"So what's this lead?" Vimes asked as they stepped out onto the street, the noise level not much of of an improvement on inside the station house. You just had to love this city. Really. It was the only way to stay relatively sane here.

 "Perfume." Angua replied.

"Excuse me?"

"I went back to the spot Carrot was stabbed." Vimes couldn't help but notice the hard set of her jaw as she spoke. When they'd found him last night it had been one hell of a scary moment. They'd seen Carrot's still form  from a distance, and he still remembered how fast she'd ran to him, and flung herself down at his side, unashamedly frantic. Those unbearably long moments before they'd seen he was still breathing…everything had seemed unreal. They'd felt that together.

 "The one who'd attacked him had been lying in wait for a long time. I sensed…determination." She didn't have to explain to him how she'd known.

"And what – they were wearing perfume?" asked Vimes incredulously.

 "Practically doused in it. Expensive stuff too…but I can't be sure of the brand. That's why we're heading to Madame Clarke's – only place it could have come from. In this city at least."

 Vimes was once again faced with trying to override his view of Sergeant Angua (copper, werewolf, one of his Men) with Angua the modern woman of aristocratic descent who could recognise expensive perfumes. She certainly was intriguing…

  "Hang on…" Vimes said, drawing to a halt in the middle of the street. "Are you honestly suggesting the attacker who brought down Carrot was some rich woman from Ankh who happened to be lying in wait in an alley in the shades? "

 Angua sighed. "I admit, there was a lot of perfume…It was all I could pick up from them…which does make me wonder if it wasn't a deliberate attempt to blind me, so to speak."

 Vimes felt his heart race. "So there could be some son-of-a-bitch out there not only attacking policemen, but knowing enough about the watch to take these kind of steps…to know specifically about you?"

Angua's eyes flickered up to meet his. "We're still missing something aren't we?"

Vimes nodded slowly. An attacker lying in wait for a long time for DeLancey….who knew where he was headed? If they wanted to kill him, why attack Carrot and then simply dissapear? But  if they were an accomplice, why weren't they with DeLancey when they caught up with him at the warehouse?  And why on Disc had he come back to Ankh-Morpork in the first place…and headed for the Shades?

 "Someone out there thinks they can get the better of us." He said quietly.

Angua watched him carefully. The last man who'd thought he could do that had ended up with his face beaten in.

 "Come on" she said. "Let's go upset some rich people."

 At least that bought a gleam into his eye.

The elite nature of Madame Clark's boutique was made evident by the fact that no one noticed them enter :  no one noticed them in their old boots and dented uniforms; no one noticed the unshaven Vimes look around with disgust at the women buying tiny bottles of toilet-water for amounts that would feed and clothe the kids in his old street for a year; no one noticed the unkempt young woman with the more-than-obvious assets burst into a fit of coughing and trying not to gag at the strength of the scents around her. And certainly no one noticed the muttered profanity from Vimes as he grabbed her by the arm and escorted her back out of the door.

No one noticed them because people like watchmen were to the clientele of Madame Clark's, the very kind of people who escaped one's notice. They carried on, sitting in their delicate little chairs, surrounded by glass and marble and soft lighting,  focusing all their attention on the multitude of delicate little scents that were sprayed before them by delicate little assistants. 

Things like the Watch didn't register in these women's eyes.

Of course, thought Vimes oh so briefly, that had been one of the things that had made Sybil so different…

He ignored that thought  and instead took his hand off Angua's arm and stood a respectable distance away as she wiped water away from her eyes.

 "Damn, I thought I'd be able to handle it." She said severely annoyed at that less than graceful performance.

 Vimes shook his head, denying any culpability on her part.

 "To be fair, I didn't expect them to be spraying the stuff in your face the second you enter the door."

 Angua was still annoyed with her own over-sensitive sinuses though. It was Changing this morning that had done it – she was still hyper-sensitive to everything around her.

 "Stay out here in the fresh air-" Vimes started, before realising what City he was in. "Well, just stay out here. I'll go ask about any strange customers recently."

 She shook her head. "No, that won't work with these people. We need to identify which brand it is, and track down a buyer ourselves. I need to smell some samples."

She took a deep breath and went in first, heading straight past the little booths to the back counter.

 The middle-aged woman behind the back counter had to use all her strength just to give them a vacant stare in their direction. When Vimes tried to explain what they were after, she was practically frowning in concentration just to hold her gaze.

 "Perhaps…you'd like to…come through to the back.." she managed to say eventually.

It was better through there. Watchmen in the boutique was like that proverbial elephant in the sitting-room. But these were the back-rooms…it was at least faintly plausible that they could be here talking to the staff. The frown of concentration evaporated somewhat.

 "Is she..er, quite alright?" The woman asked, casting a wary eye over the young lady exhaling suddenly.

"She's fine. And the quicker you can help us the quicker we'll be going." Vimes said cheerfully.

That brightened her up significantly.

"Oh course – you said you were trying to trace a certain scent?"

