Even the Wind: A Jonas Brant Thriller (31 page)

 
``To what end? I mean what’s the purpose?’’

 
``Gene delivery is one use. As I mentioned before, drug delivery also.’’

 
``Do you know of anyone who would want to kill her? Who would benefit?’’

 
Singh shook her head. ``All her work was published. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her.’’

 
``And she wasn’t working on anything else? Maybe something she wasn’t ready to publish?’’

 
``I know everything that goes on in this lab and she wasn’t working on anything else.’’

 
``What about research done on her own time? Something she didn’t tell anyone about?’’

 
``Not possible. I keep very close tabs on the researchers. There’s no freelancing here, I can assure you of that.’’

 
``So you don’t think her death had anything to do with her work here or elsewhere?’’

 
``I wish I could be of more help but I just don’t think it’s possible. Her work wasn’t that sophisticated. She had potential but it would have taken her years to do anything truly revolutionary.’’ Singh’s face turned sombre as she lifted the mug of cold coffee to her lips.

 
``If there’s anything you remember that you think might help.’’

 
Brant handed his card as he rose to leave.

 
``Come back tomorrow. See if the university has banned me from hanging my little cultural artifact.’’

 
Singh’s eyes twinkled as she glanced in the direction of the Kama Sutra wallhanging. Brant’s eyes focused. He hadn’t noticed the detail before, but now he saw it. Two women in passionate embrace, one kissing and cupping the other’s breasts.

''You're the first person I've seen all day. Please sit down.''

 
Kyungwha Park smiled broadly as she motioned toward a stool on the opposite side of her lab station.

 
Park was about thirty, fair skinned with an oval face and thick black hair pulled into a pony tail. She wore a white lab coat. Large black-framed glasses hid almond-shaped eyes that glittered with intelligence and youthful enthusiasm. She'd smiled broadly when he'd appeared at the doorway to the lab.

 
''This shouldn't take long,'' Brant said by way of introduction.

 
''I was just writing up some lab results. I have time.''

 
Park pushed aside a stack of folders.

 
''Don't you use a computer?''

 
Park nodded. ''Eventually, yes. I like to compile the data by hand before inputting into a spreadsheet. It's a habit.''

 
''Doesn't that increase the chance of an error?''

 
''Yes, but I also doublecheck each data point before entry. I probably wouldn't do that if I entered it directly into a spreadsheet.''

 
''Fair point.'' Brant smiled, impressed with Park's methodology.

 
''Dr. Singh tells me you were friends with Allison Carswell.''

 
''I guess you could call us that,'' Park said with a shrug. ''Allison didn't really get too close to anyone in the lab. She kept to herself.''

 
''That seems to be a recurring theme.''

 
''You sound skeptical.''

 
Brant frowned. ''Just a cop's instinct. There was more to Allison Carswell than meets the eye. I'm just wondering why she went to so much trouble to hide away from the people she worked with on a daily basis.''

 
''I don't know. I'm afraid I can't help there. It's not as if we were girlfriends and confided in each other.''

 
Brant glanced around the room. The lab had that cold, sterile quality he associated with doctors and dentists everywhere. Maggie had worked in similar surroundings, though she'd used Ben's drawings and paintings to add a touch of warmth to the place. No such attempts had been made by Park or by those who shared her workspace.

 
''Can you tell me anything about Allison? Anything unusual that you think might help the investigation.''

 
Park bit the inside of her cheek in concentration. ''I've been racking my brain but I always come up blank. I just can't see how anyone would want to hurt her.''

 
''What about boyfriends? We know she had one. Maybe two.'' Brant took out his notepad, a hopeful gesture meant as a subtle prod.

 
As she shook her head, Park's ponytail bounced freely.

 
''Nothing?''

 
Park hesitated, just for a moment. Brant's instincts fired.

 
''This won't come back on me will it? I mean this kind of stuff is confidential, right?''

 
''Depends on what you have to say, Ms. Park. If you want to see Allison's killer get what he or she deserves, if you want to protect the lives of other young women who might fall into the same trap, you'll tell us anything you know.''

 
Park stared into her hands in thought. ''There was one guy. Good looking. Or at least that’s what she said. She started bragging about him but then she shut down very quickly after that.''

 
''Shut down? What do you mean?''

 
''I can't be certain, but I figured the guy had wanted their relationship to be secret. When Allison started to tell a few people about it, he got pretty mean.''

 
''Mean?''

 
Park frowned. ''More than mean. Aggressive. She showed up with a bruise under her left eye one day. She tried to hide it with makeup, but I could tell it was there. I asked her about it and she brushed me aside, said it was none of my business.''

 
''Did you push her on the point?''

 
''I did. I wouldn't let it go. My sister was married to an asshole who regularly beat the shit out of her. I could see the signs. I knew what was going on.''

 
''Did you say anything to Allison?''

