“Sorry, just needed to get your attention. I’m a fellow enigma enthusiast. I need to speak with you if you’re willing. I have something to share that might be of interest.”
“About the variations? A possible solution?”
“It’s related to a solution recently announced by another member of the forum. JW48. I would rather speak in private though. Maybe tomorrow?”
He pursed his lips, silent for a moment, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m not sure why I’m saying yes,” he replied at last. “But yes, fine. Please come by tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll be in my office. What’s your name?”
“Justin Vincent.” I took a card from my inside pocket and handed it to him. It just had my name, the word ‘sculptor’, and my portfolio website URL.
“Sculptor?” He said, looking up from the card. “I’ll tell the receptionist to send you up when you arrive.”
“Thank you. I’ll be here at ten. I loved the performance tonight by the way. It was powerful.”
Benderick nodded, turned, and, seeing no more supplicants nearby, walked quickly toward the exit. I pondered the ease with which I had convinced him to speak with me as I watched his stiff back recede. He had to be a true disciple of the enigma, I decided—eager enough for any kind of information to assent to a meeting with a complete stranger. Either that or there was some piece of information I was missing. Maybe there was something else going on. Maybe he had a motive beyond just finding the solution to the riddle. Whichever it was, I would find out in the morning.
“Justin! It’s almost time for me to turn into a pumpkin.”
I turned and saw Maggie at my side. “Okay. I’m ready to go,” I replied, studying her face. She was tipsy. I could tell by the subtly shifting weight she placed on my arm and her slightly unfocused eyes.
“Come with me. My driver’s waiting outside.”
Maggie leaned on my shoulder on the drive to my hotel, eyes closed. When the driver pulled up to the entrance she looked up at me.
“Shall I come in?”
I pondered for a moment. “No, sorry. I don’t think that would be a good idea. Valerie gave me very specific instructions not to allow myself to be seduced by you.”
“Really! Why not? Are you two involved?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I guess it’s all right then. I had a lovely evening. Did you get the information you needed from our mystery suspect?”
“I made a good start, thanks to you.”
****
I arrived at the Seattle Philharmonic offices on foot a couple of minutes before ten AM the next morning. A receptionist with Betty Page hair phoned Benderick’s office and, after a hushed conversation, gave me directions. I knocked on the blond wood door and heard him call to me to enter.
The office was large, with Berber carpeting in a light, warm gray, and white walls. There was a piano, shelves of books, a desk scattered with large music scores, and, in the center of the room, a seating area. Behind the desk, a floor to ceiling wall of windows looked out over the waterfront and the cerulean expanse of the Puget Sound beyond, Benderick flipped a score closed, stood from behind the desk, and gestured for me to sit. I chose a Wegner lounge chair. He crossed and sat opposite me on the requisite Eames daybed upholstered in a nubby pale jade fabric.
“I like your sculptures, Mr. Vincent.” He waved a hand toward the laptop on his desk. “I’ve been looking at your website.” He seemed more relaxed and comfortable today, in loose linen drawstring pants and a black T-shirt. He was not one of those ethereal beings like Maggie who wore fancy clothes effortlessly. He clearly preferred comfort.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“However, I must get straight to business.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a rehearsal at eleven. What kind of information do you have?”
I sat back and thought for a moment, searching for the best way to proceed with him. “The other member of your forum. JW48. Do you know who he is?”
“No. I don’t know any of them.”
“He’s a composer. He lives in Southern California.”
“A film composer?”
“Yes. He’s a friend of a friend of mine. Shortly after he announced on the forum that he was close to a solution, his house was ransacked and his notes were stolen.”
A strange look crossed Benderick’s face—one I couldn’t read. He quickly controlled himself and reasserted an expression of bland indifference. I had come straight out with the main fact in an attempt to surprise him into some sort of reaction. I had gotten the reaction but I wasn’t sure what it meant.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “I don’t know him personally but we have been acquainted for many years through the enigma forum. I’ve always found his knowledge of the music to be impeccable.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted his solution badly enough to break into his house and steal his notes?”
“No. Nobody specific although, of course, many people know about the reward and I’m sure there are many lurkers in that forum. It was rather silly of him to announce it like that, for anyone to see. I never take it seriously when someone says they have a solution. So many have been proposed but they all fall short in the end. We’ll probably never know until the envelope is opened. Maybe not even then. How did someone find out who he is or where he lives though?”
“I found you. It wasn’t difficult.”
“Would you mind explaining how you accomplished that? I have always thought the forum was anonymous.”
“Sorry, I can’t tell you that.”
“Are you working for this person? I thought you were a sculptor.”
“I am. I also do favors for people sometimes though. Track down things they’ve lost. It’s a kind of specialty of mine.”
“I see. Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m sorry
