The Love Potion Murders in the Museum of Man_ A Norman De Ratour Mystery - Alfred Alcorn [81]
I’ll probably excise this outburst later on, but I needed to get that off my chest. A reluctant Calvinist, I am of the old school, neither a Papist who can bare his soul to some sympathetic priest nor a dupe of the therapeutic racket that exacerbates, while purporting to cure, the pathologies of self-absorption. And I have, despite my many good friends, none I want to bother with my troubles. And self-pity is a poor form of self-reliance.
I’ve found work a solace. The very furniture seems welcoming. The contents of my in-basket have proved a balm where I can lose myself in detail, the pickier the better. And Doreen is being extra sweet to me. Not to mention that I am knee-deep in a murder investigation.
Indeed, I arrived to find an e-mail from Nicole Stone-Lee. She reports that it’s clear from notes and memoranda deftly hidden on Professor Ossmann’s hard drive that he was working on some kind of aphrodisiac. It seems likely that in reviewing research done by Professor Tromstromer and Dr. Woodley, he stumbled across a combination of compounds that had “a profound effect” on the sexual activity of various small mammals. She noted that there seemed a lot more to plow through and would report back as soon as she had anything else of interest.
I forwarded the e-mail along to Lieutenant Tracy, made a hard copy for myself, and then erased it. I left word with Ms. Stone-Lee thanking her and asking her to refrain from e-mail in the future as I was not all that sure how secure it was. I’m wondering whether it would be helpful if the lieutenant and I paid a visit to Professor Tromstromer. I can think of several insinuations to lay before the big gnome. How much did he know about Ossmann’s use of his research? Were Tromstromer and Woodley working on something that Ossmann stole? Does Tromstromer stand to gain with the removal of Ossmann and Woodley from the scene?
And speaking of Mr. Bain, I had a fruitful conversation with Professor Brauer early this afternoon. I had left word at his office to drop in when he got a chance. He came by just after lunch. Our relations have always been cool, and we didn’t pretend any great cordiality beyond a business-like handshake. We indulged a minute or two of small talk before we got to the point.
“I understand,” I said, “that a production company making a film of your book would like to use the premises of the MOM for background shots.”
“That’s true,” he said. “I believe Malachy Morin is taking care of details.”
“Mr. Morin isn’t taking care of anything,” I said, “despite what he might be telling you to the contrary.”
Professor Brauer wrinkled his smooth pate in frowning. “He tells me it’s a done deal.”
“It is not a done deal, Professor Brauer. The university in general and Mr. Morin in particular have no say whatsoever regarding the premises of this museum. But it doesn’t surprise me that he has been less than straightforward with you. He has always had a tendency to tell people what he wants them to hear regardless of the truth.”
“Did you ask me in here just to tell me that?” His expression was decidedly baleful.
“If I had, you could take it as an act of courtesy.”
His frown turned to puzzlement. “Then what did you ask me here for?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m willing to consider some very restricted use of the museum for the film in return for some information.”
“What information?”
“I want to know who, in the Long Pig Society, funded Corny’s trip to the headwaters of the Rio Sangre.”
He did something of a double take. He had the expression of one suddenly thinking quite deeply about something. “Well, that’s privileged information.”
“I understand. And these are privileged premises.