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.”
We went there.
Dr. Reeves followed reluctantly.
Nathan opened the closet.
Filters.
Cleaning supplies.
Replacement cartridges.
And several large plastic jugs.
The sweet smell hit me immediately.
Stronger.
I looked at Thomas.
“What are those?”
“Concentrate.”
“For the air system?”
“Yes.”
“Who mixes it?”
“Vendor technician.”
“On site?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“With distilled water.”
“Where?”
Thomas pointed toward a utility sink.
