Formula for Murder Read online

Nick seemed impressed. “Sounds great. What’s the problem?”

  “I had to get his permission first before I applied for the grant. But no, he has to uphold the old ways. ‘A notebook is good enough for me,’ he says. Why do you have problems with it? Are the kids too lazy to run down a flight of stairs when they need to research something in biology?’

  “Boy, talk about the dark ages.”

  Abner fussed with his test tubes as if they were filled with holy water and complained further. “Worse, he wouldn’t consider any other research methods than his own. My work has been in the best journals and all he ever gave me was a snort. I don’t know why he even voted to have me hired. Or maybe he didn’t and the rest of the committee just overrode him. I’ve never known.”

  Kat saw a handwritten sheet next to his work. “Are those your notes? Do you need them?”

  “I used them to mix the formulas but I’m finished now.”

  Kat slipped the sheet into her bag and offered a few soothing comments, hoping to glean more information and distract him from questioning her reason for wanting the sample. She’d study it later.

  As he meticulously cleaned up his work and gathered his tubes and vials to be washed by one of the students, he speculated on Charlie’s demise. To Kat and Nick he just said, “Sure, I wished him dead. Wouldn’t have done it in a lab though. Why, one student’s work was wrecked! He’ll have to spend weeks recouping. And the other students working under Charlie for their honors projects, they’re in a pickle. Any prof worth his salt wouldn’t have killed Charlie midterm!”

  Kat, who had difficulty believing anyone with such an organized attitude would turn so passionately violent, was ready to assume the murderer was someone else, but Nick pursued more questioning.

  He queried whether Charlie’s research could have been the cause of the murder. Abner was hesitant.

  “Not in the sense that you mean—someone stealing it from him. I don’t know that it’s that valuable to the world.”

  “What do you mean? Why would he have spent so much time on it otherwise?”

  “He’s a scientist. Always looking for the answer to why. It’s just that I don’t think his conclusions have been proven yet. His work may not even have any merit to the company that financed it. That would be a kick. Maybe they found out it was worthless and knocked him off out of anger!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Not likely, but it bears looking into. I suppose someone could have tried to steal his research. Or more likely he stole theirs and they came at him out of revenge.”

  “How likely is that?” Nick asked.

  “Not as unlikely as you might think. I’d heard there was a very suspicious incident of lab vandalism before I came. Later I heard rumors that all the vials were not accounted for, smashed or otherwise. If a vial of a purified enzyme was stolen, what better suspect than a prof crushed for time? He was so rushed to conclude his work and gain his glory I wouldn’t put it past him to have staged it all to take the vial himself.”

  “It was never looked into as far as I know,” Kat said.

  “Whose vial was it that you suspect was stolen rather than trashed?” Nick asked.

  “It belonged to a professor that’s no longer here. Can’t blame him for leaving. A lot of work went into purifying those enzymes. He still had his recipe, of course, but his attitude changed toward the university. I think he was afraid someone was out to destroy his work personally.”

  Kat resolved to check into the vandalism later and speculated on the best source of the facts, finally settling on Louise Feldman, the president’s secretary. She’d not only been here a quarter century but knew absolutely everything that happened on campus. The incident was in the news but she and Nick wanted more than the official spiel. Louise would be a better source than newspapers any day.

  Abner gave them the basics of enzyme purification in layman’s terms and concluded by saying, “There’s a lot of work to purifying an enzyme. Research money from industry will often provide the time but you have to wait till industry says you can publish. They have their own agenda as to what they want it for and they certainly don’t want you to divulge the “formula” to others before they’ve made their breakthrough with it and cornered the market with their product.”

  Nick watched Abner closely as he worked and talked, waving vials for emphasis and glancing frequently at Kat as she walked around the office/lab. Nick already knew her well enough to realize her constant motion was not a reaction to anything Abner was saying. She just didn’t have it in her to sit still. He wondered how she managed to get through her college courses—or what condition her profs were in by the time she finished.

  His mind wandered a little as he watched her move. Nick wasn’t quite ready to admit he was viewing Abner as potential competition, but the man’s classic good looks bothered him. Thank heavens Abner didn’t seem interested in her that way, even though his eyes shifted frequently in her direction. It seemed like most men she encountered couldn’t keep their eyes off her. He had to give her credit though. She didn’t even notice they were flirting with her, or at least acted ignorant of it.

  He decided to give Abner a break and remove Kat from all the precious glass. Any other questions would come with further information provided elsewhere. Meanwhile, Abner had steered them in several directions. Nick wondered how much of this the chief already knew. He planned on providing an update soon.

  Kat and Nick debated pursuing the lead about the possible theft. She was intrigued by the possibilities while he voted for giving what they had to Detective Burrows to handle.

  Kat favored a more active roll.

  “I was around when the lab was trashed but don’t remember the details. I’d remember if anyone had been even remotely accused of theft. I think we should ask the president’s secretary for more information and go from there.”

