The Nitrogen Murder(93)

I knew I would have felt the same even about a shower for me, but I hadn’t been engaged long enough to have one. I made a note to talk to Rose Galigani, in case she had plans for me this time around.

Much of the talk was about the dramatic events of the week, some of which had made the local papers. I listened without comment to opinions about the spy ring in our neighborhood (not the first); about whether the ambulance company owner, Julia Strega, would stand trial or take a deal; about Howard Christopher, whom a couple of BUL editors had worked with, and how he still denied shooting anyone.

Out of deference to the hostess, I guessed, no one brought up Robin Kirsch, who had a deal in the works for a suspended sentence in exchange for her testimony against Julia Strega. Robin was on an employee retreat with her San Francisco bank group, Dana told us, and was sorry she couldn’t make the shower.

Everyone doubted it.

As soon as we’d eaten, Matt offered to leave separately, and early, to take the presents to Elaine’s house.

“Generous man,” I said, leaning into his ear.

“I’m practicing for ours,” he said, leaning back.

“Let’s serve these delicious mushrooms,” I said.

Hearing my nonchalant tone, you might have thought I was looking forward to a shower of my own.



At the end of the evening, I abandoned my privileged position as guest and took my turn with the cleanup crew. By now, all the men had left; most of the women stayed to help. Maybe times hadn’t changed all that much.

Elaine was practically giddy. After the meal, Dana had set up three card tables, with different games: mah-jongg, Scrabble, and a board game I didn’t recognize. I’d opted for mah-jongg since that table had its own Chinese American tutor, a computer scientist I’d worked with a few years back. Much better than wedding games.

“I can’t remember a nicer evening, Dana. Thank you so much,” Elaine said. I was sure she meant it, even if the past week would not have been hard to top. She quickly dropped her bride privilege and pitched in at the sink.

The mood was so light and happy, I expected us all to break out into a song like “Whistle While You Work,” or the modern-day equivalent.

As my last chore, I wrapped the trash and dragged it into the hallway by the back door. I bent over to settle the plastic bag between two bicycles and an already stuffed waste can.

Something not very heavy hit my head as I straightened up after depositing my load. I’d bumped into a crystal hanging from the handle of one of the bikes.

I remembered it from the first time I met Robin, when she carried her bike into the living room. And from another time …

My mind went back to Patel’s cul-de-sac, to the third time I was there, after Elaine had found Phil on the floor of the library. I’d gotten out of the Saab and spun around to check the reflections from the streetlight. One was off the bumper of a car in a neighboring driveway, a new Volvo. And that was the car that didn’t deserve the garage, I thought irrelevantly. Another reflection came from the crime scene tape, and the third from the handle of a bike.

But it wasn’t from a handle; it was from a crystal.

I saw it now. Robin’s bike had been near Patel’s home the evening I was shot at.



“We have what we wanted,” I told Matt. “The second link between Robin and Patel. The ID card could be explained away, but not this.”

I’d waited until Elaine went upstairs to tell Matt the latest in what was supposed to have been a closed case. Two closed cases. Dana had dropped Elaine and me off; I’d spared her also. Both women deserved an evening and a night’s sleep uncluttered with confusing pieces of information.

“This means Robin could have been part of what you lovingly call the spy ring,” Matt said.

“It does. It makes Robin part of both threads. But how did she even know Patel? If it were anything obvious, like meeting through Phil or Dana, one of them would have told us.”

What I hoped was that this new revelation didn’t bring us back to Robin and Phil being involved involved.

We tried to devise a way to query Dana about the link without alarming her. Matt was in favor of leaving her out of it. “She must have been thinking about this for a long time already,” he said. “Ever since she found that ID card.”

I deferred to his judgment.

“Okay, we don’t ask Dana. Let’s focus on why. Why would Robin involve herself in giving secret data to India—or wherever Patel was sending his downloads? Just for the money?”

“Why does anyone do it?” Matt asked.

“Still,” I said, “there should be a reason.”

“It’s not physics,” Matt said.