Nora put her hand on Sal’s shoulder and embraced him. I thought this was a non-verbal method of saying she forgave him. I felt I should use the same method, so I embraced them both.
“I forgive you, Sal,” I said.
Wind came through a window and blew papers off my desk.
“Catch them!” I shouted.
Nora, Sal and I grabbed the papers as they flew through the air. After we caught them all, I walked to my desk and tried to remember where these papers were meant to be. My desk had been perfectly organized. Nora went to close the window.
“I hope that didn’t disturb you,” she said. “We should get a carpenter to come in here and build walls around your desk. Having your desk in the middle of this big office isn’t good. We should build some walls to make you a private office. Then people, sounds and drafts can’t disturb you like this!”
“Sure,” I said. “But don’t hire Eddie the carpenter.”
“No, of course not him!” she said.
“Say, what is this map you are working on?” asked Sal.
Sal pointed at the chart I was making. It was marked by little papers, with numbers on them.
“This chart is important for our first case,” I said. “The first case of our agency is to discover the connection between Eddie the carpenter and Malcolm Vrie.”
“Why is that so important to discover?” he asked.
“Because,” said Nora, “Eddie is a murderer. If they have a connection, maybe they were both involved in the murder.”
“No,” I said. “They were probably both involved in another crime. It is a big coincidence that Malcolm Vrie was given a case to solve, and the murderer in that case is someone who has a connection to him. I have learned that big coincidences, in criminal cases, usually means there is a second, hidden, crime.”
“Interesting,” she said. “How did you learn that?”
“I studied and memorized all the criminal cases in New York City since 1951,” I said. “I memorized all the details. It is easy to notice that pattern. In 95 percent of cases where there were coincidences, there was a second, hidden crime.”
“I wish I had your brains!” said Sal. “You memorized cases since 1951? I’m sorry I doubted you, boss. You’re a genius!”
“You think I’m a genius?” I asked. “Well, maybe other people can’t recognize the patterns so easily. But I’d like to continue explaining the case. I don’t like interruptions.”
“Sorry, boss,” he said.
“When we were at 545 East 13th Street,” I said, “I had noticed two similarities between Eddie and Malcolm. They both had stains on their clothes, made by the same ink, and they both had little cuts in exactly the same place on their faces. The likelihood of two people having these similarities is very low. After I came home and spent five hours thinking about it, I remembered more details. I recalled twenty-five more similarities between Eddie and Malcolm. The likelihood of two people having twenty-seven similarities is so low, it is impossible for these two men to not be very much involved in each other’s lives.”
“I agree,” said Nora.
“Yeah, sure,” said Sal. “But what does it mean?”
“When you consider that their lives are very closely connected,” I said, “and also consider the statistic that 95 percent of big coincidences mean there is a hidden crime, then you can be at least 99.9 percent certain Eddie and Malcolm are criminal partners.”
“You don’t say!” said Sal.
“Yes, I did,” I said. “I just said it now.”
“No, Trueman,” said Nora. “That’s just an expression. It means ‘that’s amazing.’”
“Oh,” I said. “Your expressions make no sense. You are saying the opposite of what is true and its meaning is unrelated to what you’re saying. Expressions are illogical.”
“Yeah, they are,” said Nora. “Please continue explaining.”
“Yes, Mr. Bradley,” said Sal. “Please continue. I am very impressed by how you can logically solve these problems! You said something earlier about a crime-fighting equation? Is that how you will discover what crimes Eddie and Malcolm have done?”
“No,” I said. “I have no equation to determine what crime someone might have committed. My equation only works on crimes that I already know about. I don’t know the location and date of their crimes or what kind of crimes they were. Without a date and time, it is hard to use the equation to solve the crime. At least, I need to know what kind of crime it is. I need that information for my equation to execute properly.”
“Okay,” said Nora. “Can we guess what the crime was?”
“Guess?” I said. “You mean to randomly select a possibility?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” she said.
“But why?” I asked. “In that case, the likelihood of being correct is very low. I don’t like guessing. It’s not logical.”
“Okay, never mind,” she said. “How do we solve it then?”
“Solve it?” I asked. “I already solved it.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, what crime did they do then?”
“The statistics,” I said, “of crimes in New York City since 1951 helped me. The twenty-seven clues I observed on Eddie and Malcolm were also observed in fifteen old police cases. Of those fifteen cases, seven of them were cases of counterfeiting money and eight of them were cases of illegally cutting stolen diamonds. So there is a 47 percent chance they are counterfeiting money and a 53 percent chance they are illegally cutting stolen diamonds.”
“Wow!” she said. “Then what should we do about it?”
“Well, now that I know what kind of crime it is,” I said, “I can use my crime-fighting equation. But I don’t know if their crime was counterfeiting or cutting diamonds. So I used the equation for both possible crimes. If they counterfeited, their crime happened eight days ago in a warehouse beside the Hudson River. If they are diamond-cutters, their crime happened on the fifth floor of an apartment building in the area of New York City that is called ‘Queens.’”
“So, tomorrow we’ll check these places for evidence of their crimes?” she asked.
