWOOD" sign, two mountain bikers had found the body of a woman wrapped in a blue waterproof tarp. The condition of the body was identical to the previous three victims.

"Same as before," said Rossi, who lived nearby in Beverly Hills and had arrived at the scene before anyone else.

"We haven't identified her yet, but like the previous cases, she was likely abducted less than 24 hours ago, so the missing person report hasn't been entered into the system."

The scene fell within the jurisdiction of the Wilshire Police Department, and Jack recognized many familiar faces, including John and Tim.

"I think we need to pick up the pace," Tim approached Jack, his stern face tight with concern.

"Another girl, Anissa Gold, went missing yesterday evening. Her roommate said she went for a job interview but never showed up at the interview site, nor did she return home."

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