by Judith Mehl
Nick carefully placed his fingers in the ink while eyeing her sideways. “How could you even think for a minute I’d do something like that? It’s too underhanded. If I’d known how much you interfered in this investigation I’d handcuff you to my desk for the duration maybe, but I don’t go in for scare tactics.”
“How dare you accuse me of interfering! You went on those interviews with me. And there’s nothing intrusive about sending invitations to a campus event. My personal notes only reiterated how welcome they were. I didn’t exactly accuse anyone of murder.”
Burrows carefully stored the fingerprints, admonished the children for fighting and promised to inform them of the results.
Chapter 21
Comparative size of the signature is relative to the body of the writing. The smaller-sized signature where the content is larger suggests penalizing oneself.
“Handwriting: A Key to Personality” by Klara Roman
Nick coaxed, “Come on. My furniture came yesterday. Let’s take a break and go look at my apartment.”
She smiled as she reached for her purse and jacket. “Is that the new version of ‘Come see my etchings?’”
He stepped close and whispered in her ear as he flicked off the lights. “You’re always welcome to come see my etchings, but tonight I thought I’d treat you to a home-cooked dinner.”
She rolled her eyes in feigned ecstasy and then thought to ask, “When have you had time to grocery shop? I’m out of food myself and never make it to the store.”
“Well, I don’t exactly have any food. I just had this dinner idea. Hadn’t advanced any further.” They stopped for chicken, scallops and shrimp, onions, peppers, garlic, peas and brown rice. Added white wine and saffron.
He had been surprised when she’d only bagged a scant teaspoon of the saffron until he spied the price. A whistle escaped before he could control himself. “What is that stuff again? You sure it’s not cocaine?”
“It’s the most expensive spice in the world but you can’t make great paella without it.”
She moved her basket to the front counter and started to unload. As she finished she told her friend behind the counter what they were making and they discussed the details of the dish that carried so many names. Connie grabbed her notebook from under a pile of recipe books. As they toppled over, Kat had a flash of another pile of books lying just like that, but Connie pointed to the recipe in her notebook and Kat lost the picture. She thanked Connie for reminding her about the tarragon needed. “I’ll run and get it.”
Nick motioned for Connie to ring up the groceries and was putting his wallet away as Kat returned. As they drove away Nick glanced at Kat. “I haven’t a clue how to make paella.”
“So we fix it together. That way you’ll know how to make it the next time you want it.”
“You seem to know and use herbs more than most people. What’s the interest?”
“Hippocrates said, ‘Let your food be your medicine and let your medicine be your food.’ Makes sense to me.”
As they entered the room he flipped the switch to the stereo in sync with the light switch. Chet Baker warmed his way into “Once Upon a Summertime” as Nick dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Kat stole a moment to study the high-end Technics system, and glanced at the overall décor of the living room before she joined him in the kitchen. The antique white rattan chairs with their cottage plaid cushions and matching throw rug converted the once too-dark porch into a delightful aerie. This third-floor apartment, with so many windows and the delightful view of the valley, made her feel like she was standing in the tree-tops.
Despite his lack of proper kitchen utensils they laughingly tossed together a respectable paella and lingered over a little classic Chardonnay. They briefly discussed the murder investigation and when Katharine let slip some of her fears from the other night in the stairwell, Nick was immediately attentive. He could see the fear lingering in her eyes when she thought of those incidents.
Finally, she decided to reveal some of her concerns, explaining that she had no proof of anything, just eerie feelings. She leaned forward as she talked, providing the details, resting arms on thighs, the intensity of what she was saying magnified by that frontal thrust.
Nick encouraged her to remember details, his voice exuding seriousness. It was the fact that he seemed to put credence in those feelings that prompted her to attempt clarification. “I was walking up the large stairwell in the science building the other day to visit Gerald. It was evening. There had been no one around. I figured classes were over.
“All of a sudden there seemed to be an echo of my footsteps. When I stopped, the others stopped. And then my imagination took over. The stairwell’s deep corners became pools eddying with black fear and hiding lurking muggers ready to pounce. It was the same stairwell as always, but there was something there. Something that I really felt was more than my imagination.”
Kat absently fiddled with the wineglass, lost in thought. Nick waited patiently for her to find the next words. “When I got to the third floor there was a student with Gerald in his office so I stood outside the door. No one followed me onto the floor. But I didn’t hear any footsteps going back down either.”
She added, “Later, as Gerald and I were leaving the building, I stopped and asked the student if he’d seen anyone on the stairs. He said no one but Dr. Prosnerian. Could it have been him? What could he have wanted? Or was he really just leaving his lab?”
Nick had already received a report from G. L. about Kat’s visit to Maria, and Carlos Alvarez’s venomous looks as she left. He knew that Detective Burrows would be investigating the man because he’d been seen near Kat’s office at the time the threatening note was left. This was just one more suspicion to check out.
“Thanks for the reprieve, Nick. And for listening. I really did need a break.”
As they passed his bookcase with the books temporarily piled helter-skelter, Kat had a flash of memory once again of a tumbled pile of books. Her mind locked onto it this time though and she turned an astonished look on Nick, one of remembrance mixed with horror at what she’d done.