  Meanwhile they took a quick tour of the crime scene while no one was looking. No hot leads jumped out. They knew not to expect any but couldn’t resist that peek, hoping for some unnoticed detail to solve the crime instantly.

  Kat squirreled away a few minutes to introduce Nick to the values of handwriting analysis. She dredged Abner’s notes from the bottom of her bag and straightened out the wrinkles enough to point out some of the possibilities. She emphasized that the study of writing dealt in potentials rather than certainties. She pointed out information about numerals that surprised him, but seemed logical, once he looked at it from her point of view. The small, sharp figures in Abner’s equations, truly common among mathematicians and scientists, revealed precisely what they should about a dedicated man, engrossed in his work.

  He promised her that he would be more open-minded about the analysis and they hurried to the crowded chapel for the memorial service. Though Charlie was not remembered favorably by many, he would at least be remembered. Kat expected some came to salve consciences, though many would be there more from curiosity than from sorrow. She glanced around, wondering if the killer was watching, lurking, as she’d heard they did on occasion. She couldn’t shake the prickly sensation on the back of her neck, yet every time she swiveled her head to look behind, she could see nothing but the bowed heads of faculty and students listening to the chaplain. She noticed Detective Burrows discreetly in the background, also observing. Knowing he was there she felt safer, but the feeling persisted that someone was sticking daggers in her back.

  There was no casket and would be no local funeral. Charlie’s father had been contacted and he’d requested the casket be flown back home to Iowa.

  With elaborate gestures and a loud voice, possibly to make up for the lack of substance in his words, the chaplain prayed, “In this time of mourning we would do well to remember this complex and often misunderstood person with kindness.”

  They all bowed their heads, agreeing that it was proper to mourn the death of Charles Abbott with more reverence than he was accorded in life. They listened and prayed, and nodded at the right places. The
ceremony was brief but respectful of “a valued colleague” who had served the university well in his ten years there.

  Kat wondered where Charlie lived, and what the police may have found. She whispered her concerns quietly to Nick and asked if they could take a look. He glared, so she decided to broach the subject later.

  Chapter 7

  A person’s ego is revealed with full capital ‘i’s, large capital letters, and leftward slant. What could force this person to destruction?

  “Handwriting Analysis Self-Taught” by Joel Engel

  Nick maneuvered her through the crowds of rushing students back to the office, looking around in awe as the students disappeared as quickly as they came.

  “I don’t remember everything being quite this fast-paced when I was a student here. Is that senility setting in or have things changed that much?”

  “Things have changed. Everything moves faster. Just look at the speed that information is now attainable through the Internet. Students are expected to know more and more at a faster pace because it’s more readily available. Besides, it’s midterm week. The Frisbees will be back out next week.”

  Nick seemed pleased to think that the speedy students were just an aberration of exam week and that there was still a joie de vivre around campus. He studied the buildings, landmarks, and grounds, attempting to assess the campus with an unjaundiced eye. Even in the stark relief of a near-winter landscape, the place exuded tradition, reflecting that time long ago when a degree was not synonymous with a paycheck. Caught up in his reminiscing he almost knocked over a student hobbling along on crutches, the only snail in the crowd of hares. Kat stopped and sympathized with her, introducing Cheryl to Nick. “Cheryl’s one of our best track stars.”

  Turning back to the student and her bandaged ankle she asked, “What happened?”

  Cheryl, balancing precariously on the crutches, hung her head. “I was running. Got bored with my old path so I took a new one. It was dusk on the return trip and that’s what I did—tripped. It’s a pulled tendon.”

  Cheryl looked at Kat with pleading eyes beneath her shaggy short haircut. “Please Miss Everitt, Melissa said you might be able to help me. I’m doing everything I was told and it’s just taking so long to heal.”

  “OK. Here’s an idea. But there are no guarantees. Go talk to Jack in the biology greenhouse. Ask him if you can have some comfrey leaves. Tell him you need enough to make a paste for a week.”

  “Mind you, don’t take it without Jack’s permission!”

  “Sure thing. I wouldn’t know comfrey from dill anyway. So what do I do with it and how will it help?”

  Kat described how to crush the leaves and make a paste. Spread the paste all over the injured area and bandage it back up. Leave it there for an hour or two and then cleanse the skin and let it dry. Try it a few times a day. Don’t eat it. It can be toxic to your liver!”

  “So how will it help?”

  “It won’t get rid of the discoloration. It’s too late for that. It only helps that if you apply it right away. The bruising will fade eventually but what you’re looking for now is to get the comfrey to seep under the skin to help heal the tendon.”

  Cheryl’s head bobbed up and down frantically. “Gee thanks, Miss Everitt. I’ll hop right over there.” Cheryl was already doing a complex maneuver to turn around and head towards the greenhouses.

  “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.”
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  “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 director 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.