“Betty thinks if I really want to know what happened, I might have to investigate myself.”
She sat up even straighter than usual. “Mara, you’re no detective.”
“Scientists work on puzzles all the time. I can apply scientific reasoning to this one.”
Brows knit, she studied my face. “What’s at the bottom of this? Guilt?”
I walked to my floor to ceiling window. An osprey skimmed over the water, searching for prey.
I turned toward her. “Sure I feel guilty—the whole thing’s horrendous. But it’s more than that. Peter was a good friend. The best. His death deserves honest and thorough investigation.”
“But what does that mean?”
“It means an authentic, in-depth look at the circumstances. Maybe start with weird things that happened, like the loose buoy”
“Do you have time for this? What about your work?”
“I’ll have to fit it in.”
“And not sleep.” Harvey shifted in her chair. “Seymour and Intrepid’s captain. If they claim it was an accident, you’d be challenging them.”
“Yeah, but I just feel. I don’t know. Damn it, I’ve got to do something.”
She shook her head. “This feels too risky. Seymour’s already on your case.”
“Yeah.”
“And if you pursue this, I can’t help.”
“I didn’t ask—”
“We’ve talked about me being department chair after Seymour.”
“And this might jeopardize your chance.”
She stood. “Hope you understand.”
Harvey left, and I frowned at the closed door. I couldn’t remember the last time Harvey and I were at odds. Probably when we had to buy cookies for a scientist’s talk. Part of me understood her reluctance. Harvey was ambitious. But she’d left me alone with this.
And that felt, well, lonely.
“Tusconi,” I said aloud. “It’s up to you to figure this out.”
Pacing, I talked to myself Italian-style, with my hands. Palms up—what to do? How would I proceed? More pacing.
Fist into palm. Got it. Write it out. Make lists. That’ll help me think.
I have a large whiteboard on one wall that I use for lists and the like. I grabbed a whiteboard marker and wrote “ideas” and “talk to” at the top. I’d half-filled my whiteboard with a list plus people I might question when I heard a gentle knock. I opened the door, stood aside for Harvey, and shut the door again.
“I feel crummy leaving you with this.” Harvey walked over to the whiteboard and stared at it. “Huh. I see what you’re up to.”
Another knock on the door. This time much louder.
“Mara, are you there?” Seymour’s voice. “I want to speak with you.”
HARVEY AND I FROZE. MY scribbles were clearly visible on the whiteboard, and there was no time to erase them. As department chair, Seymour had keys to all the offices. Harvey pantomimed him putting a key into the lock. My mouth went dry.
We scrambled.
Seymour opened the door and walked in to find Harvey at my desk, earphones on, staring at a computer screen. I sat cross-legged on my yoga mat, eyes closed.
“Why didn’t you open the door?” he demanded.
Harvey pulled off her earphones. “What?”
I opened my eyes. “Seymour, what’re you doing here?”
“You didn’t hear me knock?”
“Guess I was in om-land.”
Seymour narrowed his eyes. He waved his hand at the whiteboard. “Rolling buoy, a bunch of names—what’s this?”
“Oh, that? Just what happened on Intrepid.”
“But why would—?”
Harvey interrupted him. “Do you always open office doors when nobody is inside?”
That took him by surprise. Harvey was always so polite.
He pressed his thin lips together and looked sideways at her. “Why do you think I have a passkey? I always knock first, but sometimes I need to check to see if everything’s okay. Any more questions?”
We stared at him.
“Good,” he said—and marched out.
I let go of the breath I was holding and looked up at Harvey. The hot pink, dangling earphones and wide eyes were too much.
My chortle morphed into a snort, and in seconds I was doubled up on the yoga mat, laughing like a lunatic.
I managed one “Harvey, I’m so, so sorry” in there somewhere.
Harvey couldn’t help herself either. She giggled and held her sides as tears streamed down her cheeks. She pulled a tissue out of the box on my desk, mopped her face, and said, “When he walked in, did you see his face?”
I crawled to the closest chair and climbed onto it. “Like he fell into Alice’s rabbit hole.” I grabbed a tissue. “But seriously, Harvey, you want to be department head and would be great at it. This is bad for you, and it’s my fault.”
She shook her head. “I chose to come back.”
“But Seymour—”
“Don’t worry about Seymour. I can deal with him. If I go for chair and he mentions this, who’d believe him?”
“Guess this shows what I’m doing is risky, at least where he’s concerned.”
“What we’re doing, girlfriend. Looks like I’m in it now.”
The surge of relief surprised me. I dabbed my eyes once more. “You’re one tough babe, Harv.”
After Harvey left, I walked over to my window. The floor to ceiling opening—a nod to the 1800s architecture of the original building—allows me full view across Spruce Harbor. A perfect place to muse. The bizarre incident with Seymour had helped me vent some tension. I took in a deep breath. Here I was about to go poking around, looking for answers about Peter’s death.
Was my decision to investigate only because, as I said to Harvey,
