Angela took two deep breaths before answering, "Yes."
Does he think I'm a miracle worker? She had no idea who spoke at what conference in Oxford. Knowing Duncan, it might have been two years ago, instead of one. He sometimes lost track of time. And finding an electron microscope he could use, was he crazy? Those things didn't just grow on trees. Angela felt as though she was always proving herself to her boss. Yet he seldom noticed her successes, only her shortcomings. She told herself she was lucky he was not a boss who constantly hovered about. Once he gave her an assignment, it was hers to complete. These latest tasks would keep her busy until he returned to London and, she guessed, sometime beyond.
"Oh, one more thing, Angela," Duncan added. "I need to know what kind of fertilizer Stuart Menzies used in his gardening business, and what his tenants used on their farms. What they use today would be helpful as well. Robert Nolan may have that information already, but if he doesn't you'll have to do some digging."
Duncan burst into a laugh. He had surprised himself with this joke.
"Get it? You'll have to do some digging looking for fertilizer," he chuckled.
Angela was not amused, but she wanted to impress her boss so she managed a light-hearted giggle.
"Yes, I get it, very clever."
She prayed Mr. Nolan, L and G's forensic accountant who had been working on the case, already knew which fertilizer the estate purchased. Angela had two and a half days to perform several miracles. She was relieved when Duncan finally signed off. She didn't want him adding anything else to her to-do list, and she was anxious to get started on the tasks at hand. She placed the glasses she wore on a cord around her neck on the bridge of her nose and reached for her Rolodex. Unlike the other secretaries, she preferred some outdated practices. Angela utilized technology, but only when it actually made her job easier.
Duncan hung up the phone and returned to his computer. He forwarded photos of Stuart's body to Angela along with a set of questions for the forensic medical examiner to answer. He hoped the photos wouldn't make Angela queasy if she looked at them.
He opened his fault tree analysis program and began a new tree with a new top event. Duncan defined Stuart killed elsewhere, a stone placed atop him later as the top event in this latest tree. He was certain this was the case, but he needed the analysis to prove it.
He began the task of entering the facts into the various gates below the top event. This was a wearisome, but necessary process. Fortunately, he had already performed his preliminary analysis and set the system boundaries. He named the architecture of the castle and conditions when Stuart died as his system. Duncan entered events he was certain of into the gates below the top event. His method in choosing which incidents to include focused on immediate, necessary and sufficient cause parameters.
He considered happenings closest in space, time and origin to Stuart's death as immediate. He placed these into gates on the tree. Since this tree concluded that Stuart was killed elsewhere, and Duncan had yet to obtain evidence backing this theory, there were quite a few holes in the gates. Also, he had to wholly define any input to a gate, or leave it blank. Shifting the body, transporting a small merlon from elsewhere, and removing the original merlon from the battlement were among incidents listed as immediate by Duncan. Were they also necessary and sufficient?
Next, he classified which of the affairs related to the top event were necessary. These must be non-casual, non-repetitive occurrences. This always proved a difficult task. For instance, the weather was casual and repetitive, yet it may have played a part in what happened to Stuart. Another stumbling block was that Duncan could not connect gates directly to other gates in the tree structure. He lost himself in these dilemmas before noticing his stomach rumble.
He glanced at his watch. It was two-thirty in the afternoon, well past his usual lunch time. No wonder his stomach growled. A quick look out the window told him the rain had stopped, but the overcast sky meant he still needed his overcoat. He informed Helen he'd be out for an hour and requested that she take any calls for him. Then, he left the building in search of fresh air and food.
It was windy and felt much colder than the actual temperature of 5 degrees Celsius. Happy to find a bistro close to his office, he ducked inside for a hot meal. He needed a break, so he took his time eating. Whenever Duncan concentrated too intently for too long a period, he developed a headache behind his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of one now. His roast beef sandwich, soup, and hot tea, along with the respite, eased the pain in his head. After enjoying his meal, he bundled up and had an invigorating march around the block before revisiting his desk.
Once he was back in his temporary office, Helen popped in to inform him there were no messages. She brought with her a small water pitcher and glass on a tray. There was a small plate of biscuits and chocolates as well.
"I didn't know how late you'd be working, so I brought these now," she said, nodding toward the goodies. "I'll be back around five with tea or coffee as well, unless you would like those now?" she asked.
Duncan replied that the water was fine for now, but that he'd love a caffeinated beverage later. He couldn't get over the top notch service here in the Edinburgh office. It proved akin to staying at a five star hotel.
He returned to his computer with a sigh. Sufficient cause became his focus. Every affair he placed in the fault tree must always cause the incident above. He performed a qualitative analysis to determine if all episodes must happen to cause the top event to occur. He scrutinized each incident, ensuring it complied with the No Miracles Rule. A miraculous event did not fit the parameters of his analysis.
An hour and a half passed as though it were minutes. Helen arrived with coffee and tea, so he could have his choice. He swiveled his chair around to enjoy the view while he drank a cup of coffee. It was dark out and the lights of Edinburgh twinkled before him. Duncan planned out his objectives for tomorrow. He'd return to the office and perform more work on all his decision trees and run reliability tools software, as well as his fault tree program. He figured he'd get some interesting results.
