“What the hell’s going on in here?” asked Buckley. “Why’s this guy groaning on the floor?”
“He just attacked me,” said Nora. “I had to defend myself. I used a judo flip on him. I had no choice, Detective Buckley.”
“I know you,” said Buckley. “You’re that detective, Nora Lucca. What’s the deal with this broken glass? You did that?”
“He must have done it when he fell,” said Nora.
“Oh, for the love of…” said Buckley. “Okay, now please tell me what’s going on here. I’m confused as hell. Trueman said this guy murdered Eric Lendalainen. You got evidence?”
“This hat!” I said.
I handed him the baseball cap with the blood on it.
“So what?” he asked. “It’s a hat. What about it?”
“It has blood on it!” I said.
Detective Buckley took off his sunglasses and examined the baseball cap very carefully.
“There’s no blood on this thing!” he said.
He gave me the cap and turned away from me. I wasn’t sure if I interpreted his emotions correctly, but it seemed to me he had a look of annoyance on his face. I had expected him to be overjoyed that we solved the case; I had expected him to congratulate me for my success and give me more cases to solve.
“There is blood on it!” I said.
Buckley turned his back to me and spoke to Nora.
“Look, Miss Lucca,” said Buckley.
“Mrs. Lucca,” she said.
“Okay, Mrs. Lucca,” said Buckley. “You’ve got no right to be investigating this case. My boss, Chief Stokowski, gave this case to Mr. Vrie over here to solve. And I don’t like it when people do things to put my boss in a bad mood. Because if he’s in a bad mood, I’m the one that’s gotta listen to him gripe. You understand? This case doesn’t belong to you or Trueman!”
“Listen to the detective, Nora,” said Malcolm.
“I understand that, Detective Buckley,” said Nora. “But we got a hot lead on this case, which Malcolm over here was not following up. We felt it was our duty to solve the case, because Malcolm didn’t seem capable of it.”
“Well, that’s between you and Mr. Vrie!” said Buckley. “If you’ve got a problem with one another, you solve it between yourselves. Don’t interfere in criminal cases that aren’t yours to solve. Understand?”
“Yes, Detective,” said Nora.
Nora looked at me and frowned. I could recognize the sorrow and disappointment on her face. It made me miserable to imagine Nora was unhappy. I didn’t understand why Detective Buckley was annoyed with us or why he didn’t believe the cap had blood on it. I could see the blood stains clearly.
“Look, Detective!” I said. “Look right here! Can’t you see the blood stains? There are three blood droplets!”
“I already looked. I don’t see any blood,” said Buckley.
“Well, you have to look closely!” I said. “The blood has been washed out. But if you look closely, you can still see the faint traces of blood.”
“That’s impossible, Trueman!” said Buckley. “No one can see blood stains if they’ve been washed out!”
“Trueman can,” said Nora. “If you take this hat to the crime lab and test it, I think you’ll find traces of blood.”
“I’m not gonna be doing that!” said Buckley. “Listen close, Mrs. Lucca. Don’t encourage this guy. Trueman’s a good guy and I like him a lot. But he’s got no right calling himself a detective. He’s just an inexperienced kid from Heartville and he doesn’t understand how dangerous New York City is. If you’re really his friend, you’ll tell him to stop trying to pretend he’s a detective and tell him to head back home to Heartville.”
“But, Detective…” I said.
“You heard me, Trueman!” said Buckley. “You could’ve gotten killed here and next time I might not be around to save you. You’re not a detective, okay? I don’t want to ever hear of you interfering with police investigations again. Now, you made a big mess here. You pointed a gun at this guy without evidence. You assaulted him. You broke the glass in the window. This is all illegal. But I’m gonna ignore all this.”
“Thank you, Detective Buckley,” said Nora.
“Yeah,” said Buckley. “But in return, you’ve got to promise me something. Promise me you don’t ever interfere with another police investigation. Now, can I get a promise?”
“I promise,” said Nora.
Detective Buckley looked at me. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I still didn’t understand why he wasn’t thanking Nora and me for solving the case. Instead, he was lecturing us, as if we were a couple of naughty children.
“Why aren’t you happy we solved the case?” I asked.
Buckley sighed and put his face in his hands.
“Trueman,” he said, “first, you didn’t have permission to solve this case. Second, you aren’t an experienced detective, so you shouldn’t be trying to solve anything! And third, you didn’t solve the case. There’s no blood on this cap. So you got no evidence. You can’t arrest someone without evidence. You arrested this guy with no evidence and that’s very illegal.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Now, I like you Trueman,” said Buckley, “so, I’m gonna forget this happened. I’m gonna let you walk away. I’m not gonna arrest you. But you have to promise me not to interfere with police cases. If you wanna play detective… well, fine. Go find your own cases, okay? But if you’re smart, you’ll take my advice and forget all about trying to be a detective. Now, promise you won’t try to solve any more police cases and I won’t arrest you. I’ll let you go home, understand? You promise?”
“Okay. I promise,” I said.
“Good,” said Buckley. “Malcolm. Take over.”