 
Park nodded. ''I told her about my sister. I was hoping she'd open up if she thought we had something in common. It didn't work out that way. She seemed to retreat into her shell and she wouldn't talk about it.''

 
Brant wrote a note to himself at the bottom of his notebook.

 
''What about the boyfriend? Did she mention him again? Did she show you any pictures?''

 
''No. That was it. I got the feeling that the guy was one of those super controlling freaks who watched everything she did, but it was just a feeling. Nothing more.''

 
''When was this?''

 
''A month or so before she left.''

 
''You didn't stay in contact after she quit?''

 
''We'd already started growing apart. She didn't make any attempt and neither did I.''

 
''That could be very helpful,'' Brant said as he closed his notebook. ''If you can think of anything else....''

 
Park bit her lip again in contemplation. She's scared, Brant thought, wondering how he could draw her out without sending her fleeing to the exits.

 
''There was one other thing.''

 
''Yes?''

 
''It's probably nothing and it's probably unrelated but I've been bothered by this for some time.''

 
''What is it? What's on your mind?''

 
''It's about the lab. As you can see, we have quite a lot of equipment.''

 
Park took the room in with a sweep of her hand.
 

 
''What about the lab?'' Brant asked.

 
''Some of the equipment went missing when Allison left.''

 
''Missing? As in stolen?''

 
''Yes, I think so,'' Park said, rubbing her hands together nervously.
 

 
''What kind of equipment?''

 
``Some flasks, a microbiology safety cabinet, pipettes, some culture medium.’’

 
``And you suspected Allison? Did you say anything to anyone?’’

 
Park looked sheepish.

 
``I didn’t want her to get into trouble. None of the equipment was very expensive.’’

 
``Why do you think she would take it?’’

 
``The equipment?’’

 
``Yes.’’

 
Park looked at her hands in contemplation. ``I can’t think of a good reason.’’

 
``Let me ask it another way. What would she do with such equipment?’’

 
Park shrugged. ``I don’t know. Not unless she was setting up her own lab, but that’s crazy.’’

 
Brant made a note to himself. ``Can you give me a full list of everything in the lab you think she took?’’

 
``It’ll take some time.’’

 
``But you can do it?’’

 
``Yes.’’

 
``Here’s my email address. Please send it to me as soon as you finish.’’

 
Brant handed his business card to the young woman. Park played nervously with the nylon band holding her pony tail in place, alternately loosening and tightening it.

 
``You’ll be okay?’’

 
The young woman nodded.

 
``Call me if you think of anything else that could possibly be relevant to Allison’s murder.’’

 
His cell rang on the way to the car. Clatterback’s name rolled across the screen.

 
``Good news I hope,’’ he said.

 
``CCTV footage confirms it,’’ Clatterback said, his voice slightly breathless with excitement. ``Ray was right. Male. Seen near the alleyway where we found Allison Carswell’s body.’’

 
``What time?’’ Brant asked, calculating the timeline in his mind.

 
``CCTV footage shows it at four o’clock in the morning. The image isn’t great. More a shadow.’’

 
``Where was the camera?’’

 
``The camera’s operated by the Metro Boston Office of Homeland Security.’’

 
``Yeah, but where’s the camera located?’’

 
``Let me see.’’ Sounds filled the airspace as Clatterback consulted his notes. ``Lamp post at the corner of Dartmouth and Boylston.’’

 
``That’s on the other side of the road from where we found the body. Any facial features recognizable?’’

 
``Afraid not,’’ Clatterback said. ``Just the general build of the dude.’’

 
Brant considered the finding. ``Okay, good work. Make a hard copy and file it in the murder book.’’

 
``What’s the next step?’’

 
Brant looked at his watch.

 
``I’m going home to cook dinner for my son. Tomorrow, I have a commitment to fill.’’

Fuel America was located in a strip mall near Boston College’s Brighton Campus. The morning had brought sunshine, blue skies and a smattering of ragged clouds.
 

``Ready?’’ Vasquez asked Brant as they stood on the sidewalk outside.

 
``It’s not like I have anything better to do,’’ Brant said, sarcasm lacing his answer.

 
``That’s just the kind of attitude we don’t need,’’ Jolly said, fixing Brant with a look of admonition.

 
The captain had appeared from nowhere. One minute, it was Brant and Vasquez huddling conspiratorially outside the coffee shop’s main door. The next, they were surrounded by brass.

 
``Gentlemen.’’ The superintendent-in-chief had a sullen look on her face as she opened the door for the two junior officers. ``I trust this will be instructive. Captain Oliver tells me you’re both quite enthusiastic.’’

 
Luis Woodbridge narrowed her eyes. Woodbridge was in her late fifties. She had a head of thick brown hair, a smooth complexion and perfect teeth. She wore full uniform. A cap sat on her head.

 
Woodbridge reported directly to the police commissioner, which made her the highest-ranking police officer in the department. She had a reputation for being tough. Fair but rigid. A figure to be feared. Coffee with a Cop had been Woodbridge’s brainchild.