The Nitrogen Murder(85)

Elaine put her hand on his forehead and made another offer to let him be. “Phil, are you all right? Do you want us to leave?”

A breeze blew in from the slightly opened window, past a shabby credenza, carrying light perfume from a large basket of flowers from Elaine. I wondered if she’d used her wedding florist. I assumed she and Phil had had a wedding talk during the day. I figured I’d learn the parameters—on/off, postponed/canceled, full throttle/scaled down—when I needed to. Phil looked like he was only one good nap/shower combination and a tux away from walking down the aisle, but I knew there was more to it than that, and not just physically.

“I’m fine,” Phil said. “I’m trying to do this without morphine, and it’s a little rough right now.”

“Miss Emma,” Dana said, getting a smile from her dad.

I was learning a lot—not only the composition of the drug, but one of its street names as well.

“So, with the N atom in there, nitrogen will show up on the missing morphine list. Check your friendly DEA controlled substance list and you’ll see what I mean.”

Dana smoothed her long hair back from her face, making a temporary ponytail, then a bun at the top of her head. It fell back into the original arrangement as soon as she let go. “I’ve been thinking about this, Dad. I know the procedures. These facilities do a daily inventory of controlled substances. It requires a strict accounting, including the signatures of people going off duty and the people coming on duty.”

“I know, sweetheart, but then how do supplies ever go missing in the first place? We know how it’s supposed to work, but—” Phil shrugged the wrong shoulder and winced again.

I felt certain Dana was thinking of how her own friend and partner had managed to find a way to skirt inventory rules.

“They’re supposed to write incident reports,” she said. “I guess eventually someone did, and that’s how you got to see it on those lists.”

Phil nodded, but weakly He was fading, and I wasn’t finished. I switched topics again.

“The interview with Howard Christopher? Was that the only one you taped?” I asked.

“Yeah, unfortunately. By the time I caught on that he might be involved, it was too late. And even with the interview I gave you, I’m aware I didn’t quite get him to give himself away. I can’t prove he knew about Patel’s downloading to his PDA.”

The dull white walls of Phil’s room seemed to light up as I had a flash of memory.

“Maybe you got more than you thought, Phil. I’ll have to check the tape when I get home, to be sure.”

I was finished for the time being, and it’s a good thing, because the door opened and Nurse Bunting gave us a you’re-out gesture that we would have been foolish to disobey.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dana had to keep herself from resenting Gloria just because she’d be taking Matt home with her. After all, it was Gloria who’d located her father at Patel’s house in the first place, and then her bravery had allowed him to pass on the PDA while Dana was hiding at Marne’s. Her own discovery of Tanisha’s money counted only as serendipity, not courage or investigative ability.

Dana watched as Gloria pushed REWIND then PLAY on Elaine’s tape recorder. They all listened to the whole interview between her father and Howard Christopher once through, and then Gloria rewound to the passage she wanted.

The voice of Howard Christopher:

“Maybe his only violation was to use a classified computer to upload his PDA calendar with his kids’ birthdays, for God’s sake.”

“I don’t recall Phil’s saying anything about a PDA before this point in the meeting, do you?” Gloria asked. “I think this is what we need.” She glanced around the room, her expression too smug for Dana’s liking. Matt gave a thumbs-up; Elaine clapped lightly, a wide smile on her face; Dana was quietly thrilled that her Dad might have successfully stopped a threat to national security, however remote.

She shuddered at how close her father had come to dying this week—twice. She had a new respect for Robin, losing her father at nine years old, and in a way that couldn’t help but mar her for life. Maybe Dana should cut her roommate some slack.

Dana was glad she finally knew how and when her father had hurt his hand—tussling with Patel and his killer. Probably Howard Christopher, from the sound of that tape. It was awful enough that Tanisha Hall had turned out to be on the wrong side of the law; she wouldn’t have been able to take her father’s being a bad guy, too.

“Can I call Dad and tell him?” Dana asked. She wanted to be the one to give her father the good news—that they finally had something to take to the Berkeley PD. She was pleased at how quickly everyone agreed, Gloria first.