Formula for Murder (4 page)

“How long has it been since you were a student here?”

“Long enough for me to say it’s classified.”

“Well, that answer confirms the rumor.”

“What rumor?”

“That you worked for the government,” she said while putting the finishing touches on his pepper and tomato omelet.

“Sorry about that. Force of habit. I’m not used to being able to talk about myself. I only recently quit my work with the government. I was with them 15 years.”

“Who’s them?”

“Technically, the Defense Intelligence Agency. I was doing battle damage assessment. Someone didn’t consider the battle over.”

“Can you talk about your injuries?
Ludlow
said it wasn’t up to him but that you might be willing. That fever seemed pretty bad last night but you seem fine now.”

“Not much to tell. I got shot while on duty. The docs in that country weren’t up to the latest medical technology. I managed to catch malaria. Took a while to clean me up. I’m fine with the quinine. If I hadn’t been stuck out in the rain so much yesterday I would have been OK.” He zeroed his attention on tackling the omelet.

“Are you OK now?” she interrupted?

“Just great, but someday I’m going to sell off that Healy to the lowest bidder and good riddance. Now that’s a subject to stay away from!” he admonished, followed by a violent sneeze.

The sneeze prompted her to fix him an herbal tea. The fever seemed under control from the medication but the sneezing indicated some virus crept in when he wasn’t prepared.
This
favorite remedy prevented colds. Favorite, in that it worked. The taste barely made it tolerable, but her belief in its healing powers encouraged her to convince him of its merits.

As the unmistakable scent of heated vinegar wafted into the air, Nick jerked up from studying his coffee mug. “What is that you’re drinking?”

“Not me. You,” she said as she deftly switched the cup, pulling the coffee out of reach. “This tea will wipe out those sniffles instantly. Getting sick in the middle of a murder investigation will make your life too difficult.”

“Excuse me? Murder investigation? Kat, we are to provide answers when asked, and good will to the community as needed.”

She hid a tiny smile at his easy use of her nickname and lectured, “You’re going to steer away from the murder whenever possible, aren’t you?”

“You mean like the canned phrases we use? “
Mountain View
University
was established in 1890 as a nondenominational alternative to the spate of religious colleges and universities that popped up in the valley in the 1800s. With a predominantly brick architecture and 300 acres of aesthetic greenery to offset the red brick, the university’s Heritage Hall is adorned with a steeple that served as a beacon to lead the way to the university through the town.”

She tackled her own omelet, while he laughed at himself. “I can’t believe I remembered all that.”

Kat mused. “Maybe this job really is in your blood.”

Feeling that he shouldn’t be taken in so much by that twinkling smile, Nick switched back to what he’d been saying, but first he took tiny sips of the offensive tea. “What’s in this miracle cure? Besides the vinegar. I pegged that one right away.”

“It’s just a teaspoon of vinegar and a tablespoon of honey in hot water.”

“Do I have to drink it all?”

“Not if you’re going to whine about it.”

Nick got the point and took a few more sips while he watched her eat. He admired the way she took precise cuts of the omelet, like they were parts of a patchwork quilt and each piece had to match the last. He wolfed down his omelet. Taking another sip from the mug to detract him from watching her graceful hands, he grimaced and asked about the staff.

Kat explained to Nick her part-time public relations position. She’d accepted the job full-time until a permanent director was hired. She listed other personnel under his control. Dennis, the sports information writer, better know as the SID, was almost autonomous, only in the office when he wasn’t out covering games. Shelley, the publications manager, was swamped producing catalogs and brochures this time of year and stayed holed up in her office.

Nick explained his game plan about meeting with everyone to work on an official response to the murder.

“Something like, ‘We will not jeopardize the investigation in any way, but within those constraints we will keep you as informed as possible.’”

“That’s the extent of your public relations efforts?”

He rubbed one hand across the top of his head, took another tentative sip from the mug, and said, “I just got here. Let me work on it a little before you criticize.”

He borrowed a notepad and started making notes, interspersed with numerous questions while Kat cleaned up. She casually looked over her shoulder, walking behind him frequently in her task, while surreptitiously studying his handwriting. She looked for signs of rigid consistency in the way he formed his letters, as well as excessive slants or deceptive formations. Fortunately, none showed. Inconclusive on such a short sample, but comforting anyway.

“Well, let’s get you rolling. I can’t wait to see how your public relation techniques improve with time.” Kat deftly wiped the table and counters while Nick packed the notes in his suitcase.

Kat sat in the driver’s seat admiring her anklestrap shoes while Nick stashed his suitcases in the car. It wasn’t really that cold yet, and these shoes were snappier than the boots. They headed to the university in relative quiet at first and then discussed his job.

Why did they offer it to him? Why did he take it? she wondered.

“I’ve been known as a troubleshooter. Aren’t they similar? With good public relations, you shoot down the trouble before it happens, and you contain the damage when you can’t.”

Kat grunted agreement as she concentrated on the next bend in the road.

