Formula for Murder (19 page)

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Authors: JUDITH MEHL

Tags: #MYSTERY

BOOK: Formula for Murder
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A loud intermittent rustling off to the side stopped her dead and she stared into the brush in the direction of the sound. Fear stole her voice and she jabbed Robin in the back till he turned once again to look at her. Kat pointed in the direction of the sound, and as Robin peered into the brush, a squirrel leapt out of the leaves, over a fallen sapling, and pounced on an acorn near the path.

Robin raised his eyebrows, grabbed her hand and tugged forward. She followed silently, while her heart slowly dislodged from her stomach and moved back to its rightful place. Eventually, she resorted to a monologue to hide her embarrassment.

“Who would have thought a squirrel could make so much noise? It sounded as loud as a bear. You know when other girls were playing Girl Scout camp games I stayed home to read Thoreau. Now that’s nature at it’s best. No burrs, no bears.”

He turned and looked at her quizzically on that one, showing that he was indeed listening. But her babbling continued. I read a lot of Albert Einstein too. At least he became a handwriting expert. More in my line of interest.

His look served to stop her tirade. She had been letting panic control her mouth. It was time to act the elder here, she decided. Shortly after, they halted in a clearing. Kat figured her clothes were already ruined so didn’t hesitate to nestle her back against a tree and slump to the ground.

“Are we safe?” But before giving him a chance to answer, continued, “How would you know? Where are we?”

“It’s OK, Ms. Everitt. Calm down. We’re safe.”

Grimacing at her bedraggled body and torn clothing, she said, “I think Katharine is formal enough under the circumstances. You seem more in your element here than I am, so you’re in charge anyway. What now?”

“You’re right. This is my home territory so to speak.”

He waved his hands to the west. “We used to live over there when I was a kid. A friend and I spent countless weekends in these woods. We’re safe here. Whoever it was didn’t follow us.”

He added, “I thought you lived in the country?”

“I drive by a lot of woods. I live on one artfully landscaped acre. The squirrels come steal my birdseed and leave. They don’t rustle through the woods like a bear in my yard!”

Looking around at the tall pines and the dying underbrush, he asked, “So did Thoreau’s pitch-pine woods prepare you for this?”

“To be honest. I got hung up on his eating of fried rats. I didn’t quite understand his point then about sensual savoring.”

“It’s funny what sticks with us. Thoreau’s writings were remarkably inspired, such a complete exposition of his entire world, and yet what I remember most is the battle of the ants,” he said.

As she slapped at one of those ants, she asked. “Do you think I could get a phone call out from here?”

“Sure. Try. We can’t be that far from a tower. They’re everywhere around the valley.”

Though the pine trees gave her less than perfect reception, Kat reached Nick, luckily finding him still at the office. She wasn’t quite sure why but she knew she wanted him around when Burrows showed up.

Robin suddenly was anxious to speak to the detective. And Kat knew they had to tell about this bizarre scene. They had to find who’d chased them and why. She was frightened, but maybe this was the break they needed. Robin needed to report the damage to his car. Nick, showing proper concern, said he’d call Burrows, got directions from Robin, and said he was on his way.

They spent an uneventful half-hour in the darkening woods. They tried to determine who their pursuer was chasing, her or Robin, but couldn’t draw any conclusions. They mostly discussed food, prompted by Robin’s grumbling stomach.

“How can you be hungry at a time like this?”

“I missed my pizza fix last night. And the lunch offerings today were the typical rubbery macaroni and cold sausage.”

“Why would they serve cold sausage?”

“They think it’s warm.”

His stomach rumbled again. “But a ham and cheese bagel would go down good right now.”

Eventually they moved closer to the road and met Nick and Burrows who arrived simultaneously.

Nick had no qualms about grabbing Kat by the shoulders and after giving her appearance close scrutiny, giving her a hug. It somewhat took the sting from his words, which berated her for taking off alone and getting in trouble again.

Burrows interrupted and determined that they were unharmed. It was the only time she could remember delight at being harshly questioned by him. She optimistically decided they were both abrupt because they were worried.

The men checked out Robin’s car. There wasn’t much to see but there was sufficient damage to have it inspected back in town. Richard led the procession, followed slowly by Robin. Nick and Kat brought up the rear in his Healy. They all met in the detective’s office. Robin told his story, relieved that Detective Burrows believed him and didn’t hold him accountable.

The detective had Robin repeat over and over what he’d heard. He was upset that Robin hadn’t come forward earlier. This eliminated a few suspects that he’d wasted time on. Charlie’s “What are you doing here?” allowed him to drop the idea of it being an outsider breaking in for chemicals and coming across Charlie inadvertently. Robin said Charlie didn’t sound startled or upset at that point. Just surprised. It almost definitely meant it was someone Charlie knew, and sounded like a man, though Robin admitted he couldn’t hear clearly.

“I thought it was something personal between the two. Didn’t know it was murder in the making.”

Kat wasn’t much help in the description of the sedan. Robin however, was able to describe it clearly. Unfortunately he couldn’t recall any special characteristics or the license plate number. There were a lot of gray 1995 Chevy Cavaliers out there.

