The Logic of Murder: What a Difference a Day Makes

By Michael Ludlow

It’s the sixties and sex, drugs, and rock and roll permeate the culture of America. The Logic of Murder introduces the world to Abbe Brent, the hippy, feminist detective and granddaughter of one of Seattle’s most notorious (and richest) courtesans. The story is told through the eyes of G.P. Walker, a 1966 graduate of a small, conservative liberal arts school in rural Indiana. Walker, under the employ of Sherlock Holmes wannabe Dr. Jeremy Todd, PhD., meets Ms. Brent while working on the case of a murdered socialite. Walker is directed by Todd to work directly with Ms. Brent and report everything she does and finds. Brent and Todd race to be the first to catch the killer and show Seattle who is the best detective. Walker learns how a true detective solves crimes, meets his soulmate, and becomes a member of the Family - a community of artists, musicians, intellectuals, professionals, and artisans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483584768

Book preview

2

Prologue

This is the story of how I discovered what a difference a day makes.

I graduated from Indiana Asbury College in June, 1966, with a degree in philosophy and no idea what I wanted to do. My responsible prospects were go to grad school, take a teaching position, or meet my father’s expectations by moving back to Glencoe, Illinois, and interning at his law firm before going to law school.

I was given the opportunity to procrastinate on my decision when a classmate invited me to live with him in Seattle.  Two days after I arrived, my friend got engaged and informed me that I would have to find my own place. Not wishing to reinforce my father’s belief that, You’re being irresponsible - wasting your most productive years, running from the tough decisions. I used my graduation gift money and found a nice room near the Washington campus.

What I really wanted to do was to take a break from responsibility. I had been responsible for sixteen years while in school, participating in all of the responsible extra-curricular activities, working summers at my father’s firm, experimenting with but not actively pursuing sex, drugs, and rock and roll, i.e., the 60’s. So I decided to find a menial job that would sustain me until I could get my [poop] together and pored over the help wanted ads.

Chapter 1 – The Job Interview

I had to find a job as quickly as possible because my graduation money would only last a few months.  I got the Sunday Seattle Times and found among the typically mundane Help Wanted opportunities the following:

Wanted: Research Assistant for Private Investigator

Thorough knowledge of research techniques required. Good oral communication skills a must. Must understand the fundamentals of logic. $150 per week. Some typing required. Call KJ5-4732 for particulars.

The pay was better than every other position posted. And I knew I could do the job. I had completed a class in Logic to fulfill a requirement for my degree. I had done research for many papers. I think I speak well. And I could type 65 words per minute.

I called the number and asked about the position. I was put on hold for about an hour that was actually less than a minute when a deep baritone voice said Why should I interview you for this position?

I was caught off guard by the abruptness of the question and paused before answering but before I could speak the voice said, Come on! Come on! Why should I interview you for this position?

I said haltingly, I, I meet all of the requirements, and paused.

The voice responded, Do you think you’ve demonstrated good oral communication skills?

No, sir. I haven’t, I replied and then continued more confidently, I am a recent college graduate in philosophy. I got an ‘A’ in Logic and can type 65 words per minute. Does that qualify me for an interview at least?

The voice replied, Yes. Yes it does. I am Dr. Jeremy Todd, PhD. Come tomorrow at ten, and gave me the address.

I found the address in Queen Anne Hill with little trouble.  I was surprised to see that it was a house and not an office.  It was in a very nice neighborhood where the houses were all large, the yards were double or triple a normal lot, each meticulously maintained with flower beds, and sidewalks that looked like they were edged that morning.

The residence was a two story Tudor with a driveway that forked with one path going to the right and to the back of the house, presumably to the garage which was not visible from the street. The left fork curved in an arc that went by the front door and then continued back to the street.

Flowers lined the drive. Red and yellow dahlias were intermixed with white and blue delphiniums that created a very pretty scheme. A fountain directly in front of the entrance sprayed water straight up 1-2 feet before cascading down onto statuettes of dolphins and mermaids.

I parked in front of the entrance and walked up to the front door, rang the bell and in a few seconds, an elderly man in a black suit, white, oxford cloth button-downed shirt and black tie answered and said, Yes?

Hi. I’m GP Walker and I’m here to interview for the researcher position.

