Читать книгу Morgan O'Brien Mysteries 2-Book Bundle - Alex Brett - Страница 16

Back at Elaine’s lab the lights were still blazing, so I assumed that Dinah was somewhere around. I made my way to Cindy’s office, switched on the light, and plunked my briefcase on the desk. The smell of formalin had been replaced by a heavy, damp chill — the cold night air spilling in through the open window — and I had to scramble up on the desk and shut it before I could start work. With a little over an hour before my date with Elaine I needed to get all my thoughts in order before grilling her for dinner. The easiest way to do this was to create a simple table with two columns. In one column I would list everything I knew, in the other column all the outstanding questions. From that I would figure out what information Elaine could supply and formulate an approach and specific questions to extract the information. I flipped open my laptop and went to work.

I began by listing all the people who seemed to be involved in the Network drama. That included Riesler, JJ, Graham, Elaine, Edwards, Cindy, and Dinah. With all the players accounted for, I itemized, for each person, everything I knew about them and all the outstanding questions. Twenty minutes later, with the lists completed, I reached an uncomfortable conclusion. My case so far was a mess. The list of participants was unmanageably long, their relationship to the case was obscure, and the “questions” column was three times longer than the “what I know” column.

I sat back in my chair and surveyed the table from a distance, trying to get the gestalt of it. On the surface, Graham looked good. He was certainly an accomplished fraud artist, but that was the problem. The motivation for Graham’s style of fraud was usually a desire for recognition, adulation, rather than the need for ready cash. Stealing funds from the Network wouldn’t accomplish that. On the other hand, maybe he was diversifying, adding embezzlement to his already impressive list of criminal credentials. There was something else that didn’t add up. Riesler had implied that Graham and JJ ran the Network, yet JJ seemed to despise Graham and denied his involvement, so what was the true relationship between them? Was it possible they were shielding a very lucrative partnership, with Graham providing the brains and entrepreneurial spirit, JJ the access and opportunity?

But that led me to JJ, who, without any help from Graham, had the most obvious motives for the crime. He had reason to hate Edwards, and he had a taste for high-risk stocks, but would he, could he, work alone? Everything to date indicated that JJ was a follower, either of Riesler or someone else. And how could he possibly embezzle that amount of cash right out from under Riesler? Riesler was no idiot. If $200,000 were missing from the grant surely he, as principal scientist, would be aware of it even with his supposed hands-off approach.

So, what was Riesler’s involvement?

Then there was the clincher. How was Elaine tied in to all of this? What the hell was going on between her and Riesler, and her and Edwards, and was any of it related to the missing funds?

I sighed. Of all the questions, this last one, centred on Elaine’s seemingly pivotal role, was my best bet for the evening. Of course I’d try for more, but if that’s all I got, some insight into her relationship with Riesler and Edwards, then I’d be happy. I was pretty sure that once I understood how she fit in it would clarify a lot of other issues.

I began laying out a plan of attack for dinner that involved a quiet seafood restaurant and several bottles of champagne (Elaine has a fondness for bubbly and no head for alcohol) when the phone rang. I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it might be for Cindy, then picked it up.

“It’s me,” said Elaine, with no introduction. “I can’t make dinner tonight. Something’s come up.”

This was typical Elaine, but I wasn’t in the mood to play along.

“Cancel it. You’re booked with me.”

There was an exasperated sigh at the other end. “I can’t cancel it. It’s work related.”

“Elaine, you booked with me. And you know what, I’m work related too. We have a lot to discuss, and it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

There was a long pause. I’m not sure anyone had ever questioned Elaine’s inalienable right to work at all times, under any circumstances, and regardless of the cost to others, so it took her a moment to collect herself. When she did it was with unexpected violence.

