Edison Effect, The: A Professor Bradshaw Mystery (The Edison Effect) by Bernadette Pajer Read Free Book Online Page A

alarm you? Anything look out of place? Did you see, hear, or smell anything unexpected?”
    Billy studied the tape measure in his hands, turning the small crank to wind it in completely, all while his knees jiggled. “No, no, no, I just went to do my job. I saw Doyle lying there as soon as I stepped into the window. I shouted for help and Mr. Olafson came. He said Doyle was cold. That he was dead.” Billy chewed his lip, and the tape unspooled and rewound.
    Bradshaw didn’t like his three consecutive denials. No, no, no.
    “Professor, does that mean he’d been dead for a long while? Being cold? A very long while?”
    “Possibly.”
    “You don’t get cold right away when you die, do you? It takes time.”
    “It depends on the circumstances.” Bradshaw knew well that factors such as the cause of death played into how quickly a dead body would feel cold to the touch. Once the life force was gone, the body became an object like any other and its temperature leveled to the surrounding temperature. But he didn’t believe such facts would help this young man recover from the trauma of discovering a dead man.
    “In this case, I estimate Mr. Doyle died before seven.”
    Billy’s head snapped up and his jiggling momentarily ceased. “How much before?”
    “I’m not yet sure.”
    The fidgeting began again. “I was afraid. Well, I was afraid that maybe if I’d gotten to the Men’s window sooner, I might have found him before he died.”
    Bradshaw watched young Billy’s face carefully as he said, “The coroner will determine the approximate time of death. He’s often able to pinpoint very closely in circumstances such as this. You should not blame yourself for doing your job and arriving at the window when you did.”
    Billy nodded, but he kept his eyes on the tape measure as he chewed his lip.
    Bradshaw did not say, for he did not know, if Vernon Doyle had been alive when Billy Creasle signed his timesheet at six that morning. Could the boy have saved Doyle if he’d arrived at the window sooner, preventing someone from throwing the switch that sent a lethal current through the electrician? Or had Billy been the one to throw the switch, returning at half past seven to pretend to find Doyle dead?
    The house was quiet as Bradshaw continued to study Billy. The ticking of a clock in the room, and the muted sounds of traffic outside, were slowly drowned by the return of a steady, heavy rain.
    “Billy, if you have something to tell me about Mr. Doyle’s death, it would be best to do so now. The truth will be learned.”
    Billy looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. “I have nothing more to tell, Professor. Honest. He was lying there in the window when I got there. That’s all I know.”

Chapter Five
    The Globe Building on First and Madison housed offices, retail shops, and hotel rooms for single men. John Maddock, Attorney at Law, had secured a room on the fourth floor, and Professor Bradshaw found the door extensively stenciled with Maddock’s name and credentials, and the assertion that he was the “Seattle Representative of Thomas A. Edison, Specializing in Patent Purchasing, Pre-Patent Sales, Infringement Litigation, and the Sale of Genuine Edison Inventions and GE Products for Home and Office.”
    Bradshaw stepped into a small room that had been fashioned from a much larger one, subdivided by panels topped with privacy glass patterned like water droplets. Detective O’Brien was already there, examining shelves of products for sale. Electric coffee percolators, fans, phonographs, and related paraphernalia. Telegraph kits, small dynamos, meters, electric chandeliers, and storage batteries. There were incandescent bulbs in assorted shapes, sizes, and colors, and a large stack of the new colorful Christmas light festoons. From the next room, the clackety-clack of a typewriter came through to them, and the whir of a fan, and the deep tones of a male voice, the precise words obscured by the typing and