Please park your vehicle in the back and enter through the servant’s entrance, he replied curtly.

I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure I was at the right location.  This is not at all what I was expecting. Does Dr. Todd have an office in Seattle?

Dr. Todd’s office is in this house. He does all of his work here. I will see you at the servant’s entrance.  He closed the door and I returned to my car. I drove back onto the street, re-entered the drive and took the right fork. It went 50 feet then curved back to the left to the rear of the house.

There was a large paved area between the back of the house and a three car detached garage. The garage doors were open revealing a black, 1966 Lincoln Continental; a light blue, 1965 MGB, and a 1955 burgundy over silver Rolls Royce.

There were windows across the top of a second floor that looked as if there were living quarters above the garage. I parked my car in front of an enclosed doorway. I tried to open the outer door and found it was locked.

The gentleman who met me at the front door soon appeared, opened the door and said, Follow me. We went through an inner door and into a large, very clean kitchen. He then went down a narrow hallway and passed two closed doors on the right. We then went through a door at the end of the hall into a large foyer with the front door on the left and a wide stairway that curved up to the second floor.

A large sitting room was to the right of the door. He led me down a hallway that went straight back from the front door to the last door on the left, knocked twice and opened the door when he heard the deep baritone say, Enter.

Your appointment, sir.

The room was large with floor to ceiling bookcases on one wall. Two large windows looked out onto the well- manicured lawn. The third wall had what looked like a Renoir hung in the middle with a light shining directly upon it. There were other paintings beside it above and below. All of the paintings looked like original oils.

There was just one person in the room. He was a tall (6’4"), thin (175lbs) man holding a curved stem pipe and wearing a long, dark blue or purple robe that was open to reveal a light blue silk shirt, dark blue slacks, shiny black tasseled loafers and a dark blue ascot. His hair was slicked back and was either black or dark brown. His eyes were dark blue and piercing and were trained on me.

Thank you, William, he said without taking his eyes off me. William bowed slightly and closed the door as he backed out of the room.

How do you do? I am Dr. Todd. he said and held out his hand. 

I assumed he wanted my resume and I handed it to him replying, Good, sir. It is really nice to meet you. He looked confused and I realized he was trying to shake my hand.  I fumbled an apology and put my hand out.  His handshake was fairly loose and quick.

He began reading my resume and began, So. You are from Indiana.

Well, actually, I’m from the Chicago area. Glencoe. I went to college in Indiana.

You graduated with honors. Indiana Asbury; degree in philosophy; no practical work experience. That’s what the resume says. Now, let’s see what it doesn’t say.

He looked at me closely, up and down, tilted his head to the right, then abruptly did an about face and started to pace with his hands clasped behind his back. You are independent, adventurous, intelligent and reliable, he said without looking at me. You are confident; but not cocky.

How could you know that? I asked.

Simple, he replied. Independent – you went to Indiana Asbury College where 80% of the students are Greek, yet you were not. Adventurous – you come all the way out to Seattle after graduation without a job or job prospect. Intelligent – Asbury is not an easy school and you graduated with honors. Reliable – you were here on time and prepared; clean and well dressed. Can you type?

Sixty-five words per minute. How did you know I wasn’t Greek?

Simple. You have an Indiana Asbury College decal on your rear window but no other decal.  Since you or someone took the trouble of putting on a decal to announce what school you went to, it doesn’t take much to deduce that since there are no Greek letters under the school decal, you never pledged or pledged but declined to become a member.

I was impressed.  What makes you think I’m confident but not cocky? I asked.

The way you spoke up on the telephone yesterday when challenged. The way you comport yourself, your handshake, your clothes. All show confidence without being cocky.

Well, I replied, I am impressed.

He smiled, held out his hand and said, The position is yours if you want it.

I gushed, Thank you, sir. You won’t be disappointed, and shook his hand vigorously.

Can you start tomorrow? he asked.

Yes, sir. What time?

He resumed pacing and said, Nine AM will suffice. That will be your normal starting time and your day will end around four, he said as he continued to pace. Then he turned suddenly to face me with a gleam in his eye and said Unless we are on a case. Then there are no set hours.

