. . .

THE DISPATCH INQUIRY
Chapter Twelve

Amy managed to throw on her black evening dress and find her way to the drawing room just in time, right before everyone went through to dinner. She was certain her absence had been noted, probably with varying elements of suspicion, but at least no one asked her to explain herself. Penny smiled at her as they took their seats in the dining room.

After the dismaying meal the night before, the conversation started slow but soon moved onto an easy pace and neutral topics. Kripke was just as antisocial as usual, but this evening his silent presence did not seem to impede anyone. Howard and Rajesh had struck up a fast friendship centered on science fiction and music, and their interests led to general remarks about various famous persons in those fields. Amy was able to hold her own when the topic centered on authors and a few singers, but she lost interest when discussion turned to the royal family. Their lives were so far removed from hers that they held little sway in her thoughts.

It was not the topic alone that distracted her. Sheldon, much calmer than last night, also joined in when he had knowledge of a subject. But, between his additions to the conversation, Amy felt his eyes upon her. It was like the first evening here, when his sheer handsomeness made her blush and dart her eyes around. But, this time, she felt his knuckles grazing her cheek, the manly soapy smell of him standing close, the gentle movement of her hair. Was it all a ply for information? Or had she misjudged him?

"What do you think, Miss Fowler? You have not said," Bert suddenly asked her.

"Oh." Amy reached for her goblet of water and took a long drink. "I'm sorry. Will you repeat the question?"

"Mr. Wolowitz believes the British newspaper should print all the details of Prince Edward's dalliances with Mrs. Wallis Simpson," Bert explained.

"The more details the better!" Howard added.

"Do not be lewd at the dinner table," Bernadette interjected.

"And I say," Penny said, "that if there is something private, something they want to keep that way, then the newspapers have no business reporting it. Everyone deserves privacy."

"I don't know the situation well, but I can't imagine it coming to anything. She's married and one day he will be head of the Church," Amy replied. "It's a passing fling."

"But you know more of it than we do, right?" Rajesh asked. "You work for a newspaper. I know you're not allowed to print it, but surely you know what you can't say publicly."

"I don't write about the royal family, it's not my beat," Amy explained. "I have heard rumors, just like the rest of you, but I don't follow them."

"Hey. She probably has a code of honor; let's not force her to reveal details." Amy shot Leonard a grateful smile. "But, Miss Fowler, can't you at least state your opinion on whether or not you should be allowed to do so?"

"Well, it is not new or unusual for governments to have classified information -" Amy started.

"I feel sorry for him."

All eyes turned to Sheldon at the end of the table, and, although she had not been paying attention to the topic earlier, Amy felt confident this was the first time he had spoken on the matter.

"Excuse me?" Penny asked. "Do you even know who we're discussing?"

"Yes, Edward, Prince of Wales, heir to the throne. I feel sorry for him."

"Um, well, I've got to say that empathy for another's love life isn't really your strength, Sheldon," Leonard added.

"I imagine it must be difficult, to be wanted a certain way by the populace, a way he does not feel he can be, and yet have no one with whom he may share who he does want to be. And then, when he finds such a person, it cannot be according to society."

A gentle murmur went around the table, as though Sheldon had dropped a small pebble in a pond, and Amy closed her eyes as the ripple reached her.

Bert asked, "Have you met The Prince?"

"No. I suppose I could arrange it if I choose, but I do not see the need. And my little earldom is of no interest to the monarchs."

"But your earldom is nice," Bernadette said. "It is my greatest wish to live somewhere quiet like this, where one can be with - can be themselves."

"Then you concede my point," Sheldon replied.

"Doesn't it bother you that she's married?" Kripke asked, the first time he'd participated all evening. Then he muttered, "Another crime."

"And already divorced once?" Howard added.

Rajesh said next, "And American?" Penny shot him a sharp look, and he put up a hand, "Sorry, but you rejected us, not the other way around."

Howard murmured next to Amy, bringing a smile to her lips, "I thought he was Indian."

"Of course it bothers me," Sheldon said sharply. "My mother did not raise me to condone adultery. I do not sympathize with his choice; rather, the position he must be in, to feel he must make such a choice." He paused. "I, too, do not follow the gossip, just like Miss Fowler. But I know what it is to be burdened by one's title. Most people want you for one thing, but those you care about the most, they refuse to accept the help you can give them."

"Um, I'm not really sure His Highness is helping her," Penny said.