* * * * *
"Dee Dee, I can't believe you chose an overnight train ride instead of a quick flight," Angus chastised his brother.
They were on their way to Edinburgh Waverley where he would board his train. Angus drove the Vauxhall, and even though he was a good sport about carting Duncan to and from airports, bus terminals, and train stations, he insisted on complaining. Duncan didn't mind. It was a form of ribbing that went on between the two brothers.
"I don't like to fly this time of year. The only seats available on short notice were on the Caledonian Sleeper," Duncan explained. "Plus, spending extra time, alone with my little brother, was a big positive. It tipped the scales in favor of the train!"
Angus shot his brother a sideways glance that said I'll get even with you as he pulled into the New Street Car Park. Vehicles were no longer allowed next to the large, refurbished train complex. The car park was within easy walking distance of the station and free for the first thirty minutes. Waverley covered over ten hectares and was one of the United Kingdom's largest railway stations. It sat in a small valley between Edinburgh's Old Town and New Town.
His ticket had been waiting for him on his desk yesterday morning. The efficient Helen had even provided a meal voucher for the dining car. He'd hoped to arrive at the iconic Kings Cross railroad station tomorrow morning. Instead, the Caledonian Sleeper's destination was London's Euston Station. Euston was two miles from his flat, so if the weather was good, he'd walk home from there.
Angus got out of the car and hugged his brother. Duncan left most of his belongings back at his parents' house, since he planned on returning to Edinburgh as soon as possible. He only carried his laptop and a small backpack. He'd placed his tools and a pair of his new shoes in the backpack. He dressed like a student, sporting jeans, a sweatshirt and running shoes.
Angus looked his brother up and down before stating, "You'
ve looked worse, Dee." Both brothers laughed and began the stroll to the station as Angus continued, "An opportunity has come up for me to buy a garage in London. I may have to come down in a week to look the property over. Can I stay with you if I come? Maybe we could travel back together afterwards."
"That would be great," Duncan said, reaching the entry to the station.
The brothers shook hands.
"I'll put you in the storage room," he snickered over his shoulder as he made his way inside.
Once through the glass doors, he turned to see Angus, still standing on the sidewalk, waving good-bye. He waved in return before going in search of the proper platform. His train left at ten 'til midnight, so he had a good half hour to find his platform and get situated.
After spotting his connection on one of the many overhead boards, he ambled to his platform. The train was waiting, ready to board. His ticket was for a Seated Sleeper Car, and a Caledonian Hostess showed him to his seat. He placed his belongings in an overhead bin and reclined his sleeper chair. Plenty of people had already boarded in Aberdeen and the rest of the seats were soon taken by those getting on at Waverley. Duncan's thoughts moved from his family to yesterday's analysis of his fault tree.
The results were a mixed bag and the programs took longer to run than expected. His software produced a fault tree reflecting the smallest amount of events necessary to cause the top event. The trees were large because the situation required in-depth analysis. A stone falling from the roof and killing Stuart was not probable and the animation program showed that event as impossible. The same was true of the scenario where Stuart fell from the roof with the stone. For example, Stuart leaned against the stone and accidentally pushed it from the battlement, losing his balance and falling in the process. The body was not in the right spot for this to have happened and the animation reflected that fact.
In fault tree analysis lingo, Stuart's death could not have resulted from a component failure. The results for Duncan's last top event, Stuart killed elsewhere and stone placed atop him, were inconclusive. Something was missing in Duncan's theory, possibly some event he was not aware of, yet. By the time he realized the train was moving, the Caledonian Sleeper was an hour outside of Edinburgh.
Duncan decided to use his voucher and grab a meal before doing any more thinking. The dining car proved a little worn and dowdy. Most people were sleeping by one in the morning, so he pretty much had the place to himself. He ordered a sandwich, chips, and an orange juice. He enjoyed the hot, fried chips most of all, and ate them first. Then, he washed his sandwich down with the juice. That should hold him until he reached London.
Returning to his seat, Duncan revisited what he knew best, math. His thoughts returned to the Boolean Algebra he'd studied in school. This was the algebra utilized in his deductive failure analysis. Duncan dozed off working equations in his head.
He slept through two stops made along the route, finally awakening at Waterford Station. Duncan felt nauseated from lack of rest, and tried to go back to sleep. He drifted in and out before the train reached London Euston at about seven-thirty that morning. Duncan toted his belongings off the train and glanced around the United Kingdom's sixth busiest railway station.
Controversy surrounded Euston in recent years. A plan to demolish the station and rebuild it to oblige high-speed trains was recently scrapped. The station would be remodeled instead, with new platforms designed to accommodate HS2 trains. Through the glass ceiling panels, Duncan could see clear skies in London, unlike Edinburgh this time of year.
He ambled past some of the eighteen platforms, jostled by early morning business travelers in a hurry to catch their trains. He stopped at a kiosk and purchased a cup of tea, banana and newspaper, tucking the broadsheet in his backpack. Duncan decided to walk west, towards his flat. He thoroughly enjoyed the thirty-five minute stroll, the heat of the rising sun warming his face. In Edinburgh, it was not uncommon to spend the entire month of November without glimpsing the sun.
