publications. I knew you’d be relieved.”
I flipped to the end of Elaine’s list and checked her latest publications. They were all from her time at Berkeley, and I needed something more recent. Maybe Elaine had told Sylvia more than she told me? I closed the file.
“Who’s funding Elaine’s work? Do you know?” Sylvia paused, then exhaled dramatically. “Jesus, O’Brien, what are you on to? Elaine’s clean. She’s the victim, in case you missed that point.”
“Elaine had an affair with Edwards, the guy who made the complaint.” I watched Sylvia’s reaction carefully. “Did you know that?”
“It’s not the sort of thing she’d tell me, is it.” “Well, she didn’t tell me either.” “Big deal. You’re not her mother.” “Agreed. But guess who’s funding the hired help?” She shrugged. “Riesler, the accused. She lied about that too, told me the relationship was arm’s length. Why?”
Sylvia shook her head. “You two never change. You’re still two big, stupid dinosaurs hellbent on collision. Well, get this straight, O’Brien. I am not going to be between you at the moment of impact. Been there; done that; never again thank you very much.” She patted my arm. “My advice to you? Evolve, babe. Language works. Just ask her what the hell is going on.”
“Oh, that’s great advice from you. Too bad — “
I was interrupted by the phone. Just as well. It gave my brain time to catch up with my mouth and take the necessary steps to shut it down.
The conversation from Sylvia’s end was rather dull. “Ah huh… ah huh… ah huh… No kidding… You’re sure?… Bingo. I owe you. Next time in Ottawa.”
By the time she’d hung up I was feeling contrite. She turned from the phone but didn’t come forward. Instead, she leaned back on the desk and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Now, what were you saying, O’Brien?”
“Me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except thanks for the good advice.”
“You must be a psychic. That was the call on your seven-minute reference search.”
“I thought you were going to hack your way in?” “There are easier ways to get things done. I called in a favour: one of the clerks in the billing office. No big deal.”
Then she said nothing, just watched me, expressionless. Finally I said, “What do I have to do, grovel?”
“That would be nice.” Then she broke out into a big grin. “Patsy. The search was billed to your boss.”
chapter twelve
Adeep, visceral joy spread through my body, ending with a dumb grin on my face. Then: “Damn!” I kicked the table.
“I thought you’d be delighted.”“I would be, if Patsy knew how to boot up a computer.” I thought for a minute. Either someone had stolen her charge code or, more likely, someone was doing the search for her. Either way, it must have been done by someone within the Council. Still, it was frustrating: so near and yet so far. I’d have to wait and see what Duncan turned up from the commissionaire. Not looking up, I started to gather all the reprints together.“Can I keep these papers?”
“They’re yours.”
I was stuffing the files in my briefcase when I heard her clear her throat.“I need a favour,” she said. She didn’t sound happy about asking.
“Shoot.”
“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I was wondering if you would…” her voice trailed off.
I stopped my busy work, looked up, and mentally gave myself a good swift kick in the rear. Sometimes I get so tied up in my own world I forget that my friends have problems too. However, there was no point in getting maudlin. That would really piss her off.“Hold your hand? What time?”
“The appointment’s at five, but we need to leave here about four-fifteen.”
“No problem. Is there something going on?”
She shrugged, but her sardonic mask had slipped back into place. There was even an evil twinkle in her eye.“I’ll take you out for dinner after, maybe to a bar.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” I zipped up my briefcase.“Thanks for this. It helps a lot. And I think I will take your advice and have a little heart-to-heart with Elaine.”
“Oh boy,” was Sylvia’s only comment.
I drove back over to C-lot and made for the first row where I’d parked this morning. It was getting late, and I hoped that some of the early birds would have called it quits and gone home to study. In fact, the same spot that I’d left earlier in the afternoon was still open, and I nipped right in.
As I walked along the line of cars I noted that the Mustang was gone, but the Rabbit and Acadian were still parked where I’d seen them this morning. But now, parked next to the Rabbit, there was a pale blue Valiant in perfect condition. I peered in. The interior looked original, although some body work and a paint job lowered the value slightly. But if a Slant 6 was hidden underneath the hood the car was a collector’s dream. Only in Vancouver.
Dinah had said that Natural Resources was just across the street from Life Sciences, so I headed toward the Zoology entrance, but instead of going in I continued straight, jay-walking across the street that bordered the Zoology wing. Directly across there was a low, white building. A receptionist was just packing up and reaching for her coat. She had blood red nails that would put a grizzly to shame.
“I’m looking for Dr. Edwards,” I said. She looked blank.“He works on salmon.”
She looked at me as if I were the incarnation of the bimbo queen and said,“This is Geophysics. Maybe you should try Zoology.”
She was obviously in a hurry to get home so I took my time responding.“I’m looking for Natural Resources,” I said slowly, enunciating each word as if speaking to a naughty child.
She caught the edge in my voice and became significantly more polite, pointing to the right with one of her claws.“The path at the side of the building? Just go down it. It’s the temp at the end.”
I went back outside and found the asphalt path leading between Geophysics and a large five-story building beside. By the time I’d reached the bottom I knew why Natural Resources was a demotion. For starters, it was almost impossible to find, and the “temp” the receptionist had mentioned was a temporary building, probably WWII vintage, that looked like it had originally been built as army barracks. Fortunately, when I got inside, I could see that it had all been renovated and was clean and bright. I could hear Bach’s Mass in B Minor pumping out of one of the labs. As I got nearer to the music I could see the name on the door, and it was Dr. Jonathan Edwards.
Music was my escape as a kid. I’d played in orchestras, sang in choirs, and marched in military-style bands. I closed my eyes and almost let myself be transported by the purity and hope — the belief — in those crystal voices. Credo in unum, Patrem omnipotentem. I believe in one God, the Father Almighty. Not that different from science, really. I took a deep breath and banged on the door.
“It’s
