Formula for Murder (11 page)

Nick’s eyebrow arched at the reference to his reputation preceding him, but he only said, “I’m here to see Gerald Higgins.”

“Dr. Higgins is probably in his office. He’s usually there long past sunset.”

“That much into his research?”

“That, and he’s been somewhat lonely since his wife died. Lately it’s been even worse. Had some of his work upstaged in one of the latest journals. Put him in a funk, if you know what I mean.”

“I never had any research worth upstaging, but I guess I can imagine. How long ago did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago maybe. Just before you came.”

“Thanks. I’ll go on up and look for him. Nice meeting you.”

Nick stood in Gerald’s open doorway and quietly observed. It looked like a frenzy of cleaning in progress. Or was it a cover-up? Gerald stood at his desk with the trash can nearby and was sorting and tossing in turn.

The professor liked the new man immediately and it showed in his greeting. Besides, Gerald knew Katharine now liked Nick and that was good enough for him. “Nick, how are you? What brought you to this turret?”

“It’s not quite that far up. But I suppose it gets hard on the legs after a while.”

Gerald was noncommittal. “They say the stairs are good for you.” He turned back to sorting the piles of paper still on his desk and tossed some intermittently into the trash while they talked. “What can I do for you?”

Nick settled into the guest chair, took the apples from his jacket pockets, and juggled them carelessly while he spoke. “First, sit down and relax for a few minutes. What’s the rush? Are you moving?”

Gerald turned to face him, setting the trash out of the way. “Just felt the urge to clean, regroup.” He sat in the desk chair and propped his right calf over the left knee. He looked relaxed and comfortable, not guilty, Nick thought. He nodded questioningly towards one of the apples and tossed it slowly to Gerald before he could respond one way or the other. Startled, Gerald automatically raised his right hand and snagged it before it bombarded the papers still scattered on his desk.

Nick smiled and continued the conversation.

On alert now, Gerald contemplated the apple, then drifted unerringly to the well-used pipe buried under one pile of papers. He gathered it up while his eyes never left Nick’s.

“Mind if I smoke instead?” he asked as he set the apple aside.

“Not at all. I was hoping you could help me.”

Gerald nodded and proceeded to light his pipe. The ritual was benign as such rituals go. He used a lighter, and was not prone to playing daring-do games with a match that some men played. He had nothing to prove to Nick, and certainly not to himself. He efficiently stroked the lighter into life with his right thumb, cupped the pipe with his left and drew air into the tobacco, tugging the flame down with it until clouds of smoke signaled success.

Nick honored the procedure, while contemplating what significance left handedness had in handwriting analysis. It never would have crossed his mind before meeting Kat. He’d have to ask her, if only to enjoy her bright face in its intensity while she explained.

He then questioned him about Jeffrey Billings and his research. Gerald knew more than he expected, but less than he needed. Nick planned to let Burrows check out
Billings
anyway; he was more interested in what was happening with Gerald’s research, and psyche. He made a couple of forays in that direction.

Nick was no slouch in the brain department, but the technical nature of the subject slipped past him. He could place a vague connection between what
Billings
had been exploring and what he’d heard about Gerald’s work. He segued from one to the other, hopefully with a modicum of success. Gerald seemed impressed, and entered into the differences. Gerald’s work centered more on the area of prions, a biological principle of infection.
Billings
had been working with proteins also but not in the area of infection.

“Can you explain it to me in lay terms? Is it something we could publicize, you know, like “Local Scientist Conquers Disease!”

“I can tell you about it, but it’s not at a good point right now for publicity. Far from it.”

Nick munched on the apple thoughtfully. “Problems?”

“Not really. Maybe some negative feelings at the moment. A colleague chose recently to publicize and I think his findings are faulty. It will shed a bad light on my research by association.”

“His research doesn’t contradict yours?”

Gerald frowned, watching the smoke drift to the ceiling, hover, than intermingle with the cloud accumulation from earlier puffs. “Not completely, though that’s not the point. Once it’s discovered his findings are based on shoddy research it will make it more difficult for me to convince others that mine is quality work. Or worse yet, it will be up to me to prove he’s wrong.”

He set the pipe aside and continued, “What I’m trying to prove is that infectious proteins can cause a range of degenerative brain diseases and that they cause other proteins to become abnormal also. The symptoms often run closely with those of a virus. The catch is to prove beyond a doubt that no virus is involved and that the proteins themselves are at fault.”

“Correct me if I have the wrong impression, but how on earth did a small university like this acquire a professor of your stature?”

Gerald smiled shyly. “They gave me Martha.”

Kat had mentioned Gerald’s wife to Nick so he wasn’t as surprised as he might have been at the implication. Gerald repeated the story of how he’d met Martha.

He handled the topic of his recently deceased wife without too much emotion, but Nick switched back to research. Could Gerald really have been so jealous of Charlie that he’d puncture him with a lethal burette. He’d vote now against the idea but wanted to hear more. He couldn’t believe the university had a plum feature like this sitting here unwritten. Maybe it was time to hone his skills.

He encouraged Gerald to continue as he finished his apple.

“You see, my theory is almost heretical because it is still common belief that nucleic acids are the only way to transmit information from one generation to the next. We have to determine what triggers a healthy cell protein to turn into a disease-forming one, among other major questions.”

