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A Murder Mystery

A Murder Mystery

A Murder Mystery

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A <strong>Murder</strong> <strong>Mystery</strong> …Assignment: For 20 out of 20 points, you must complete the following short story. Your ending mustresolve the conflict, and you must utilize the skills learned in Chapter 7 – namely, solving logarithmic andexponential equations and inequalities. Figure out a way to work the mathematical calculations into thestory. Yes, that’s right – even when writing literature, your mathematics teacher has requested you performthe sacred rite: Show work!I encourage you to come and see me with your drafts – even email them as you write. I will be happy tohelp you with the writing and revising process, a process in which I seldom get to participate with my dayto-daymathematics instruction. Keep in mind your audience will be a general one, not necessarily trainedto the level of algebra you’ll use. Moreover, they are reading a murder mystery, and this genre calls for acertain style of writing.If you really impress me, perhaps you’ll get more than 20 out of 20 points …RubricYou must satisfactorily have each of the following elements in your story’s ending:1. A conclusion that indicates the relative validity of Eddie Tenlivo’s version of the night’s events.2. A mathematical justification for your take on Eddie’s claims.3. An edited composition in literary form consistent with the introduction of the short story. (In otherwords, it needs to flow and read like a short story.)4. A final draft double-spaced using Courier font.A <strong>Murder</strong> in Justice, Ohio“What don’t you get about what I been telling you for the past fourhours?!” boomed Eddie Tenlivo, punctuating every third syllable with aviolent pound of his fist on the table. The old wooden table wassturdy oak, and each thud resonated across the empty room. Eddie’sfury was stoked by the seemingly utter incuriosity of the wire-rimbespectacled Bernard Skandi, who was the room’s only other occupantbesides an old cup of coffee on the table and a green-slate chalkboardthat hung on the far wall.The chalkboard was probably hung on the unpainted cinder block wallback in the ‘twenties, when the Justice, Ohio Town Hall was firstbuilt. Eddie was desperately trying to fan the embers of his anger,but the old chalkboard had seen many criminals in this interrogationroom, and it wasn’t witnessing anything it hadn’t seen many times


efore: an exhausted, desperate suspect trying earnestly to persuadethe law men of his innocence. With only the expressionless formerphysics professor, the now tepid cup of coffee, and the cold,indifferent chalkboard present, Eddie was out of beings to impress withhis dramatics. Defeated, he collapsed into the wooden chair at thetable.Eddie had been enraged many times in the intervening four hours sincemidnight, when he was brought here on suspicion of the murder of NinaCoteni. But it wasn’t fatigue that finally dropped him into the chair.No, it was the strange professor whom the cops had let in, and thecryptic equation the professor had written on the chalkboard:T(t) = A + (O – A)0.9525 tEddie could never be too tired to sass a self-righteous cop who wasfishing for clues during interrogation, trying to provoke, trying tofind answers only Eddie knew for sure. He actually relishedfrustrating the police, grinning devilishly when they groped in thedark for secrets only Eddie knew. But when these pathetic ploysappeared before Professor Skandi and the chalkboard, their impotenceand folly were exposed, and it was more than Eddie could bear.Officers John Tolfafot and Joe Petacob watched the scene from the onewaymirror, amazed that the smart-assed Eddie had finally run out ofthings to say. They had thought it pointless to bring in some eggheadedprofessor who had just happened to retire to this quiet, ruraltown. But here they were, about to hear the professor speak for thefirst time in an hour. For three hours they tried to find holes in


Eddie’s story, but he stood before them like the impassive cinderblockwalls of the interrogation room: defiant, consistent, and impenetrable.“Mr. Tenlivo.” spoke the professor, looking up at the equation ratherthan the man whom he addressed. “You claim that you received a callfrom Ms. Coteni at 11:15 PM. What did she say?”“She said there was a burglar there. She came home and surprised him.”Eddie looked deeply into the cup of coffee, eyes listless and languid.He gazed into the coffee as if it were some deep abyss, an escape fromthe reality he was in. By now, he had told his story so many times, itbecame a mindless reflex.“And she called you, her ex-boyfriend, rather than the police?” Skandiasked.“No. She had called me first. Then she screamed. I heard that. Hemusta jumped out. He musta been in there the whole time. I told youthis.” No fists. No pounding. No bacchius meter.“It seems a strange time to reveal oneself. The moment she has someoneon the phone?”Petacob and Tolfafot shook their heads. “We went down this road withhim already,” grumbled Joe.John scoffed, “Old ground. Circumstantial. Worthless in court.Amateur.”


