Formula for Murder (8 page)

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to let me know how it works out.” She turned back to Nick. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

“I haven’t a clue. How do you do that? Does everyone on campus know you deal in black magic?”

She stopped in her tracks, almost tripping him. Hands on hips, she growled. “That’s not black magic. I dabble in a little ethnobotany as a hobby. I never recommend anything that could be harmful and my advice is usually something that’s been known for centuries.”

“Whoa!” he said, throwing up his hands in self-defense against her words. “I admire what you do. Forgive the teasing.”

She smiled. “Just so we’re clear.”

Nick agreed that they should visit with Louise the next day. He wondered about the worth of the information even if Louise supported the theory that Charlie had stolen the enzyme. What is the relevance to this murder investigation?

“Revenge?” Kat proposed.

“But it sounds like all involved are gone.”

“Let’s wait and see. Meanwhile I’ll make a list of people we should visit regarding the other theories.”

“You altered that from the original plan. Weren’t you supposed to make a list for Richard Burrows? And didn’t you promise him you’d stay out of his investigation?”

“So why were we talking with Abner?”

“Well, that was just preliminary research for Richard.”

“OK, so we do preliminary research for him on the others. Save him some time.”

Though he laughed, she was saved from further comment as they entered the public relations department and he turned off for another meeting.

She made the appointment with Louise and then headed for old newspaper files. The last media relations person had continued the decade-old tradition of keeping clipping books of anything that got in print. She was sure the vandalism would be in one of them.

The files were stored in an open student work area next to the university relations and sports information office. The two men had shared a suit of rooms that worked well for them with student workers serving both as needed. Kat wondered how much things would change when a new person came in permanently. She speculated on the possibility of Nick staying but then tossed aside the idea. It didn’t bear looking into for personal reasons alone.

Kat settled down with the files and eased the sporty heels off her feet as she heard noises coming from the nearby office of Dennis’s, the sports information director (more commonly known as the SID). She knew he was a computer advocate and a statistics man, but then most SIDs these days were. She’d never seen him quite so angry, however, so she peeked in.

Dennis cracked a grin but managed to keep it out of his voice as he concluded. “No, Mark, I really don’t know yet how serious the injury is. We’ll all have to wait till tomorrow at least.” He listened for a second, then added, “OK, I promise when I know something, I’ll let you know.”

He saw her studying his greenery and turned back to the tables on the computer to calculate the final stats. She watched his fingers breeze across the pages, pulling up names and adding information.

When he hit the save button she asked, “What is that unusual collection of plants in the corner? I’ve never noticed before. The leaves appear to have two distinctive halves. Something new?”

“Not really. Just overflow from the apartment. And the light is perfect over there by that window. It’s my carnivorous terrarium. The plants need the moisture from the tank. They usually live in bogs. These are Venus Flytraps. Have you ever seen one?”

“No. But I’ve heard of them. Carnivorous sounds so deadly for such a small thing. What do they eat?”

Dennis took an overturned glass nearby and slipped his hand underneath, keeping the fly within from escaping. He shook it over the top of the pot and the fly landed on the plant, thinking it had finally escaped. Kat watched in awe as the trap formed by the leaves snapped shut in a split second over the fly.

“That’s spectacular! Do it again.”

He hunted around for a second, then said, “I don’t have another fly handy. Here, just brush those hairs with your finger.”

Kat did and watched another trap close.

“Why does it do that?”

“The plants eat insects to complement the nitrogen supply they need for growth. Your touching of the hairs gives it the impression an insect has entered and it triggers the trap.”

“Great hobby. Is it how you work out your aggression? Feeding unsuspecting flies to killer plants?”

“How unkind! And I was just going to thank you for brightening my day.”

“No problem, Dennis, but now I have to hit those files.”

“Well, good luck. Hopefully they haven’t been rearranged too much since Matt left.”

Kat settled down with the scrapbooks, happy they hadn’t been converted to microfiche. Paging through scrapbooks had a therapeutic effect. Like reminiscing with friends.

Eventually she found articles on the trashed lab—one-and-a-half-years back. It had certainly caused more devastation than Charlie’s death had, but miraculously, most of the students’ projects had come through unharmed. More than 75 organisms had been spilled in the vandalism. The hazardous material coordinator had been called in, and the state Department of Environmental Protection and the Centers for Disease Control were notified.

She couldn’t remember any particulars but easily recalled the atmosphere of disgust and distrust that permeated the campus for weeks afterwards. No one could understand who would do something so destructive in that close-knit community.

Investigating further she discovered the oddity that hadn’t been pursued as far as she could remember. The damaged trashed had a collection of bacterial agents but the refrigerator that had been ransacked housed chemical compounds and components of several experiments. She began to wonder if Abner was right about the enzyme. Had Charlie, or someone, deliberately trashed the area to hide the disappearance of one enzyme? How egotistically destructive could one be?

Dennis stomped out, cursing royally, even worse than earlier.

“What is it NOW?”

“This has to be the absolutely worst day of my life. First my day off ruined and now this! I’m a sports information di
rector not a stud for God’s sake!”

