Murder on Camac

by Joseph R. G. Demarco

  "Welcome back, Mr. Fontana." When they spoke, their lips moved simultaneously and there was only one voice, a very motherly, comforting voice. I liked that, especially since my head felt as if it were split in two and lying half on each shoulder.

  "I..." There wasn't much I felt like saying since when I attempted to speak my already shattered head felt as if it were developing more cracks. So I just stared at them and within moments, the three nurses melded into one smiling woman.

  She told me that one of the parking lot attendants had found me lying next to my car. She also said that I was in the emergency room in Pennsylvania Hospital and some friends were waiting outside to see me.

  I nodded and immediately felt the room spin.

  "Should I let them in? Do you feel up to it?"

  I nodded again and this time it felt marginally better.

  She turned toward the door and I watched her open it. Luke, Anton, and even Hollister shuffled in and stood next to the bed. All of them looked down at me with mournful expressions of concern. Luke and Anton appeared to be sharing the pain I felt.

  The throbbing ache in my head pulsed in time with my heartbeat and my eyes felt like grapefruits. But I tried to sit up anyway. The effort made me want to hurl.

  The others backed off, horrified.

  "Pain can make you sick to your stomach, Mr. Fontana. So can a knock on the head," the nurse said when she saw me place a hand over my mouth. "You're going to feel nauseous and dizzy for a little while."

  I groaned.

  "Don't worry." The nurse looked at them all. "He's had a bang on the head but there's no concussion. He'll be back to normal in no time." Easy for her to say.

  "As for you," she said, holding up a small brown plastic bottle. "Pain killers. Just to get you through the next couple of days."

  I lay back against the pillows and closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning. It kinda worked except now behind my eyes I was tossed on a stormy ocean.

  "Your friends can take you home."

  I kept my eyes shut.

  "No sudden movements or changes of position and you'll be fine in a few hours," the nurse instructed, pressing the pill bottle into my hand. "See your doctor for a follow up. But I think you'll be fine in no time. Young man like you needs more than a bang on the head to cause damage." She quietly left the room.

  I felt pretty damaged but it wasn't just my head. I'd let somebody get the drop on me in my own building's parking garage, which explained why I was off guard. But I still felt angry.

  "Who's gonna help me up?" I looked at them. "We've got work to do."

  "You're not going anywhere, tiger." Anton stood over me, his expression a mix of anger and concern. "Who did this to you? Is it related to the case?"

  "I..." I tried to answer but the effort made me nauseous. I let out a breath and lay back on the pillows. "I must be making somebody nervous."

  "This case isn't good for your health," Luke commented.

  "It's getting too dangerous, Marco. I can't allow you to be harmed," Hollister said.

  "I'm not about to let a two-bit thug force me off a case." I saw stars that time.

  "He's right, Marco," Luke said. "It's not worth you getting hurt."

  "I'm with them," Anton said. "In case you didn't get that earlier."

  "But we just got a break." I chose to ignore the pain which was diminishing and the dizziness which wasn't. "We have the laptop. I've gotta be..."

  "You've got to be at home," Hollister said. "This can wait."

  "No it can't." I winced and shut my eyes. "This means we're getting closer. We can't stop." I kept my eyes shut and it felt like I was floating in a dark tank.

  "We'll take you home. We can talk there." Hollister placed a hand on my shoulder.

  ***

  Which is exactly what they did. Anton and Luke, together, helped push the wheelchair the to the door. Once there, Luke pulled his roomy Mercedes around.

  "We don't have to talk business, Marco," Hollister said as the car made its way through the snarled center city traffic. The city needed new traffic engineers.

  "We really need to see what's on the laptop," I insisted and my stomach did a sickening little dance. Riding in the car made the nausea worse but I was determined to tough it out. "We've come this far. I'm not about to stop because I have a headache bigger than Antarctica. So I got conked on the head, it doesn't matter. It's happened before. Besides, it's personal now."

  "Nina's got the laptop. It's all in her hands," Luke said. "I was at her place when I got a call from that guy Carlos in your building telling me what happened."

