“I could smell her perfume, sultry and deep, too loud for such a small space. "Poison," Victoria said, shooting me a knowing smile. "What?" Fisher said, turning. "It's a fragrance, circa 1985," she explained. "It got completely cheapened later, but the vintage stuff is still striking." She paused, sniffing lightly, ticking off scents on her fingers. "Plum, coriander, and opoponax." "What?" "It's a myrrh.”
Book:The Scent Keeper