 "It's exotic, foreign, expensive -" Angua began. The assistant gave her a polite blank look. "- and I just described everything in this store didn't I?"

 "Perhaps dear you could be a little more specific yes?"

 Angua sighed, and closed her eyes, trying to evoke the scent once more from her memory. Go back, see as a wolf…remember Cheery, remember seeing past her, the alley, the myriad of trails, old, new, twisted…then all at once smelling it , seeing it clear as day, a concentrated spot…

 "Musky fragrance …yet with a hint of bitterness…sort of…purple and…dark…has a faint unique floral something…but sweet, not soft…like…night back home in fall…"

As she spoke quietly, recalling every nuance, every detail, the assistant wasn't the only one watching her in enraptured wonder.

 Opening her eyes, she caught Vimes' gaze first. She quickly looked away embarrassed.

"Something like that anyway." She said.

 To her surprise the assistant looked intrigued.

 "Well, my, that could indeed be…yes, or even…ah,  if you could wait there one moment" she said  as she headed off into the depths of the storage area.

There was silence between the two of them for a second. Angua had always felt self-conscious about her abilities in front of Vimes – she never wanted the day to come when he looked at her like a freak. She'd worked hard to be seen as just another watchman in his eyes. Really helped with that little appearance at the front door this morning, girl  she thought to herself.

Vimes had indeed been looking at her as if he'd just remembered how special she was. Not gaping in open-mouthed wonder, but with that slightly unnerved, yet intrigued look that she had seen in his eyes at the pinnacle of a case, but never when simply looking at her. And when Carrot spent all his hours being so understanding as to be blasé about this side of her, it was felt real good to be looked at like that again.

  Their eyes met again and Vimes was now looking at her more steadily.

"I'm glad you're on this case." He said.

Angua saw something in his eyes and gave a small smile.

"A wolf's nose. Every Watch should have one" she shrugged.

That wasn't exactly what he'd meant. And they both knew that.

 The tottering of heels announced the return of the assistant. She was carrying before her a small tray of exquisitely cut glass bottles of perfume.

"Would you like to take a seat dear?" she chirruped to Angua, nodding towards a small table and chairs against the wall.

Obliging, Angua sat, raising her eyebrows at Vimes, who was leaning against the doorframe, as if to make very clear how uncomfortable she was with the pampering treatment. She thought she saw him smirk.

"Now" said the assistant as she picked up the first bottle. "This would be the most popular fragrance that fits your, ah, description." She went to spray the perfume before Angua's nose, but found her wrist suddenly grabbed as if from nowhere.

"Why don't you let me do it?" Angua said with a fixed smile.

 She took the bottle, and opted instead to dab a very small amount on her wrist, before tentatively smelling it.

 "It's...nearly, but not quite." She said to Vimes.

He nodded, and she proceeded to try the second, and then the third.

Angua almost growled in frustration.

"They're so close, but…"

Vimes came over and patted her shoulder supportively.

"We had to try. Maybe the weapon's lead will be more promising-"

He caught sight of the assistant's eyes flashing down to her waistcoat pocket.

"-unless  this lady has any more samples for you to try?"

The assistant paused before pulling something small out of her pocket, so small she could conceal it in her hand.

"Understand, that it is highly unlikely you would have come across this in the city at all, let alone in the, ah, manner in which you described."

"And why is that?" asked Vimes.

"Because-" said the woman, drawing herself up with pride. "This is one of the most select fragrances one can find anywhere. Madame Clarke's is the only place you could find this item in all of Ankh-Morpork. Furthermore the only clients we have had in the last decade have been orders from abroad. I highly doubt that Lit de Nuit is the scent you are after."

 As Angua held out her hand impatiently, she failed to see a slight tightening in Vimes' jaw. She failed to see his eyes turn hesitantly to the tiny blue-glass bottle that the assistant passed to Angua.

She did  however hear his sharp intake of breath, despite his trying to hide it.

 The second she opened the bottle she knew, but she dabbed some on her wrist anyway.

"This is it. This is the one" she said, turning to Vimes.

"I was afraid you'd say that." He said quietly.

Failing to meet her eyes he asked for a list of all the recent purchasing orders. Somehow the tone in his voice didn't leave room for argument.

As the assistant nervously made off to rustle through her desk, Angua lowered her voice.

"Is there a problem sir?"

Vimes' eyes, fixed on the tiny perfume bottle left on the sideboard were hard and unblinking. She reached out to touch his arm with concern.

"Sir-?"

He flinched away sharply under her touch, and met her surprised eyes.

"Sorry." He muttered after a moment. 

Before she could open her mouth to speak again, he'd moved away to accept the sheets of paper the assistant was holding out to them.

 "As you can see, our client list is very select - "

But Vimes didn't even look at what was in his hands. He simply folded the list of 15 names and addresses and shoved it roughly inside his breastplate.

"Tell no one we were here." He said roughly to the woman as he passed her by.

Frowning , Angua followed him out.

TBC.

TBC.