The Boardwalk Bomber

By Michael Jesse

Chapter 12

From the fine old homes in "Tenure Town" with their wide porches, brick pathways and rose-covered picket fences, the road goes steeply downhill towards the campus. The houses get smaller, the yards less landscaped. About halfway down the hill there is a nondescript apartment building occupied mostly by graduate students and non-faculty staff.

Ray Hulman's apartment was on the fifth floor. We stood in the lobby waiting for the elevator.

"I'm surprised a full professor lives here," I said. "You'd think he'd be up the hill with the others."

Two girls the age of grad students sauntered by in bathing suits and pushed open a door that seemed to lead to an outdoor pool. McCain raised her eyebrows. "Maybe he likes the ambiance -- you know, how aging guys like to hang around young people."

I gave her a look. "I don't think this elevator is working. It's only five flights."

She smiled. "Beat you to the top." We scrambled like nine-year-olds up the stairwell, elbowing each other out of the way at the turns. I was taking the steps three at a time and knew I would have limited wind for this. But so did she. After the third floor we were both slowing down and at the fourth floor landing my legs felt like I was dragging a load of concrete. We both turned on the afterburners for the last leg and I leaped the last four steps, beating her by an undisputed hair.

We stood gasping at the top. "You cheated," she finally said.

"Don't be a whiny sore loser," I shot back, pretending I was breathing normally.

We pushed open the door and staggered down the hallway, pausing a long moment before 534 until we were both breathing normally again. Then she knocked.

It took a few moments and then someone opened the door with the chain on and spoke to us through the gap.

"Yes?" asked a paper-thin voice.

McCain held out her badge. "I'm Detective Molly McCain of the state police. Could we speak inside?"

"Um, yes, yes, certainly," Hulman said apologetically and closed the door to take off the chain and then opened it again.

"This is Jack Durham," McCain started to say, but Hulman recognized me and seemed glad to see me.

"It's you," he said, shaking my hand. "Durham, yes. Someone told me your name. Come in, please, both of you. Have a seat. Would you like coffee or something else?" He shuffled as he walked, wearing slippers and he held his body stiffly, somewhat hunched over.

"Good to see you on your feet, Ray," I said patting him on the shoulder. "You must be made of tough stuff."

He laughed briefly through his nose and seemed embarrassed. "Not really, I assure you. I've spent most of the past several days in that chair." He indicated an overstuffed recliner lined with pillows, next to which stood a side table loaded with books, notebooks, a full ashtray and a box of Kleenex. "I sleep there because it hurts too much to get in and out of bed and every time I cough I'm afraid of bursting my stitches."

"Well please sit down again, Dr. Hulman," McCain insisted, taking his arm and helping him back to his chair. When he was settled, we both sat in a couch opposite.

"I suppose this is about Barbara," Hulman said, and when he said her name his voice broke into a whisper.

"Yes, it is," McCain said. "It's just a routine part of our investigation; interviewing those who knew the two bombing victims."

Hulman turned to me curiously, "Are you a police investigator also?"

"No, Ray," I said, trying to laugh just the right amount. "I just tagged along to see how you were doing."

"I was just interviewing Mr. Durham," McCain put in, "and he mentioned you two had ... met."

It was a mildly awkward moment, but Ray accepted it as normal. "Well, we didn't meet very formally, did we Jack? Nor under very pleasant circumstances." He seemed eggshell fragile both physically and emotionally.

"That was a tough day," I agreed. "I'm glad you survived it."

"I wish Barbara had," he said, almost inaudibly. His throat closed up on him again briefly and his eyes welled up a little.

McCain cleared her throat. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about that day -- what you saw and so on. Okay?"

Hulman nodded and fumbled for a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"It's your home, Ray," I said.

"One of my vices, I'm afraid, "Hulman explained as he lit up. "I'm avoiding alcohol right now because of my surgery, and it'd probably just make me more depressed anyway."

"That's a good decision," McCain said. "Dr. Hulman, can you tell me where you and Mrs. Brinckman were both seated at the time of the explosion?"

"Well, she was at one of the tables along the railing, alone. And I was closer to the center of the deck. I was alone also."

"So you weren't there together I take it. Do you know if she went there regularly?"

"No, we weren't ... together. We just happened to both be there; a coincidence. I do remember she had once mentioned going there sometimes. And I started dropping in now and then, on her recommendation. But I never actually saw here there until this time. It was such a nice surprise. We said hello. Just a wave and a smile, you know. That sort of exchange between friends who ... bump into each other now and then."

"Any particular reason you didn't just join her?"

The question upset him and he shrugged. "My memory of that day is both fuzzy and supernaturally acute at the same time somehow. I remember every detail of seeing her sitting there. Not expecting to; a pleasant surprise. She smiled at me. But she had a book. You never realize when it's the last time you're going to see someone ... and she was reading and I ... didn't want to interrupt. " He looked me square in the eye and added firmly, "I wish now very much that I had. "

"You'd have been killed too, Ray," I said.

