Cherry Street
Chapter Five
Thursday, August 25
The bell above the door tinkled, announcing that someone had entered the Scholar's Nook. Karen
looked up from the copy of Duvall's Apocalyptic Breeze: The Role of Dark Angels in the
Reformation that laid in her lap. She smiled at the young women wearing a Bunny Horde t-shirt
who had just entered. The woman shyly smiled back and headed for the stacks of used fantasy
novels.
Karen looked back at her book. She was sitting on a stool behind a long, waist-high, glass cabinet
which displayed a multitude of well known classics in older editions and some firsts of popular
novels.
Mr. Hawthorne, her boss, called it his "collector trap." While none of the books were particularly
valuable, they would catch the eye of any collector. That gave Hawthorne the chance to feel them
out, see if they were serious and what kind of book might interest them. If they passed muster, he
would show them one of the real treasures he kept locked up in his office. But, even then, only a
couple. Hawthorne's treasures needed to be appreciated, not merchandised.
The bell tinkled again. This time a slender, middle aged woman dressed in a black, three quarter
sleeve, wrap dress entered. A long, black, silk shawl with swirls and quarter moons of silver thread
was draped across her shoulders.
Karen smiled and the woman acknowledged her with a slight tilt of the head. The woman started for
the back of the shop, but stopped suddenly and stood very still, like she was trying to recapture a
feeling that had just slipped away.
She looked at Karen and asked, "Would you have a copy of Dr. Arthur Sanders' Sunrise at
Luxor?"
Karen was surprised at how pure violet the woman's eyes were, like a pair of amethyst jewels.
"Is that a travelogue or a work of fiction?" asked Karen.
The woman stepped closer. Even though she was on the other side of the glass case, Karen felt like
the woman had crowded up next to her, their bodies separated only by the thin, wispy fabric of the
shawl.
"It would be under Egyptology. Or perhaps Spiritualism."
"If we had anything like that on the shelves, it would be in the second alcove on the left," Karen said
huskily.
The woman looked down into Karen's lap and smiled slightly. Karen felt the urge to cover the
Duvall with her hands, ashamed she had been caught reading such trash. But she froze in place, her
breath iced in her throat.
The bell tinkled again. The woman said, "Thank you," and walked away. Karen inhaled a noisy rush
of air.
A familiar voice said, "Hi, Karen. Where do you all keep the porn around here?"
Standing in front of her were George and Kevin. George had a smirky grin on his face while Kevin
was trying hard not to look embarrassed.
"We have paperbacks of the Kama Sutra in the small room at the top of the stairs. They'll be just
what you are looking for. Only one user," said Karen.
George grinned even bigger and bounded off, up the stairs.
"What are you guys doing here?" said Karen.
Kevin shrugged. "George said we ought to come down and check you out, I mean, check your shop
out. I mean. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Karen.
"What are you reading?" asked Kevin.
"It's just an old book."
"Isn't that everything is your shop? Old."
"Not really," said Karen. "We have a lot of stuff that is practically new."
"So, what's it about?"
Karen shifted her eyes down away from Kevin. "Dark angels."
"You're still working on that serial killer theory of yours?"
"It's not a theory," said Karen. "I'm just curious, that's all."
"He hasn't been around lately," said Kevin. "Maybe he's moved on. Gone away."
"I don't think so."
"What makes you think that?"
A young man with a stack of paperbacks approached the counter. Karen added up his purchases
and waited for him to count out several crumpled dollar bills and a fistful of change.
The woman in the black shawl stood half hidden by a shelf of philosophy and history texts. Every
time Karen glanced, the woman was looking down at a book. Every time Karen looked away, she
felt sure the woman was looking at her.
"What makes you think the serial killer will be back?" asked Kevin after the young man had left
with his books.
"Promise you're not going to think I am some kind of nerd?"
"If you're a nerd, that'll make two of us."
