bout de papier, Vol. 17, No. 4 (2000-2001) — Winter 2000/2001 // Hiver 2000/2001, pp. 42–44
Bugbyte O’Nanotek, a lanky vision in black, paced purposefully up Central Park West. The e-mail message on the heads-up display in her cyber-shades had said to expect contact but gave no detail. Then an immense figure, whooping like a ruptured hippo, careened out of the park ahead of her, caroming sharply off a woman in furs walking a Chihuahua, and made a swan dive onto the hood of a parked BMW, leaving a dent the size of a bathtub. The Chihuahua landed in New Jersey, where he became spokesdog for a combined Mexican food franchise and phone store.
Bugbyte knew the man. Unfortunately. “Don Gordo Beluga de Puerco y Frijoles, I presume.” He blanched. “Shhh! I’m here incognito. If they found out I was moonlighting with the Centre, my reputation as a tinpot dictator would never recover.” (His version of “incognito” was a 300-pound man wearing a top hat, lime green Spandex jumpsuit, rollerblades and one of those plastic items combining false nose, moustache and Buddy Holly glasses. Still, this was New York. So far, no-one had spared him a glance.)
Helping him to his feet, Bugbyte confirmed his assignment as her partner on the Lincoln Centre case, the homicide of a Canadian tenor appearing at the Met. “He couldn’t sing a note, but he pleased the audience as much as his famous namesake,” she told Don Gordo as they huddled in a nearby patisserie. “Tell me his name wasn’t Placebo Domingo,” he begged, but she was forced to do so. “And they accuse me of sadism,” he sneered.
’The Centre’s new offshore artificial intelligence (AI) computer has provided some clues to the killing, “ Bugbyte went on, “a crime that has baffled the NYPD. The victim was shot on the main stage and the gun found near the body, but it was not suicide. No witnesses, but the murder took place in the middle of the night, when only seven people were in the building. They all had reason to hate him and none had an alibi, but there is no evidence that any specific one is the killer. In fact, they have all passed a lie detector test saying they didn’t murder him.”
“Liebnitz and I were assigned the case, but the AI said we needed extra support, and I guess you’re it,” she explained, trying to keep a doubtful note from her voice. The inside of her shades lit up with “YOU WERE EXPECTING MAX HEADROOM?” But Don Gordo was oblivious to subtlety. “What are the clues and when do we start?” he asked, swallowing two eclairs and a pastry fork in a single mouthful.
She replied, “Well, the Al faxed us a picture of the victim with the following on the back:
16-22-10-22-5-17-22-19-22 21-15 19-E-17-D-21’-20
“5-1-E 18-0-17-16-E O-18 D-E-20-5-21-15-12”
“In addition,” she continued, “he sent us this Table of Suspects, plus confirmation that each suspect has a different name, a different signature role in the opera world, a different day job, a different motive (or lack of motive) and a different hangout near Central Park. We know that the guilty party is hiding in one of those hangouts, but not necessarily his or her normal one. You and I have to troll our contacts to see what we can find about the suspects. The Al also sent Liebnitz a puzzle that tells us how the murderer is disguised — and by logical extension where he is hiding. Ludwig is working on that puzzle now — we’re to meet him here at 3:00.”
“Right, let’s hit the road,” said Don Gordo in a whisper they heard at the far end of Long Island. Bugbyte watched as he lurched off toward Broadway, pausing only to make a loud-suited businessman eat his cellphone and to stuff a street mime down an invisible manhole. She shook her head. TRUST ME, advised her shades.
The three agents rendezvoused as planned. Bugbyte and Don Gordo related the following data about the seven suspects (“between” “beside” ’, “above” and “place” refer to position on the Table of Suspects):
(a) Jefferson, whose signature role is DON GIOVANNI, is the house-husband of a senator, while the man who plays CANIO is a tenor with politics as his motive.
(b) O’Rourke is the only female, a working soprano who hangs out at the Café des Artistes.
(c) Brady is a soldier who hangs out at the Guggenheim Museum. (d) The man who plays RENATO is directly between two tenors, one of them the monk.
(e) The man who hangs out at the Plaza Hotel is at one end of the Table, beside the professional hitman, whose motive is his contract.
(f) Thaw, who has no motive, is between the Ambassador to Finland and the suspect with self-defence as a motive.
(g) The baritone whose motive is fear of exposure is five places away from the other baritone, who hangs out at the Metropolitan
Museum of Art.
(h) Lombino, an actor-manager who hangs out at the Central Park zoo, is beside the man who plays SPARAFUCILE and hangs out at Columbus Circle.
(i) Konigsberg is the only basso.
(j) Tilley is between the man who plays DON JOSE and the man who hangs out at the Natural History Museum.
(k) The suspect who plays TOSCA is beside the one who plays
DON ALVARO.
(I) The suspect whose motive is jealousy is directly above the one whose motive is inheritance.
“Excellent,” said Liebnitz, “there’s enough information here to tell us the name and role of the guilty suspect — let’s call him or her Ecks.” The ace logician made short work of that problem.