"Not if she'd come to my table," he said passionately. "I should have invited her to join me. How I wish I could go back in time and do things differently. I would suggest she join me and she would close her book, with the little gold bookmark she favored, and she would stand and gather her things and come to my table. She would sit at my left, farthest from her former table, and this time when the bomb went off she would just have some minor injury, a cut on the arm or ..."

He trailed off, eyes closed. "Dr. Hulman," McCain said. "It's obvious you have strong feelings about Mrs. Brinckman. I'm sorry for your loss."

Hulman's face twisted and he whispered, "Thank you."

McCain went on. "So you and Mrs. Brinckman had a special relationship?"

Hulman nodded. "Very special, although I do want to stress that we were just friends during these past few years."

"And earlier? I assume there was ... a romance?"

Hulman reddened but seemed pleased to be asked that question. "Well," he said, smiling, "first I want to be clear about the fact that our ... romantic relationship occurred during her separation from her husband."

"Of course," McCain said.

Hulman's eyes focused on a place I couldn't see in that room. "Barbara and I had met previously, at some faculty event, but two years ago we happened to be using neighboring faculty study rooms at the library. We were both there on Saturday mornings and we'd exchange a few words and that was about all until one day when I looked up from a passage of "Finnigan's Wake" that I'd been laboring over and there she was in the doorway of my study room. And she asked if I'd like to go with her for a bit of lunch across the plaza. Well I said sure and we walked across together and bought something from one of the stands and sat at a table together on the plaza for two hours talking and talking, our work completely forgotten.

"The next Saturday we did it again, laughing away the lunch hour out in the sun. I'm not sure what we talked about. It doesn't really matter. We were ... connecting as two interesting, thoughtful but rather lonely souls. She told me, of course, that she was separated from her husband. I was single also and we be[gan that day a relationship which in some respects ended when she returned to her husband but which in other very important respects has not ended yet even with her death."

He fell silent and continued to stare into nothing that I could see. I cleared my throat. "Uh, Ray, how long were you and Barbara ... together?"

"Oh just for a few months. From that first time until the end of the summer when she ... well, when she decided to give her marriage one last chance."

"I see," I said, though I didn't. "So how ... how well did you get to know each other during that time?"

"Oh quite well. We spent every Saturday together like clockwork," he answered, beaming. "And of course we managed to meet a few times in between now and then. One time we bumped into each other at a dinner party and another time I saw her car outside of the movie theater. I wasn't doing anything particular that afternoon and decided to wait for the movie to let out and surprise her. There was a little tavern across the street and I sat by a window. It was raining a bit and I had a drink or two and just watched the rain. When she came out I met her by her car. We had a nice chat standing there under our umbrellas and I invited her for a drink but she wasn't feeling well and had to go. Still it was a nice little encounter."

McCain and I exchanged a glance and she said, "Dr. Hulman did you and Barbara Brinckman have a physical relationship?"

Hulman stiffened and seemed offended. "I really don't see how that is relevant."

McCain said nothing for a moment and Hulman went on. "It so happens there was a physical element to our relationship, though brief. Physicality is not the ultimate measure of intimacy you know."

"Yes," she said. "I was just hoping to piece together a more complete picture of her life..."

Hulman cleared his throat. "It happened on one of our Saturdays. One of our last Saturdays as it turned out. We had gone for a walk in the nature preserve near the library, and she was telling me she'd have to miss our next Saturday because she had to be out of town, and I said that I would miss her very much and ... and that's when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"Well she surprised me you know, making the first move and all. She suddenly leaned her head over and kissed me on the cheek." He put his hand gently on his left cheek. "Right here. And then we just smiled at one another and I took her in my arms and kissed her, a real kiss, no ambiguity anymore."

"Way to go, Ray," I said, credibly enough.

He smiled in happy reverie, his face coloring. "But I'm afraid that's about as far as things ever went between us physically," he said. "Our timing was imperfect. She was gone for almost two weeks, visiting relatives, and afterwards the new school term was beginning and our schedules changed. Things weren't ... the same. We still saw each other, of course, like the time at the coffeehouse I mentioned, but not so much as before. And then ... well, eventually she made the decision to return to her husband, a decision which I respected though I believe she sacrificed herself in doing so. Our friendship became somewhat strained after that. We were still friends, of course, but it seemed appropriate to ... limit our contact."

"Is that the real reason you weren't sitting with her that day at Jockamo's," I asked. He nodded and put his face in his hands. McCain and I exchanged another look.

"Dr. Hulman," she said. "Although the most likely explanation for Barbara Brinckman's death is that she was a random victim in an act of terrorism we're also looking at any hint that she might have been killed intentionally, though as I said that seems unlikely. Since you knew her ... pretty well, can you think of anything or anyone we should look at along these lines?"

Hulman took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm sure it's occurred to you to consider her husband. I understand the police always do in cases like this. It's not that I'm accusing him or anything. On the one hand I can't imagine him going to any trouble to kill her or help her either one. He just ignored her. Left her to wither emotionally, despite all she gave him."

"And on the other hand?" McCain asked.

"On the other hand ... I think Clinton Brinckman is capable of anything if it's in the interest of Clinton Brinckman."