"The first murder happened on February 8th. The second was May 8th, the third July 1st, and the
fourth August 5th. The time between the murders is getting shorter."
"Okay," said Kevin. "That's what? Three months, two months, one month? Following that pattern,
the next murder should have happened the same day."
"It doesn't work out to be months exactly. If you count the days, it works out to be 89 days, 54, and
35. Almost months, but not quite. I tried working out a pattern but I couldn't see one. Until I also
looked at the times of the murders."
"What? You've got this figured out down to the hours, or the minute?"
"No, silly. The first murder happened at 2:00 in the morning. That's what the coroner told the
newspapers at any rate."
Karen pulled out a couple of clipped newspaper articles from the back of her book. "The second
murder took place just after midnight, the third murder was just before midnight, and the last one
around one in the morning."
Karen looked at Kevin expectantly, but saw only a clueless expression.
"The third murder took place before midnight," said Karen. "The others took place afterwards. If
we consider the night time before and after midnight to be part of the same day, then our count is
wrong by one day. The third murder should be counted as if it took place on July 2nd and not July
1st."
"And what does that do for us?"
"That makes the counts between days as 89, 55 and 34."
"Okay. I'm still clueless."
"It's the Fibonacci sequence. A mathematical sequence where you take the last two numbers, add
them together and get the next number. You start with one and two. Add them together to get three.
Then two and three make five, five and three make eight, eight and five make thirteen, and so forth."
"So you are saying that the time between the murders fits this Fiberace sequence?"
"Fibonacci," said Karen. "And yes, it fits the sequence. 55 and 34 make 89. Instead of counting up
as you would normally do, the killer is counting down."
"I see," said Kevin. "So what's the next number in the sequence?"
"You get that by subtracting the last number from the one before it. 34 from 55 is 21."
"Twenty-one? So if the last murder took place on August 5th, then the next one should take place
on August 26th. Tomorrow night."
"Since we are counting the time before and after midnight as the same day," said Karen, "it won't
be tomorrow. It'll be tonight."
Chapter Five
Thursday, August 25
The bell above the door tinkled, announcing that someone had entered the Scholar's Nook. Karen
looked up from the copy of Duvall's Apocalyptic Breeze: The Role of Dark Angels in the
Reformation that laid in her lap. She smiled at the young women wearing a Bunny Horde t-shirt
who had just entered. The woman shyly smiled back and headed for the stacks of used fantasy
novels.
Karen looked back at her book. She was sitting on a stool behind a long, waist-high, glass cabinet
which displayed a multitude of well known classics in older editions and some firsts of popular
novels.
Mr. Hawthorne, her boss, called it his "collector trap." While none of the books were particularly
valuable, they would catch the eye of any collector. That gave Hawthorne the chance to feel them
out, see if they were serious and what kind of book might interest them. If they passed muster, he
would show them one of the real treasures he kept locked up in his office. But, even then, only a
couple. Hawthorne's treasures needed to be appreciated, not merchandised.
The bell tinkled again. This time a slender, middle aged woman dressed in a black, three quarter
sleeve, wrap dress entered. A long, black, silk shawl with swirls and quarter moons of silver thread
was draped across her shoulders.
Karen smiled and the woman acknowledged her with a slight tilt of the head. The woman started for
the back of the shop, but stopped suddenly and stood very still, like she was trying to recapture a
feeling that had just slipped away.
She looked at Karen and asked, "Would you have a copy of Dr. Arthur Sanders' Sunrise at
Luxor?"
Karen was surprised at how pure violet the woman's eyes were, like a pair of amethyst jewels.
"Is that a travelogue or a work of fiction?" asked Karen.
The woman stepped closer. Even though she was on the other side of the glass case, Karen felt like
the woman had crowded up next to her, their bodies separated only by the thin, wispy fabric of the
shawl.
"It would be under Egyptology. Or perhaps Spiritualism."
"If we had anything like that on the shelves, it would be in the second alcove on the left," Karen said
huskily.