“No, you have things to discuss.I have work to do. Just because you arrive here out of the blue doesn’t mean that I can just put everything down, walk away from my lab. Jesus, Morgan, what do you think — “

“One dinner together, Elaine. Is that too much for your busy schedule? Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe you don’t want to talk me. Maybe you’re afraid, because face to face you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do. You lied about Riesler, you lied about Edwards, you’re hiding more sh— “

She cut me off, her voice low and vicious. “You never change, do you. You always want more from me than I can give.”

It was like being kicked in the stomach. I was momentarily stunned into silence, and when I could finally get some words out my voice had lost its edge. “That was a long time ago, a different life, and we’ve resolved all that.”

“You haven’t resolved it. You never will. And quite frankly, for me there was never anything to resolve.” And she banged the phone down in my ear.

For a moment I sat there immobilized. Was it true? Did I always want more from her than she could comfortably give? There was a time when… when that might have been true. But it was long ago, in graduate school, at a time when even the simplest emotions were intensified out of proportion by lack of sleep, excessive stress, and our bizarre living conditions in isolated field camps. And I had resolved it, no matter what she said, a hell of a lot better than she had. At least I didn’t deny the past. And bringing it up after all these years, throwing it in my face, was an inexcusable betrayal. I gnawed on that for a while, replaying in my head scenes from our shared past, reanalyzing them in the new light of Elaine’s betrayal. What was said, how it was said, what it really must have meant. By the end of it I was emotionally exhausted, but the paralyzing pain I’d felt earlier had been transformed by some primitive alchemy into a much more useful emotion. Cold, analytical anger. Elaine was going to pay for this.

I heard the lab door open and close and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall to Cindy’s office. I braced for Elaine, but a moment later Dinah looked in through the door.

“You still here?” she said. “I thought you were having dinner with Elaine.”

I eyed her, gauged the possibilities, and reached a rapid conclusion. She’d have as much information on Riesler, JJ, and Graham as Elaine, but she was also a possible treasure-trove of material on Elaine’s personal and professional life. I smiled. I was going to find out what Elaine was up to, with or without Elaine’s cooperation, and when I did there would be no mercy.

I looked at Dinah and gave a helpless shrug. “I was stood up. You wouldn’t be interested in dinner, would you? My treat. I really need some help sorting out all the conflicting information I’m getting about the department.”

She shifted uneasily. “Well…” “Your choice of restaurants. Cost is no object.” Then I said sincerely, “You’d really be giving me a hand.”

“I’ve got to organize the gear and load up the truck for tomorrow before I can leave.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll help. It’ll get me in the mood for our trip.”

She still looked wary but finally nodded. “Okay, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”

“More,” I reassured her, “than you can imagine.”

She gave me an odd look then pushed herself off the door frame. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll be in the main lab getting out the gear. When you’re finished up here you can come and help.”

She turned and disappeared back down the hall. I smiled, saved and closed my file, then snapped the laptop shut.

I was halfway out of my chair when I remembered something, and I gave myself a little mental kick. I couldn’t let Elaine divert me from other possibilities. I picked up the phone, dialed Duncan’s number, and got his machine. He was probably putting the kids to bed. I gave him several new chores, the most urgent being a complete history of Graham Connell, including his academic records and a criminal check. Given the three-hour time lag he would have most of the work done by the time we opened for business tomorrow. I had just hung up the phone when I heard a loud expletive and a crash. I came around the corner into the lab to find Dinah standing, her back to me, in a large storage closet. She swore again, then she hauled off and kicked an innocent cooler, which flew full-force against the back wall and crashed to the floor. She turned and stormed out of the closet, almost bowling me over.

“Whoa,” I said, and jumped aside.

She wheeled around and glowered at me for a second before connecting that I wasn’t the enemy, then she threw her arm toward the closet. “None of the gear is there. She runs off without saying a word, not a note, no message, nothing. And she can’t even take the time to stow the gear? Who the hell does she think she is? Give me a fucking break.” Then she crossed her arms and stared at the closet, her eyes narrowed.

I kept my own voice quiet and low, trying not to inflame her emotions. “Maybe you should give her a break. For all we know her mother’s dying.”