Buckley handed the baseball cap to Malcolm. Malcolm put the baseball cap into his coat pocket and smiled at us.
“I think you two should leave now,” said Malcolm.
Nora walked out of the building and I followed her. We walked to our Lincoln car and climbed inside.
“What happened?” asked Sal. “I saw you pull your gun. Then the police arrived. I was expecting to hear gunfire! Quite an exciting show to watch. Better than television!”
“We caught him,” said Nora. “But then Malcolm came and took all the credit. I could tell by the look on his face. That jerk’s going to take all the credit for this!”
“What do you mean ‘take credit’?” I asked.
“He took the baseball cap!” she said. “He’s going to take it to the lab and discover it has Eric Lendalainen’s blood on it! Then he’ll tell the NYPD that he solved the case, although it was actually us who solved it!”
“How do you know he’ll do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Just a hunch. I could tell by the look on his face. I can’t explain it, exactly. Something about his smile told me clearly that he’ll take credit for it.”
“What’s a hunch?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s kind of like a suspicion. If a detective suspects something, but doesn’t have evidence yet, then it’s called a hunch.”
“A hunch…” I said.
I also had an interesting hunch. Before Malcolm had suggested we leave the apartment building, I had seen ink stains on his coat sleeves. He had fifty-one small ink stains, and they were made from the same kind of ink that had stained Eddie’s knees.
Normally, I would not think that is very interesting. But I had just thought of another thing that connected Eddie and Malcolm. Both of them had small cuts beside their left eye. Both cuts looked like they had been made by exactly the same material and were exactly the same shape. What is the likelihood that two people would have the same kind of cut on the same part of their face? What is the likelihood they would both have stains from the same mysterious type of ink—an ink that I had never seen before.
“That is not very likely,” I said to myself.
“What?” asked Nora. “You mean that he’l
l take credit?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Sorry, I was talking to myself.”
I put on my sunglasses and put my earphones in my ears. I closed my eyes and tried to think of more similarities between Eddie and Malcolm. I had a hunch that all these similarities meant something important and I wanted to solve the puzzle.
“There’s some connection between them,” I said.
7
The Trueman Bradley Detective Agency
My room at 201 Reade Street was a mess, but I didn’t mind. I had been trying to discover the connection between Eddie, the carpenter, and Malcolm Vrie for the last eight hours.
I had written all my thoughts about the case on small pieces of paper and organized them into piles, which were placed all over the room. If someone else looked at the paper-strewn room, they might’ve thought it was a mess. But to me, who understood the pattern of their placement, it was perfectly organized. The one dim light bulb that hung from the ceiling was not bright enough for me to work. So I had lit six candles and put them all over the room. I had closed the window and lowered the blinds, so I would not be disturbed.
I played Mozart’s Symphony #41 in C major on my music player. The music filled the room and echoed off the walls. I felt as if the perfectly arranged notes of the music were filling the room with logic and order. I felt as if it helped me to organize my piles of papers and helped me solve this case.
The door opened quickly and caused a draft to enter my room. All my papers flew around the room and four of my candle flames were extinguished. It felt like a tornado had suddenly appeared in my room and blown away all the order and calmness that had surrounded me. Everything was chaos and it caused me to panic. I grabbed my head and fell to the floor.
“What’s happening?” I shouted.
“Trueman!” said Nora. “I’m sorry!”
I lay on the floor, protecting my head with my arms and shaking with fear. I thought something horrible had happened. Did a tornado hit? Or did a plane crash into my office?
“No!” I said. “There have only been sixty-five plane crashes in New York City since August 11th, 1920! The odds are too low!”
I felt someone touch my shoulder and I moved my hands from my face. There was no tornado or burning wreckage from a plane crash. Nora was standing above me, looking down at me.
“I’m sorry, Trueman,” she said. “I didn’t know my opening the door would make so much wind. Did I mess up your papers?”
Nora helped me to get up and sit in my chair. I looked at the mess of papers that surrounded me. The draft had blown the papers everywhere, and now it was truly a mess. All my organized thoughts had become chaos. I was horrified to think all my hours of organizing were wasted. I was even more alarmed because I could smell something burning.
“Oh!” said Nora. “It’s on fire!”
Nora ran to the corner of the room, where one of my candles was still burning. One of the papers had been blown onto the candle flame and was now on fire. Nora stomped her foot down on the paper and extinguished the fire. She kept stomping on the candle until it was broken into tiny pieces of wax.
I couldn’t endure it anymore. All this unexpected chaos, interrupting my calm organizing, was too much for me to handle.
“But it was all organized!” I shouted. “What happened?”
This confusing and horribly unexpected event was too horrifying for me to accept. I needed to escape reality. I closed my eyes and began thinking of prime numbers. Prime numbers are numbers that are not divisible by anything other than themselves to yield an integer. The mathematical solidity of these numbers comforts me, somehow. They always relax me when I’m confused. I pictured each of them in my head, and could see them as clearly as if I was looking at them.
“2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13…” I said.
I felt hands on my shoulders, but I didn’t stop counting.