Nick continued, “
Ludlow
needed someone. He was leaving on this trip and wouldn’t be around to interview for a permanent position. I was coincidentally available.”

She digested the merits of that, reining in her jealousy at his having the job handed to him.

He added, “Mostly he knew my reputation for political wheeling and dealing and figured I’d juggle the various job components. He didn’t know we’d be dealt a murder my first day here, though that’s not new to me either. I should be able to keep my head.”

She drove with divided concentration, hoping to learn more as he talked.

We’ll meet with the president this morning to determine a chain of command and a way to contact him.”

She knew the president’s trip to
Hungary
took a year to plan and participants were counting on him to conduct that seminar.

Nick stretched comfortably and said, “It feels good to be back. He reached for the radio dial and asked, “Do they still have Jazz FM?”

Kat nodded and cocked an eyebrow as he immediately zeroed in on the correct airways, and strains of Stan Getz in “Darn That Dream” drifted out of the speakers.

“You don’t know where you’re living, you don’t have a functioning car but you already have a favorite radio station?”

“There are priorities in life. This is at the top!”

“The radio?”

“No, jazz. The only other thing that comes close is big band music. Would you prefer that?”

“No, I’m fond of the big band greats but this is pleasant, too. Getz plays a fine sax.”

They settled into a companionable silence as the music absorbed them, playing a soothing preface to a harrowing and hectic day.

Chapter 4

To see yourself as others do, study your handwriting. Your weaknesses are revealed; your strengths become evident.

 
             
             
             
             
“Graphic Insight”

The chocolate slid down her throat, eliciting an adrenaline rush before it hit bottom. Kat moaned with pleasure and deftly secured the second section in a safe corner of her bag. Hearing a slight sound behind her, she licked her lips and swallowed before someone could catch her. Closet chocoholics had it tough.

“Would you like to be left alone,” Nick ventured as he lounged in the doorway behind her, listening to the exultation.

She turned around abruptly but only spied the corner of a smile and shuttered eyes. Since she hadn’t caught him mocking her she ignored the issue and settled for lofty aplomb.

“Alone? Nick we need to plan. Now.” Kat crossed her legs, dangled her Prada buckle pump in bouncing concentration, and pulled out the first samples of handwriting she’d scrounged, staring intently at the various scripts. She didn’t notice the return twinkle.

“It’s a paltry few, but a start,” she admitted, finally, but this time captured him in an unguarded moment and realized he was still inwardly laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

His husky voice attempted a disguise but could barely conceal the glee. “Funny? What? Your sensual addiction or the fact that you hope to solve this case by studying the killer’s signature? It would help if it followed a confession.”

Kat reeled in the pain. She’d hoped for better from Nick. But education was the answer. He would soon see that handwriting analysis presents a key to unlock the secrets of personality. She’d studied her own handwriting and knew her weaknesses. She swallowed her impatience and smiled. Her time would come.

For now they moved to Nick’s new office for a quick preliminary meeting. At dawn the president had called an emergency meeting with his administrative staff members for 10 a.m. They wanted to be prepared for any publicity problems that might be posed and to present a plan of action.

Kat gave Nick detailed background on the long-tenured chemistry professor who died. Charlie had led a shallow life, if one judged by the information at hand. His research plumbed the only depths he had.

“You’ll probably hear a lot of bad rumors about Charlie. Some of them are definitely true. Facts about him you might need to know—he has a Ph.D. in chemistry from
Penn
State
. One professor said he’d aspired to do his graduate work at
Wisconsin
but hadn’t made the grade and was bitter ever since.

Nick took notes as she spoke and Kat discreetly inched her chair sideways to glance at his writing. She hoped to glean a few key points but her skills didn’t lend themselves well to upside-down scrutiny.

She gave up for now, crossing her long legs and momentarily distracting him. Her harsh assessment quickly brought his mind back to the topic, “He was narrow-minded, worshipped the test tube, and had some irritating habits. He’s been called disrespectful of his so-called underlings, pigheaded and self-serving.”

“Was he all of that?”

She wandered the room, thinking of a way to explain the solitary professor from the dedicated one, the quiet from the rude. Academia carried endless invisible lines. The unwary inevitably tripped.

“He was, to a point, but there are different perspectives on it. For instance, yes, his experiments were his whole life. He even continued working while talking with people. I noticed he never looked directly at the person he was speaking with even when he wasn’t in the lab. It left a sour impression for many that they never had his full attention.”

Kat had seen Charlie’s handwriting enough times to know of his weaknesses, though they were often obvious when he spoke, but his handwriting’s silent message revealed nothing sinister or she would have remembered. She sat back down and added, “I can see where that would greatly irritate some people, especially those who felt they were imparting something of import. It probably didn’t endear him to students either.”

“Was he from around here?” Nick asked.

“I believe he was originally from
Idaho
. Lived here a long time though without ever making himself at home as far as I could tell.”