“Correct,” I said. “Except it’s not correct that we will do it tomorrow. Mrs. Levi has gone to get our agency permits. We won’t be allowed to investigate our first case until we get the permits. Mrs. Levi said we’ll get them later this month.”
Sal picked up a geometric compass I had been using to create my telephone booth chart.
“You are ingenious, Mr. Bradley,” he said. “But I still don’t understand what is the purpose of this chart?”
“It is my chart of all the public pay telephones in Manhattan,” I said. “I learned yesterday that Manhattan has seventy-one public pay telephones.”
“So?” he asked. “Most of them are too dirty to use!”
“Please don’t interrupt,” I said. “Seventy-one is a prime number. I realized that I could indicate on a chart where all the seventy-one public telephones are. Because it is a prime number, I can make the location of the telephones into an Ulam spiral.”
Sal and Nora were silent. I’d expected them to understand immediately, but I could recognize confusion on their faces.
“You don’t understand?” I asked.
“No,” said Nora. “What’s an Ulam spiral?”
“You don’t know?” I asked. “An Ulam spiral is composed of a natural progression of numbers, arranged into a spiral. In the spiral, the positions of the prime numbers form diagonal lines. Nobody knows why the prime numbers form diagonals. It is a mysterious law of nature. But because it forms diagonals, it makes a non-random geometric pattern. Sometimes, maybe because of my Asperger’s, my sense of direction isn’t good. I often get lost trying to walk through the city. But I am good at recognizing numbers and patterns. I am also good at visualizing geometric shapes. So if I imagine the locations of the public telephones are prime numbers and envision Manhattan as an Ulam spiral, the configuration of Manhattan is now logical to me. I will never get lost
in Manhattan again. Do you understand now?”
“Ah, this is too much math for me!” said Sal. “Can we change the subject, please? This is hard for me to understand.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Nora. “But I think I get some of your meaning. You see numbers and patterns better than real objects, so you made a mathematical pattern out of locations of the public telephones. So, now, you can use this prime number pattern to better remember where everything is in Manhattan. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, Tess,” I said. “You know me better than anyone!”
Nora’s face turned red again.
“Well, that’s great, Trueman,” she said. “I’m glad you won’t get lost in Manhattan. But why is that so important for solving the case of Eddie and Malcolm?”
“It’s very important!” I said. “Because this Ulam spiral can be used for more than one purpose. Discovery of this Ulam spiral pattern in Manhattan has allowed me to invent a new equation. This equation can locate criminal evidence.”
“You made a new equation?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “This equation finds evidence. How it works is… I can add the prime number aggregate onto my crime-fighting equation, and it adds a location variable…”
“No, please!” said Sal. “No more math! My brain is hurting from all this! Let’s take a break from math!”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll explain it later. I’ll test my new ‘Ulam spiral evidence-finding equation’ later this month when we look for evidence of Eddie’s and Malcolm’s crimes.”
Nora picked up a comic book and looked at it. She started pacing around the floor. She walked so briskly, she bounced. I could recognize she was excited about our investigation.
“I can’t wait!” she said. “We’ll get that jerk, Malcolm! We’ll get him thrown in jail! I always knew he was bad news!”
“I am still amazed at you, Mr. Bradley,” said Sal. “You are a modern Sherlock Holmes!”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” said Nora.
“You are a master crime-solver!” said Sal. “It is amazing! How do you do it? Is it just because you are good at math?”
“No,” I said. “As I said, I concentrate on Dick Tracy and memorize it all and recognize the patterns. That helps me concentrate so much on detective work that I think of very helpful and ingenious solutions to our cases. I don’t know the exact cause. It results from my intense concentration.”
“I start to see how Dick Tracy helps you,” he said. “The more you know of Dick Tracy, the better your detective skills?”
“Yes,” I said. “I will become better if I can get the other 140 comic books and learn everything I can about him.”
“Well, in that case, I will do everything I can to help fill your mind with Dick Tracy!” he said. “I would even pretend to be Dick Tracy’s partner, if you wished it! What was the name of Dick’s partner? Was it Sam Catchem?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I’d prefer if you’d pretend to be Bob Oscar ‘B.O.’ Plenty. He was a good friend of Dick Tracy.”
“Okay,” he said. “But why you want me to be this man?”
“Because,” I said, “you’re a good friend.”
“A good friend, am I?” he asked. “That is flattering.”
“Also,” I said, “Oscar Plenty’s house was messy, just like your old car was. And sometimes Oscar smelled bad, just like you sometimes smell bad because you smoke a pipe.”
Sal’s face turned red and I could recognize that he was embarrassed. He put his hands in his pockets and coughed.
“Well…” he said, “maybe I won’t pretend to be him yet. At least, not until we go on our investigation later this month and I know, for sure, that all your equations really work.”
“But you’ll find more Dick Tracy comic books?” I asked.
“Of course!” he said. “I was not able to find any more comic books last time I searched. But I know I will find some next time! Last time, I only found someone who was selling a cheap two-way wrist TV. The kind Dick used in the comic books.”
I became excited at the thought of owning a two-way wrist TV, like Dick Tracy used in his comic books. He wore it on his wrist and used it to communicate with his friends during a case. It would be useful for me to have a two-way wrist TV and be able to communicate with Nora, Sal and Mrs. Levi during our investigations. Also, it would help me to feel like Dick Tracy.
