“Why?”
“There was no indication.”
I pointed at the vent.
“There is now.”
Thomas
returned with a digital manual.
He pulled up the cartridge manufacturer.
The product used several fragrance compounds and a stabilizing solvent.
Not something obviously deadly.
Nothing that screamed explanation.
But one ingredient caught my attention.
“Propylene glycol?”
Thomas nodded.
“Common.”
It was.
Generally considered safe in many uses.
But aerosolized irritants could affect sensitive people.
Still, that alone would not explain two years of weakness, pain, concentration trouble.
I kept reading.
Another compound.
Terpene blend.
Fragrance additives.
Again, maybe irritation.
Maybe headaches.
Not enough.
Then I saw the maintenance
note.
“Why does this say booster treatment every thirty days?”
Thomas frowned.
“That’s for commercial spaces.”
“Were you doing it?”
“No.”
“Who was?”
He scrolled.
“Vendor.”
“Which vendor?”
“CleanAir Residential.”
“How often?”
“Monthly.”
Nathan’s voice went quiet.
“Who authorized that?”
Thomas looked embarrassed.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
The house manager.
Nathan’s face changed.
“Why?”
“She hated chemical smells.”
That was almost funny.
A system installed to hide chemical smells might itself have introduced them.
Still, one more thing bothered me.
“Where are the canisters stored?”
Thomas pointed down the corridor.
“Service closet.”