She gave a brief laugh and spit out a sarcastic, “Right.” Then she paused, looked at me for a second, then back at the closet, obviously trying to decide if she should say more, but finally dismissed the idea. With a pout and a terse shake of her head she said, “Shit. Let’s check the van. The gear must still be inside. And I swear to you, the moment she sets foot back here, I’m gonna kill her.”

I followed Dinah out of the lab. Instead of turning left into the main hall we continued straight across, down another narrow corridor that led out to a double set of doors. Dinah opened one and I followed behind.

The night was sharp and cold, the sky dotted with the pinpoint light of the brightest stars. Dinah shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. We were in a dark courtyard. In front of me, just in front of the exit, was a loading dock. In the far corner was a dumpster, and around the periphery I could just make out the shadowy forms of discarded equipment pushed up against the walls. It had the feel of an abandoned warehouse.

In front of us a line of vans stood haphazardly parked under a row of feeble lights. All were an identical fading silver with Department of Zoology, University of Southern British Columbia stencilled in black on the side. They were dented and scratched, some even had cracked windows, and this added to the derelict feel of the enclosure.

Dinah’s eyes wandered down the line of vans. “Over there,” she said, and she crossed to a slightly newer van parked near the end of the line. When she got to it she cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in. “It looks like the nets are still in here. She never even cleaned the truck out.”

I’d come around to the side. In the dubious light it was hard to make out what was in the cargo area, but it certainly wasn’t empty. There was a big mound of something in the middle, maybe a pile of nets and a tarp.

Dinah pulled the keys from her jeans and inserted a key in the lock, turning to speak to me at the same time. “If the nets are wet we’ll have to hang them in the lab overnight.” I heard the key engage. She pushed the handle down, pulled open the door, and bent forward to reach inside. Then she jerked her head to the side and staggered back a few steps with her hand covering her mouth and nose. “Oh God.” She stood like that for a second then took a deep breath and turned unwillingly back to the truck. “It smells like one of the coolers dumped.”

I stepped forward around her. The cargo area was in chaos, nets piled in a big heap, the waders tossed on top. One cooler was on its side with the fish spewed out across the floor. Everything looked slimy and wet, and the smell was an unappetizing mixture of damp nets and rotting fish. Dinah moved in beside me and pulled out a cooler that was upright. She pulled it away from the truck and opened it up. Dry ice vapour slipped over the top and spread across the ground, covering her feet. Dinah inspected the fish inside. They were rock solid and covered with a fine white frost.

“These look okay.” She snapped the cooler shut. There were two more coolers inside. She grabbed one, I grabbed the other. Hers was full of fish, still nicely frozen, but mine was empty.

“We have to get these to the freezer fast,” she said, but instead of moving she stood, momentarily lost, staring into the van. Finally she said, “It’s bizarre, you know. Cindy’s a total space cadet, but not with her samples. Her research is sacred. I can’t believe she’d leave these sitting out, even for her mother. And look at that.” She motioned to four plastic garbage cans stacked near the front of the cargo section. “She didn’t even try to get Elaine’s live samples — they’d be in the garbage cans — and you don’t do that to Elaine.”

We unpacked the rest of the gear in silence, first getting the samples into the freezer then disposing of the rotting salmon, and finally piling the nets and equipment just inside the lab door. Since Dinah knew the equipment and I didn’t I volunteered to wash the inside of the van while she hung the nets to dry. By the time I’d finished it was so dark, and the light in the van so feeble, that I couldn’t see if I’d missed a pool of slime or a patch of scales. I picked up my bucket and mop, took one last look around, and climbed out the back door. I locked the back doors and had turned toward the entrance when I heard a scraping sound two vans down. I stood still, listening. At first there was nothing, but then I heard a quiet crunch, as if someone had stepped on a dry leaf or stone. I felt a shot of adrenaline and started to move nonchalantly toward the doors, away from the line of vans. I wanted to see who or what was there, but from a safe distance, just in case I needed to make a dash for the building. When I was far enough to feel safe I turned and moved up the line of vans.

