Sorcerer on the Street

Case 13: Elementary Induction

By the time the study door swung back, John had returned to the centre of the room and was standing with his eyes closed, deep in some kind of meditation. Mrs Kendrick stepped inside the room, closely followed by her daughter.

"John," the younger woman said. "It's good to see you're hard at work. So what have you learned?"

"There isn't much I can say about Wells," he answered. "There isn't a trace of his personality here. But I think I'm learning a lot about your father. He used to sit in here, musing over books. Learning anything and everything he could just to broaden his horizons, or going back over a few old favourites which always pique his interest no matter how well he knows their subject matter."

"Of course," Sarah said, sounding a little frustrated. "Is that what Mum told you? Doesn't seem hard to–" But she was stopped by her mother's hand on her arm, urging quiet for just a moment. John stepped forward as he spoke, and reached for one of the books on a nearby shelf. It slid out neatly, a large illustrated volume on comparative religion. John carefully carried it over to the recliner and sat down, nudging the corner of a cabinet with an outstretched finger to rotate the chair just a little way to the left. Then he opened the book, revealing a spread which showed a selection of religious artwork from museums around the world, in order to underscore the authors' point about the similarity of imagery in different traditions. He carefully removed a cloth bookmark, as well, and laid it on one arm of the chair. It was embroidered with initials; telling the world that RK and EH would be together forever.

Just from Mrs Kendrick's expression, I knew that he had selected the right book. But how he had made that choice was a mystery to me.

"We're not here for chicanery," Sarah said, tone sharp as ever. "I've had enough of tricks and mind games. Why did you come here without telling me first?"

"You have a very direct attitude," John answered. "I knew you would want an answer right away. And I thought that it might be easier to find the right answer, to understand Mr Kendrick's feelings, if I had a little time to properly appreciate the things that he left behind."

"You picked the same book," her mother said. "And that's exactly how he used to sit as well. Robert used to sit half-turned to one side, just like that, while he listened to his music."

"Richard Strauss," John answered. "Robert had quite a fondness for his music, and would choose a piece which suited his mood at the time. In the last instance, when you were hoping for a message both familiar and fantastical, he might have selected Opus 30, one of Strauss's best known tone poems."

"I don't believe I know the numbers for all those records," Mrs Kendrick answered, but started to crouch in front of the record player, to see the shelf beneath where Mr Kendrick's music collection remained. Her daughter quickly helped her up, before kneeling herself to extract the particular record John had specified. With a look of frustration, Sarah set the record on the turntable, and then gently nudged the arm into its starting position.

"You really want to do this, Mum?" she asked. "Are you going to be paying two charlatans for empty promises now? I don't think–" But as the sounds of a brass fanfare swelled from loudspeakers hidden somewhere behind all the junk in the room, the elder Mrs Kendrick quickly cut her off.

"How?" she asked. "This is exactly the same one that Wells... You know, don't you? Tell me, Sarah. How could he possibly have picked out the same recording, the same books, even the right posture in the chair to so perfectly show the attitude of your father?"

"I... I don't know. But..."

"The records were easy," John said. "The shelf they're on is soft wood, darkened by varnish. It darkens slightly when exposed to light. And over years, the variations in the tone show which groups of records were most often out of the cabinet for listening. I guessed that within a large selection of Strauss compositions arranged together, he would listen to all of them frequently, perhaps some more so than others. But Wells would have said that there was one record that was his favourite; one above all the others. Because picking just one is a more impressive feat. And if Robert listened to many, then any one of them would be believable as an actual favourite. Finding that one was the challenge for me, and one which I might not have been able to attempt, if I hadn't been required to listen to them all as part of the cultural studies which replaced most of my schooling. You see, the records in Robert's collection simply say 'Strauss' on the spine, and the opus number. I suspect because the spine of a record is very thin, and some of those titles would be too long to easily read. But I noticed that rather than being placed in numerical order, they seemed to be ordered by tempo, or by intensity of their emotive themes. Thus convincing me that Robert would actually choose the one closest to his own mood. If that's how you think about music, then the arrangement makes perfect sense."