“Doesn’t this joker know that the first thing we checked was the phonerecord?! Eddie’s cell phone did in fact have a call from her home at11:15 PM, just like he said! Does he think we’re idiots?” huffed Joe.The officers looked on as the professor and Eddie sat there, neitherone talking for a bit.“Well that’s what happened.” Eddie still stared blankly at the coffee.He started seriously wondering about this old man the police sent in.The professor paused at length, much like the long pauses he used totake during his lectures. He had found that the pauses were awkward,but gave his students time to think. More often than most people knew,these pauses allowed thoughts to percolate in students’ heads.Students became active thinkers when they weren’t sure that a questionwasn’t just rhetorical, an answer soon to be given by the teacher. No,this forced them onto their toes, wondering if they’d be called on.They didn’t want to sound stupid.“Want to take a drink?”“Not from that cup.”“No, indeed.” Now the professor was pacing in front of the chalkboard.He was dabbling in his first crime consultation, and, ironically, foundhimself in a room full of cinder block walls, standing before a physicsequation in front of an unwilling audience that didn’t understand whatwas written.


“Newton’s Law of Cooling,” he began, “describes the behavior of thatonce hot coffee. Gradually, the original temperature of that coffeeslowly cools.” Long pause.Awkward.“Soon the coffee will freeze, I suppose?”The professor missed those times, he realized. Make an absurdstatement to see if the students are still awake. They seldomdisappointed.“No, man, it can’t get colder than this room!” Eddie had to show hewas on his toes. Didn’t want to look stupid.“Stuffy in here, eh? Tell me, Mr. Tenlivo, at what temperature do youthink they keep the thermostat for this lovely room?”“How should I know?’“Make a guess.” Pause.Awkward.“I don’t know.”Pause.Soon the student realized he could safely guess.


“Like 72 degrees?”“Indeed. Much like Ms. Coteni’s home. Thermostat set at 72 degrees.In physics, they call this the ambient temperature. It works well whenthe ambient temperature is stable, say, like in a room with athermostat. Keeps it consistent, predictable.” Professor Skandi nolonger spoke impassively. His passion for teaching was a part of himnow, after all of those years. He sensed an awakening in Eddie – adawning comprehension.“In fact,” continued the professor, pacing back and forth before thechalkboard, “I am willing to bet that her home was 72 degreesFahrenheit when she called you at 11:15 PM. That it was 72 degreeswhen you arrived at 11:45 PM. That it was 72 degrees when you called9-1-1 at 11:46 PM. That it was 72 degrees when the police arrived at11:50 PM. That it was 72 degrees when the coroner arrived at midnightto fill out his report. That it was 72 degrees when you were broughtto this room, in hand cuffs, shortly after midnight. Not the 98.6degrees that was Nina’s original body temperature before her untimelydemise.”Pause.Still paused.Awkward.


Eddie thought of his ex-girlfriend – and her now cold, lifeless body.A wave of emotion swept over him, but he kept it in check. Like manystudents, he could sense the professor going somewhere with hislecture, but he wanted to just blurt out, “Just tell me what you’retrying to say!” The suspense was killing him.The professor, of course, knew that without this hook, the studentwould not appreciate the lesson.A soft thud was then heard upon the table. It was not a fist, but amanila folder that had copies of some kind of report. Eddie noticed abunch of forms under the title “Coroner’s Report,” but it was a justfew stark capital letters that caught his eye:Ambient Temperature: A = 72 o FBody Temperature: T(t) = 96.7 o F…

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