The first one was clear. The second one looked fine too, but, dark as it was, behind the third van I could see the shadow of a human lurking between the hood and the wall. I had to make a decision quickly. Should I let him (or her) know that they’d been seen, or fake it. Walk a few more steps up the line then turn around and disappear inside. I considered my surroundings. It was dark, I was alone, and nobody was going to hear me if this person had a knife or a gun. I choose option two: to pretend that I’d seen nothing. I walked on a few paces, gave a dramatic shrug, then turned and walked in the doors. Once inside I swung open the second inside set of doors, but instead of going through into the hallway I stepped back into the darkened vestibule and waited. Within a minute JJ stepped out of the shadows, took a furtive look around, then walked toward Dinah’s van, just out of my line of sight. I swung open the door and went after him. He was peering in the back window of Elaine’s van but turned quickly when he heard my footsteps.

The jolt of adrenaline had shortened my temper, and I stormed right up to him. “What the hell were you doing behind those vans, or is skulking part of your job as well?”

He took a step back. “I do check the vans every night, not that it’s any of your business. I saw someone in Okada’s van, you didn’t look familiar, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to steal it.”

“With a mop and bucket?” “There wasn’t much light.” He motioned inside. “What happened?”

I told him about Cindy’s departure and the nets and samples left behind.

He gave a snort that was meant as a laugh. “It does-n’t surprise me. Cindy isn’t exactly the brightest light.”

Dinah came through the doors just in time to catch this last comment. She stormed right past me and stopped inches from his face, looming over him. She gave him a sharp jab with her finger. “You’re an ass-hole.” Then she gave him another jab. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ took a step back and brushed his shoulder where she’d touched him, as if removing a squashed bug. Then he looked back at her with a cold smile. “I told you it would-n’t last. I mean she’s dumb, but she isn’t that stupid.”

Dinah moved forward a step, but I grabbed her arm and yanked her back. JJ looked casually at his watch, although in this light he couldn’t have read the dial, and said, “Sorry to break up the party but my date is waiting.” He turned and started back toward the doors.

I could hear Dinah almost hyperventilating beside me, but I kept a grip on her sleeve.

“Hey JJ,” I called after him. “Did you manage to sell your GeneMed?”

He’d made it to the door and with his hand on the latch he turned to face me. “Sell it? Why would I want to sell it? It’s going to go back up, and when it does I’ll make a killing.”

Dinah chose a tiny Mexican café on 4th Avenue. As I swung open the door I was hit with heat, noise, and the dark, luscious smells of chili and garlic. I realized I was starving. When the waitress arrived with the tortilla chips and salsa I ordered a big pitcher of sangria. I planned to limit my intake, freeing up the rest for Dinah. I was heartened to see that she emptied her first glass before the waitress even left the table. She was pouring the second when I said, “Why don’t you tell me about Cindy. That is what’s bugging you, isn’t it?”

There was no response, and I thought maybe she didn’t hear me. She poured the sangria in slow deliberate movements then lowered the pitcher to the table, took her glass, looked me in the eye, and guzzled half of it down, then set her glass carefully on the table. Finally she said, “It’s no big deal,” and turned to look out the window.

I waited a minute, sipped my sangria. She avoided my gaze. Finally I put my glass on the table and leaned forward. “I think it is,” I said softly. “I think it’s a very big deal, and I think it might help to talk.”

After our evening of cleaning and hauling her short hair was in disarray — the bedhead look that some people spend hours to achieve — and I could see a tiredness pulling at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Finally she turned back to me. “Look, you don’t have to act like I’m going to burst into tears or something because I’m not. Okay? We worked together, things got intense.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out. That’s all.”

“Things got intense. Does that mean you had a relationship or were thinking about having a relationship?”

Dinah laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “That depends on how you define relationship. We were sleeping together, but I’m not sure that means we were having a relationship. It was all in the closet because Cindy didn’t want anyone to know… her career and all that shit.”