  "You need to rest, Marco," Anton said, his voice was low but his tone was firm. "Things like this, you never know the long term consequences."

  "He's right," Hollister chimed in. "You could take a turn for the worse if you don't take it easy."

  "That's not exactly what the nurse said. Call Nina, tell her we're coming."

  "No." Anton insisted. "I'll take you up to your apartment now. Luke and Mr. Hollister can pick Nina up and take her here."

  Anton tried to engineer some alone time with me but I knew it wouldn't work.

  "We're not far from Nina's place," Luke said. He wasn't about to let Anton have time alone to baby me. He'd want to do that himself. "No sense me making two trips. We can fit Nina in the back seat with the two of you."

  "Marco should get home," Anton insisted, annoyed. "He's not up to this."

  "We're not taking him on a road trip. Just around the corner." Luke made a left at the next light. He zipped down Tenth Street, then down Pine and before long we were in front of Nina's place.

  Luke eased out of the car and went to retrieve Nina. In moments they walked out, Nina carrying two laptops and moving gingerly to the car.

  "Marco, how are you feeling?" Nina settled herself next to Anton. "I heard what happened."

  "I'll be fine. I've got a pretty hard Italian head." I boasted as a wave of dizziness and nausea threatened to make a liar out of me. "Did you get to look at the laptop?"

  "Well, when I heard what happened, I didn't know..."

  "Just as well, we can start from the beginning when we get to my place. Tim can help, right?"

  "I don't see how but I'll do what I can." Hollister sounded tired. He'd been running around for days, settling things, making arrangements and calls. Unable to live at his own place, the poor guy was under a lot of strain.

  "You never know, Mr. Hollister," Nina said. "You may remember a key word or number. The laptop's probably encrypted. You might save me a lot of time.

  ***

  I lay on the sofa in the living room, Anton attending to my every whim. Nina had set her computers on the dining room table. She surrounded herself with laptops, including mine, and got ready for what looked like it might be a long night. I had a front row seat and could observe and comment.

  Brandt's laptop was seductive. Slim silver case, looking serene, exuding an aura of untouchability, as if it didn't care it'd been found because it knew that only the magic words could obtain its contents. I blinked and looked again. Just a pile of plastic and metal.

  Nina gently slid the catch and lifted the screen.

  "What's your plan, Nina?" I asked.

  "It's encrypted. So..."

  "There's no way to get into it?" Hollister asked.

  "Normally. Most people would give up after a try or two."

  "Of course, Wonder Woman can do anything, right?" Anton came up behind Nina and placed an arm around her shoulder.

  "Right, Batman. Or, are you really Robin?" Nina smiled. She liked Anton, admired him, but never let him get the best of her. "Go back to the Batcave and let a woman work."

  "We're counting on you, Nina," I said as Anton returned to my side.

  "We need to get around the password, jefe."

  "Can you?" Hollister asked.

  "I'll start it up with my magic DVD and we'll be in." Nina popped the drive and placed a silvery disk on the tray. She concentrated si
lently.

  Luke watched intently, as if memorizing her moves.

  "Bingo!" Nina said. "The encryption is history."

  "That's it?" Luke asked.

  "Did you doubt me? That was the easy part. Removing the encryption on the files will take time." Nina clacked the keys. "Take a look at this, Mr. Hollister." She glanced at the older man and smiled encouragingly.

  Hollister pulled a chair next to Nina's. He peered at the screen, the look in his eyes softened. He placed one hand to his mouth.

  "Look familiar?" Nina said

  "Helmut's work. The names are familiar, all..." Hollister choked up.

  "Take your time," I said. "This won't be easy."

  "No. I've got to control myself. For Helmut's sake. This information might be what you need, Marco." He stared intently at the screen. "Why don't you open that one?" He pointed to a folder. I couldn't read names from where I lay.

  "The 'Vatican Betrayal' folder?" Nina asked.

  "We can start there," Hollister said.

  "Here goes." Nina double clicked. "It's encrypted. We need the password."

  "Try the usual, Nina," I suggested. "Birthdays, pet names..."