Then he showed them a puzzle entitled ELITE EMPORIA. “Each clue refers to the name of a high-fashion store on Fifth Avenue within the first dozen blocks south of the Park — but a second linked reference had been blended into each answer, as you can see from the example at the top. When you replace the numbers with letters in the answers, a given number always represents the same letter (so E for example might always be 23). Our AI friend has helpfully inserted all the Ds, Es, Gs, and Os — which leads me to suspect he’s GEODE, our silicon-based friend in SuWaNi.” THERE’S HOPE FOR YOU PEOPLE YET, flashed Bugbyte’s shades.
“Anyway, counting the frequencies of the numbers in the puzzle and the photo caption — they use the same cipher — I compared the result with a standard tables of letter frequencies. Four of the five commonest letters (not counting E and O) are A, N, S and T, for example. This gave me enough help to get all the answers and in turn to verify the compete cipher. Then I could read the photo caption — Which explains the death and links it to Ecks – and the keyword at the bottom of the puzzle — which tells us indirectly where Ecks is hiding. On caption and keyword, I verified my guesses with a Web search. Anyway, we should go and get Ecks before the place closes.”
They set off and soon reached the indicated locale. There they surrounded the lumbering Ecks, only to provoke a sudden dash for freedom. The three agents piled on, desperate to restrain the fleeing figure. First Liebnitz was thrown off, then Bugbyte. But they had delayed Ecks for long enough to let Don Gordo take a stand between two stout trees. The enraged Ecks charged, shoulders down. The vast bulk of the doughty dictator swayed but held. Ecks dug in and pushed forward. Hard-pressed, Don Gordo looped the wrist-cuffs of his jumpsuit over a stout tree-branch on either side. Too little, too late — his rollerblades gave him no purchase
ELITE EMPORIA
EXAMPLE: Xenon and radon at the bookstore: BARNES AND NOBLE GASES
(1) One tough cowboy in fine jewelry.
10-E-E 19-22-15 16-10-E-E-18
22-15-D 22-17-8-E-10-20
2) Bacon and eggs with Truman and
Audrey.
6-17-6-22-9-18-22-20-5 22-5 5-
21-18-18-22-15-12’-20
3) All’s Well that Ends Well locale for
high-fashion cosmetics.
E-10-21-4-22-6-E-5-1 18-0-17-E-
20-5 O-18 22-17-D-E-15
4) Wall Street investment house meets
women’s apparel.
G-0-10-D-3-22-15 20-22-9-20 18-
21-18-5-1 22-19-E-15-13-E
5) World’s strongest toy store.
18 22 0 20-16-1-14-22-17-4-E-
15-E-G-G-E-17
(6) Fine jewelry meets Karsh’s bulldog.
7-22-17-17-12 • 14-21-15-20-5-0-15
16-1-13-17-16-1-21-10-10
(7) Men’s apparel meets Tammany Hall.
1-13-G-0 6-0-20-20 5-14-E-E-D
8) A hot trumpet meets good luggage.
70-0-13-21-20 • 22-11-3-20-5-17-0-
15-G 19-13-21-5-5-0-15
9) Women’s apparel meets a swinging
clarinet.
6-E-17-G-11-0-17-18 22-15-D 6-
E-15-15-12 G-O-O-D-3-22-15
10) Good suits for Blazing Saddles.
3-E-10 6-17-0-0-9-20 6-17-0-5-1-
E-17-20
EYWORD: 17. 13-15-21-16-0-17-15-
21-20
and he was propelled sharply backward onto the sidewalk. Ecks roared in triumph.
But he had forgotten the Spandex. Although Don Gordo slipped, the jumpsuit held. Stretched to its limits, it snapped back, flinging Ecks and a suddenly naked dictator back the way they came. Sweeping up Liebnitz and Bugbyte as they struggled to their feet, the duo (now a quartet) sped like a tornado across the open spaces of the park and into the crowded shopping streets beyond. Flashing rapidly and destructively through the park stables, a molasses factory, a down pillow store and a fish market, they finally crashed to a halt, trashing an upmarket ice cream parlour.
It was just an unfortunate coincidence that a vacationing Chief MacBannock should stroll in moments later, to find a strangely-disguised figure in handcuffs and two of his top agents in tar and feathers, entwined with a huge naked man covered in gelato and sashimi, maraschino cherries over his eyes, a licorice whip in his hand and a saddle on his back. A pair of expensive-looking sunglasses lay in a corner, flashing OH WOW! TILT! Surveying the entanglement, MacBannock frowned, opened his mouth and then closed it, muttering, “It’s better not to know.” As he turned on his heel to leave, however, he was heard to express doubt that pistachio eel ripple would ever be a popular flavour.
Can you duplicate Liebnitz’s feat — the puzzles, not the finale — by providing (a) the keyword at the bottom of the ELITE EMPORIA puzzle and the words on the back of the victim’s photo; (b) the real name and signature role of Ecks; and (c) the place and disguise in which Ecks was hiding? Not necessary for winning, but can you also supply the answers to the ELITE EMPORIA clues? Can you fill in the rest of the Table of Suspects? Can you explain how the victim died? bout de papier will decide the winner by drawing from a box containing all correct entries received by July 1, 2001. The winner will receive more great Tuvan throat-singing: the CD from Genghis Blues.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 17, No. 4 (2000-2001) — Winter 2000/2001 // Hiver 2000/2001, pp. 42–44. Read the rest of this issue →