“JJ knew.”

“Yeah, well, Cindy had a fling with him just before me. Can you believe it? That jerk? But then things started to heat up between her and me. We were out in the field a lot, one thing led to another, then it just sort of happened. She wanted out of her relationship with JJ, so she told him about me, thinking it would get him off her back, but he went ballistic. He started following her around, threatening to tell everyone what was going on between us, begging her to return. He’d show up at her apartment and bang on the door at two in morning. Sometimes he’d yell he loved her, sometimes he screamed he was gonna kill her. That’s why she had to leave Madden’s lab. JJ wouldn’t let up.”

“So what happened?” “He finally backed off. Maybe he found somebody else to harass, I don’t know.”

“And what about you and Cindy?”

She gave an impatient sigh and a shrug. “With JJ off her back I thought things would get better, but to tell you the truth, nothing changed. We had this sort of thing going, but I was about fifth in line after Elaine, experiments, animals, gear, you name it. And Cindy wanted it all undercover. Since I wanted the relationship to work I didn’t have a lot of options, but about two weeks ago something changed. She got really weirded out; maybe about the missing fish, could have been the stress of the field season, maybe it had something to do with our relationship. I’m not sure. Then a couple of days ago she suddenly tells me she needs some space, she needs to think things over. I’m not an idiot. I know what that means, and I’d kind of had it. I told her to take all the space she needed but not to expect me to sit around waiting.”

“Nice, Dinah. Very caring.”

She gave me a petulant shrug. “I was pissed. Then when you told me she’d left for New Zealand I was furious. I mean, that’s just like Cindy. Don’t deal with it, run away. But then other things started to happen. She didn’t leave instructions for her work, she abandoned her samples in the truck… “ She had pulled a taco chip from the basket and was toying with the salsa, taking a minute to run over the whole thing in her mind again. Finally she shook her head and said uneasily, “I don’t know. I don’t doubt she’d jerk me around, but screw up her work? That doesn’t make sense.”

The waitress arrived with the food, chicken enchiladas for me and a bean and cheese tostada for Dinah. We were both so hungry that there was no point in even trying to talk until the plates were half empty. Before the waitress could get away I ordered another pitcher of sangria and took the next few minutes of fussing with napkins, cutting up food, and chewing the sublime concoction to consider my next move. The discussion of Cindy was a sidebar for me. Although there was always a chance it was connected to my case in some way it wasn’t the main attraction, and I still had a lot of ground to cover with Dinah: JJ, Graham, Riesler, and Elaine. On the other hand, Cindy was good currency. If Dinah trusted me I’d get a lot more out of her, and we would have a long day working together tomorrow.

Dinah poured herself another glass of sangria. It was depressing to think of that nice alcohol buzz being wasted on something irrelevant, but what can you do.

“Why don’t you call her?” I asked. “Just to make sure she’s all right.”

Dinah looked up with a full mouth of rice and beans. She shook her head. She swallowed and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “She wanted space. I promised I wouldn’t call her, that I’d let her contact me when she was ready. Anyway, I couldn’t call even if I wanted to. I don’t have a number in New Zealand. Her moth-er’s remarried and has a different name, which I don’t know. You can see how far our relationship got.”

I shook my head. “You sure she’s worth all this?” She sighed. “No… but unfortunately, I love her. I mean, I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll get the number through the office —”

“They won’t give it to you.”

I brushed that aside, “— and I’ll call Cindy in New Zealand. I’ll use her research as an excuse, say I’m calling for Elaine and we all want to know when she’s coming back. How about that? At least you’d know if she lied about her mother.”

For the first time Dinah’s bravado seemed to completely slip away. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “I’d like that a lot.”

The rest of the meal was depressingly unproductive. I was starting to numb out with fatigue, making it difficult for me to keep all my thoughts on track. Dinah was slowing down as well, the result of way too much sangria. She was going to be sorry tomorrow morning. On the other hand, she was under twenty-five. At that age a healthy body can take a hell of a lot of abuse.