With money earned from speaking engagements, Duncan had shopped for a proper apartment. That was eight years ago, and he wisely sought advice from friends working in the financial sector. The value of his flat had almost doubled since then. Without making a splash in the mathematics and insurance worlds, he never could have afforded the apartment.
Cumberland Terrace, just on the eastern side of Regent's Park, was an exclusive neighborhood. He had a one bedroom flat with a lower ground floor office, storage area, and second bathroom. His living room sported a gracious view of the park. Cumberland Terrace, built in 1826, occupied three blocks and was originally built as 31 houses. Some stately private residences remained, but most of the building had been converted to apartments.
As Duncan moved closer to the street known as A400, buildings blocked the sun, still low in the sky. He darted across the avenue, now choked with iconic red buses, London taxi cabs, and private automobiles. The sidewalks filled with people hurrying to work. Luckier folk enjoyed breakfast at little cafes sprinkled up and down the road. Along Longford Street, the atmosphere changed as modern buildings and high-rises fought to dominate the landscape.
He turned right on Albany Street, still maintaining his brisk pace. A few minutes later, he passed the rather bleak Saint George's Orthodox Cathedral on his right. The gray and yellow stone structure with its lofty spire appeared uninviting, surrounded by bare trees. He increased his speed as he rounded the corner left onto Cumberland Place. He was almost home.
Cumberland Terrace was named after the King's brother, the Duke of Cumberland, and the stately building reflected its pedigree. A large triangular pediment, urns, and sculptures topped the center building. White carved figures stood out against the bright blue background of the pediment, which supported three sculptures. The architect employed large Corinthian pillars, arches, and balustrades to add to the grandeur of the structure. Rows of twelve and six pane windows reflected the building's surroundings. Duncan's apartment was in the first block, south of the imposing center building.
Fond of his home, he wanted to pinch himself when he thought of living in the elegant, four story, white stone Regency building. In today's market, he could not afford this flat.
He entered a charming, small courtyard and spied the shiny, polished black doors of his flat. A gleaming black pot filled with topiary flanked each side of the entrance, and Duncan dropped his backpack and tool bag next to one as he pulled his keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door and stepped into his oasis.
He entered the landing at street level. Down several steps to the right were his storage area, office, and spare bath. He turned to his left and climbed the short flight of stairs to his spacious foyer. Duncan was rolling in money when he purchased his unit and had the flat decorated professionally. After all, he had no idea how to appoint a proper home. Up to that point, he had always shared dowdy digs with several roommates. The place, with its flooring and furnishings, was his last large expenditure, until the recent wardrobe update.
Duncan sat his laptop on a stylish glass and gilded metal table and dropped the rest of his belongings on the hardwood floor. He walked straight down the hall to the sleek, modern bathroom and turned on the hot water. He couldn't wait to shower in a proper bathroom. He compared his expansive, black tiled shower to room nine's unit at the Blue Bell. He chuckled. The floor did not feel as though it was about to give way. Even the bathroom at his parents' home paled in comparison to this. Here, he didn't have to worry about Angus using all the heated water.
After toweling dry, he stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water. The area was small, but modern. He did not cook much, so the size of the room was of no matter. He stood at the counter and ate his banana. Then, he wandered across the hall and peeked in the living room. All was in order. He sauntered to his bedroom, next to the kitchen, and climbed in his bed. A nap, in his own bed, was what he needed.
The buzzing cell phone woke Duncan. At first, he didn't remember where he was, but a glance around
his bedroom, decorated in shades of cool gray and white, told him he was home. He reached for his phone, which he had left on the built-in nightstand, and slid his finger across the screen to answer.
"Hallo, Duncan Dewar," he said.
"Hello, this is Angela. I didn't wake you, did I?" his secretary asked.
Duncan checked his watch before answering.
"Well, yes, you did, but it's time I was up. Have you taken care of that list of things I gave you to accomplish?"
"About that list," Angela paused before continuing, "I've made progress, but it was unrealistic to think anyone could assemble all the items in a few short days. For instance, no electron microscope is available immediately. There are waiting lists for those things. I'm working an angle to get access to one, but there are no guarantees."
Duncan had never heard Angela sound so assertive. He wasn't sure he liked this new version of his secretary, or assistant, as she preferred to be called.
Stunned, he mumbled, "Well, all you can do is your best."
Angela continued as if gathering steam, "Our forensic specialist is working on the photos, and Robert couldn't tell me which fertilizer Stuart used in his business, but I was able to find that out myself. However, I haven't been able to track down your professor from Copenhagen. I also took it upon myself to call Peter and Julia's mother."
"Why did you do that?" Duncan asked.
"You said their alibi was tenuous. I told her I just needed to confirm the dates for our final report. She confirmed the date of their visit, and I asked her if she was positive that was when her children visited her in London. The thing is, the dates I gave her for their visit, were two days after Stuart's death. Now, she could have gotten confused, but I think she's been lying all along. The mother told me she was certain the dates I gave her were the same dates the kids visited," she concluded.
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 5