Physics Can Be Fatal (20 page)

     “I don’t think you quite understand,” Charlotte said.  “The reason my fiancé broke off our engagement was
because
of Alan Sidebottom.  Alan worked both sides of the street, if you see what I mean.  He seduced my boyfriend.  He broke us up by persuading my boyfriend that he was gay.”

       Edwina could not think what to say.

     “So you see,” Charlotte continued, “I have a terrific motive for killing Alan Sidebottom.  He did ruin my life, after all.  But, of course, I didn’t.  I would have liked to, but I don’t have the courage.”

     “Have you told the police all this?” Edwina said.

     “No.  What if they didn’t believe me?  What if they  think I killed Alan Sidebottom?”

     “But it’s bound to come out in the course of their investigation,” Edwina said.  “I think it would be a lot better if this information came from you.”

     Edwina suddenly felt light-headed from the wine.  The improbable idea suddenly struck her that underneath the prim façade of Charlotte Cadell there might lurk a raving lunatic.  What if Charlotte did kill Alan Sidebottom, and now she would have to kill Edwina to prevent her from telling the police?

    
Get a grip!
Edwina thought. 
Be rational!  The librarian at Sanborn House is hardly likely to be a homicidal lunatic!

     “Listen, Charlotte,” Edwina said as calmly as she could manage, “I would be happy to go with you to the police station so you can explain all of this.  I think you’d feel much better.”

    
I know I would,
Edwina thought.

     “Maybe you’re right,” Charlotte said, draining her third glass of Pinot Grigio.  “’The truth will out’, I suppose.”

Chapter 16

     Edwina stopped at the police station Monday morning.  The annoying woman at the front desk showed no flicker of recognition.

     “Is Detective Tenney in?” Edwina said.

     “In regards to what?”

     “It’s about the professor’s death––up at the college,” Edwina said.

     The receptionist picked up the phone and called Will’s extension.

     “Name?” she asked.

     “Edwina Goodman.”

     “Edwina Goodman wishes to see you,” she spoke into the phone.  “Again.”

      Edwina now knew the way, and Will was waiting in the hall for her.

     “Nice to see you.  Come in,” he said.

      Edwina took more notice of Will’s office this time.  She had been in too much of a frazzle the last time.  Photographs of mountainous landscapes taken in different seasons decorated the white walls.  Stacks of
Professional Investigator Magazines
and law enforcement journals crowded the bookshelves, alongside box files.  A faded jean jacket hung on the back of the door. 

     Edwina sat down in front of his desk.

     “Listen, I know I’m supposed to be minding my own beeswax and not poking my nose into the Sidebottom murder,” she started.

     “Uh-huh.”

     “But I do have some information which I think might be useful,” Edwina said.

     “Okay.  I’m listening.”

     Edwina pushed her bangs to one side.  She briefly wondered if Will would be mad at her for not backing off playing amateur detective, the way he had asked her to.  Will stood facing her, leaning against the front of the desk, his hands in his trouser pockets.

     “I had lunch with Charlotte Cadell, the librarian at Sanborn House,” she began.  “I never knew any of this before, but it turns out she was engaged to be married years ago, when she was in college.  Studying physics.  She and her boyfriend were students of Professor Sidebottom.  Apparently Professor Sidebottom made a play for Charlotte’s fiancé, who then broke off his engagement to Charlotte.  Charlotte never married, and she blames Sidebottom for ruining her life.”

     Will peered at Edwina.

     “You know that ring she wears?  The fiancé gave it to her.  She told me she never takes it off.  I told Charlotte––I tried to be very insistent––that she should come in here and tell you all this, but she was afraid she would become suspect number one.  Don’t you think that’s an awfully good motive?” Edwina said.

     Will felt simultaneously irritated and impressed.  Irritated that Edwina had not taken his caution to heart about the dangers of poking around the investigation.  But impressed by her results.  She was a force of nature, he figured, and it would take a lot more than his admonitions to change the course of her actions.

     “Possibly, yeah,” he answered.  “And when I spoke with Louis Canevari at The New World, he described witnessing an argument between Charlotte Cadell and Donald Gaylord on the night you were all at the restaurant, the day Alan Sidebottom was discovered dead.  So I have to wonder if Donald Gaylord and Charlotte knew each others’ secrets, and if they were threatening to tell the police what they knew.”    

     “What do you mean about Charlotte Cadell knowing Donald Gaylord’s “secret?” Edwina asked.

     Will hesitated.  He found Edwina’s ease in thinking outside the box invaluable.   Nonetheless, she was not officially part of the investigation, and he knew that sharing information with her would be bending the rules.  There was also the problem of divulging confidential information about one of her colleagues.  Edwina had unwittingly rendered Will uncharacteristically ambivalent about right and wrong.  But his sense of trust in her overwhelmed these considerations, and he took the plunge.   

     “This is strictly confidential, okay?” he said at last.  “It doesn’t go any further than this office, right?”

     “Of course!” Edwina said.

     “Right.  I was curious about Professor Gaylord’s long-distance marriage arrangement,” Will said,  “so I drove to Boston to speak with his wife.  The Gaylords live in a pretty house on a quiet street in one of the nicest suburbs in Boston.”

    “Come to find out,” Will continued, “Donald Gaylord’s better half is a guy named Jimmy Lopez.  They played football together at Yale.  Been together ever since.”

     A wide-eyed Edwina was speechless.

