Free The Hydrogen Murder by Camille Minichino

meaningless."
    "Do we have to do this during lunch?" Matt asked.
"Tell me about your Einstein picture."
    He looked at my hologram resting on my bosom when he said
this, sending a pleasant shiver through my upper body. His question also caused
me to look again at Albert Einstein and a piece of a puzzle clicked into place.
I put down my forkful of oniony potato salad and looked at Matt.
    "He's missing," I said. "That's why the
figures on Eric's desk were rearranged. Someone took Albert Einstein and
covered his tracks by moving the superheroes around."
    "Are you sure?" Matt asked.
    "I'm sure," I said. "Einstein's missing."

 

 

 
 
 
    CHAPTER 8

 
    As soon as we got back to Matt's office we checked into the
eight-by-ten color photograph of the area around Eric's computer monitor. The
small white figure of Einstein was in front, as I remembered it, to the right
of the monitor, next to Batman and the UC mug.
    Matt was almost as certain as I was that Einstein was no
longer on Eric's desk. He changed our schedule to fit in a return trip to the
lab to be sure.
    "So much for yellow tape and a police guard," he
said. "Whoever did this risked being caught at a crime scene without
authorization."
    Matt tried reaching Andrea Cabrini again and left a message
that he'd look for her in the physics building around four in the afternoon. As
I was preparing my notebook for the interview with Connie Provenza, Matt
shuffled through pink phone message slips and pulled one out.
    "This one's from the security guard at the lab. He's
been thinking about the Corvette and is now pretty sure it had Connecticut
plates. I'll have to check that out. See if there's anyone from Connecticut in
the group, or anyone visiting. Maybe the Physics Department secretary would
know."
    Matt seemed to be talking to himself, so I waited for a sign
to continue our conversation.
    "I see that Connie Provenza lives in Chelsea,"
Matt said. "Before she gets here, can you tell me what her job is in this
group?"
    He turned over a page on his yellow pad and started to
frown, with his science-is-boring look, but relaxed his face instead. Maybe I
have a convert to physics, I thought.
    "Connie's a theoretical physicist," I told him.
"She writes equations, figures out which factors are important in the
experiment, and works with Eric on—uh, worked with Eric..."
    I paused and cleared my throat. For the most part I'd
managed not to dwell on the fact that someone I knew had been murdered. And the
equally distressing fact that most likely someone I knew was a murderer. To be
of any help to Matt, I had to think of Eric Bensen's murder objectively,
squeezing it into the format of a puzzle, as if it were a question on a science
test. Somehow at that moment the reality of death had taken over, keeping me
from doing my job.
    Matt brought me a cup of water from the cooler outside his
office. I hadn't even seen him leave.
    "Are you okay?" he asked. "We can do this
later."
    "I'm fine, thank you, I just needed a minute. You're
not getting out of physics class that easily."
    Matt laughed and seemed relieved. I wondered if any of his
other PSA's broke down in front of him. I wanted to continue, and managed to
compose myself.
    "Connie worked with Eric on the computer code that
represents what's happening to the hydrogen target. She's close to the data,
and the most likely one besides Eric to know if something wasn't right with the
information coming off the printer."
    "Clear enough," Matt said, a little too quickly.
"Connie isn't due for another half-hour, so why don't we take a break. I
have some other things to finish up if you don't mind leaving for a while.
Maybe you could take a walk along Broadway?"
    I didn't know if this was for my benefit or his, but either
way it was a good idea. I left the station, walking past an unpleasant-looking
young man handcuffed to a bench in the lobby. A policeman in the dark blue
uniform of the RPD was coming toward me, escorting an old man in