“Clue me in Dennis. What ‘this’ pushed you off the deep end?”

“The veep just tagged me to attend the development dinner because they’re running short on males. Does that beat all or what?”

“That’s tonight? Oh my God, I forgot. I hope someone told Nick. She quickly slammed shut all the books left open at nostalgic spots and hurriedly put them in order while she finished talking.

“I’ve got to run. I’ll commiserate later. Could you round up Nick and fill him in on the male necessities? Have him call me if he has any questions.”

“Jeesh, I sure love complaining to you. Leaves something to be desired,” Dennis shouted to her fleeing back.

Chapter 8

An ‘i’ dotted above the stem is often found among people who are precise and in control, but when a gun is pointed at you, can you ask the bearer to stop and write a note to see?

“Handwriting Analysis” by P. Scott Hollander

The daintily wrapped shrimp didn’t have a chance as Kat zeroed in with cobra-like efficiency and popped it into her mouth. She wove her way through the crowds, grateful for the escort of the graceful and urbane Nick. Dennis had joined them earlier, choosing a grouping of those you know, rather than those you don’t.

She sighed, “I guess we should mingle.”

“If I’ve got to mingle than I’ll do it by the hors d’oeuvres,” Dennis said in an exaggeratedly offended voice. Kat knew that’s where he’d been heading all along. Food was always his priority.

The donors were there in force, come to celebrate another successful fundraising event. She reveled in the finery, in the black and white and gold of this year’s theme reflected in the rosy glow of countless candelabras. It lifted her spirits.

Jewels and sequins abounded as participants vied with the decorations for attention. Nick reminisced with friends from his days on campus. They all converged on the food table frequently, to compare notes, share a drink or a laugh, and then went back to quiet moments with friends and acquaintances. It was difficult in this sparkling setting to believe murder occurred a few days before. Kat speculated on the patrons present and their possible connection to Charlie’s demise. It was impossible to imagine any of them involved.

She chatted with the dean’s mother, Thelma, her sedate name and body hiding an invigorating mind. Thelma spoke with animation; her gnarled fingers, speckled with age and circled with diamonds, attempted to keep pace with her enthusiastic voice. She’d attended the university herself, many years before, and reminisced about the golden days.

The glitter, the gold-draped tables, the black and white china and the sparkling crystal impressed Nick. Flowers adorned every corner and bloomed in centerpieces. Rubies and diamonds and dazzling clothes adorned the women. Nick preferred the classic simplicity of Kat’s dress; no sequins, no bangles, just fine lines that complimented her figure, and a little lace inset to hint at her breasts. His eyes reflected his appreciation as she approached.

She smiled shyly in response. “I see you managed to entertain dozens of people as you made your rounds.”

“Yeah, I remembered a few, met a few.”

“Oh, there’s Gerald with Abner. Should we grill them?

“Probably not appropriate behavior at a formal function. Could get bloody with your interrogation techniques. Quick, dance with me before you embarrass us!”

They fit perfectly as they danced and when her eyes scanned the crowd with that speculative twinkle he gently touched her cheek to bring them back to him. “Do I need to become a suspect to gain your attention?”

Kat toyed with him for a moment. “Well, you were late arriving in front of Main Hall. You could have been delayed by murder I suppose.”

“Kat, you wound me! You really couldn’t believe that of me.” He hesitated, waiting for her response. “Could you?”

“I don’t really know you.”

Deciding she was just teasing, he settled back to the dance, softly brushing cheek-to-cheek, and whispered in her ear, “We could change that.”

Feeling safe amidst the crowd, she asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Pulling her a little closer he answered, “What I have in my mind right now better stay there. Maybe it’s safer to go grill Gerald and Abner. Where’d they go?”

Happy to have an affect on him, but just as happy not to pursue it at the moment, Kat spied Gerald and twirled out of Nick’s arms.

“Great, I love grilling people!”

Nick wasn’t quite so eager to interrogate the learned professors. “Whoa, do you really think Gerald or Abner is the killer?”

“I know Gerald isn’t. But he found the body. I thought he could tell us something.”

“And how do you know he isn’t the killer?”

“He’s a good friend!”

“And that makes him innocent?”

“I just know he wouldn’t do it.” Kat twirled a strand of hair between her fingertips, not so much nervous as anxious to support her friend. “His writing is well-balanced. His ‘t-bar’ points upward; he dots his ‘i’s’ directly above the stem. He is therefore, highly moral.”

“He was there that night wasn’t he?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted as she delicately plucked a puff pastry off one of the trays offered by students. “But that doesn’t make him guilty. I was there, too. I’m not guilty.”

“Seeing the way you and Burrows spark off each other I suspect he more than likely didn’t want to hear the grief you’d dole out if he even looked at one of your friends for murder.”

“Good point. So how do we clear Gerald?” she whispered as another pastry tray hovered nearby in the hands of a student with purple spiked hair. She snatched an hors d’oeuvre for each of them and looked up at him imploringly as she held out her bribe.

“You don’t ask much do you? It would be easier to nab the killer and clear Gerald that way.”

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s go chat with Gerald and see what he knows.”