He immediately pulled her to a chair. “What gives?”
“I think I know where the journal is.”
“Great. And that gave you an anxiety attack because…?”
“Because, the night of the murder, while we were in the lab, Stephanie—uhh, I think her last name is Luntz—one of the students, came by and motioned that she’d left her books on the counter by the door. I just kind of scooped them up and handed them to her when the guard wasn’t looking.”
Kat stared down at her shoes, wishing she’d change to her pink sneakers. They weren’t becoming, but they could run faster than her designer heels. Something that may prove important soon.
She bravely continued, “I wondered at the time if it would be considered tampering with evidence, but I know how these investigations can drag on forever and I made a quick judgment call that the books by the door weren’t involved.”
Nick’s frown increased exponentially but he pressed his lips tightly and managed to not say a word as she added.
“What if the journal was one of them? There was a green notebook, but now that I picture it, it was different than the normal three-subject notebook. When Connie grabbed her notebook from under her herb books at the store, I had this vision of the books, in the chemistry lab. It wasn’t until now, when looking at yours, that I placed where I saw them.”
“So why hasn’t the student come forward?”
“Good question. They might have been her books after all, but before I return to my writing maybe I should track Stephanie down and see.”
“Let’s go. Remember. You’re going nowhere alone these days.”
She raised an inquiring eyebrow at the implications of that but he’d locked the door behind her and tore down the stairs to start the car. She followed meekly, knowing that if she was right about the notebook, she really had interfered with this
investigation.
A quick stop in the office netted Stephanie’s address from the student directory. “Thank God you recalled her name,” Nick said, after biting his tongue most the way there. He’d wanted to mentally shake Kat but from her expression realized she was doing an adequate job herself. Often she seemed to take things too seriously, even penalizing herself when it wasn’t her fault. He’d have to ask what handwriting clue signaled that.
Stephanie was in her room when they arrived. Startled at first, she then recognized Kat. “What’s up?”
Kat leapt right to the point. “Do you remember me slipping your books out the door of the lab when the cops were there?”
“Of course,” she said, shuddering. “I was horrified at what happened, though they weren’t saying much, but I was also terrified I’d never get my books back.”
Stephanie motioned them in as she talked but there was no free spot to sit. The bed and chair were covered with clothes. Nick managed to keep his mouth from hanging open as he eyed the orange-spiked hair and six earrings in her left ear.
Stephanie kept talking, unaware of her affect. “I was so relieved you passed them out to me. I’d left them there after lab, knowing it was usually open till after nine. I figured they’d be safe and I wouldn’t have to lug them over to Psych 301. When I got back and saw what had happened I was sure they’d lock up with my books inside.”
She prowled the corners of the room, entangled in her story like it was the tale of doomsday. “My 20-page essay was in there, and the disk. So thanks. Is something wrong?”
“We were hoping that there was a notebook there that wasn’t yours. Something I scooped up by mistake.”
Nick stayed in the background, watching Stephanie for any signs of unease or deception but saw nothing out of place, unless you looked around the room. Nothing had a place. Stephanie walked unerringly to a jumble of jeans and T-shirts on the floor and pulled a pile of books from beneath.
Then she swung her hips into a dive and rustled through a pile of clothes. “My class wasn’t with Dr. Abbott. It was with that new professor, Malardi. Boy, what a bummer. What planet did he come from? Anyway, I was afraid I’d fail. My grade point would have dropped below my dad’s boiling point. So I quit.”
She riffled through the books. “They’re still here where I dropped them.” As Stephanie walked forward with the pile, Kat saw the green notebook and prayed. She gingerly removed it and read the cover. It merely said, Charles J. Abbott, Journal.
“Sorry about that.” Stephanie said. She nodded toward the book. “Kind of important, huh?”
Kat and Nick worked their way carefully back to the door. “It’s O.K. Steph. Thanks for the help.”
As they walked down the hall Nick spoke for the first time. His amazement still evident. “I need to get out and around the students more.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is that what they’re all like these days?”
Kat noticed his shocked expression and laughed. “What got to you? The Da-Glo hair, the piercings? Or the tongue barbell?”
“You’re kidding me? She had one there, too?”
“You’d be surprised. A lot of the kids have them.”
Nick shook his head but remained silent till they were in the car. He turned to Kat who was reverently holding the notebook and avoiding his gaze.
“Richard’s going to tear into me. Let’s get it over with.”
She prayed that for once Richard went home for the evening but she spied his car in the lot, and dragged her feet all the way to his office.
“May the saints be praised, Katharine, you found the journal!” Richard said. The scene in his office didn’t start out too bad, Kat thought while hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. He did, of course. She explained that Stephanie found the journal mixed in with her other textbooks. Just hadn’t gotten around to looking till now. She could see the questions pop into his mind before she’d finished speaking.
“I’m not feeling well. Nick, why don’t you explain to Richard while I uh. . .leave,” she said slowly rising from her chair by the door.
