David Baldacci - Simple Genius

Michelle said, “So you were suspecting murder too?”

“I always suspect murder,” Ventris said. “I’m bringing in a team to go over everything here.”

Sean said, “And you’re interested in Rivest’s death because you think it ties into Monk Turing’s, which was on federal property.”

“So maybe we should join forces,” Michelle suggested.

“That’s not possible,” Ventris said. “If you have information you want to share with me, fine, but it’s not a two-way street. We have ways of doing things at the Bureau.”

“I thought your ways of doing things included working with the local police,” Sean said.

“And I fit that bill,” Hayes added.

“But they don’t,” Ventris replied fiercely, glaring at Sean and Michelle.

“Isn’t the point that we catch whoever did all this?” Michelle said.

“No, the point is, I catch them,” Ventris snapped.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Sean began. “We’ll just make it a competition.

Who gets there first gets the credit. But just so you know we’re going to kick your ass.” He turned and stalked off.

Ventris turned on Hayes. “If he in any way impedes my investigation, you’ll be going down with him, Hayes!”

“I’m just trying to do my job here,” Hayes shot back.

“No, apparently you’re trying to do my job.”

Ventris noticed Michelle staring at him and smiling.

“What the hell are you looking at, lady?”

“Should’ve taken me up on my offer of cooperation, Ventris. Because when we crack this thing you are going to look like such an idiot.” She turned and walked off.

“I can arrest you for saying shit like that,” Ventris screamed after her.

Michelle turned back around. “No, you can’t. It’s that little bedrock thing called free speech. Have a nice day.”

A minute later Hayes joined Sean and Michelle in front of her truck. Hayes said, “Great, we’ve now managed to piss off the CIA and the FBI.

Who we gonna do next? DEA?”

Michelle said, “Assuming the morgue was blown up on purpose, the question becomes why.”

“And the answer seems obvious,” Sean remarked. “There was something on those bodies that the ME would find that would point us down the right road.”

“He’d already done the cutting on Monk,” Hayes pointed out. “So it couldn’t have been Monk’s body they were worried about.”

“Right,” Sean said. “Burning up Rivest’s body means we can’t tell if my theory on how he was killed was correct.”

Michelle added. “Do we know if the ME had looked for that already?”

“If he did he didn’t have a chance to tell us,” Hayes said quickly. “I asked him to call me as soon as he found anything and he never did.”

“We can follow down a lead Ventris doesn’t have,” Sean said confidently.

Michelle looked at him. “Which is?”

“Valerie Messaline.”

Hayes groaned. “Damn. I was afraid you were going to say that.”

HORATIO BARNES SHOOK HANDS with Viggie as Alicia Chadwick nervously watched. They were in the small parlor at the B amp;B where Horatio was staying.

Before Horatio could say anything Viggie sprang up and settled herself in front of the small upright piano situated in one corner of the room. She began to play. Horatio rose and joined her on the bench. As she played away, he said, “Mind if I jump in?”

She shook her head and he waited a moment, studying her rhythm and then began playing smoothly. They performed a duet for about five minutes and then Viggie abruptly stopped. “I’m done.” She plopped back in the chair while Horatio resumed his seat across from her, studying her carefully.

“You’re an excellent pianist,” Horatio said. “And I hear you’re quite the whiz at math too.”

“Numbers are fun,” Viggie said. “I like them because if you add the same numbers up you always get the same answers. There aren’t many things that do that.”

“Meaning life is too unpredictable? Yes, I’d agree with that. So numbers feel very safe to you?”

Viggie nodded absently and looked around the room.

Horatio continued to study her while she did so. Body cues were often as important as verbal communication in his field. He asked a few preliminary questions about her life at Babbage Town. Horatio had intended to tread carefully around the subject of Monk Turing, but Viggie’s next words exploded that strategy.

“Monk is dead. Did you know that?” Viggie asked him. She plunged on before he could answer. “He was my father.”

“I know, I heard. I’m very sorry. I’m sure you loved him very much.”

Viggie nodded, picked up an apple from a bowl on the table next to her and began eating it.

“And how about your mother?”

Viggie stopped chewing. “I don’t have a mother.”

“Everyone has a mother. Do you mean she’s dead?”

Viggie shrugged. “I mean I don’t have a mother. Monk would’ve told me.”

Horatio glanced at Alicia, who looked pained by this exchange. She shook her head helplessly at him.

“So you remember nothing about her?”

“About who?”

“Your mother.”

“You’re not listening. I don’t have a mother.”

“Okay, what did you like to do with your father? He was good at numbers too, right? Did you play games with numbers, maybe?” Viggie swallowed a bite of apple and nodded. “All the time. He said I was smarter than he was. And he knew about quantum physics. Do you know about that?”

“My IQ is not where it needs to be to understand that particular field.”

“I understood it. I understand lots of things people don’t think I do.”

Horatio glanced over at Alicia, who nodded at him encouragingly.

“So people don’t think you understand things?”

“I’m a kid. A kid, a kid, a kid,” she said in a singsong voice. “At least that’s what they think.”

“I bet Monk didn’t think that way about you, did he?”

“Monk treated me special.”

“How did he do that?”

“He trusted me.”

“That’s very impressive, an adult trusting someone your age. I bet that made you feel really good.” She shrugged noncommittally. “Do you remember the last time you saw Monk?” She shrugged again. “With a head like yours I bet if you try you’ll be able to do it easily.”

“I like remembering numbers better than anything. Numbers never change. A one is always a one and a ten is always a ten.”

“But numbers do change, don’t they? If you multiply them together, for example? Or add or subtract or divide them. And ten can be ten or ten thousand. And one can be one or one hundred. Right?”

Now Viggie focused squarely on him. “Right,” she said automatically.

“Or is it wrong?” Horatio queried.

“It’s wrong,” Viggie said. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.” She took another bite of her apple.

Horatio sat back. Quite a mynah bird. “You like number puzzles? There was one I learned in college. Would you like to play it? It’s sort of hard.”

Viggie put the apple down and said eagerly, “Not for me it won’t be.”

He said, “Suppose I’m a grandfather and I have a grandson who’s about as many days old as my son is weeks old and my grandson is as many months old as I am in years. My son, grandson and I together are 140 years old. How old am I in years?”

Horatio glanced at Alicia, who was working out the problem on a piece of paper she’d pulled from her purse. When he looked back at Viggie he said, “Would you like some paper and a pencil?”

“What for?”

“To work out the problem.”

“I’ve already worked it out. You’re eighty-four years old, but you don’t look it.”