Think Murder (11 page)

At work the next morning, I was glad to see Matt was alone in his office. I wanted his advice before attempting to talk to Dr. Stickler again.

Matt greeted me with a broad smile. “Top of the morning, Adina. How was your weekend?”

“I’ve had better.” I described the threatening note and my latest visit to the police station. “I expect that Dr. Stickler is going to be getting another call from Detective Saks. And we know how happy that’ll make him. Do you think I should talk to him before, you know, preemptive? I also need to update Dr. Stickler on the data I summarized on Friday.”

Matt didn’t say much, he simply turned to me, “Adina, let’s go.” He stood up and headed out the door. As we approached the entrance to Dr. Stickler’s office, Carol moved as if to intercept us. Matt held up his hand, signaling her to stay put.

The office door was open. Matt marched in without knocking; he had the presence of a man on a mission. Dr. Stickler looked up, startled at the intrusion.

“Donald, we need to talk.”

“Good morning, Matt. To what do I owe this unscheduled interruption?”

Matt closed the door, then took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Dr. Stickler. Matt motioned for me to do the same.

“Donald, when I suggested that Adina assist you, it was to help you over a rough spot. She is doing her best in a difficult situation. Your tirade last Friday was uncalled for. She needs to update you regarding recent developments, and I’m here to ensure that there is no repeat performance.”

Dr. Stickler glared at Matt, then turned to glare at me. “Well, I’m waiting. What do you need to tell me?”

I struggled to find my voice. “You are probably going to get another call from Detective Saks today. Someone slipped me a threatening note on Friday. It warned me against asking questions or I’d be next. I don’t know who wrote it, when, or where.”

“Ridiculous. How do I know you aren’t making this up?”

“The police have the note. They’re going to check for fingerprints and such. The detective doesn’t know if it was a prank or a real threat somehow related to Hilary’s death. There were also a few times last week when I thought someone might be following me.”

“Great. Now it’s my fault that you have an overactive imagination,” Dr. Stickler sneered.

“Donald, I don’t know what’s going on with that project of yours, but it would seem that there’s more than meets the eye. It would behoove you to take matters more seriously. Adina has been my assistant for two years now and she has never been prone to flights of fancy.”

Have I mentioned before how much I like my boss? I suppose I could have seized the opportunity to tell Dr. Stickler and Matt about my weekend googling, and that picture of Congressman Redmond with the guy that had followed me. I might have if I hadn’t been afraid of Dr. Stickler’s reaction. He’d probably tell me to mind my own business, again. Besides, I wasn’t sure how much I trusted Dr. Stickler.

Dr. Stickler fidgeted in his chair. “Adina, where do things stand with the data you were collecting?”

“The online data and the data in the Library of Congress matched. I checked the statutes and any new amendments to them. I didn’t find anything that would account for that spike. The photocopies of the source materials are in a file on my desk. What I can tell you is that the high rates of land repurposing were focused in a single district.”

“Bring me the file later. For now, simply prepare the graphs and charts based on the information we have, without making any attempt to interpret the data. I will take it from there.”

Back in the comfort of his own office, Matt turned to me, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Thanks, Matt. You’re the best.”

I made a copy of the summary I had prepared and placed it in a file with the photocopied data from the Library of Congress. Dr. Stickler’s door was closed so I left the file with Carol. Next, I finished updating the spreadsheets for the first set of charts before heading out for lunch with Michelle.

Michelle was keen to catch up on the office gossip. “What gives with that meeting in Stickler’s office this morning?” From her workstation, Michelle has an unobstructed view of Carol’s desk. “Carol was fuming when Matt barged past her. And then when you went in with him and the door closed, she was positively apoplectic.”

“Too bad I missed it… why didn’t you take a picture?”

“Ha, ha. So what caused all the excitement?”

“Well, you know that Stickler railed on me Friday, right?”

“I think everyone knows. Carol made sure of that. It made her day. Though she was vague regarding why he was so mad at you.”