Howard raised a finger and whispered, "From what I hear, she is helping him with a little problem." Then he curled the finger downward. "Helping him keep the flag at full mast."

A slight gasp escaped Bernadette on the other side but it seemed that most at the table didn't hear him.

"And she doesn't seem to be refusing anything but common decency," Rajesh added.

Sheldon waved his glass, and, for the first time, Amy realized it was filled with wine, not water. "I'm speaking in generalities-"

"Since when?" Leonard asked.

"- but there is usually someone who refuses to accept your help because they think it's beneath them to do so. Or that it weakens them. Or that you are trying to take advantage of them. They refuse to accept your generosity. They do not see that your offer of help is a way to try to connect with them."

"Excuse me, but my English is not native," Bernadette said. "Are we still speaking about Prince Edward?"

"Perhaps he wants to say to her," Sheldon continued, as though she hadn't asked, "'Please. Let me help you. If not in this one large thing, then in one small thing.' Then he will know he has been heard, that he has been understood for who he really is and wishes to be."

"Defiantly not," Penny said, clearly looking at Bernadette to answer her question.

But Amy saw that it was not about whom he was speaking, it was to whom. She felt scorched by his gaze, her cheeks warming and, no doubt, flushing. One or two side conversations broke out at the table, attempting to understand Sheldon's strange rambling, but Amy had understood it perfectly.

Sheldon only looked away when Leonard reached for his wine glass and suggested he return to water.

As they walked across the great hall to the drawing room after dinner, Amy waited and then reached out to brush Sheldon's arm. He stopped and they waited until everyone else had passed through, leaving them alone.

"Lord Cooper, I apologize for my accusation in your laboratory. But surely you must see the position I am in?"

"Indeed, Miss Fowler. I see you quite well."

Amy blushed, her eyes darting away. "Graph paper."

"Graph paper?"

"I'm having difficulty creating my puzzles. Mr. Clayton is almost through the stock I left, so I need to make more. But it would be far easier with graph paper." She looked back up at him. "I know it is only one small thing, but perhaps you could help?"

"Nothing would give me more pleasure."

"Who are we starting with today?" Amy asked as she settled into her usual spot next to Kripke in the morning room, arranging her newly sharpened pencils and notebook just so. "Shall this be the day we crack the case?"

Although it was early, she was in a good mood. Up again with the sunrise to work on a crossword puzzle, she thought she heard a noise and opened her bedroom door while still in her nightgown. There, on the floor in front of her, was a stack of graph paper wrapped in twine.

The Inspector looked up from one of his bottomless cups of coffee. He was always drinking something it seemed, either alcohol or, more often lately, coffee to stave off its effects. "You're eager."

"Am I?" She shrugged. "I would have thought you would be, too. The sooner you solve this case the better for your career, yes?"

He only grunted in reply. "Rostenkowski. She's German. Seems logical."

"Just because Dr. Rostenkowski is German and we believe Dr. Nowitzki was a Nazi sympathizer, does not mean they are in any way connected," Amy argued. "Germany and its sympathizers are a large group; statistically, it is very unlikely they've ever met. In fact, Dr. Rostenkowski disagreed with Dr. Nowitzki on politics, remember? That first night at dinner and that's what the argument in the laboratory was about. I told you that's what Lord Cooper told me." Determined to be faultless in her duties, Amy had shared Sheldon's version of the disagreements in the laboratory after Penny's interview yesterday. Fortunately, Leonard had already told them about the dagger in his interview, so she had not found it necessary to explain fully to the Inspector how cozy her conversation with Sheldon had been.

"Could all be an act. The sweet little voice of hers and all of it."

Although Amy did not think Bernadette's politics were an act, she agreed that the petite biochemist seemed like the type that could turn surly without warning. But Bernadette was calm and professional when she entered, wearing one of the pretty floral day dresses she favored, this one with a large floppy bow at the neck.

Dispensing with even his brusque preliminaries, Kripke said, "So, Rostenkowski, tell us how you came to be here."

Bernadette sat primly across the table, seemly unbothered, and her replies were direct. "Dr. Cooper invited me. I was honored and eager to see England."

"Had you met him before?"

"No."

"Didn't that strike you as odd? A scientist you've never met inviting you to another country for this conference?" Distaste dripped from Kripke's last word.

"I had heard of him, and I read more before accepting. He's very accomplished and well regarded in his field. As am I. It seemed natural that he would have learned the same about me."

