by Judith Mehl
The detective’s scowl breached the walls of her bravado as she accompanied the man into the room. Matthew introduced himself and launched into his story, hoping to placate the chief detective and keep Kat nearby for moral support.
As he retold the story of the student, Marie, Kat wondered what she was doing there. As a journalist, she liked a good story, often saw one in events that others missed. But this was more than just grist for her journalist’s mill. These were her people, and she needed more than a good ending. She needed to feel she’d helped however she could, to find the right solution to Ambrose’s death, and assuage the fears and guilt of those left behind. By discovering all the details, it allowed folks to fill in the holes, to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown so that they could once again function.
She knew there was fear. It oozed out the edges of words and glances as people talked around the death, or avoided the talk altogether. She knew there was guilt, because there always was. Guilt that they hadn’t said the right word, or been in a different place, anything that would have prevented events as they occurred.
But how could she help?
This she pondered while Matthew talked. Detective Burrows was truly an old friend of the family. He knew Kat’s good will formed the underlayment of all her meddling. Because of this he allowed her some questions.
By the time Matthew had finished and provided the detective information on contacting Marie, Kat knew she needed to proceed on course and discover the detective’s reason for pursuing Ted as the number one suspect. She finally gathered that it was mostly because of the media attention to the quarrel between the two men. There didn’t seem much relevance to an actual motive. Unable to deter him with logic, she knew that although he would pursue the lead on Marie, he doubted the young student was the culprit.
She had yet to distract him from his pursuit of Ted, and hadn’t found an opening to inquire how Ambrose died. She threw him the verbal report on Lauri and Ed’s continual arguments as bait, and hoped to reel in his cooperation by providing some of her own. Lulled into complacency by her willingness to help, he revealed the victim had exhibited signs of vomiting and paralysis before death. Confused as to why they were investigating as if it were murder, Kat badgered with questions that put him on the spot. He obviously wasn’t about to reveal everything to her, claiming she was a permanent burr in his side.
She lowered her eyes but watched from beneath her lashes as the beefy detective, his face flushed, worked to reassert his authority. When she inquired about progress on the vandalism investigation, he answered fairly and completely. The campus was her domain and she deserved to know. The campus police had deferred to his department because of the possible connection with the tournament murder. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many answers. Though the paint can and brush were found nearby with plenty of prints. Most students didn’t have fingerprints on file. He promised to keep her up to date.
Matthew had long since hunched back into his chair, pulling out of the crossfire. He looked happy to have Kat take the pressure off him. The meeting ended in a dead heat, with Kat and the detective each knowing more than when they’d started, each drawing only a little blood before the detective ushered them out the door.
On the way home, they stopped for one of her “power” lunches. One of the advantages of the Poconos was the existence of an ice cream establishment at almost any intersection. She needed a Rocky Road in the worst way. Matthew humored her, seeming more lighthearted once he bared his soul.
The luscious combination of marshmallow, almonds and chocolate on a sunny day brought a gentle reprieve from the mayhem forming around them. Her tongue captured an escaping drop of chocolate as it slithered down the cone. They reviewed what they’d learned, and decided that if Detective Burrows didn’t exactly excuse the professor from the suspect list, he at least dropped him a few notches.
Kat managed a couple of hours work at the tournament, all the while chewing on different methods of approaching Lauri for more information. The tournament was a 16-draw, unlike the larger ones like the U.S. Open that was a 128 draw. The reduced numbers meant fewer matches and less work, allowing her some free time.
Happy to see that Ted had drawn an unknown player, Kat was assured the player was unlikely to wear him out with his weakened ankle. She met Maddy in the stands and watched for a while. A sloppy recovery led to an easy knock-down for his opponent, and they could see Ted’s stiffness reflected in his moves, and a barely won first set.
Ted rallied in the second set. He revealed the strength in his shoulders and forearms as he moved the ball. He lunged with great balance and pulled ahead of his younger opponent. Some juice on his next forehand shot rammed home the game and gave him a break to earn the win.
Reluctantly, Kat and Maddy retreated to Maddy’s office to work undisturbed on the handwriting. Kat was anxious to approach Lauri, but needed some ammunition. She was hoping the analysis might give her a lead.
She settled into the oak captain’s chair across from Maddy’s desk and wiggled out of her favorite red German anklestrap court shoes. Maddy raised her brows and head-motioned toward the shoes. “Nice footwear. What’s up?”
“Well, they were 70 per cent off at Macy’s last year but they didn’t have my size. So I figured how bad could one little half size smaller be? Aren’t they luscious? And I can wear them in the office but they look campy at the tournament, too.”
Maddy shook her head and began, “I read something the other day that made me think of you. This article said that graphology is based on impulses in the brain. That it’s your electrons that give you away. Made it sound really scientific.”
“That’s true and the article is correct. A good graphologist sees into the workings of the writer’s mind which gives off messages as he writes, meaning no one can completely disguise his handwriting—the finger muscles follow the brain directives.”
Kat veered away from pop psychology of the field and took it very seriously. She believed a composite impression is gathered through writing patterns when viewed as a whole. Analyzing certain traits to reveal character elements is only one part of that whole.