“Sounds like the Carol I’ve come to know and love. Stickler had a fit because I spoke to Detective Saks about the Land Use Survey. He even called Matt to complain.”

“If that wasn’t bad enough, someone slipped a threatening note into my pocket sometime Friday. I didn’t find it until that evening. So I had to call the detective, again. Which means he’ll probably call Stickler again. When I told Matt, he headed straight to Stickler’s office.”

“Adina, what did the note say?”

“That curiosity killed the cat, and that I should stop asking questions or I’d be next.”

“Why would anyone do that? What did the detective say?”

“He thought it might be a vicious prank. Michelle, do you think Carol would be capable of doing something like that? Does she hate me that much?”

“Carol does have a mean streak, but I don’t think she’d go that far, even if she is overzealous about her claim on Stickler.”

“Sometimes I think Stickler scares me more than the note.”

That afternoon I completed the charts for West Virginia and input the relevant summary data into the comparison spreadsheets that Hilary had set up. I generated the graphs and charts, then added labels and legends. I’d proofread it the next day with a fresh eye.

I was attempting to master a timed level in Candy Crush Saga when my phone chirped. It was Jonathan with updates.

“There were a couple of prints on the note. Unfortunately, there were no matches for any of them. Probably yours.”

“Do you need to fingerprint me to check?” That’s how I’d seen the police exclude fingerprints on all the TV shows.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know if it becomes necessary.” He continued, “The good news is that we’ve identified the man in the picture with Congressman Redmond. His name is Franklin Hogan, he works in the Congressman’s office. One of the guys on the squad dates one of Redmond’s office staffers and asked her a few questions. It seems no one is sure what he actually does all day. Her understanding is that Redmond hired Hogan as a favor to his uncle, one of Redmond’s supporters back in West Virginia. Not sure what it all means, but at least it’s a place to start.”

After dinner I went on Facebook for distraction. Hilary’s page was still up, and I browsed through the pictures she had posted there. She was such a great photographer.

Nostalgia at work, I was compelled to explore the folders Hilary had set up on the cloud. She had shared most of her folders with me. Some of the folders highlighted historical buildings and landmarks, whereas others featured social gatherings and events.

I browsed through the folders one at a time, in chronological order. When I got to the great picture of the two of us against the backdrop of the blossoming cherry trees, I remembered that I still hadn’t had the picture printed. I’d have to do that soon.

Last May, on Memorial Day, she must have taken hundreds of pictures at the parade. The folder was packed with pictures of the colorful floats, the marching bands, and small children waving flags. Hilary had done an amazing job of capturing the enthusiasm of participants and observers alike.

The last folder contained the pictures from our last outing. Early morning shots of the Smithsonian, the Natural History Museum and the Air and Space Museum. Lone pedestrians appeared in most of the pictures. In a few pictures, three men were standing together under a tree by the Natural History Museum. One of the men looked familiar so I zoomed in to get a better look. The man was either Congressman Redmond or else someone who looked exactly like him.

It was close to midnight. Calling Jonathan would have to wait for morning. I downloaded the picture and transferred it to my phone.

Seated on the Metro the next morning, I texted Jonathan that I was attaching a picture of Congressman Redmond that Hilary had taken the week before her murder. A few minutes later, he sent a reply thanking me and assuring me he’d have it looked into.

At work, I proofread the graphs and charts, and inserted them into a PowerPoint presentation for Dr. Stickler to review. I was poised to hit the send button when the phone rang. It was Carol. I had been summoned to Dr. Stickler’s office, again.

Before I had a chance to sit down, he began talking. “Adina, have you completed the graphs and charts yet?”

“Yes. I was about to send them to you when Carol called.”

“Oh. Good. Send them and save them. Then, I would like you to prepare a second version of all of the material, this time leaving out West Virginia. Include only the data for Tennessee, Virginia, and Kentucky. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, not at all.” I knew I was treading on dangerous territory when I added, “May I ask why?”

Dr. Stickler scowled, “My reasons are not your concern. Please try to complete the work by the end of the day.” I was dismissed.

