The Hydrogen Murder (24 page)

I almost missed Matt's next agenda item, tuning in to hear
him finish a sentence.

"... and be extremely cautious, at home and at work. If
you feel like you want police protection, let me know."

Leder's body had been found in the foyer of his Medford home
on Sunday morning while his wife was singing in the German Lutheran Church
choir. As with Eric, there was no sign of struggle. Both victims had apparently
welcomed their murderer.

Our general meeting seemed to be over.

"Let's take a short break, and then I'd like to talk to
all of you separately. I'll take Gloria first and clear up some final details
of her contract," Matt said.

You're being a little extreme, Matt, I thought, but smiled
and nodded.

"It might work best if you four decide who'll be
next—whoever has another appointment or whatever. It shouldn't be more
than ten minutes each in any case."

~~~~

"How did I do?" Matt asked when the two of us were
seated back in his office.

"You sound like the former mayor of New York," I
said, "But I'm sure they all think I'm off the case."

"You are off the case."

"It hasn't been twenty-four hours since I asked for
another day," I said, looking at my watch. "I have until six o'clock
this evening."

"Okay," he said, "We'll celebrate the
official end of your contract. Let's meet at six o'clock."

I thought the little Golden Gate Bridge pin on my jacket
must be swinging from its rafters as my internal organs became unsettled. I
looked at him to be sure I'd heard correctly.

"Six o'clock. Here?" I asked.

He laughed, and my bridge pin swayed in the wind.

"I don't think so," he said. "I'll pick you
up and we'll find more pleasant surroundings."

~~~~

As I drove home, I felt split into at least three pieces. One
piece of me was thrilled at the idea of a social evening with Matt Gennaro.
From another part of me, Josephine's voice warned that I might be
misunderstanding his message. But the third and worst part was the frustrated
voice that kept reminding me how little use I'd been to Matt's investigations.

I reviewed my meager contributions. I'd explained a little
physics, which most likely had nothing to do with the murder cases. I'd caught
Janice in a slip up that could easily be explained, since she may have just
forgotten some September visit to the lab. I'd tracked down the Connecticut
plates on the Corvette no sooner than the police had. I'd exposed poor Andrea's
retrieval of her birthday present to Eric. And I'd gathered up bits of gossip
that didn't amount to a nano-hill of beans.

I'd also put my money on Leder as the murderer, and he
turned up a second victim.

To further indulge my feelings of incompetence, I reflected
on the trouble I'd been to Matt. Because of my foolishness I'd prompted a late
night search of my apartment, including worry on his mind and dust on his
jacket. Even my break-in seemed my fault. If I'd set the alarm before going out
for the evening, the burglar wouldn't have gotten so far, and Matt wouldn't
have been summoned to a second round of overtime.

I checked the clock on my dashboard—eleven A. M. I
still had seven hours to crack the case, and then turn myself into a gorgeous
creature worthy of a night out.

All morning I had the feeling that I was very close to
deciphering the meaning of the characters I'd been living with, even taking
them to the bathtub with me. Something about the initials on Connie's
briefcase, three characters in a row.

