The Steel Kiss

Archer continued, “It’s a compulsion. You had to search the crime scene where you were injured and find out the answer to the gun oil and cocaine. I had to find those goddamn mosquitoes. An unanswered riddle is the worst thing in the world for me.” Her striking blue eyes lit up again. “I love riddles. You?”

“Games? Or life?”

“Games.”

“No. I don’t do that.”

“I’ve found they help you expand your thinking. I collect them. Want to try?”

“That’s all right.” Meaning absolutely not. His eyes were on the evidence boards whose backs were to them. Another sip of whisky.

Archer nonetheless said, “Okay. Two sons and two fathers go fishing. Each one catches a fish. They return from the trip with only three fish, though. How can that be?”

“I don’t know. Really, I—”

“Come on. Try.” She repeated it.

Rhyme grimaced but he found himself thinking: One got away? They ate one for lunch? One fish ate another?

Archer was smiling. “The thing about riddles is that you never need more information than you’re given. No fish sandwiches, no escapes.”

He shrugged. “Give up.”

“You’re not trying very hard. All right, the answer?”

“Sure.”

“The fishing party included a grandfather, his son and grandson. Two fathers, two sons, but only three people.”

Rhyme barked an involuntary laugh. Clever. He liked it.

“As soon as you got the idea of four people in your head, it’s almost impossible to dislodge it, right? Remember: The answers to riddles are always simple—given the right mind-set.”

The doorbell hummed. Rhyme looked at the video monitor. Archer’s brother, Randy. Rhyme was mildly disappointed she’d be leaving. Thom went to answer the door.

She said, “One more.”

“All right.”

“What one thing do you find at the beginning of eternity and at the end of time and space?”

“Matter.”

“No.”

“Black hole.”

“No.”

“Wormhole.”

“You’re guessing. Do you even know what a wormhole is?” she asked.

He did. But he hadn’t really thought that was the answer.

Simple…

“Give up?”

“No. I’m going to keep working at it.”

Thom appeared a moment later with Archer’s brother. They spoke for a few minutes, polite but pointless conversation. Then brief goodbyes and brother and sister headed out of the arched doorway of the parlor. Halfway through Archer stopped. She wheeled around. “Just curious about one thing, Lincoln.”

“What’s that?”

“Baxter. Did he have a big house or apartment?”

What was this about? He thought back to the case. “I suppose he did. Worth over a million. Nowadays, how much big does that buy you? Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering why he needed a storage unit in Long Island City—where the gun was found. You’d think he could store things in his house. Or at least in a storage place closer to home. Well, just a thought. Good night now.”

“Night,” he said.

“And don’t forget our riddle: eternity and time and space.”

She wheeled from sight.

* * *

Computers saved my life.

In several ways. In high school, I could excel at something not sports (tall is good for basketball but skinny bean isn’t). Computer club. Math club. Gaming. Role-playing online—I could be whoever I wanted to. Appear however I wanted to appear, thank you, avatars and Photoshop.

And now: Computers make my career possible. True, I don’t really look a lot different from many people on the street. But just some different can be enough. People say they like different but they don’t really—unless it’s to look at and laugh at and boost themselves up. So, running a business online, in the safety of my Chelsea womb, is perfect for me. I don’t have to see people, talk to them in person, endure the gawking, even if it’s with a smile on their faces.

And I make a tidy living to boot.

I’m now sitting at—yes—my computer, smarting from the loss of my White Castle. At the kitchen table, I type some more. Read the results of my search. Type another request. Zip, zip, I get more answers. I like the sound the keys make. Satisfying. I’ve tried to describe it. Not a typewriter, not a light switch. Closest I can come is the sound of fat raindrops on a taut camping tent. Peter and I went camping a half-dozen times, twice with our parents (not as much fun then; father listened to a game, mother smoked and turned magazine pages). Peter and I had fun, though, especially in the rain. I didn’t have to be embarrassed going swimming. The girls, you know. And the boys in good shape.

Tap, tap, tap.

Funny how time seems to work to your advantage. I heard some people say, oh, wish I’d been born in this time or that time. Romans, Queen Victoria, the ’30s, the ’60s. But I’m lucky for the here and now. Microsoft, Apple, HTML, Wi-Fi, all the rest of it. I can sit in my room and put bread on my table and a woman in bed occasionally and a bone-cracking hammer in my hand. I can outfit the Toy Room with everything I need for my satisfaction.

Thank you, computers. Love your raindrop keyboards.

More typing.

So. Computers saved my life by giving me a business of my own, safe from the Shoppers out there.

And they’ll save my life now.