When Maddy offered two letters from tennis players Kat settled restless limbs instantly and concentrated. She frowned aplenty, but had no definitive answers when she was finished. She stretched back and shrugged.
"These people look fine. They have steady, even, almost copybook writing.”
Maddy’s elemental knowledge of the art kept her abreast of the simple phrases. She knew this trait meant people who followed the rules, and preferred following to leading. Some extremely helpful professions, such as nursing and teaching, are full of copybook writers. Most often, they weren’t killers.
Kat took the setback philosophically. Clearing out innocent people was part of the process.
Maddy confessed to anxiety over Ted’s analysis and waited for Kat’s review. She was relieved when Kat said confidently that Ted’s handwriting revealed no characteristics associated with a killer.
“Ted has the same vitality in his writing that he does in life. He has a strong pressure, exhibiting the heartiness you hear in his voice when he greets you. It’s firm, but spontaneous. Strong pressure also exhibits a negative side. But I don’t see Tim as an emotional steamroller.”
“Okay, I can see that. But it looks rather flashy. Doesn’t that mean something?” Maddy inquired, unable to conceal a frown of worry.
Kat moved up to another sample in the pile, which had much more writing on it. “Granted, it does. But combined with these other characteristics, the large writing just shows he’s flamboyant. It’s balanced across all three zones. So all right, he’s got an ego, but then if I were as good a tennis player as he is I might be a little conceited, too. His even rightward slant shows he expresses his feelings openly. He’s affectionate and passionate. But he’s probably not a killer.”
Kat walked around the table and stared out the window. She decided a gentle reminder w
as all Maddy needed. She tended to become so involved in her latest flame. Ted appeared harmless, but he was smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation.
“Uh, Maddy, remember, he’s only in the top ten of Level II play. He doesn’t quite have the world at his feet. Just don’t let him sweep you into his vortex.”
“Okay, point made. But you have to admit he doesn’t look like the killer. Will you help him?”
Kat felt her cool concern melt in Maddy’s heated plea.
“Help find the murderer so he can be free of all this?” Maddy begged. “Burrows seems stuck on him like a burr to cotton. I’m afraid he’s not even looking elsewhere.” Her voice rose with her agitation.
Kat acquiesced with a hug.
Chapter 10
A deadly combination? Tiny script size—especially in the middle zone, intense pressure, extreme rightward slant. All are signs of instability, excitability, and lack of control. A clue? Or merely an unhappy woman with an inferiority complex.
“Handwriting: A Key to Personality” by Klara G. Roman
Kat’s day had lasted a week and she headed home knowing that Nick awaited her. She longed for the back porch, Nick, the sunset, and solitude. Their daily lives sparked enough excitement making the region’s varied fare of entertainment unnecessary. Instead, they both loved gourmet cooking and exhibited their specialties when possible, but many work nights were reserved for simple meals from a favorite deli that offered thirty home-made entrees and twenty-five pasta salads. Nick must have sensed today required special treatment since this time he prepared the grilled sirloin steak with the garlic and roasted peppers, and his favorite cucumber salad. Accompanied by a cheddar spiral bread, the meal was warm and filling.
Nick grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and joined Kat on the porch once the dinner dishes were clean and shelved. Their evening off together in the peace of their home served as balm for him, also. Of course, his night life recently revolved around rolls of carpeting, arousing kinky thoughts or total boredom depending on who you spoke with. G. L. was going ballistic from inactivity. Nick, with his covert operations background had suffered worse indignities but was hoping to solve the crime before he lost it completely, doing something as inane as waiting around for a carpet thief. With doors still locked and no damage to the building, there were few clues. They’d interrogated everyone working for the owner even though he’d convinced both men it couldn’t be his employees. There were only a few of them and they’d been with him a long time, except for Shag, the teenager who hadn’t been anywhere for long.
Nick shook his head in despair. Kat laughed at his latest exploits, and reminded him that solving the problem would not necessarily make the world a better place. The total loss was just a couple dozen missing carpets.
Nick explained his frustration. “I’ve solved some of the most convoluted problems for the United States government, and I can’t tell how someone is removing twelve-foot-long rolls of carpet from a locked building. The cleaning crew, for fear of being accused, refused to work at night alone anymore. He added, “They come early in the evening, under Don’s supervision. Then G. L. and I take turns at night with another team hiding out waiting for the culprit. Don was sworn to secrecy as to their stakeout, yet I feel like whoever it is knows we’re there!”
Kat entered his personal mental explorations in hopes of helping solve the crimes. Their routine has been set since their marriage and Nick’s inclusion in G. L.’s agency. Nick’s partner agreed to sign on his wife as an honorary member of the agency, as long as she discretely maintained confidentiality for the client. G. L. respected her capabilities and often joined in the conversations, knowing that her bright mind could pick up something they missed.
As Nick and Kat settled back for the evening she quietly pondered the information he had provided. “Has Don thoroughly explored the possibility of it being an employee with a key? Or former employee who may not have returned a key?”