He resumed pacing and talking as if giving a lecture. Ninety percent of private investigation is snooping into the mundane lives of insignificant people. There are persons who will dig out the sordid affairs of husbands who cheat on their wives; find money hidden from the divorce lawyers who, by the way, are no better than the snoops they employ.

He turned suddenly again and trained his eyes on me addressing me directly, I do not take these cases. I am a specialist. He then resumed his pacing and lecturing. My ability to apply logic to any situation enables me to uncover truths that seem unfathomable to most people. People come to me with problems that seem unsolvable and I take only the cases which interest me. And those, and turned to me with a smile, paused, and said, I solve.

You will assist me, he said and resumed pacing. You will be my eyes, ears and legs. You will fuel my intellect. You bring me the facts I need and I will solve the crimes.

He then turned his eyes on me again and said, Follow me. I followed him into the room next to his. It was a small room with a nice oak desk with matching chair, two filing cabinets and a telephone. A typewriter was on the corner of the desk. The window faced the garage and parking area where my car was.  Landscapes of country scenes were on the walls.

This is your office, he said. William will give you a key to the back door. I will see you promptly at nine tomorrow. He then turned and walked out of the room.

I sat at my desk, swiveled in my chair and looked around for a few seconds.  Then I got up and looked in the file cabinets. Only the top drawer of each cabinet had any contents. William came in and said, This way.

I followed him down the hall and back into the kitchen. You are welcome to use the contents of the refrigerator as you wish. You can also bring your own items to store in there if you wish.  He then led me to the door, handed me a key and said, Do not arrive before nine, turned and left.

I got in my car and left exhilarated at the prospect of solving important cases.

Chapter 2 – My New Job

I arrived the next morning fifteen minutes early and drove around the neighborhood until nine. I opened the backdoor with my key and went to my office. The morning paper was on my desk. I sat down and picked it up and was glancing through it when Dr. Todd entered and said, How are your accommodations?

Very nice, I replied.

Good. Now, as to your duties. He started pacing, hands clasped behind his back and said, Your primary responsibility is to screen clients when they call. You will listen to what they want and determine if their case requires my capabilities. Absolutely refuse domestic and business snooping.

What are they? I asked.

He turned and said to me, "Domestic snooping cases involve one spouse trying to find out information about the other spouse. Is he cheating? Is she hiding money somewhere? Any case where one person wants to find out something about someone else.

Business snooping is basically the same but it applies to business. Snooping on employees to discover if they are stealing, selling trade secrets, working on their own, etc. None of them require any real application of intelligence or logic. It is follow the suspect, dig up dirt, and pour through files sometimes for weeks. They are so mundane; so boring.

Refer these to Edward McGinnis, PI, or Seattle Professional Investigations more commonly known as SPI, or to ABI.  Make appointments only for those cases that require my skills to resolve.

He then resumed pacing and said, "Every day when we are not on a case you will read the newspaper. You will start with the local news looking for potential problems to solve. Pay particular attention to the crime and social pages. Look for particularly heinous crimes such as murder, rape, child abuse, kidnappings, etc.  Also find felonious actions such as break-ins and robberies against persons of standing.

"Create a case file in a manila folder for each one you find. Include all newspaper accounts, my notes, everything. Label each document with a number. The first document in each folder will be the table of contents by document number with the date entered and a description of the document.

Follow each case until it is resolved. Bring to my attention any case that is not solved within one week. Those are the cases the police are obviously having trouble with and where my skills can be applied.

What do you do with the cases that are not resolved within a week? I asked.

He turned and said, We start on Phase 2. I will determine what information to get and you will go get it. I will determine if and when we try to insert ourselves into the investigation.

How do we do that? I asked.

"I," he said emphatically, "will talk to top level police officials and offer my services. Or speak directly to the victims or their survivors. If the case is interesting enough, I provide my services pro bono.

"Another area to review closely is the social pages, particularly Sally Seattle at the Times. She is the columnist of the social scene and is on top of everyone and everything that happens. Although most of what she says is pure gossip, she often discloses things that persons of standing do not want revealed.

"I want you to talk to her and have made an appointment to see her this afternoon at three. Introduce yourself and hint that we are working on something but you cannot reveal what it is.  You are more likely to peak her interest and she will be