“I’d be a lot more confident as a detective if I had a wrist TV!” I said. “Go buy it, Sal! I’ll give you the money.”
“No, no, Mr. Bradley!” he said. “It is just a toy! It doesn’t really work. In the 1960s they made fake two-way TVs for children to play with. They aren’t real. You understand?”
I understood, and I was disappointed. I had gotten so excited, imagining the two-way wrist TV on my wrist, that it felt like the case would be much more difficult without it. I must have looked very upset, because Nora comforted me with a hug.
“Ah, Trueman,” she said. “You forget, you’ve got a lot of cash! We can probably buy some real two-way wrist TVs somewhere. Back in the 1960s they couldn’t make real wrist TVs like that. But nowadays, I’m sure someone’s invented them.”
“Really?” I asked. “Someone’s invented them?”
“Well, I’m not sure if someone did,” she said. “But if they’ve not been invented, we can pay someone to invent them for us!”
“That’s right,” I said. “We have a lot of money.”
“Hey!” said Sal. “If you are looking for an inventor, I know a good one! She is an old Italian lady. She’s an old friend of mine. Her name is Dr. Lucretia Rozzozzo. From an old, rich family. She is eccentric. Very strange lady. I think all people from old, rich families are strange like that. They can afford to be! She would help us. A two-way wrist TV is exactly the unusual kind of invention she likes to create.”
“Really?” I asked. “Can we talk to her now? I would love to have the two-way wrist TVs before we go on our investigation!”
“Sure!” he said. “I have the Lincoln car ready to go! Just put on your coats and we’ll go see my strange, old friend. On the way, I can show you our new neon sign! It is a beauty!”
The sky had become cloudy and rain was falling. I could smell the humidity coming in, through an open window. Rain on the streets of New York City smelled like wet dust. We walked to the front hallway and put on our coats.
“We should bring our umbrellas,” I said. “I think the volume of rain will increase as time progresses.”
Sal laughed.
“Let me guess…” he said. “You know this because you have invented an ingenious equation for predicting the weather?”
“No,” I said. “I know this because I can hear the sound of the rain getting louder as time passes. Can you hear it?”
“Oh,” he said. “I guess so. My hearing’s not so good.”
“But a weather-predicting equation is a good idea,” I said. “Maybe I’ll work on that later. I’ll need weather statistics.”
We walked out the front door and onto the sidewalks of Reade Street. Everything was gray, because the sun was hidden behind thick rainclouds. Water covered everything. The sound of cars driving through puddles made noises like waves on the shore of an ocean. The whole city smelled like wet dust.
The three of us stood under our umbrellas. We were lit from above, by a yellow light. A big square sign hung above the front door of 201 Reade Street. It said “The Trueman Bradley Detective Agency.” The words were made of glass pipes filled with neon gas. The words glowed yellow and could be seen from far away. The bright yellow words glowed on the gray, rainy street like the light of a lighthouse, shining through fog. Pedestrians and people in cars stared at our sign as they passed by it.
“How do you like it, boss?” asked Sal.
I was very pleased with our new sign, but I was too concentrated on my thoughts to answer Sal. I was inspired by how much this gray, rainy street looked
like an illustration from a Dick Tracy comic book. I was allowing myself to experience the similarity between my life and the fictional world of the comic books. The more my world resembled Dick Tracy, the more I could concentrate on solving cases and the more confident I became in my ability. I had learned from my granddad that success would come if I had confidence in myself. The neon sign made me feel I was now a real detective, with my own recognizable and deserved place in New York City. But more than that, it made me feel confident. Because the sign reminded me of something from a comic book illustration, it made me confident that I was like Dick Tracy.
“I need a yellow outfit…” I said.
“What’s that, Trueman?” asked Nora.
Nora touched my arm and I emerged from my daydreaming.
“Oh,” I said. “The yellow light of our neon sign reminded me that Dick Tracy wears a yellow hat and trench coat. I shouldn’t be wearing gray. Also, am I in the right city? Did Dick Tracy live in New York City?”
“I don’t know where he lived,” she said. “The comic books we have don’t mention anything about where he lived.”
“I think Dick Tracy was living in Chicago,” said Sal.
“Well,” I said. “Maybe. But that doesn’t matter to me. It is too late to change. And I like New York City better.”
“Why?” asked Nora.
“Because,” I said, “you and Sal and Mrs. Levi are here. I would not have met you in Chicago, and I’m glad I met you.”
Nora squeezed my arm. I didn’t understand the meaning of the squeeze, but it made me smile.
“Maybe I can pretend this is Chicago,” I said. “Then I can feel like the real Dick Tracy without moving there.”
I looked at the street, trying to imagine it was Chicago. I was beginning to convince myself, when I was distracted by an unexpected sight.
A man was crossing Reade Street, walking towards me. His stride was aggressive and I could recognize anger on his face.
“Detective Buckley?” I asked.
The man approached us and I could recognize Detective Sam Buckley. He was wearing a soaking wet fedora and trench coat.