"What is your impression of him?"

"Brilliant. Proud, too proud. Rigid. Childish. But trying, I think, to change. Something has made him try."

Kripke grunted, but Amy raised her eyebrows at the statement.

"What exactly is that you do in Germany? I mean, what type of chemistry?"

"Currently, I am working on biological reactions to various chemical formulas." She shrugged, and it was the first movement on her part. "I work for the government. I cannot say more than that. All German science is classified."

The look of satisfaction that Kripke shot to Amy was the smuggest she thought she'd ever seen. And she worked in a newsroom full of men. "That would be Adolf Hitler's government?"

"My employment there predates his seizure of power."

"You've been outspoken about your dislike of him. Why not leave?" It was said casually, as he picked up his coffee cup.

"And go where? I am a young woman in a field dominated by men. In a country dominated by the same type of men. They would rather have me make their coffee while they stare at my breasts."

Amy was wrong. Bernadette's expression in response to the sputter and spray from the Inspector as he lowered his coffee and raised his eyes to her face was the most smugly satisfied thing she'd ever seen. Poor Stuart; another ruined tablecloth. But this one was worth it.

"My father works for the lab, as chief of security," Bernadette continued, "and he was the one who arranged my position. It would be difficult to leave after he worked so hard for me."

"And so you'd never met Nowitzki before this weekend?"

"I did not say that. I had met her. Earlier this year. Before you ask, I disliked her."

It was difficult to pay proper attention to her shorthand instead of watching the expert way Bernadette was handling Kripke, keeping him constantly off guard.

"I did a fellowship," she continued, "and, when I returned, she was visiting as part of some sort of cultural exchange. It was only two weeks, but already in her first week she had . . . ingratiated herself to my coworkers. Yes, that is the word."

"Really?" Amy asked. "But it seems that everyone disliked her. Did she let them, erm, drink her coffee?"

"Probably. But not that I know of." Bernadette frowned. "She flattered their politics. You may have noticed she admires our new chancellor. Flattered men are not shy men."

"Including your father?" Kripke asked. Amy wondered if he was disappointed he didn't get to shock her with the swastika pin.

"My stepfather actually. But he's the only father I have ever known. My mother died a few years ago and he continued to remain so. Until recently, I would have said he was a good man."

Amy glanced up as Kripke said, "Because of Nowitzki?"

"Not entirely. He wanted me to take his last name, although it had not bothered him before, and I disagreed." She paused. "My name is Polish. My grandmother is Polish and suddenly he did not like me to visit her."

"Is she Jewish?" Amy asked softly, worried the question would offend Bernadette. "Perhaps he was trying to protect you. There are rumors -"

"No." Bernadette reached up to adjust the bow of her dress. "I suppose I should be grateful for that. If my mother and I were even a little Jewish . . . Well, I would not be working with a man that used to be my stepfather, would I? So, no, it was not about protection. It was about pride."

"Did you and Nowitzki have an argument or anything like that?"

"Yes. In Germany. About my father."

"So, if you'd known she would be here, you would not have come?"

"I am not sure. I was most eager to see Britain. It was very important to me."

Kripke then inquired about the night of the murder and Bernadette's version of events was no different than almost anyone else's. She heard the gramophone and the argument in the hallway and then it was the screams that finally roused her from bed. When he asked about her placid non-response to the prior noises, Bernadette replied, "In Germany, one learns to keep your head down and your ears closed. Do not ask about the noises outside your door."

The Inspector then asked about the murder weapon, including whether or not Bernadette had been to the library that day.

"No."

Amy leaned forward. "But didn't you and Mr. Wolowitz come in that morning? While I was talking with Lord Cooper?"

"Oh, yes. I forgot. It was a brief conversation, meaningless. I do not think I even realized which room we had stepped into. Excuse me."

"One last question," Kripke said, leaning forward, "did you kill her?"

"Inspector, I could kill her a thousand ways and you would never know that she had been murdered. Influenza? An infection after a paper cut? Bad fish? The deadliest weapons are invisible to the eye. A dagger is for amateurs."

Even if she meant them in jest, another volley with the Inspector, the coldness of her words sent a chill down Amy's spine.

Howard was sent for next, and Amy wondered if this had been Kripke's plan all along or if Bernadette's mention of Poland made him think of it. It was an intriguing coincidence, but Amy could not claim it to be any more than that, especially as that had been her assertion to him earlier.

