Cited to Death (5 page)

“I’d better not.” I hadn’t been paying attention, but now I realized that I was a little too short of breath. “I need to get back into air conditioning. You can owe me one.”

“Okay, rain check it is.” Diane patted me on the arm. “Let’s get you back to safety.”

On the way back to campus, I tried to sort out what I knew. I’d now met two of the three authors of the second article. Benjamin Goldstein seemed to be grieving over Dan, but did he know Dan was questioning the article he wrote? I only had Goldstein’s word that he and Dan were still together. Had Dan confronted him with some kind of evidence? If they were still together, why would Dan be investigating his boyfriend’s work?

And then there was Dr. Oliver. He seemed awfully paranoid about the possibility that someone would copy his research. Would he be willing to kill someone to protect it? Surely not. He seemed the type who would rather bankrupt a patent infringer in court.

None of it made sense. And I still didn’t know if there was anything unusual at all about Dan’s death, much less a murder. I needed to ask Kevin to check on the autopsy report.

The smog, flowers, and cologne had done a number on me. I used my inhaler in the car, but it wasn’t helping as much as I’d like. By the time we got back to Westwood, it was nearly 4:30. I picked up my laptop from my office, and called Dr. Loomis to tell her I’d finish out the day working from home.

When I got home, though, it occurred to me that there was something better to do. I could go to Cedars and see if I could get a look in Dan’s office. Maybe he’d left something there that would give me a clue or two about how to solve this puzzle he’d dumped in my lap.

Because I
was
going to solve this.

I turned around and went out to my car.

The parking lot at Cedars was pretty full. I got a spot near the street, but far from the door. I went into the lobby and checked the directory, then headed for the stairs.

I walked into the library and looked around. It was a small space, with books on one wall, journals on two walls, and computers in the center. There was a reception desk, but no one was there. There was a door in the far wall, with Dan’s name posted on it. I tried the handle; it was unlocked.

I eased into Dan’s office, leaving the door open. If anyone showed up, I could claim that I was looking for someone to help me. Dan's office was small, much smaller than mine, and crammed full: books, journals, scattered computer equipment, and too many chairs for the space. His desk was so close to the back wall that it was hard to see how a person could slide into the chair behind it. I was going to try, though.

I squeezed behind the desk and looked around. I doubted that Dan would have left anything lying around in the open, but I scanned the items on the surface of his desk just to make sure. There was a textbook to the right - "Essentials of Stem Cell Biology." So he was reading up on the subject. Interesting. He could have passed that off as being interested in Ben's work without raising suspicion.

I slid open the drawer to my right. It held an unorganized mashup of office supplies. The drawer to my left contained a stack of printer paper. The drawer in the center was locked. I got up and checked out in the hallway; no one was in sight. I went back to the desk, pulled a paper clip out of the jumble of office supplies, picked the lock on the center drawer, and found what I was looking for.

Inside the drawer were two items. One was a 5x7 picture of Dan with Ben. They seemed to be on a tropical island. They were holding frozen drinks with umbrellas in them and had their arms around each other. They looked happy. Dan’s piercings were nowhere to be seen. Apparently he’d made a few changes in his life. So Dan was out at work, but Ben wasn't? I couldn't think of any other reason for Dan to be hiding the picture. Ben hadn’t hesitated to mention his relationship with Dan at the funeral. But if Ben was out and proud at work, I thought Dan would have displayed the photo. Or - maybe he and Ben had split, but Dan still had feelings for Ben and had kept the picture.

The other thing in the drawer was a manila folder. I slid it out of the drawer into my lap and closed the drawer quietly. Inside the file folder was a copy of Oliver's article. There were several places throughout it where Dan had underlined passages. He'd made cryptic notes to himself in places - "Medium?" "SEM?" "Source?" but I didn't understand them. There was one I understood, written at the beginning of the statistical section: "BULLSHIT!"

Nothing cryptic about that.

I folded the article into thirds and slid it into my inner jacket pocket. I put the file folder back where I found it and was closing the drawer when a voice said, “Hey! What are you doing in there?”

I jumped to my feet, whacking my right kneecap on the bottom of the drawer.
Ow
. A very young woman was standing at the reception desk, staring at me. “Who are you? I’m going to call security!”

“No, no, please don’t do that.” I came out of Dan’s office but didn’t move any closer to the girl, who looked more scared than angry. “I’m a friend of Dan’s, and I just came from his funeral, and I just…” I tried to look very, very sad. “I wanted to see…where it happened, you know?”

Her expression softened, but she was still suspicious. “Are you on staff here? I’ve never seen you.”

“No. I work at UCLA. I’m Dr. Jamie Brodie.” If she thought I was a medical doctor, I wasn't going to correct her impression. "Do you want to see my ID?”

“Yes, please.”

I pulled out my UCLA employee badge. She examined it for a minute then handed it back. “Okay…I’m Lily. Mr. Christensen was my boss.” She sat at the reception desk and looked up at me. “I wanted to go to the funeral, but since I’m the only other employee in the library, I couldn’t go. Was it nice?”

Well, not really
. “Yeah. It was outdoors, so that was nice.”

She nodded. "Yeah, he would have liked that. So, this is like a pilgrimage for you? I understand completely."

