“Do you think Hatchet got the burn on his neck from Anarchy?”
“It’s possible. He got it from someone, and it wasn’t Wulf.”
“Here’s a thought. The handprint on Hatchet’s neck was small. So maybe it was a woman’s hand. Anarchy could be a woman. And if I wanted to stretch it farther, I might wonder if Reedy’s mystery date, Ann, is Anarchy.”
“I had the same thought,” Diesel said. “And she could have killed Reedy. I never got a good look at the handprint.”
“Most women aren’t that vicious or that strong,” I said.
“This wouldn’t be an ordinary woman.”
“It could be your aunt!”
“Wulf’s mother?” Diesel gave a bark of laughter. “I can’t see her worshipping anarchy. She’s like Wulf. She likes to keep things tidy and under her control.”
A docent was standing by a colorful, huge, two-story contraption that had balls rolling along tracks, banging into bells, dropping into whirligigs, being carried up on tiny escalators, and released for a clattering, dinging, bonging journey down. It was all held in place by a sturdy metal frame, and it was electrically powered. The sign said it was an Audiokinetic Sculpture.
The docent was back on his heels, looking bored. People were watching the sculpture, but no one was talking to him. I left Carl with Diesel and crossed the room.
“I love this machine with the balls and the bells,” I said to the docent. “Is it new? This is my first time to the museum.”
“Its official name is Archimedean Excogitation,” he said. “It was designed and constructed by George Rhoads and placed here in 1987.”
“I was hoping there might be something here from the original museum on Berkeley and Boylston.”
“There’s a small kinetic sculpture on a pedestal to the back of this room. It’s one of the few remaining exhibits from the old building.”
I turned to look at it and saw that Hatchet had made his way around the room to the sculpture and was standing with his nose pressed to the glass, clearly trying to find a way to get into the display case.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” the docent said. “Sir!” he called out to Hatchet. “Stand back from the display, please.”
Hatchet took a step back and skulked off to another exhibit.
“We get some real weirdos here,” the docent said. “What do you think he’s supposed to be in that costume?”
“A medieval minion,” I said.
“That’s a first for me. I guess it takes all kinds.”
“He seemed really interested in the little sculpture.”
“That’s why they had to put that exhibit behind glass. You have to set it in motion by hand, and people kept wanting to make it work.”
“Have you ever seen it work?”
“Yes. It’s not that interesting. The ball swings and hits different bells as it loses momentum. That’s the whole deal. And one of the bells is broken. It doesn’t make any noise. Just sort of a clunk.”
“Still, it’s interesting because it was part of the original museum.”
“That’s very true. There’s a little plaque on it. Most people don’t even see it because it’s inside the case.”
I went to the display and looked inside at the plaque. Motion Machine by Monroe Tichy, 1890. I touched the case with my fingertip and felt a small vibration and some heat. I was sure Hatchet had felt it as well.
Diesel and Carl joined me and looked at Monroe’s machine.
“I can feel a vibration,” I said to Diesel, “and the docent said there’s a bell that doesn’t ring. That could relate to the first part of the riddle that says silence speaks louder than words.”
“And it’s sealed up in a glass case, in a museum,” Diesel said. “Why isn’t anything ever easy?”