Without voicing a word Nick conveyed with his steady gaze and raised eyebrow what he thought of the idea. Richard’s eyes roamed back and forth between the two, trying to read the unspoken currents. Kat plopped awkwardly back into the chair indicating reluctant acknowledgement of Nick’s silent command to stay. Richard nodded encouragingly, but didn’t dare voice his approval over Kat’s acquiescence.
Nick did, however, aid her by retelling her story somewhat compassionately. Richard wasn’t buying.
“Katharine this is unconscionable. God, I wish I could have your license revoked. You never took any advice from your dad or me. Why did you have to listen about the PI stuff? Richard sorted through the files tumbling over his desk looking for the Abbott folder. Nick raised that questioning eyebrow at Kat, not knowing whether he should voice his confusion.
Kat whispered, “I was going to be a private investigator. He and dad talked me out of it.”
“And that makes him unhappy?”
“Yeah, now when Richard gets mad at me he can’t threaten to have my license revoked because I don’t have one. I’m strictly amateur. He has to appeal to my common sense.”
“Katharine, this has got to stop. Your father would roll over in his grave at this one.”
“Richard, you know my father isn’t dead!”
“Might as well be,” he mumbled, sorting through the file for the information about the journal. Nick seemed surprised at that comment, knowing that they had been close friends. He tipped his head sideways toward Richard and raised that eyebrow at her again.
“Dad and mom moved to a Florida retirement community last year,” she explained to Nick, with her hand on the side of her mouth as if whispering. “Richard considers that tantamount to death.”
“OK, here’s where we are with the research.” He studied the notes a bit longer and sighed. “No where. None of the students had the whole picture. The chairman had an understanding of the goal but no real comprehension of how far Professor Abbott had progressed.”
They all frowned in defeat. Kat felt some security in maintaining silence. This was not the time to make herself noticed.
Richard flipped through a couple of pages.
“Oh, Nick, I checked out Carlos Alvarez like you suggested. The treasurer gave him an immaculately clean slate. Said there was no signs of fraud ever. I got an education there, I’ll tell you. She said all audits came in clean as a whistle. I didn’t realize so many schools had been having problems with overpayment of grant money. Apparently hundreds of thousands of government money was siphoned off at other universities that way.”
Fortunately Nick asked the question uppermost in her mind. “What excuse did he have for hovering around Kat’s office the day that note was left?”
“He said he wanted to respond to her note. You remember the personal notes she sent out with the invitations trying to entice the killer to have a go at her?”
Kat jumped to her own defense. There was a time to be silent and a time to speak up for oneself. “You know that’s not what the note said. It was merely an invitation to hear our noted speaker!”
Richard bristled but ignored her remark. “Carlos said he wanted to bring his wife, Maria, to the lecture but he had some questions. Wanted to know if they could get special parking and seats. Said she had little strength yet and couldn’t walk far but that she might enjoy being a part of the activities.”
“But Kat wasn’t there.”
“Right, so he said he decided it would be easier to contact someone else. Said a note was too complicated. Besides, he said he wanted to take care of it that day if he could.”
She wasn’t disappointed Carlos and Maria had been cleared. Carlos was a strange duck, but she didn’t want to think of him as a murderer.
Richard went back to his lists.
“We haven’t found anyone who could interpret the journal, though the chair
said he’d try. I’ll show it to him tomorrow.”
In an attempt to help Kat out of the hot water, Nick reminded Richard of Kat’s idea of having the renowned visiting chemist check it out. Richard agreed to meet with them the day of his arrival, but didn’t hesitate to blister Kat’s ears as they left.
Chapter 22
The formation of an ending stroke gives a clue to the manner in which the writer relates to goals. A prolonged ending to fill space suggests determination, suspicion, maybe even possessiveness.
“Handwriting Analysis: The Complete Basic Book”
by Karen Amend and Mary Ruiz
The highly visible security car, emblazoned with Mountain View University on the side, screeched up to the airport terminal and Mark Raub raced inside. He felt obligated to explain the security situation to Michael Covello right from the beginning. But he’d play it cool.
Nonchalance looked more convincing if you weren’t racing through the airport, he thought. Once at the gate he’d check his stride and straighten his tie, while planning his speech. Just because Charlie Abbott was murdered and Suzanne Mishkin was assaulted, didn’t mean all scientists on campus were in danger, but he did feel bound to inform the Nobel Prize winner about the incidents. First, he’d stress the increased security precautions for his two-day visit.
Mark reached the gate as Covello exited through the security area and the director thanked the stars for the slightly delayed arrival. Mark glanced at the photo Nick provided of Michael Covello. It helped immensely. The robust man in sweater and jeans exuded life and looked more like a longshoreman than the few chemistry professors Mark knew. The next few minutes would be difficult, explaining why they hadn’t informed him of the murder until now. They’d had a couple of weeks, after all, if they’d really wanted to let him know ahead of time. Of course, it was all over the news. Mark could say they assumed he’d heard or they would have notified him earlier.
Mark walked over to Covello, showed his badge, and introduced himself. He explained that Nick was parking the car and would be with them shortly. He walked with him to the baggage terminal and chatted about the flight.