“Yes, exactly.” I relaxed. It seemed that Lily was just gullible enough to let me get away with this. “How long did you work for Dan?”

“Just about six months. I liked working for him. He wasn’t demanding at all.” She looked at me sympathetically. "I hope you don't think this is too forward, but...were you one of his boyfriends?"

Wow. So Dan had been out here, at least a little bit. "Yes, I was. Several years ago. I hadn't seen him for a while - I was so shocked when he died."

She nodded. "We all were. Did you know he had seizures?"

"I did."

"No one here knew. But the police went to his house and found the anti-seizure medication." Her face took on a slightly disapproving expression. "He didn't share much."

"But he was out here."

She looked puzzled. "Out? Oh, out of the closet! Yes, he was. He didn't hide that at all. You could really say that he flaunted it some. He wore his rainbow pin all the time, and just the way he talked and dressed and did his hair - it was pretty obvious."

Huh. That was a change from when I'd known Dan. "Did that bother people here?"

"Not me, not at all." Lily crossed her arms and looked defiant. "But it bothered some of the doctors, especially the older ones. And some of the older nurses too, and some of the male nurses..." She paused and made a face. "I guess it bothered a lot of people. But there were a lot of people that were fine with it too."

I nodded, thinking. Even if Dan's death wasn’t accidental, maybe it didn't have anything to do with the letter. Maybe he was facing a different kind of enemy. "Well, I'm glad he wasn't hiding it.” I smiled at her, still trying to look sad. It wasn’t hard; this
was
sad. “Thank you for letting me be in here for a while. It’s made me feel better.”

She smiled. “Oh, good. I’m glad I could help.”

“I wonder if you could do one thing for me. Or, rather, not do something.” I leaned in, conspiratorially. “Please don’t mention to anyone that I was here. I wouldn’t want it to get back to Dan’s current boyfriend that I’d been here.”

She looked surprised. “Okay. I don’t think Dr. Goldstein would mind, but I won’t tell him.”

So they were together, and at least one other person knew it. Interesting. “Thanks, Lily. I appreciate that.” If there was something to Dan’s paranoia, maybe the person or persons responsible wouldn’t find out that I’d been here.

But when I got to my car, all four tires had been slashed.

I said a few choice words and looked around. None of the other cars nearby had been damaged. Just mine. Should I report it? Yes, I should. I called Kevin. After he read me the riot act for staying out on a bad air day, he said he’d inform the appropriate station.

In about thirty minutes, a patrol car from Wilshire Division arrived. The officer took a look and shook his head. "We'll dust for prints, in case they touched your fenders while they were doing the slashing, but the chances of finding out who did it are pretty slim. This area isn't covered by cameras."

I shrugged. "I knew it was a long shot, but I figured you all would rather know than not."

The officer nodded. "You're right. If we do find some evidence, or if it happens again, then the detectives can look into it further."

The evidence techs arrived in a few minutes and did raise a couple of palm prints. Maybe they would be able to find something out. I signed off on the police report, and the officer gave me a copy of it for my insurance. He left, and I called Triple A.

Kevin and the tow truck arrived about the same time. I filled Kevin in on the events of the day.

The tow truck headed to the garage with my VW, and I got in Kevin's car to go home.

Kevin started the engine, then turned and looked at me. "So. Your computer is messed up, and it's the only one that is, and your tires are slashed, and they're the only ones that are. Think there's any connection?"

"It’s unusual, but I still don't see how there could be a link. Computers crash all the time. It just so happened that this was my week for it. And the tires - who knows?
No one
knew I was coming here. I didn’t even know I was coming here. Maybe someone didn't like my 'No to Prop 8' bumper sticker."

"Maybe." Kevin started the car. "I just don't like coincidences. I'll check on those palm prints, see if anything turns up."

"Gee, thanks, detective." I stuck my tongue out at him.

He laughed. "Hey, we protect
and
serve."

Since we had a car, we stopped at the grocery store. By the time we finished there and got home, I was getting tired. It was Abby’s turn to make dinner, and she had soup and sandwiches ready. After dinner, Kevin and Abby settled in to watch TV, and I started reading the second article again. The methodology was hard to follow, and the statistics were beyond me, but the results were pretty clear. Their procedure had been successful. The discussion noted the possible application to fertility treatment. It was couched in scientific language, but reading between the lines, I thought the authors sounded pretty pleased with themselves. That would certainly fit with my initial impression of both of the authors I’d met.

I retrieved the copy of the article that I’d found in Dan’s desk and studied his margin notes again. I still couldn’t understand most of them. I Googled “SEM” and figured out that it probably stood for scanning electron microscopy. “Source” probably meant just that – Dan was wondering about the source for the statement. “Medium” was still a mystery. I looked again at his “BULLSHIT” notation over the statistics section. I was going to have to take a shot at interpreting those. But I’d have to do that at some time other than late evening. My brain wasn’t up to it now.

Before I went to bed, I used my peak flowmeter to check my lung function. I was supposed to check and record it every morning and evening, but sometimes I forgot. I’d been trying to be more consistent with it since I got out of the hospital. This morning my peak flow had been within 90% of normal, but this evening it had dropped some, to 82%. If it got below 80%, I was supposed to call the doctor.