  "Old telephone numbers," Luke chimed in. "Nicknames he might've had for things. Did you have pet names for one another, Mr. Hollister?"

  "Not really. Just the usual. Honey, dear." Hollister paused. "Prosaic, I'm afraid."

  "Can you write down the other stuff? Birthdays, pets, things like that?" Nina pushed a piece of paper in front of Hollister.

  "I'll do what I can. Helmut had no pets, never did. I'll list his birthday, his old addresses, my birthday. Our old home towns, our schools. And his telephone number in Munich, I may be able to remember that." He scribbled words and numbers on the paper.

  All of us went silent at the same time watching Nina's password program work.

  "Any luck?" I asked when the screen went still.

  "No." Nina said. "This could take a while."

  "What about publication dates? Of his books." Anton said, his face lighting up with the idea.

  "Those would all be on Helmut's website," said Hollister.

  "It's worth a try," Nina answered.

  "Start with the Vatican Betrayal book since that's the folder we're trying to open."

  Nina clicked keys and searched.

  "Got the pub date for that book," she said. "I'll let the program give it a try."

  "Who wants something to drink?" Luke offered. "I can make coffee, tea... and... you have juice or something, Marco?"

  "Look in the fridge and in the cabinets next to it. Whatever's there, use it. Anybody hungry? We can order in."

  "Great idea," Hollister said. I'll take care of that." He was obviously having a hard time. It wasn't just the waiting. He was prying into his beloved's personal files, going through things he might never have seen if Brandt hadn't been killed. I wondered if he worried that he might discover something he really didn't want to see.

  "Take-out brochures are in the drawer next to the sink," I said

  Hollister stood slowly, as if his bones would crack.

  "Got'cha!" Nina blurted out.

  Hollister stopped, turned slowly back to the computer, and stared at the screen.

  "That's his work. He showed the files to me whenever he needed help or advice."

  "We're making progress," I said. "Let's see if he had something new. See anything promising?"

  "First we'll have something to eat," Hollister announced, new strength in his voice. "I need some food. I'm sure you all do."

  We did, but I knew Hollister was trying to keep himself together by keeping busy, avoiding the hard thoughts that would flood his mind as he viewed all of those files. It was like examining Brandt's soul or peering into his intellectual essence. All the thoughts and ideas he'd committed to paper or put into electronic files. It was like gazing at a snapshot of his mind. I was sure Hollister was disturbed at this necessary invasion of Brandt's privacy which he was no longer alive to protect.

  Maybe a dinner break wasn't a bad idea.

  ***

  After tofu and veggies for Nina, and moo shu pork, Chengdu chicken, beef satay, and pad thai for the rest of us -- we were all in a better mood. My stomach had still signaled unhappiness so I wasn't sure I wanted food. But one taste of the fiery chicken and I knew things were fine. Nina inhaled her vegetarian meal and returned quickly to the laptop. The others ate at a more leisurely pace then went back to whatever they'd been doing.

  Luke and Anton had little to do except fuss over me. Neither wanted to leave before the other, or that's the way it seemed. So I decided to enjoy the attention.

  "I tried publication dates for the other titles and they worked on those folders," Nina said.

  "So far nothing looks new or different," Hollister claimed.

  "Make a list of the remaining folders and let's see," I offered. "You doing all right, Tim?"

  "At first I thought this would be difficult," he said.

  "And now?"

  "Now... it's sort of comforting, like reacquainting myself with Helmut's wonderful mind. All of those things he did or wanted to do. It's all here. There's a lot he never got to publish. Maybe I can do something about that. He was a smart man. Smart, clever, and tenacious. That's what killed him. He wouldn't let go once he had an idea."

  Nina turned to us waving a sheet of paper.

  "Finished?"

  "Finding passwords for these isn't going to be easy."

  "Let's have a look." I held out my hand for the list. "Household, Ideas, Old Projects, Four Heads, Fiction, Italy, Finances."

  "That's it. Anything ring a bell, Tim?"