If Bernadette had seemed unnaturally poised and calm, Howard was fidgety and jumpy from the very first. He wore another plaid flannel shirt, the type only workman wore in England, and, as usual, his pants were tighter than Amy had ever seen.

Launching in immediately, Kripke asked, "Wolowitz. From Poland, yes? Aeronautics?"

"Yes. At the University of Warsaw."

"You also write science fiction and that's how you met Cooper."

"He often sent me letters to discuss my work, but this is the first time I have met him in person."

"What is your impression of him?"

"He is incredibly intelligent, no? Very respected in his field. He has many opinions about other fields, like mine. He is very precise, too much. He thinks about himself for the most part. But he also thinks about others."

"How so?"

"I am only an associate lecturer, I do not have the funds to travel. He paid it all for me."

As was his ambling nature, Kripke changed topics to ask Howard about the night Romana was murdered. Just like Bernadette, his account was very similar to everyone else's except "a large bird flew past my window."

Kripke looked confused. "Why is that important?"

"Maybe it is not. But Dr. Nowitzki, she said someone was outside her window, no? My curtains were open and I thought I saw a large bird on the ledge. I opened the window but there was nothing. Maybe it was the same; it was just before the raised voices in the hallway."

"It's possible," Kripke muttered. Amy wondered what to make of it. In reality, it didn't matter; either Ramona saw Kripke on the lawn or she saw this large bird near the window, but neither would have been spying on her. Unless of course, it wasn't a bird at all. But surely not. A person would be much larger than a bird.

"Did you know Nowitzki before you came here?" Howard shook his head. "What did you think of her?"

"Not my type. No bosom." He gave a half chuckle at his joke and Amy frowned. "Yes, yes, be serious. I like a strong woman, a loud woman, but she was too much for me. I did not like her politics."

"Ah!, here we go!" Kripke said. Into his interior jacket pocket went his hand and out came the handkerchief-wrapped pin. Except, if he was hoping to shock Howard, he was disappointed.

"I am not surprised. She seemed like the type to use a whip and be called Frau."

Finally too disgusted, Amy said, "Is everything sexual with you? A woman has been murdered."

"You are right, you are right. My apologies. It is a fault of mine. I am nervous. B - but - my friend is always telling me to stop. But, no, I am not surprised, she talked about their plans."

"Whose plans? The Nazis?"

"Yes, in the lab. In the morning, she made rude remarks about my country all morning. And, then, in the afternoon, she defended the policy . . . in English, I think, Restoring Civil Servants?"

"Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service. Gesetz zur Wiederherstellung des Berufsbeamtentums," Amy supplied and Howard nodded.

"What brought that up?" Kripke asked.

"She was arguing with M. Kibbler about the, I think in English, mentally sick? I did not hear the beginning, they were whispering at first. But she said that was why some were not fit for the sciences if they carried the genes for the sick. At first, I did not understand the connection, but then I understood she thought the Jewish are mentally sick." Howard ended his statement with a small flutter of his hand, and it pained Amy to think he was so used to such hateful opinions that he could not produce a more outward sign of anger. Or, perhaps, he'd learned not to.

"What happened next?"

"It was a break and Dr. Cooper, he came back from . . . well, I think the toilet, and he yelled, again, to not discuss politics. Everyone went quiet. He started a new topic, unrelated."

"Do you think Cooper was angry enough with her outbursts to kill her?" Kripke asked.

"I think he would have to, how do you say, stand in a queue to do it."

Amy shifted in her chair. It was one thing to realize everyone had a motive, it was quite another to realize how dark things at this conference had become. Poor Sheldon - and she caught the thought. Isn't that exactly what Kripke was asking? Would Sheldon kill someone just to keep peace at a conference? In truth, he may not be poor Sheldon at all. He was, after all, still that unknowable cat in the box to her.

Kripke interrupted her thoughts, "Had you ever seen the murder weapon before? It was a letter opener, from the library. Did you ever go in there?"

"I went to the library twice. Dr. Cooper wished to show me his collection of science fiction. And Dr. Rostenkowski and I talked there the first morning. You were there." Howard looked in Amy's direction. "But never alone. And I did not notice the dagger."

"One more question," Kripke continued, "other than Cooper and Nowitzki, did you know anyone else here before you arrived?"

"Yes, of course. Dr. Rostenkowski."