She offered some suggestions, speculating how it might be Don’s former girlfriend, Susan Echels, who had worked closely with him in the business prior to their breakup. Kat, who lived in the area her whole life, knew of Susan, but wasn’t acquainted with details of the relationship between her and Don. She suggested that when something goes wrong in a small company, it doesn’t always have to be espionage or high-level theft. Maybe in-house fighting led to the problem. Having explored most other possibilities, Nick was inclined to listen.
Kat speculated further, discussing motives and means for women scorned. Her husband settled back, enjoying the varying expressions flit across her face as her mind did a quarter turn and immediately switched to wider ranging possibilities. In moments she fostered thoughts of Lauri Carmichael and Ed Ambrose, but the similarities in the two situations were worth investigating. Susan, an edgy blond, all angles and burning energy, with high self-esteem and business skills, could easily have been the woman scorned and plying stealthy revenge. Lauri, dour and taciturn, a woman scorned, could have spooned out deadly revenge with healthy fruit and green tea. Kat knew there were other worthy suspects. Still both she and Nick vowed to explore the new women-scorned path, batting about possibilities.
Nick chuckled, “Doesn’t say much for our marriage that you always think the murderer or culprit is an abused, revengeful spouse. Don’t spouses ever lead happily productive lives as couples?”
Kat conceded his point, vowing that their marriage instigated no need for revenge. He felt no pressure from her career, and, snickering, she added that she felt no pressure from his job, that she didn’t envy him crawling around inside carpet rolls. Her giggles caused his chuckles; then they got a little punchy, ending in more unanswered questions than solutions. They pondered a meeting of the English professor, Lauri, and the sharp-edged Susan, comparing erstwhile murder methods over tea and beer.
It might seem strange to many, considering the subject was murder, but Kat especially enjoyed these quiet moments with Nick. She watched his face as he spoke, the hard angles softened by fantastic blue, caring eyes. Kat likened the color to her favorite periwinkle flowers on a summer morning.
Nick rarely revealed the daily details of his job, mostly tedious inspections, delving into stupid inanities of convoluted minds, and sometimes ending in mindless destruction. The fragmented unraveling of a puzzle, the eternal quest to fit all the pieces together to see the completed whole, fascinated him.
Seldom did it make for great dinner conversation. His introspection was saved for the dim light of the evening, curled up on the sofa with Kat in his lap. As he absentmindedly twisted locks of her hair around his fingers she recognized his attempt to untangle the complex clues that eluded him.
Nick made an obvious effort to stall Kat’s involvement in Ambrose’s murder, posing the alarm clock radio diversion. He had set it up earlier to show her his latest toy. Their lives had been topsy-turvy ever since and he’d had no chance. He’d previously hooked it up to the TV and turned it on now to show her that it’d been taping their movements during their discussion. He challenged her to find the hidden camera. Finally, she realized that the radio across from the sofa didn’t belong there, but examining it closely, she could find no attached camera.
Nick explained the camera with a sheepish grin. “This gem of a toy from Philips Magnavox is a camera that is self-contained in the radio.” Though the unit would not transmit audio, which would make it an illegal device, Nick said that he and G. L. bought several for their detective agency as soon as they came on the market. Kat immediately started plotting how she could get one near several suspects for some innocent snooping.
Nick settled down to explore with Kat why she felt Lauri needed some spy time. She explained the significance of the recently found samples of small writing and the extreme rightward slant of letters. Kat showed him on some scrap paper how strokes varied with pressure and explained how the pen functions as an extension of the hand. He was even sensitive to her concerns about the handwriting analysis she
and Maddy were able to do with the initial sample.
“See how the fingers transmit variations in muscle tension?”
Then she demonstrated how pressure and speed counteract each other. If you have heavy pressure and speed, you have vitality in overcoming resistance. Nick looked at the sample of Napoleon’s signature she turned to in one of her many handwriting analysis books. It exhibited an excess of power fitting the man.
He was familiar enough with her past findings to believe the writing could reveal an agitated, disturbed or unstable person. She’d explained the value of studying rhythmic disturbance and other supporting signals. This just proved her work held merit as far as he was concerned. Nick even offered one of the agency’s staff to stake out Lauri’s house and follow her around. He took Kat’s concerns seriously, even though he sometimes teased her mercilessly.
Kat refused, knowing she had no right to abuse Lauri’s privacy without more cause, but determined to find some. She hoped to elicit help from Dennis, the university sports information director, a friend who aided her in past investigations. He’d developed excellent computer skills, which she hoped he would use to research computer activities of Ambrose just prior to his death.
She also wanted him to try new spy software, to search activity on Lauri’s computer that might provide direction in the ongoing quest for Ambrose’s killer. Discussing the latest in spy software with Nick, she mentioned her concerns.
Eyeing the box in her hand with grave suspicion, Nick laughed “But you don’t want to abuse her privacy?”
She sputtered, “Well, she deserves the illusion of privacy. If she senses someone following her, she wouldn’t have that. I’ll ask Dennis if he has a preference.”
Nick studied the information listed for the 007 Stealth Activity Recorder and Reporter without removing it from the box. He recommended one they’d used at the agency called Spector, a Windows program from SpectorSoft Corporation which was close to undetectable.
