The Hydrogen Murder (26 page)

"And he lost," Frank said, shaking his head and
wiping his hands on his apron.

I smelled the wonderful combination of broccoli, asparagus,
green peppers, zucchini, and mushrooms and knew we were about to be called to a
feast. On the sideboard I saw a white Luberto's box and guessed that was Rose's
part of the meal. Matt had brought wine and sparkling cider. And, difficult as
it was, I obeyed my friends' orders to bring nothing, allowing myself to be
pampered while my arm was in a sling.

I felt completely relaxed partly because I was surrounded by
my friends in an elegant setting, and partly from the pain medicine I still had
to take for my wounded arm and shoulder. For precaution, I'd been advised not
to drive and to keep my left arm in a soft fabric holster for a few weeks.

I'd learned a few things about Matt in the time after my
contract ended. He had a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humor, a degree in
criminology from Boston College, and a sister with a house on Cape Cod. He
never used after-shave and his personal car was a steel blue Toyota Camry with
a tidy interior. Although I hadn't converted him to classical music, he'd
agreed to go to the Messiah concerts with me and Rose and Frank. For my part, I
was letting him teach me about jazz. He loved improvisational music and knew a
dozen little places in Boston and Cambridge to listen to it.

I also learned a few things about myself in the meantime,
and even made a couple of real decisions, like staying in Revere, but moving to
a house of my own by the spring. I started to put Josephine's negative voice
respectfully to rest and thank her for her intelligence and generosity. And at
some moment when he was most vulnerable to my requests and least expecting it,
I planned to give Matt the little black book with Al's handwriting so we could
work on it together.

Matt took my good arm, walked to the table with me and held
out a chair for me to sit on. I looked at him sideways and raised my eyebrows.

"Just until your arm heals," he said.

"Thank you," I said, and sat down next to him.

~~~~

After dinner, Matt and I moved into the living room while
Rose and Frank prepared cappuccinos from their shiny black espresso maker. I
walked over to the window and looked out on Adams Street, where a soft rain was
falling on the immaculately groomed Galigani lawn and gardens. Mums in orange
and yellow, and boxes of bright pink impatiens lined the area around their
large white clapboard house. Across the street, the sight of a swing set in a
neighbor's front yard and an old couple sitting on a covered porch two houses
down reminded me of a Hallmark card, the family life I never had, but hoped was
possible, even at my age. Not the swing set, of course, but the shared peace
and contentment of people who love each other.

I turned back to the room and my eyes fell on a newspaper
resting on a beautiful mahogany end table next to the couch. I saw a caption
that intrigued me and picked up the paper.

"Helium Reserves Sold to Hi-Tech Company," I read.

I walked towards the center of the room, paraphrasing the
article as I crossed the carpet to where Matt was sitting.

"Helium is necessary for hundreds of cutting-edge
products, like MRI imaging machines in hospitals and switching devices for the
next generation of computers. And according to this, it looks like Dave Johnson
beat out Tom Bradley in the race to get the government's supply of helium."

I continued reading until I realized that my friends weren't
paying attention to me. I folded the paper and made one final comment.

"I'll bet Bradley is ready to kill him," I said.

"Oh, no," Rose said.

Matt was on his feet in a flash. He whipped the paper out of
my hands and passed it to Rose, who passed it to Frank. Frank took the paper,
stepped on the lever at the bottom of the plastic trash container in the
kitchen, and tossed it in.

"Dessert's ready," he said.

"It's just an expression," I said, leaning over to
fix the collar of Matt's shirt. "I'm not looking for a helium
murder."

THE
END

Camille Minichino, a retired
physicist turned writer, is the author of the eight books in the Periodic Table
Mysteries. As Margaret Grace, she writes the Miniature Mysteries; as Ada
Madison, she writes the academic series featuring Professor Sophie Knowles,
math teacher at fictional college in Massachusetts. Visit her website, http://www.minichino.com,
and blog http://www.minichino.com/wordpress.