     “So I have to wonder if an ambitious guy like Donald Gaylord would kill to keep his secret safe?  Jimmy Lopez confirmed for me that Professor Gaylord worries about the truth of his personal life getting out because he’s convinced it would damage his career.  I’m thinking Alan Sidebottom knew all about Donald Gaylord from Donald’s student days in England, and was planning to expose him.  Maybe just for spite.  Or for the fun of it, who knows?  Professor Gaylord was probably hoping that Sidebottom’s memory was pickled, and that he had forgotten all about him.  But then when Gaylord realized Sidebottom remembered him, he had to kill him.  Professor Cake said something when I interviewed her that supports this idea.  She said one afternoon in the library she heard Sidebottom say something to Donald Gaylord like, ‘Tommy says hello’, and Donald went nuts.”

     “That must be the reason Donald carries on with Sheila Dubin,” Edwina said slowly.  “It’s just a cover.  But that doesn’t take Sheila out of the running.  She had her own reason for hating Professor Sidebottom.  Maybe she and Donald Gaylord did it together.”

     “She’s not at the top of my list, but I guess it’s possible.  Then again, I’m not counting out Helen Mann,” Will said.  “‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’, and I have good reason to believe Helen was hoping to rekindle her old romance with Sidebottom.  When Professor Sidebottom blew her off at the party that night, Helen became enraged.  Not only did Sidebottom fail to acknowledge his ‘special past’ with Helen Mann, I don’t think he even acknowledged her.  He may not have recognized her.  Now that’s got to be quite a blow to the ego.  Especially if you’re Helen Mann.”

     Edwina regarded Will intently, trying to keep pace with his astonishing narrative.

     “Then we’ve got Mitchell Fender,” Will went on.  “His reasons for hating Sidebottom are epic––the guy stole Mitchell Fender’s career out from under him.  And that may have caused Mitchell’s wife to leave him.  The problem is, a neighbor confirmed that Dr. Fender was home all night on Monday, as he claimed to be.”

     “But wait a minute,” Edwina said,  “If Professor Sidebottom was poisoned by digitalis, then it’s possible someone could have given it to him at any time––in a box of chocolates, or in a bottle of wine––isn’t that right?  The killer wouldn’t care
when
Alan ate the chocolates or drank the wine––just so long as he did!”

     “You’re absolutely right,” Will said.  “Except that we didn’t find anything like a box of chocolates, empty or otherwise, or an empty wine or liquor bottle.  No evidence of anything suspicious ingested, whatsoever.  Besides which, there was practically nothing in his stomach.  You told me, yourself, that he didn’t eat any dinner that night at the restaurant.  There was a bottle of scotch at the cottage, but it hadn’t been opened.  And nothing in the fridge had been tampered with.”

     “What about at the restaurant?” Edwina said.  “The whole department knew Professor Sidebottom and I were going to The New World that night for dinner.  Couldn’t someone have slipped the digitalis into his drink?” she said.

     “I interviewed all the patrons who were there that night, and the staff,” Will replied.  “Nobody was aware of Professor Sidebottom or knew who he was.”

     “But couldn’t someone have slipped in the back way, bribed a waiter or a busboy to put the digitalis into Alan’s drink, and then duck out?” Edwina persisted.

     “It’s possible, but it’s a stretch.”

     Edwina and Will sat looking at each other in the quiet office.  The muffled sounds of traffic filtered in through the closed windows.

     “Mild-mannered Seth Dubin has got motive, too,” Will said.  “Think about it.  The guy finally meets his hero, after years of reading his books and working his way up in the same field.  Then Sidebottom humiliates him in public, right in front of his wife, his students, and his colleagues.” 

     “No way, Seth wouldn’t harm anybody!” Edwina said.  “He’s one of the nicest guys around.  It’s impossible.”

     “I saw him having lunch with a woman the other day at The New World,” Will said.  “He looked none too happy.  What does his wife look like?”

     Edwina described Sheila Dubin. 

     “Yeah, that was her,” he said.

     “Now there’s a thought,” Edwina said.  “Everybody says she wears the pants in that house.  What if Sheila somehow forced Seth into her crazy plan for revenge?  Somehow forced him to be her accomplice?  And also, what about my idea that Sheila could be the daughter of Helen Mann and Alan Sidebottom?”

     “I looked into that,” Will said.  “It was a no-go.”

     “Too bad,” Edwina said, “such a nice theory.”

     The two sat quietly, thinking.  Will gazed out the window at the view of backs of buildings, and delivery docks and alleyways crowded with trucks and dumpsters.

     “Tell me about Professor Cake,” he said. 

     “I know what you’re thinking,” Edwina replied.  “That she has history with Alan Sidebottom.  That Professor Sidebottom plagiarized from Frank Cake years ago in England.  But why in the world would she want to exact revenge after all this time, for something that happened all those years ago?  She’s coming to the end of a brilliant career.  Her husband has been gone a long time.  She’s retiring next year when she turns ninety.  Why would she ruin all that?”

     “Opportunity, maybe?” replied Will.  “If it’s true that Sidebottom plagiarized Professor Cake’s late husband and drove him to an early grave, maybe she’s dreamed of revenge for a long time.  Maybe Sidebottom showing up at Cushing was a golden opportunity for Nedda Cake.  Who knows?  Maybe she even considered the arrival of Sidebottom a gift from her late husband, an opportunity to settle the score.”

     “Well, it might look good on paper,” Edwina said.  “I can see that.  But the thing is, taking somebody’s life goes against everything Nedda Cake believes in.  She’s a dyed-in-the-wool pacifist.  She doesn’t even eat meat, for goodness sake!  It’s simply not in her nature,” Edwina said.

     “But her age could figure in as a factor the other way, couldn’t it?” Will said.  “How much have you got to lose when you’re ninety, with a full and successful life behind you?  Maybe she sees herself as her husband’s avenger?  Maybe she saw taking out Sidebottom as her ultimate purpose in life––her swan song?”