Duncan had texted me, asking if I’d like to join him for lunch. I was looking forward to it. Duncan’s smile was cheerful when I joined him in the reception area. Rick was standing next to Duncan. Oddly enough, I was both disappointed and relieved to realize that Duncan and I would not be dining alone.

Over burgers and fries, our conversation started out frivolous, then gradually moved on to serious matters. I shouldn’t have been surprised when Duncan asked how I was getting along with Dr. Stickler.

“As you probably know, I am not one of his favorite people these days.”

“So we heard.” Rick looked at me with pity in his eyes.

Duncan asked, “What happened? What did you do to make him so angry?”

“He’s impossible, he blew everything out of proportion. All I did was inform the detective of a conversation I had with someone who might or might not be paranoid, who had an interesting theory about the reasons for Hilary’s death. Duncan, you remember, I told you about that guy and his theory.”

Duncan nodded. Rick had a puzzled expression, but didn’t interrupt me.

“The detective spoke to the guy, then called Stickler with some questions. You obviously heard that he reamed me out – with the door wide open.”

“Adina, don’t let him get to you,” Duncan responded. “Everyone knows Stickler is a pompous idiot.”

“Yep. He gets his jollies putting other people down. Boosts his ego. He’s compensating for his lack of hair.”

Both Duncan and I laughed at Rick’s remarks. Indeed. Dr. Stickler’s hairline had receded to the point beyond return. In an attempt to disguise his baldness, he tries to hide it with an elaborate comb-over.

I assured them that I was almost done working with Dr. Stickler, and that I would never make the mistake of volunteering to help him again.

Duncan was concerned that the police still hadn’t caught Hilary’s murderer. I shared that concern, and said so. He must have seen the anxiety in my eyes, “Adina, why do I get the feeling there is something you aren’t telling me?”

Reluctantly, I told them about the threatening note and outlined the detective’s theories on who the culprit might be.

Duncan was annoyed. “This happened on Friday? Why didn’t you tell me when we spoke over the weekend?”

Good question. “You already had so much to deal with. I didn’t want to add to it.”

Duncan stared at me. Picking up the slack in conversation, Rick commented, “That’s got to be scary, though.”

“Totally creeped me out. I have been looking over my shoulder ever since.”

Duncan surprised me by placing his hand over mine, “Adina, be careful. Let me know if I can help in any way, any time.”

After lunch, I finished the abridged version of the charts – the same set, minus the data on West Virginia – and sent them to Dr. Stickler’s email address. With any luck, I wouldn’t need to work with him again. I resisted the urge to belt out the Hallelujah chorus, singing it in my head instead.

Stacey and Bruce were deep in conversation when I walked into Cutie Pie that evening. Stacey was all smiles as he spoke to her. A twinge of something akin to jealousy hit me as I took in the scene.

I called out in greeting, and Bruce turned to face me. He smiled, “Glad to see you came today. How are you?”

“Fine. Thanks.”

“No more notes, I hope.”

“Nope. No notes, no threats. Normalcy restored,” I said in as nonchalant a voice as I could muster.

“Great. Glad to hear it.” He turned to resume his conversation with Stacey.

I put a leash on Brandy and took him out. We were coming around a bend in the path that runs toward the parking lot when someone came up from behind and grabbed my elbow. The smell of stale garlic overwhelmed me when a gruff voice breathed down my neck, “Keep walking. You don’t want to make a scene.” Something hard was pressed into the small of my back. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a Redskins cap.

Even though I let go of the dog’s leash, Brandy continued to walk beside me. I looked at the dog, willing him to run back to Cutie Pie and get help. Brandy was obviously not a Lassie ‘wannabee’. I sent up a silent prayer that Stacey or Bruce would come out and see what was happening.

A short distance ahead of us a dingy white van pulled up, driven by the guy I had seen at the Library of Congress. The one Jonathan had said worked for Congressman Redmond. The library guy got out and opened the side panel. I was trying hard not to panic, but no way I was getting into that van.