“17, 19, 23…” I said.
“Trueman?” asked Nora. “I’m sorry I surprised you.”
I felt her arms embracing me and I could smell her lilac shampoo. I could smell a slight dampness in her hair, so I knew she had showered about twenty minutes earlier. I could feel a wool sweater, covering her arms, and it felt very comforting.
I was drawn from out of my imagining of prime numbers by the attractive sensations of Nora’s embrace. I looked up at her. She smiled and put her hand on my head. I imagined her embrace meant she was in love with me again. I felt comforted knowing this and stopped shaking. I touched her hair.
“I forgive you, Nora,” I said. “I’m glad you’re in love with me again. Maybe we can get married soon.”
“Married?” asked Nora.
She moved away from me quickly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Aren’t you in love with me?”
“What?” she asked. “No! Why did you think I was?”
“Because you winked at me,” I said. “My granddad told me that women wink at men when they’re in love with them.”
“Well, sometimes!” she said. “But a wink can mean a lot of things. It doesn’t always mean love. Sometimes I wink at people if I’m doing something slightly naughty, or I’ll wink because we have a secret between us… there’s lots of reasons!”
“So, you aren’t in love with me?” I asked.
“No, I never said I was!” she said.
“You never were in love with me?” I asked.
I was confused why my granddad told me a wink meant a girl was in love. I was now entirely confused about what a wink meant. I started to feel a horribly unpleasant emotion. Nora wasn’t in love with me and I had also embarrassed her with my silly idea that she was in love. I didn’t want to acknowledge this reality or deal with these horrible emotions. I hid my face behind my hands and continued imagining prime numbers.
“29, 31, 37…” I said.
“Trueman?” she asked.
“41, 43, 47…” I said.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re counting prime numbers, right? Why are you doing that?”
“They relax me,” I said. “53, 59…”
“Did I stress you out because I entered the room so fast and blew away all your notes?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “61, 67…”
“I’m sorry I did that,” she said. “I know sudden, unexpected things are hard for you. I feel bad for disturbing you, Trueman. I’ll make you a sign to put on your door that says ‘Do not disturb.’ So nobody will surprise you again.”
“Thanks,” I said. “71, 73…”
“Then I made your stress worse by telling you I’m not in love with you?” she asked. “Because you thought I was? Trueman, just because my wink didn’t mean I was in love with you doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I like you very much.”
“But you’re not in love with me?” I asked. “You don’t want to marry me?”
“Well, no,” she said. “But I like you a lot.”
I sighed. I was happy she liked me, but I had already thought we would get married and now I was disappointed. I had even written an item on my checklist of things to do in my day, “propose marriage to Nora.” Now I would need to cross it off the checklist and change my plans. I looked at the mess of papers on the floor and I felt like my life, also, was a mess.
“Trueman…” said Nora.
She walked to me and put a hand on my shoulder. She looked at me with an emotion I recognized as affection. She was very gentle and to feel her soft touch made me feel better.
“I see you’re still upset,” she said. “I know you can’t always interpret people’s emotions and you got the wrong idea about my winks. But I understand and so you don’t need to feel embarrassed. I’m flattered by your love for me, Trueman, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that we could never be a couple.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Is it because you are Mrs. Nora Lucca? Because you already have a husband and are monogamous?”
“Well, no,” she said. “I used to be married to Mrs. Levi’s son, Julius. Bu
t we’ve been divorced for three years now. I changed back to my unmarried name but kept the title ‘Mrs’ because it’s often easier to talk to people if they think I’m married.”
“Three years?” I asked. “And you didn’t marry again?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t found the right man.”
“Can I be the right man?” I asked.
Nora stood very still and stared at me. I couldn’t interpret her emotions. I was camping with my granddad once, and accidently surprised a raccoon in the forest. The raccoon had a similar look on its face as Nora now had on her face.
Nora started laughing.
“Trueman,” she said, “you’re not like anyone I met before. You’re honest and sincere. Most people I know say nice things, but are hiding a lot of cruelty or hatred. You can’t trust them. It’s like they talk in riddles and you’re never sure exactly what they mean. You talk clearly and truthfully. It’s refreshing talking to you. That’s probably why I came tonight.”
“Why did you come here tonight?” I asked.
“I wanted to talk to you,” she said.
“You missed me?” I asked.
“I guess so, yeah,” she said.
I felt better knowing Nora had missed me, but I was still sad and disappointed. I wanted her to be my wife, because then she would not leave me. Unexpected surprises make me nervous, so I like my life to be predictable. And ever since I began believing Nora was in love with me, I was thinking how nice it would be to have a wife. Someone who will always be there for me; someone reliable who is always predictably present and willing to help me. I had become very attracted to the idea of being married. I was also attracted to Nora’s beauty. If she were my wife, I could touch her hair as often as I wished.
I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re still upset?”
“A little bit,” I said. “I thought we’d be married.”
She looked at me, but didn’t say anything to comfort me. I couldn’t interpret her emotions and wondered if she didn’t care about my upset or if she wasn’t sure how to help me feel better.