  "Well, 'Household' and 'Finances' seem obvious. I'll be grateful to get those folders open. He took care of all that for me." Hollister paused. "I knew he was working on fiction. Writing a novel was a dream of his. Helmut wanted his next project to fund a period of time for him to work on a novel. But I doubt he'd keep documents related to his newest project in there."

  "We'll have to check them all. What about 'Ideas', 'Old Projects', 'Italy', and 'Four Heads'? Anything there?"

  "Of course, 'Ideas' could be where he'd keep it. But I suspect it's only for things he hadn't yet developed. Still, I'd like to see it. 'Old Projects' wouldn't be it. He wouldn't mix the new with the old. But you should check."

  "That leaves 'Italy' and 'Four Heads.' Sound like possibilities?"

  "Italy, perhaps. The other... it sounds..." Hollister said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality as if he retreated into memories to try and grasp the meaning of the folder's name. "I don't know. There's something familiar about it. It's right there in my mind yet I can't grasp it. I know that I know what it means. But, I can't remember."

  "Take your time," I said.

  "Caffeine always helps me think," Luke offered. "How about I make some tea or coffee?"

  "I'll have some," I said. Caffeine and I were old friends and I couldn't imagine a day without it. "I've got some nice strong Italian coffee in the cabinet, Luke. Brew some of that. What about you Tim?"

  "Hmmm? Wha-what?"

  "Italian coffee. One of my brothers sent it from Rome when he was there a while ago. It'll curl your toes."

  Hollister was in some kind of thought trance, trying to reach old memories. Luke got busy in the kitchen and I smelled the coffee as soon as he opened the container.

  "Tim? Coffee? From Rome. Strong stuff."

  "Rome." Hollister uttered the word. "You said Rome?"

  "Yes. Rome. Italy. The Popes. Hot men. High fashion."

  "But that's it!"

  "What?" Nina said. "What's it?"

  "You remembered." I grinned at him.

  "Yes, I remember now. The Bridge of Four Heads is in Rome. It connects the city to a small island in the Tiber river." He paused and gazed at the ceiling. "I wonder what he meant when he named the folder."

  "His next book is... was... going to be about that Pope again, right?" Anton asked. "The one who died so qu
ickly?"

  "Yeah, John Paul the First," I said and realized Anton had been paying more attention than I thought. He was smart. I knew that, but I didn't think he was all that interested in this case.

  "The Popes are in Rome and so is that bridge. Maybe that's the connection. It's worth looking into."

  "Of course, you're right, Anton," Hollister said slowly as if trying to connect the dots of possibility. "But just what is the connection between that bridge and Albino Luciani? I mean to say there isn't any traditional connection between the bridge and the papacy. Except it was a Pope who had the bridge restored. Other than that, it's just a very old bridge."

  "What's the four heads thing about?" Luke asked.

  "As far as I remember," Hollister said, "it has to do with the four contractors commissioned with restoring the bridge. The Pope, at the time the temporal ruler of Rome, hired them and set them to work. They apparently argued and created quite a public scandal with their fighting. So, the Pope had them all beheaded. And then, the legend goes, he commissioned a sculpture with four heads, supposedly the likenesses of the contractors, and had the sculpture set on the bridge."

  "Wow," Luke said. "I didn't know Popes were so bloodthirsty."

  "They were... and are," Hollister answered. "Of course, it's partly legend. I believe the actual statue is from a much earlier time and was placed on the bridge for decorative purposes. But there's probably some truth in that story somewhere."

  "And that would be connected to the recent work, how?" Anton asked.

  "I have no idea," Hollister said.

  "We might find an answer if we opened the file." Nina sounded impatient. "Any ideas on passwords?"

  "Can't be a publication date," I offered. "It's not finished yet."

  "And it may never be," Hollister said. "Unless... Well, maybe I could finish it for him. Sort of a tribute."

  "Not unless we can get into the file," Nina insisted. "Are we thinking about passwords? I've tried all the other things while you guys were talking."

  "Well, I don't know about all of you," Anton said getting up from where he'd planted himself next to me. "But I've got work in half an hour at Bubbles. So I'm going to have to leave this little party."