Good plan, but it might take a while before anyone noticed. If I were planning such a thing, I’d go after something a little more impressive, like planting a bomb at the Philadelphia Art Museum.”
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t mention the word bomb in the presence of an FBI agent—it makes us nervous.” He sat back. “You want to talk about it?”
“The, uh, suspicious death? Yes, I suppose I do, as long as I’m not violating any laws or procedures.”
“Let me worry about that.”
I smiled at him. “Look, I’m not a crime groupie, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s just that I know and like Arabella Heffernan, and as I told you, I was there when another employee was jolted in much the same way, a day earlier. So you’d have to say I’m kind of involved, whether I like it or not.”
His expression was appropriately serious now. “I’m sorry. That can’t have been pleasant for you. How did your talk with the police go?”
I nodded. “About as well as I could have hoped. Our favorite detective is on the job, although I couldn’t tell her much. How do you read this?”
“You really are a romantic. I ask you out for a drink and you want to talk about electrocution.” He gave a mock sigh. “All right. I don’t have all the facts, but we know there was an electrical accident two days ago, which wasn’t fatal—and you were a witness. Then there was a second electrical accident last night, which did prove fatal. No witnesses. Either somebody working at Let’s Play is one lousy electrician, or at least one if not both of those events was deliberate. Is that what you mean?”
I nodded. “Exactly. Arabella assured me that she’d had all the wiring checked by two different people the morning after the first incident. She was horrified at the idea that something could happen to a child, and she wanted to be sure the exhibit was safe. I believe her. That means if it wasn’t purely accidental, that someone had to tamper with the wiring after it was looked over in the morning and before the body was found last night.”
“What kind of security is there?”
“I’d say it’s laughable—but that’s not surprising, because there’s not much to steal from a children’s museum. There’s a cash register at the front desk for patrons, and one more in the gift shop, period. They’ve presumably had a lot of workmen coming through, finished up the new exhibit that’s supposed to open soon. I’d bet that if anybody walked in wearing coveralls and carrying a tool chest or paint cans and smiled at the receptionist, they’d be allowed upstairs without any question. So there are plenty of opportunities.” I took a sip of my wine. “Listen, can we talk about motive?”
“We haven’t exactly exhausted the how part.”
“I know that, but I don’t know enough about wiring to guess what kind of knowledge would be required, or how long it would take to rig things. Besides, I really do like to know the why of things.”
“Okay, I’ll play. Who or what was the target? Assuming we’ve eliminated terrorism.”
“Have we? But in any case . . .” I ticked off the possibilities on my fingers. “One, the trap may have been directed at Joe, the guy who died, and Jason’s earlier event was just a trial. Or, two, maybe it was meant for Jason, but the culprit screwed up the first time around. However, Jason is just a moonlighting graduate student, I can’t imagine why anybody would want to harm him—and anyway, he wasn’t around to set it up the second time. Although if Arabella thought he wasn’t right for her daughter . . .” I shook myself: I was definitely headed toward the absurd. “I’m sure the police are looking into both Jason and Joe anyway. Three, it could have been directed at Hadley Eastman—she’s the writer of the Harriet the Hedgehog books that inspired the exhibit.”
“You mean there’s somebody who doesn’t like hedgehogs?” James asked with a
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t mention the word bomb in the presence of an FBI agent—it makes us nervous.” He sat back. “You want to talk about it?”
“The, uh, suspicious death? Yes, I suppose I do, as long as I’m not violating any laws or procedures.”
“Let me worry about that.”
I smiled at him. “Look, I’m not a crime groupie, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s just that I know and like Arabella Heffernan, and as I told you, I was there when another employee was jolted in much the same way, a day earlier. So you’d have to say I’m kind of involved, whether I like it or not.”
His expression was appropriately serious now. “I’m sorry. That can’t have been pleasant for you. How did your talk with the police go?”
I nodded. “About as well as I could have hoped. Our favorite detective is on the job, although I couldn’t tell her much. How do you read this?”
“You really are a romantic. I ask you out for a drink and you want to talk about electrocution.” He gave a mock sigh. “All right. I don’t have all the facts, but we know there was an electrical accident two days ago, which wasn’t fatal—and you were a witness. Then there was a second electrical accident last night, which did prove fatal. No witnesses. Either somebody working at Let’s Play is one lousy electrician, or at least one if not both of those events was deliberate. Is that what you mean?”
I nodded. “Exactly. Arabella assured me that she’d had all the wiring checked by two different people the morning after the first incident. She was horrified at the idea that something could happen to a child, and she wanted to be sure the exhibit was safe. I believe her. That means if it wasn’t purely accidental, that someone had to tamper with the wiring after it was looked over in the morning and before the body was found last night.”
“What kind of security is there?”
“I’d say it’s laughable—but that’s not surprising, because there’s not much to steal from a children’s museum. There’s a cash register at the front desk for patrons, and one more in the gift shop, period. They’ve presumably had a lot of workmen coming through, finished up the new exhibit that’s supposed to open soon. I’d bet that if anybody walked in wearing coveralls and carrying a tool chest or paint cans and smiled at the receptionist, they’d be allowed upstairs without any question. So there are plenty of opportunities.” I took a sip of my wine. “Listen, can we talk about motive?”
“We haven’t exactly exhausted the how part.”
“I know that, but I don’t know enough about wiring to guess what kind of knowledge would be required, or how long it would take to rig things. Besides, I really do like to know the why of things.”
“Okay, I’ll play. Who or what was the target? Assuming we’ve eliminated terrorism.”
“Have we? But in any case . . .” I ticked off the possibilities on my fingers. “One, the trap may have been directed at Joe, the guy who died, and Jason’s earlier event was just a trial. Or, two, maybe it was meant for Jason, but the culprit screwed up the first time around. However, Jason is just a moonlighting graduate student, I can’t imagine why anybody would want to harm him—and anyway, he wasn’t around to set it up the second time. Although if Arabella thought he wasn’t right for her daughter . . .” I shook myself: I was definitely headed toward the absurd. “I’m sure the police are looking into both Jason and Joe anyway. Three, it could have been directed at Hadley Eastman—she’s the writer of the Harriet the Hedgehog books that inspired the exhibit.”
“You mean there’s somebody who doesn’t like hedgehogs?” James asked with a
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