Heart pounding, I dragged my feet while I tried to think of a way out of my predicament. When my attacker shoved me forward, Brandy began to growl, softly at first, then building up to loud barks.

Agitated, my attacker lunged toward Brandy, raising his leg, posed to kick the dog. I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I kicked the guy, or at least I tried to. Instead I tripped him, toppling him to the ground. My leg got caught between his legs throwing me off balance as well. Brandy barked furiously.

I looked up to see Bruce running toward us. Bruce had almost reached me when he spotted the switchblade on the ground less than a foot away. Still on the ground, the guy started to reach for it. Bruce kicked it away and stepped between the blade and the thug.

The attacker struggled to his feet and sprinted the short distance to the van. Sirens drew closer as the van sped away. When Brandy started to give chase, Bruce grabbed his leash and held him back.

Still shaking, I had trouble getting to my feet. Bruce pulled me up and into his strong arms. Neither of us spoke.

The spell was broken when I heard Stacey exclaim, “Adina, are you alright?”

I stepped out of Bruce’s arms and gazed into his eyes. “Now, I am.”

When a police cruiser pulled up at the curb, Stacey waved the two police officers over to where we stood. A small crowd had gathered near the entrance to the yogurt place and was observing the excitement.

The older of the two officers introduced himself as Sergeant Stone and began by asking who had placed the call. The younger officer, who looked barely out of high school, took out a spiral notepad and began taking notes.

“That would be me,” Stacey volunteered. “Bruce and I had just stepped outside, and he thought he saw someone threatening Adina. He handed me Patch’s leash and told me to go inside and call 911.”

Only then did I notice that Bruce and Stacey were outside without dogs.

Bruce picked up the story, “When I saw you had let go of Brandy’s leash, I knew something was wrong. That’s why I told Stacey to call the police.”

Hearing his name, Brandy perked up and nudged my leg. I bent down to cuddle him.

“Which one of you is Adina?”

I straightened up. “I’m Adina. And Bruce was right. The guy was threatening me. I think he wanted to get me into that van.”

“What van?”

“It’s gone now, but it was driven by the library guy. The guy with the knife got into it a few minutes before you got here.”

“Please slow down, young lady. How did you get away from your assailant?”

“I was walking Brandy, and he must have sensed that something was wrong. He started to growl and bark at the guy. The guy got mad at the dog, so I tried to kick the guy to keep him from hurting the dog. But I missed, and ended up knocking us both over. He dropped the knife in the process. Then Bruce came running up and kicked the knife away from him. The guy ran off to the van and escaped before you arrived.”

“Where is the knife now?” the sergeant asked.

“Right here.” Bruce used his foot to indicate its location.

When the rookie moved to pick it up, the sergeant reminded him that there were evidence bags in the patrol car. He then asked whether any of us had handled the knife. We assured the officer that we hadn’t touched it.

“Can you describe your attacker?”

“Let me see… kind of average looking, wearing jeans and a Redskins cap… dark curly hair.”

“Medium build, bit shy of 6 feet,” Bruce chimed in.

Stacey was fiddling with her phone while I tried to recall more details. Excited, she burst out, “Here, look, I caught part of what happened on my phone. I was pretty far away, but this might help.”

We all huddled around Stacey and her phone as she played back the tail end of the incident. The clip went in and out of focus a few times. Even so, both the attacker and the driver were visible. The camera also caught the D.C. license plate on the Ford panel van, which had a badly painted over logo of some animal or another.

The rookie consulted his notes, then asked, “You said the driver was the library guy? What did you mean by that?”

“It means someone needs to call Detective Saks.” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and placed the call myself. Jonathan told me to stay put until he got there. I waited while the sergeant wrote down additional details and contact information for Bruce, Stacey, and me.

As Bruce escorted me to a nearby bench, I thanked him again for coming to my rescue. “You always seem to be around to pick me up when I fall down.”

Smiling, Bruce tipped an imaginary hat, “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”