“And MOI’s investigation? Any thoughts there?”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “Think about it, honey. They’re gonna shift the blame to the winch manufacturer as fast as they can. Bad publicity, especially that kind, is a disaster for this institution. Oceanographic research is extremely expensive, donors skittish.”
“MOI? You can’t mean they’d cover up wrongdoing.”
“No, but they may not dig too far, if you get my meaning.”
I let Betty’s words sink in. “How can we find out what happened?”
“Damn arthritis.” She shifted her position and stretched her right leg. “If it was me, I’d investigate on my own. But not so anyone knew.”
“Boy, I’ll have to think about that. I just want to do research, teach, work with grad students, and write.”
She shrugged. I waited for more, but Betty was a woman of few words. Unless, I discovered, they were about Seymour.
“As long as I’ve got you, I’d like your take on Seymour.”
She rolled her eyes. I took that as a signal to keep going. “For one thing, I’m beginning to wonder about his competence. He should’ve been more concerned about that loose buoy.”
She snorted. “Seymour’s had an iffy reputation for a long, long time.”
I leaned toward her. “Fill me in.”
“Twenty years ago, Seymour was a cancer researcher down in Woods Hole studying squid. He worked with someone. Can’t remember who. Anyway, word got out that he wasn’t an independent scientist. Phillip Morris paid for his research. Seymour was an expert scientist for tobacco interests.”
I whistled. To me, this was like being paid for sex. “Was there evidence he cooked his data?”
“No proof. In those days, electronic data trails were hard to trace. But I think he did. His cancer tobacco research was just too clean. Anyway, that’s why I put up a stink when he applied for the MOI job.”
“So why was he hired?”
“He’s aggressive as hell and knows how to get dough. Like I said, oceanographic research is expensive.”
I nodded. Seymour brought in a lot of money for MOI.
While I was at it, I figured Betty could help me understand what really bugged me about him. “As you know, Seymour was here when I was hired.”
“I remember. You came right from your post-doc and looked like you were fifteen. This was your first real job.”
“Right. And department chairs support and mentor young faculty. But from day one, Seymour’s been snarky to me. Any idea why?”
She rotated her right ankle. “I bet it’s something to do with your parents. As department head, he’s automatically Distinguished Professor of Marine Science. He’s probably sick and tired of hearing about the brilliant Tusconis.”
That made sense. After my parents’ deaths, MOI established the distinguished professorship in their name. To be fair, repeated remarks about the wonders of two people you never met could get old.
I dearly loved my parents, but sometimes their legacy was a burden, even for me.
“Thanks for everything. Let’s share a pot of tea at the Neap Tide soon. Bet you know a few stories about my parents.”
She looked up at me. “Sure. You seem like a smart cookie, Mara. But watch yourself with Seymour. If he thinks you suspect him of anything, he’ll come after you like a two ton truck.”
By the time I reached my office, I felt uneasy. Being the target of Seymour’s spite was a dreadful prospect. I shut my office door and plopped into a chair. The phone rang.
Sharon from the Biology Department office said, “Chief Warrant Officer Wilson called. He’s Coast Guard and wants to ask you about the Intrepid incident. Do you have time? He’ll come to your office.”
“Sure. Now’s okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, Officer Wilson, spotless in his whites, was seated in my office. My spare wooden chair was too small for his two hundred pound bulk, and each time he shifted position his Coast Guard cap fell off his knee. With a quick look at the floor, he shoved the thing under his armpit.
I answered his questions as clearly as possible. Peter took my place because I was seasick. Yes, I was out on the deck when the buoy dropped. No, I didn’t know why Peter halted the deployment or what he was looking at on the buoy.
Wilson stood and straightened up so tall I thought he was going to salute me.
“That’s all, Dr. Tusconi. I appreciate your help with this accident.”
I stood as well. “Accident? You think it was an accident?”
He smoothed his hair and settled the cap into proper position. “Sorry. Can’t say more. It’s an ongoing investigation. We’re talking to everyone.”
The man was out the door before I could respond. The whole interview couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.
Harvey appeared in my doorway. She looked toward the stairwell. “Who was that?”
“Lots to tell you.”
She stepped into my office, and I closed the door. Harvey had come from a run and looked as sleek as a cat in black compression leggings and a hot pink wind jacket. Her high-end earphones only added to the allure.
“Cool duds,” I said. Her outfit was better suited for Central Park, not Down East Maine, but I admired Harvey enormously for her class and style.
She grinned. “Too bad you’re my only admirer.” The smile faded. “Did you sleep? How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay. ’Course, I keep thinking about Peter’s family.”
“Me too. Running helped a bit.”
We were silent and sad for a moment.
“I just got an earful from Betty Buttz about MOI and Seymour. And right after that a Coast Guard officer interviewed me.”
“Think I need to sit down for this.”
“Betty thinks MOI might not look too hard into Peter’s death. They’ll try to shift the blame somewhere else, like the winch company.”
“Because of bad P.R.?”
“And fundraising.”
“Betty can be awfully cynical. But she might be right.”
“When we spoke I wasn’t sure. But now, I’m beginning to think she is. This Officer Wilson called what happened an ‘accident.’” I air-quoted the word. “I questioned that, and he gave me the ‘we’re talking
