know, it’s possible that the killer picked his victims randomly. From out of the newspaper or even the Internet. But there’s also the distinct possibility that the killer knew each of them,” Sam observed.
“In order for him to have known all these people, he would have had to travel in select circles. And he would have had to have been in the center of the lens rather than on the fringe,” Morgan said.
“I’d like to read the background files on the victims.”
“I’ve already made copies of them for you,” Captain Morgan said pointing to a cardboard box next to his desk. “Anything else you need, Sam?”
“Yes. I’d like to inspect the physical evidence in the Moreau case,” Sam said.
Captain Morgan called down to the evidence room. A young uniformed officer came running up with a plastic baggy containing the remnants of the letter bomb. Morgan handed it over to Sam.
Sam looked it over. “I have to admit that I’m fascinated by this case, but Esther and I were supposed to leave for Monte Carlo tonight for a long weekend.”
“Take my advice. Forget the crossword murders. Have a nice trip. I guarantee you the case won’t be solved before you come back.”
“But it’s possible that we can prevent the next murder. From past experience, the killer always moves within one month after sending in the puzzle. We’re running out of time.”
“Sam, you’re really doing us a big favor meeting with the press. It takes the heat off the department. But we both know that the only way we’re going to get this guy is when someone comes forward with a lead. The reward money is up to a cool million. Let me give you some advice. You’re young for about fifteen minutes. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste a single one of those precious minutes. If you’re really having pangs of conscience, take this crap with you and read it on the plane,” Morgan said pointing to the box of files on the floor next to his desk.
Sam stood shaking his head in agreement. “I’ll take your advice and take the files with me.” Sam turned toward Detective Ward. “Tim, perhaps there’s something we can do about the e-mail as well. I’ll send an e-mail message to you tonight. If I remember correctly, your address is [email protected].”
“Yes, Sam,” Ward replied.
“Attached to the e-mail will be a utility program. Download it. It’ll forward all of the e-mail stored on any computer to my e-mail address. All you need to do is run it on Explorer 8.04 or higher. It’s a java applet. I’ll check my e-mail while I’m away. I’m packing my iPad next to my tennis racket.”
“No problem, Sam,” Ward said before leaving the office.
“If I stumble on anything important I’ll be in touch,” Sam said.
“Try to squeeze in a little romance, Sam,” Morgan said.
“I’ll try,” Sam said with a grin. He picked up the box of folders and walked out of Morgan’s office. He was halfway down the long stone staircase of the precinct house when he remembered Lentz. Sam wanted to review the fully solved puzzle. He reversed his steps, backtracking to Ward’s office. Sam stood in the doorway.
Lentz looked up from his clipboard. “I’ve completed the puzzle, Mr. Sonn. Why don’t you make yourself a copy of the solution?”
“Thank you, sir,” Sam said politely. He took the solution and brought it over to the copy machine at the other side of the room.
“Your puzzle solving ability is extraordinary,” Lentz said.
“I’ve been doing the Sunday puzzle for years,” Sam admitted. “I actually constructed a number of 21 by 21's for Gene Mazurski.”
“Yes, Mr. Mazurski,” Lentz repeated the name, “he was a legend. It seems I’m always being compared with Mr. Mazurski. Usually not favorably.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Sam said to be polite. He really believed that Lentz’s puzzles had become far too esoteric, and were a reflection of his snooty attitude. “How long have you been with the Herald Gazette?”
“Four years,” Lentz replied.
“Has it been that long since Mr. Mazurski died?”
“Yes, Mr. Sonn.”
“And before that you worked . . ..”
“For the Chicago Sun,” Lentz replied.
“You were the crossword editor there?”
“No. I was editor of the Op-Ed page.”
“How is it that you made the jump from editorials to crosswords?”
“Well, I’ve always been a crossword enthusiast. When Mr. Mazurski died, I applied for the job and here I am.”
“It’s been an honor to meet you, sir.” Sam folded the solution to the puzzle and put it in his pocket. He hesitated before leaving. “I have my car parked outside. Do you need a lift?”
“That’s kind of you, Mr. Sonn, but I have my car. Why don’t we walk out together?”
“Sure,” Sam said. Lentz seemed to have something weighing heavily on his mind. He left the solution to the puzzle on Detective Ward’s desk and raised himself out of his seat with the aid of his cane. The two men walked down the steps and through the lobby of the station house. Neither spoke. At the exit was a large insulated vestibule. Two glass doors opened automatically, pelting them with a blast of steamy Manhattan air saturated with fossil fuel emissions. It was an unusually hot day for the middle of May, the temperature hovering near ninety. Sam reached into his shirt pocket and put on his Richaud Polaroids. Lentz tilted the brim of his safari hat.
“I’m parked in the officers’ lot across the street,” Lentz said.
“So am I,” Sam replied.
They waited for the traffic to clear on 4th Avenue before crossing. An old oriental woman sitting next to a pushcart of sundries approached Lentz. She was holding a white gardenia. Lentz handed the woman a dollar bill and pinned the flower to his lapel. By that time the traffic had abated, allowing them to cross the street.
“I’m over here,” Lentz said, pointing to a white Mercedes.
Sam began to raise his hand in a parting gesture before walking away.
“Mr. Sonn,” Lentz called out at the last possible second.
“Yes,” Sam replied, turning back to face Lentz.
“What are your politics?” Lentz asked.
“My politics?” Sam was caught off guard.
“Yes. Your politics. Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” Lentz elaborated.
“I’m a registered Democrat,” Sam replied.
“That’s surprising,” Lentz said. “I would have taken you for a conservative Republican.”