“Was Charlie working along the same lines?”

“Heavens no. Charlie and I didn’t agree on much of anything and certainly would never have chosen the same line of research. Actually, his field is organic chemistry. He was studying coenzymes and how they transmit energy, a specific enzyme anyway.”

“I heard that you might have been jealous of Charlie’s success. Doesn’t seem likely under the circumstances.”

“Damn right!”

Kat tired of juggling
her job and endless clues that led nowhere in the investigation. She made a quick stop at Maddy’s, hoping for a late day break.

“I’d love to tackle a Heavenly Delicious dessert over at the Crystal Cavern. Are you up for it?”

Maddy slipped out of her pencil thin heels and into somber walking shoes. She had her coat on, lights out and was by the door before Kat rose from the chair. 

“Let’s go. You can tell me all about that hunk I’ve seen you with lately.”

Kat blanched. She hadn’t realized that it was that obvious she and Nick spent so much time together. Of course, most of it was work. She explained more about Nick as they walked to their favorite lunchtime haunt. Only a slight gleam in her eyes revealed her special liking for him, and fortunately Maddy’s concentration was on finding the best table at the Crystal Cavern.

They didn’t even look at the menu. The familiar waitress nodded hello as she rushed by. On the way back she asked, “The usual?” They both smiled agreement.

“Kat, don’t you think there’s something decadent about ordering that chocolate confection and nothing else?”

“You know we can never fit anything else in. They’re huge. And why waste all those calories on the four food groups when we’re only interested in the fifth—chocolate?”

“But you’re a health nut! How do you justify this to yourself?”

“It’s perfectly healthy to eat well-balanced meals 20 times a week, and then to go all out on chocolate just once. It’s the supreme balance in life. Without chocolate there is no balance. You know the mantra. What’s bothering you today?”

Maddy smiled, “I’ve met this new guy. I haven’t let him see the baser side of me yet. You know, the chocolate side.”

“Don’t stop there. Tell me more.”

Madeline was charming and charismatic. She was nearing 35 and looked all of 29. “I’m not too sure of this one, or myself I guess.”

“I’ll give you another week. For now, tell me what’s new on campus. I’ve had my head buried in this investigation. Don’t know a thing,” Kat said.

Madeline’s effervescent nature asserted itself as she babbled about the various faculty members she’d seen lately. She filled Kat in on Jane’s new baby, the dean’s bad knee and Sally’s literary accomplishments.

Kat steered her friend onto the topic of Charlie to see where it would follow. It wasn’t difficult. Just mention of his name and Maddy was off and running. Her hands flew around in exaggerated punctuation as she brought several perspectives to the subject.

“Charlie didn’t have any fans,” Maddy began. “There were those who respected his work and ignored his personality. There were probably people cheering for his demise, though no one ever thought it would really happen. I’m still around and look at how many people would love my head on a platter.” Madeline chuckled, swirled her fork through the chocolate confection on her plate to intermingle all the flavors, and finished off a large bite.

“Are you referring to anyone in particular?”

“Wishing my demise? Or Charlie’s?”

“Charlie’s of course. No one would have the audacity to wish you gone. Who would do all the work?”

“True. True. Within two weeks after the semester started I thought Sean Perry would be stalking him in dark corners. But later I realized as much as Charlie denigrated him, Sean didn’t really seem to react.”

“Wasn’t Sean the student who Charlie announced would fail and he wanted him to quit before the semester barely got underway?”

“Yes, strange isn’t it, for a professor to so immediately take such a vocal dislike of a student? But then Charlie wasn’t your normal professor.”

“What made you change your mind about Sean? I thought he did flunk the first exam and that Charlie did tell him to quit. Wouldn’t that mean he’d never make it into med school?”

“All the rumors are true. But not so well known is the fact that Sean didn’t want to go to med school. That was his father’s dream for him. And talk from the other professors was that Sean wasn’t lazy at all, despite Charlie’s snide remarks. Sean was just more into psychology. Tough when there have been surgeons in your family since colonial times and you’re the last heir apparent.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Kat asked.

“In Sean’s case it’s easy. The grad student who was tutoring him in chemistry told me Sean was thinking of defying his dad and switching to a psychology major next semester. Maddy glanced out the window, hoping the sun would stay out for at least a few hours, then returned to the topic. “Sean said he would just drop Charlie’s class and catch up the credits in summer school. His main worry was whether his dad would continue to finance him under the circumstances.”

Maddy suddenly appeared stricken, like she’d caught a chicken bone in her throat. Tough to do with ice cream.

“Kat, you’re not investigating this murder on your own again,” she wailed.

Kat pushed a forkful of her Heavenly Delight around the plate, toying with the last few calories. Maddy could be a worry wart, but when she was right, she was right. Kat confessed to at least an organized prying and continued.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a murder motive to me. Too bad you don’t have access to student’s handwriting like you do the professors. It sure would be helpful to interpret some samples of Sean’s. Still, it sounds like we should cross him off the suspect list and tell Detective Burrows.”

They both debated the merits of examining Charlie’s handwriting. The character traits uncovered could reveal a severe rigidity or sinister tendencies that might provoke a response like murder.