Again they discussed at length whether the man was trying to scare off Robin or Kat. They were both pretty sure the purpose had only been that—to scare them or one of them off. But was it Robin, because the man knew he’d been at the scene of the crime? Or was it Kat because of the notes on the science invitation (maybe taken as a threat)? Or something she’d seen that night while in the building?

Kat sheepishly mentioned her plea that afternoon to all and sundry at the door of the science building. Nick and Richard took turns taking pieces out of her on that one.

Nick wanted to drive Robin home but were convinced to leave Robin behind for a while. It looked like Robin was in for more intense questioning. Nick expressed appropriate sympathy for the damage to the car and the temporary loss of its use. He promised to help Robin repair it as soon as Richard returned it.

Nick and Kat plunged into palpable silence as he drove her back to the office for her car. He weighed the urge to chew her out with that of holding her tight. Kat watched the warring emotions flicker across his face. She wasn’t sure what the battle was, nor who won, so in a brave front, stepped jauntily out of the car, quickly waved, and said good night.

Nick couldn’t believe she’d bothered trying to get rid of him so easily. Did she think he was deranged? He was furious, scared, frustrated, and hurt. He hadn’t started a discussion in the car in order to avoid an accident, and because he was waiting for one emotion to settle on top. Tackling her with all the conflicting emotions at once was not only impractical but was asking for trouble from someone as volatile as Kat.

He was out of the car and at her side before she’d proceeded more than a few steps. He pulled her into a tight embrace and smothered her with kisses. Words to express what he felt wouldn’t come easily but the desire to hold her close came naturally. Didn’t she know how worried he was, how upset that someone may be stalking her and she didn’t even bother to ask for his help when venturing out on some new lead?

Confused by his reaction, she was willing to accept his lovemaking at face value until he could voice his concerns. She’d endlessly speculated about their relationship but hadn’t been able to express her worries. She didn’t think this moment, in the parking lot, was a good time to bring them up. She feared he wasn’t ready to settle down. She felt his fever came from more than malaria. Did he still have demons following him from his past work—work he wouldn’t talk about? Would their intimacy disintegrate with the solving of Professor Abbott’s murder? Would they part then, or should she fight to gain a permanent relationship?

Right now she settled for his ardent kisses. The shock of the afternoon’s episode was beginning to settle in. They finally parted, with Nick threatening a long talk after he calmed down. He followed her in his car all the way home, but declined the chance to come in until he was more certain what he wanted to say.

 

 

Chapter 18

 

Exaggerated and disguised handwriting means a con artist. Intelligent, productive people don’t need puff.

“Handwriting Analysis: Putting it to Work for You” by Andrea McNichol

 

Nick raced on the treadmill as if pursuing demons. Some he knew; some he didn’t. He hadn’t exercised properly since he left the hospital. If he was no longer out in the field then he needed a place for release and to work out, and he was glad his old friend, G.
 
L. recommended this club. The valley was rife with social clubs—German, Lithuanian, Polish, and in contrast, modern weight rooms and health clubs, but short on old-fashioned gyms. This club happily lacked the dainty pristine appearance of some, the ones that catered to asexual refinement of the body. Here the modern treadmills and exercise machines blended with the ancient release of a punching bag and old men’s gossip.

He slowed, and paced himself, encompassed by the comforting whir and rhythmic clatter of machines in sync, reminiscent of assembly line clamor, only this room mass-produced sweat, stronger abs and quads. He bemoaned the loss of the chin-up bar and moved sheepishly to the dip/chin machine to work his lats. He glanced around looking for G.
 
L. They’d agreed to meet here, in the anonymity of the old-world club, away from campus and Kat in particular. He exhaled on each exertion, regulating his breathing for maximum benefit while he reminisced about the old days when he and
G.
 
L.
were close. He’d called him for this job because after all the years of working with numerous skilled and stealthy men he could think of no one he would trust as much as
G.
 
L
. And true to form, his old friend dropped everything and came running when Nick sent his S.O.S.

He moved back to the treadmill, adjusting pace to temperament while his mind tossed around possible ways to protect Kat and find the killer. Old men, dissecting the latest boxing bout between dreaming old dreams, distracted his attention for a while. His nose was filled with the hot musky odor of muscle-pushing warmth when he stepped off the treadmill and right into a back-slapping hug from the shorter and stockier G.
 
L.

They bantered about the old days in the steel town, before they each left to make their mark. The area’s heyday, when construction of the railroads converged with the growth of iron production and steel, was already fading when they left, when more and more of the twisted girders of the booming era fell into silence. Before it died, the iron industry truly forged a melting pot where unlikely friendships outlasted the steel production. Such was the strongly-welded relation of
G.
 
L.
and Nick.

“What brings you back, Nick?”
G.
 
L
. finally asked as Nick mopped his face with a towel. They headed for the locker room.

“Well, there’s this temporary job I took on for an old friend, a murder, and this girl.”

“Ah, let’s hear about the girl first!”

“She works with me, and I think she’s involved in the murder.”

“Oh, wrong kind of girl. I thought for a minute we finally had something here,”
G.
 
L
. grimaced as he settled on the bench and waited for Nick to shower. They had the place to themselves for the moment and could talk freely.

Nick shouted above the harsh spray. “No, right kind of girl, wrong end of the murder. I think she’s being stalked.”

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