I did manage to ask her about Graham. “An arrogant little prick,” were her exact words, but she seemed to have no suspicions that he might be involved in anything unsavoury or illegal. JJ, she confirmed, was constantly short of money and always on the verge of getting rich, or so he bragged to the technicians. On the topic of Edwards she was strangely positive, given her negative opinion of everyone else in the department. I waited until the end of dinner to broach the subject and tried to come at it obliquely.

“I’ve known Elaine forever,” I said as we were getting up to leave. “I’m curious about Edwards.”

“I like Jonathan,” she said defensively. “I think Elaine screwed up.”

I was surprised to hear her echo my thoughts completely. “So what happened?”

Dinah was ahead of me and she pushed open the door into the cold night air. “All I know is that one day Elaine came into the lab really upset. She asked if Edwards ever came in when she wasn’t around. I knew they were going out together, but what a weird question. Of course he wouldn’t be around if she wasn’t there. Why would he be in our lab? Then she tells me to keep him out of the lab and call her if I ever see him hanging around. Next thing I hear she’s split with him and he’s moved to Natural Resources. I guess he didn’t want to have to face her every day.”

Dinah’s story squared up nicely with what I knew so far. I was pretty sure that Edwards didn’t move by choice, and I now knew who and what to ask to discover the truth.

By the time I got Dinah home it was almost eleven. She lived near the restaurant on the top floor of an old Kitsilano house. As we pulled up something caught my eye.

“Is that van always parked there?”

She looked across the street. A silver van, with Department of Zoology stencilled on the side, was sitting down the street just at the top of a rise.

“Never. I’m the only one who parks one of those on this street.”

I was sure I’d seen movement inside, but with no lights it was hard to say. I thought of JJ. “Go.” It was given as an order, not a request. “I’ll wait here until you’re in. Lock the door behind you, turn on all the lights, and check your closets. When you’re done, come out on the balcony and wave goodbye.”

She laughed. “Like what are you going to do? Protect me?”

I turned and shot her a look that sent her vaulting up the stairs and through the door before I could turn back to the van. When I’d seen her wave from the balcony I pulled out slowly from my spot, passed the van, and turned right at the first cross street. Just around the corner I glanced back to see the van pull out too. Of course, on the narrow Kitsilano streets he couldn’t turn around: obviously an amateur. Five blocks later I’d lost him.

I drove for several more blocks, keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror and side streets, and when I was sure he was off my tail I headed uphill toward King Edward, a main artery that runs up the spine of the point. Once there, I turned off into a cozy neighbourhood of perfect wooden houses on small, manicured lawns. I moved slowly along until I found the number I wanted.

The street was dark and the sidewalks deserted. The wind had come up and the maples lining the street shook and swayed, their restless leaves making the light from the street lamps scurry about on the pavement. I got out of my car, locked the door behind me, and crossed to the house.

The lights on the first floor were off, but the second floor was lit. A set of stairs ran up the side of the house, and I took them two at a time. They ended in a small landing and a hunter green door with a window that looked across a neat little kitchen. I banged on the door, not loud enough to wake the elderly couple who owned the place, but loud enough to get their upstairs tenant off the couch and to the door.

Except that nobody heeded the call. I frowned and tried again. Then I noticed the boxes. Elaine must have removed the important files from her office after this morning’s break-in. I tried knocking one more time, then I slipped on my gloves, pulled out my lock picks, and let myself in the door.

I worked quickly, with the light out and my flashlight on. I went through the boxes, pulling out any files that related to Elaine’s current olfaction work and scanning them. Mostly it was data, test solution numbers, single cell recording data, Y-maze results, not anything I could use. Then I hit the big one: a research proposal, submitted to Madden Riesler, for a joint study on salmon olfaction.

“Yes!” I said, and I stood up with the file open in my hand.

“Find something you like?”

I turned.

Elaine was standing in the doorway.