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The Nitrogen Murder(32)

By:Camille Minichino




Matt took Dana’s arm and led her down the stairs to the front door, a gesture Dana would never have accepted from a date, but one she welcomed now. Her legs felt like two elongated gel packs, and she wanted to leave the building quickly. She knew she wouldn’t draw a decent breath until the last uniform was well behind her. She didn’t like the feeling; she’d always worked well with the cops she’d met on the job, who’d helped her with a few difficult transports, and she’d dated a rookie, Derek, a reasonably fun one-monther. Quite different being on the other side of them.

“What did all that mean?” she asked Matt, safely in her Jeep. “And why aren’t I in jail?”

“You weren’t found with drugs. They have to accept your explanation for now, that you made a mistake, but if they find anything at Tanisha’s, they may call you back.”

“So are you the reason they’re not holding me now?”

“Maybe.”

“Thanks.” A weak voice, and a word that hardly covered her feeling of gratitude.

“Will they find drugs at Tanisha’s?” Matt asked.

Dana sighed, annoyed now that she felt free of the police building. “Maybe a couple of ounces. Or less. Just some grass, absolutely nothing else. It should be legalized anyway. Something like 80 percent of Americans favor legalization.” How many times had she and her friends had this conversation, thought about getting involved with activist groups trying to change California laws?

“But it’s not legal now, Dana, though I’m guessing the Berkeley PD has more to worry about than a toke or two. They’re on a fishing expedition. They’re looking for something to close this case. How do you think it happened that your report gave them the opportunity they were looking for?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been pretty upset. I could have just hit the wrong box.”

“Was the report in your custody until you submitted it to your boss this morning?”

Custody was such a formal word, like her parents’ custody fight when they split, or when they asked you at the airport if your luggage has always been in your custody. Dana’s first thought had been to say “of course” about the report—until she remembered that Robin printed out the report for her. Robin, who suddenly had a whole new wardrobe fit for a luxury cruise. Robin, who had the dead man’s ID card in her closet.

Dana fished inside her purse, stuffed between her thigh and the door of the Jeep, and pulled out the laminated card. She turned to Matt.

“I have something to show you,” she said.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

Andrea’s voice message started out benignly enough.

A“Hi, Gloria and Elaine, this is Andrea back here in Revere, where it’s very hot and humid. Ugh. I hope everything’s going fine with the wedding plans. I can’t wait to see some pictures.”

But the message took a turn that ruined my day, and then some.

“Gloria, I happened to be hanging around here late and had a chance to look up the names you gave me. I figured I’d just call you. I’m not sure what you had in mind for your class, but I found a lot of papers written by those two guys you wanted me to look into. Looks like Philip Chambers and Lokesh Patel have worked together a lot.”

I could have sworn Andrea had put undue emphasis on “Philip Chambers.” Elaine looked at me as if she’d just been wounded but couldn’t figure out where, nor where the blow had come from. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was clear to her.

Andrea’s voice continued.

“ … a list of about six papers, the most recent that they coauthored, with some other guys, on nitrogen fullerenes, high explosives, that kind of stuff, definitely weapons related. So just let me know what’s next. I’ll have to dig out the unclassified versions in hard copies, and then I can fax them to you, or mail, or maybe scan and attach to an e-mail, whatever. Hope this will help your class prep. Any crime-busting adventures out there, by the way?”

Here Andrea laughed, and I nearly cried.

“You know I love to help. Bye for now.”

By the close of the seemingly endless message, Elaine knew exactly who had struck the blow. She shot me a look of pain and consternation. Her eyes narrowed to slits focused on me. She leaned one elbow on the kitchen counter, between her answering machine and her blender; her other arm hung by her side. The sloppiest posture I’d ever seen on her.

How could I have been so dumb as to forget to tell Andrea to use my cell phone number? I’d given no thought to how Andrea might respond to my e-mail request from the library A bad detective, and a worse friend. I was hardly able to stand up myself without leaning on the counter next to Elaine and her immaculate toaster oven.