Amy was not as surprised as she would have been two hours earlier. She had already noticed how often Howard brought up the biochemist's name. She looked over at Kripke. "Well, it's a small world, after all, isn't it?" he said, smiling at her, not Howard. Then he turned back. "How do you know her?"

"Last year, she had a fellowship at my university. Dr. Cooper, he asked me if I knew any other scientists in a field he did not have, and I remembered her to him."

"Ah. How close were you?"

Howard shrugged. "We were friends. We would have coffee at a café, they make Shavuot cakes all year."

A few more questions revealed nothing of interest and Kripke let Howard go. The poor man was still so nervous he almost stumbled in his hurry to leave.

"Well, Fowler, what do you make of that? Our two Nazi-haters knew each other. She's a cold piece of work, isn't she?"

"Perhaps," Amy agreed. "But I think she has struggled in her profession. With the men, as she said. And," she increased her volume, "I don't think anyone here is a Nazi-lover, thank goodness."

"Yeah, but they're closer to the action. He's Jewish and she thinks Nowitzki was shagging her father or stealing state secrets with his help. Or both. Think they could have teamed up? He's as nervous as a cat on hot bricks, so I don't see him doing it alone. Maybe they met in Warsaw to plan it all?"

Amy remarked, "But Dr. Rostenkowski said she hadn't met Dr. Nowitzki until she returned from Warsaw."

Kripke stood with a grunt. "Maybe. But things are starting to feel a little too coincidental to me. I mean, my money is still on Cooper, but, well, if I were betting, I'd put them to place. Or all three of them could be in cahoots. Why else pay for the little guy's ticket? I'll see if I can confirm the timing of any of this when I'm at the station. Make some calls."

"Make some calls?" Amy asked.

"Of course, Fowler. What do you think I do all afternoon? Sit about and do crossword puzzles? That, my dear, is your job."

Amy frowned. Of course, she should have realized that he did additional research during his time at the station. Although he was still rude and condescending - as if he could successfully complete one of her puzzles! - she wondered if she'd misjudged him. He was drinking less, that much was clear. He was here every day on time and he asked what seemed pertinent questions. And now he seemed willing to consider other suspects, so perhaps he wasn't as convinced to the outcome as she previously thought.

Because, she admitted, he was correct. Either Bernadette or Howard was clearly lying.

After Kripke left, Amy went upstairs to transcribe her notes. However, outside her door, she wavered. Howard's story about the bird came back to her. It was so odd. She felt it should be irrelevant, and yet something about it piqued her curiosity. What, exactly, could Howard see from his window?

She unlocked her door to put down her notepad before she went to study the name tags on each door and place everyone's location on the night of the murder. Sheldon and Ramona's rooms she knew, and she assumed Ramona knew Kripke's when she pounded on that door. Penny or Leonard, of course, must be next door to her based on the lovemaking she'd overheard the first night.

But, once she got there, she stopped short of the door. The tag said Mr. Howard Wolowitz. How had she not realized this sooner?

Amy bit her lip. The more she thought about it the less Howard's lust surprised her. But who was coming to Howard's room in the middle of the night for sex? A maid? It was certainly possible. The only other options were Penny and Bernadette. Penny seemed impossible for a variety of reasons and Bernadette seemed . . . well, more likely. But, unlike Kripke, Amy just couldn't see the two as partners. One of them was lying, yes, but Bernadette seemed like the type of woman who ate lascivious men for breakfast. It was one of the things Amy liked best about her.

Except, Amy remembered, it was the first night she'd heard the meeting next door but not since. Could it have been Ramona? Too startled by the implications to continue, Amy returned to her room just as a footman knocked on the door with her lunch tray.

To be continued . . .

Edward, Prince of Wales, at this time was conducting a love affair with the married, already one-divorced, American Mrs. Wallis Simpson. Rumors swirled about this affair in Britain and reporters around the world covered it, but the scandal was officially ignored by the British press out of deference to the royal family. In 1936, Edward ascended to the throne as Edward VIII, and the British press finally broke their silence later that year. Shortly thereafter, Edward VIII abdicated the throne in order to marry the woman he loved.

The Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service was passed in Germany in 1933, two months after Adolf Hitler officially came to power. It decreed that any civil servant not of Aryan descent was to be dismissed for their job. Civil servants included almost all professions under this law, not just government officials: teachers, lawyers, doctors, academics, and even musicians.

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