I thought about my options for lunch. I still had a few Girl
Scout cookies in the freezer, plus garlic bread from Mangia's and one more
chocolate from the box Peter had brought. I decided to make a stop for real
food, including something to offer my six o'clock guest.

~~~~

I arrived home with two large sacks— fruit, cereal,
juice, eggs and cheeses from the supermarket in one, and breads and muffins
from Luberto's in the other. I climbed up the stairs past the closed door of
Rose's office and remembered that she and Frank were taking a rare day off
together. I was grateful that Leder's body wouldn't be replacing Eric's in the
main parlor, since he lived in Medford. As I kicked my apartment door shut
behind me I wondered why I'd bought so much breakfast food. Was I planning on
company in the morning?

Rose and Elaine had left similar messages on my machine.

From Rose I heard, "Gloria, what's happening? I heard
about Doctor Leder. Please take care of yourself and call me when you get back
from the police station."

Elaine, who must have called right after the morning news in
California, sounded equally concerned about me, and I tried not to take either
message seriously. After all, I thought with a smile, I'm going to be under
police protection all evening.

I was anxious to tell both women about what might be called
my date with Matt, but decided I'd wait until I had something more definite to
report. I still hadn't put Josephine's voice to rest—maybe Matt did just
want to celebrate the end of my contract. Period. In the end, I had to be
satisfied with leaving messages on both Rose's and Elaine's machines, telling
them I was fine.

I carried a plate of cheddar cheese, grapes, and apple
slices to my computer table and hit the top right key to boot up my drive. As
usual, the last thing I'd worked on came to life on my screen, my notes and
transparencies on how lasers work.

On one of the transparencies I'd
drawn two circles, one to represent the area illuminated by a regular
flashlight, and the other a beam from a laser. The flashlight's area was a much
larger circle, with light spread out evenly across a wide diameter. The laser's
circle of light was tiny and intense. I marked the radius of each circle, r-F
for the flashlight and r-L for the laser, and wrote the formula for calculating
the areas.

The transparency was finished
except for adding pi, the Greek letter that represents the ratio of the
circumference of a circle to its diameter. To add the letter in its Greek form
to my document, I had to use a special menu item called "keycaps." I
selected keycaps, typed a regular p from the keyboard and looked up at the screen
to see that I'd produced a pi on the screen.

It worked as I'd expected. But I
got much more than my pi. I got the last piece of the puzzle that I needed.

It finally dawned on me that if Eric had been typing Greek
letters or any other special mathematical notation with his keyboard, he'd have
had his keycaps selector on. So when he typed in letters to tell us who his
murderer was, they appeared as keycap symbols, not the standard English
alphabet. The characters could be the keycaps version of the murderer's name or
initials. I realized that was why the letters on Connie's briefcase had been
nagging me all day. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I'd already had the idea
that the strange grouping of characters might be someone's initials.

I sat up in my chair, hardly able to contain my excitement.
I had to work backwards to unscramble the code. I kept my keycap selector on
and began hitting the keyboard, watching the screen to see which symbol came
up.

I started in the middle row of letters, the usual base
position for touch-typing. I typed ;lkj and saw the triangle symbol when I hit
the letter J. I continued typing, moving to the bottom row of the keyboard,
until I saw a mu. It came on the screen when I hit the letter M. An integral
sign showed up when I hit B. Eric meant to hit the initials J. M. B., and
instead got keycap language.

Janice Bensen? I searched through my notes, nearly tearing
the pages in my haste, to see if I had any record of Janice's middle name or
maiden name. None. I checked the Revere phone book and found only Bensen, Paul
K., who I knew was Eric's father, and Bensen, E. and J., no middle initials.

I mentally ran through my options and came up with calling
Matt or Janice directly. I wasn't anxious to call either one—Matt because
he might think I was faking an opportunity to speak to him and Janice because
she might be a double murderer. If Leder had also figured out the code, Janice
might have killed him, too. I stopped short at "If Janice knows I know ...
."

I punched in Matt's number, choosing a known non-killer over
a possible murderer, and got his voice mail. Not wanting to disturb him by
paging him at lunchtime, I left a message.

"This is Gloria Lamerino at one o'clock on Monday. I
have a clue I think you should hear about. It might be important. Please call
when you have a chance."

As soon as I put down the phone, I had what seemed like a
good idea at the time. I'd call Janice and pretend to need her full name for my
final report.

Another answering machine. Another message.

"This is Gloria Lamerino at a little after one on
Monday. I'm writing up my final report for Sergeant Gennaro and I need to know
your full name, maiden name and place of birth. Call me when you have a chance.
Thanks."

I was proud of myself for throwing in the red herring of
place of birth.

Since my business was at a standstill until I heard from
either Matt or Janice, I tried Rose again and reached her.

"Another murder," she said. "Gloria, I'm really
worried about you."

She didn't say that I could be next but I knew she was
thinking it. To put her mind at ease, I told her how I'd worked out what I
thought was the meaning of the characters in the printout.

"So you're sure Janice Bensen is the murderer?"

"Yes, fairly sure."

"Did you call Matt? You shouldn't be alone, especially
now that you know."

"I left a message for him. Everything's going to work
out fine."

Rose wasn't as relieved as I thought she should be, so I
left out the part about my message to Janice, a move I was having second
thoughts about myself.

"Do you want me and Frank to come by?"

"No. In fact, I have plans for the evening, with
Matt," I said, figuring that was the one thing that would distract her
from worrying about me.

Although Rose usually has a keen sense of justice, I knew
she saw the end of the murder investigation as the beginning of my social life,
and I capitalized on that to take her mind off my physical well being. I told
her how Matt suggested meeting that evening, and before I could emphasize the
part about celebrating the end of my contract, Rose went into high gear.

"Yes," she shrieked into the phone. "What are
you going to wear?"

"Any suggestions?"

"White shoulders."

"A white jacket?"

"It's a perfume, Gloria, haven't you even seen
ads?"

"They don't advertise in Scientific American," I
said. "What else should I wear?"

"Nothing," she said, and we both laughed.

"I have to pick up a new candelabra near my
house," Rose said. "I'll grab my White Shoulders and bring it up to
you by five thirty."

Hearing the excitement in her voice increased my own, and I
went to my closet to choose my outfit. I wished I knew exactly what pleasant
surroundings Matt had in mind. A walk on the beach with sensible shoes? A dark
formal restaurant with shiny black sandals? A stroll through Boston Common with
casual loafers? I couldn't picture Matt arriving in black wing tips, so I went
for my gray suede T-straps with crepe soles. Working upwards from my shoes, I
pulled out my gray and blue broadcloth paisley pants, which looked a lot like
the runner in my entry way. I shook out the matching tunic top and hung the
suit on the door.

With more than three hours before my perfume was due, I
spent most of it on cleaning chores—washing my dishes, vacuuming, and
changing the sheets on my bed. At four-thirty, I put on a CD of Gregorian chant
and sat in my rocker, dressed for the evening except for my shoes. Between the
relaxing music and the relief of having at last done something useful to Matt's
investigation, I fell asleep.

~~~~

I woke up, not knowing how long I'd been out, when I heard a
shuffling sound outside my door. Rose and her perfume, I thought, a little
early. As I stood up to go to the door, it swung open, and I realized I hadn't
gone back to lock it after carting in my groceries that afternoon.

Janice Bensen stood on my threshold.

"I thought I'd deliver the information in person,"
she said.

CHAPTER
23

For one desperate moment I thought Janice might have just
dropped in to tell me her middle name was Theresa and her maiden name was
Jones. She was wearing sweat pants and thick athletic shoes. With a dark blue
gym bag slung casually over her shoulder, she looked like any suburban
housewife off for an afternoon of fitness routines. But her wildly disheveled
hair and glassy, staring eyes contrasted sharply with her pink teddy-bear sweat
shirt and told me that Janice had committed two murders and was contemplating a
third.