The woman looked down into Karen's lap and smiled slightly. Karen felt the urge to cover the
Duvall with her hands, ashamed she had been caught reading such trash. But she froze in place, her
breath iced in her throat.
The bell tinkled again. The woman said, "Thank you," and walked away. Karen inhaled a noisy rush
of air.
A familiar voice said, "Hi, Karen. Where do you all keep the porn around here?"
Standing in front of her were George and Kevin. George had a smirky grin on his face while Kevin
was trying hard not to look embarrassed.
"We have paperbacks of the Kama Sutra in the small room at the top of the stairs. They'll be just
what you are looking for. Only one user," said Karen.
George grinned even bigger and bounded off, up the stairs.
"What are you guys doing here?" said Karen.
Kevin shrugged. "George said we ought to come down and check you out, I mean, check your shop
out. I mean. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Karen.
"What are you reading?" asked Kevin.
"It's just an old book."
"Isn't that everything is your shop? Old."
"Not really," said Karen. "We have a lot of stuff that is practically new."
"So, what's it about?"
Karen shifted her eyes down away from Kevin. "Dark angels."
"You're still working on that serial killer theory of yours?"
"It's not a theory," said Karen. "I'm just curious, that's all."
"He hasn't been around lately," said Kevin. "Maybe he's moved on. Gone away."
"I don't think so."
"What makes you think that?"
A young man with a stack of paperbacks approached the counter. Karen added up his purchases
and waited for him to count out several crumpled dollar bills and a fistful of change.
The woman in the black shawl stood half hidden by a shelf of philosophy and history texts. Every
time Karen glanced, the woman was looking down at a book. Every time Karen looked away, she
felt sure the woman was looking at her.
"What makes you think the serial killer will be back?" asked Kevin after the young man had left
with his books.
"Promise you're not going to think I am some kind of nerd?"
"If you're a nerd, that'll make two of us."
"The first murder happened on February 8th. The second was May 8th, the third July 1st, and the
fourth August 5th. The time between the murders is getting shorter."
"Okay," said Kevin. "That's what? Three months, two months, one month? Following that pattern,
the next murder should have happened the same day."
"It doesn't work out to be months exactly. If you count the days, it works out to be 89 days, 54, and
35. Almost months, but not quite. I tried working out a pattern but I couldn't see one. Until I also
looked at the times of the murders."
"What? You've got this figured out down to the hours, or the minute?"
"No, silly. The first murder happened at 2:00 in the morning. That's what the coroner told the
newspapers at any rate."
Karen pulled out a couple of clipped newspaper articles from the back of her book. "The second
murder took place just after midnight, the third murder was just before midnight, and the last one
around one in the morning."
Karen looked at Kevin expectantly, but saw only a clueless expression.
"The third murder took place before midnight," said Karen. "The others took place afterwards. If
we consider the night time before and after midnight to be part of the same day, then our count is
wrong by one day. The third murder should be counted as if it took place on July 2nd and not July
1st."
"And what does that do for us?"
"That makes the counts between days as 89, 55 and 34."
"Okay. I'm still clueless."
"It's the Fibonacci sequence. A mathematical sequence where you take the last two numbers, add
them together and get the next number. You start with one and two. Add them together to get three.
Then two and three make five, five and three make eight, eight and five make thirteen, and so forth."
"So you are saying that the time between the murders fits this Fiberace sequence?"
"Fibonacci," said Karen. "And yes, it fits the sequence. 55 and 34 make 89. Instead of counting up
as you would normally do, the killer is counting down."
"I see," said Kevin. "So what's the next number in the sequence?"
"You get that by subtracting the last number from the one before it. 34 from 55 is 21."
"Twenty-one? So if the last murder took place on August 5th, then the next one should take place
on August 26th. Tomorrow night."
"Since we are counting the time before and after midnight as the same day," said Karen, "it won't
be tomorrow. It'll be tonight."
