Molokai Reef (27 page)

The
receptionist recognized Gybe as he entered the office. She buzzed
Dr. Miller and announced his arrival.

“
I’m
Gybe and I have an appointment with Dr. Miller.”

“
Yes,
I know. I’ve just called her and she asks that you have a
seat. She’s running late and will be with you in about fifteen
minutes.”

“
Small
island again. Everyone knows the stranger in town. Makes it hard to
rob banks.” He joked.

The
receptionist smiled. “Can I get you coffee, soda, water,
anything to drink?”

Gybe
asked for a diet soda and the receptionist ducked into another room
and returned with the soda and a glass of ice.

Since
he had a fifteen-minute wait, Gybe pumped the receptionist for
information on Jean. How well she knew her, who her friends were,
and so on.

She
revealed that everyone liked her. Here the office, they called her
Dr. Jean, a play on her name and her work.

The
receptionist’s name was Lea. She was very talkative until Gybe
asked whether Jean had a boyfriend. Lea’s eyes darted around
the room.

“
Not
that I know of. She worked late every night. Doubt if she had
time.” Lea looked to her desk, searching for something to do.

“
How
about a male coworker here?”

“
We
don’t have any. Only women work here.”

“
Isn’t
that illegal?”

“
Don’t
know, I’m just the receptionist.”

Gybe
knew that although her title was receptionist, Lea knew far more than
she revealed.

“
Sorry
to keep you waiting, Gybe. Come into my office. Lea, please hold my
calls.”

Seated
again in Dr. Miller’s office, Gybe relayed his discoveries
about Jean. When he mentioned the frequent visits by Ray Wilson, the
male victim, Elizabeth’s eyes broke contact as she glanced to
her desktop. She knew something.

“
You
told me the other day that Jean didn’t know Ray, isn’t
that correct?”

“
I
didn’t think she did.”

Gybe
waited through the long pause. He had learned that guilty, lying, or
misleading people could not sit in silence, unless they were
professional fabricators. He didn’t think Dr. Miller fell into
the latter category.

“
Jean
had her own life. Here at the company, she worked hard. Late almost
every night like most of my employees. I wouldn’t know what
she did on her own time.”

Sure
that she would say no more, Gybe asked the indelicate question –
was Jean a lesbian? He knew that rumors put Jean and Elizabeth
together back at UC Davis. Susan had confessed about their
relationship, but Elizabeth didn’t know that he knew. Gybe
waited for her response.

“
Again,
I wouldn’t know. What difference does it make?”

Picking
up steam, she continued, “That’s a very rude question and
I don’t see what it has to do with Jean’s murder.”
Elizabeth’s face was taut, her eyes stern, her posture rigid.

Gybe
waited two beats then laid one theory on the table. Maybe Jean had a
lesbian lover who found her cheating with Ray. Could that be
possible?

“
Why
do you say lesbian? Maybe she had a male lover who found her
cheating?”

“
You
could be right.” Gybe played along. “But, so far I’ve
found no evidence of men in Jean’s life, except Ray of course.
Since it wasn’t a double suicide, he’s not a suspect.”

Gybe
paused for effect.

“
I
have discovered that Jean has had female lovers in her past. At
least, she did when she was at UC Davis.”

Elizabeth
deflated as fast as the Hindenburg had.

“
You
want to tell me about it?” Gybe asked after a few moments.

Elizabeth
revealed that yes, she had been involved with Jean at UC Davis.
Although she no longer taught at the university, she would appreciate
it if Gybe would keep it to himself. She was worried about the
professor/student ethics problem.

Continuing,
she explained that they had broken up when she moved to Moloka‘i.
Elizabeth left Davis, moved here, and as Gybe knew the story,
started GeNesRus, Inc. A few months before Jean took her orals for
her Ph.D. in genetics, she contacted Elizabeth about a job. They
were just friends.

The
rest was predictable, Jean moved to Moloka‘i where she went to
work for Jean. At first, the working relationship was uncomfortable,
but as the weeks passed, the remembered sexual tensions eased. Both
women were happy as friends.

“
So,
you and Jean never rekindled your love?”

“
No.
Besides, I wouldn’t let it happen. I had too much at stake.
GeNesRus is the most important thing in my life now. We are a small
company with good, dedicated people.” She paused.

“
GeNesRus
could not survive an affair between employees – especially
between the boss and a scientist. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The
intercom buzzed. Elizabeth listened on the handset, then told Lea to
take a message.

“
Anything
else Gybe?”

“
Back
to Ray Wilson. You didn’t know that he and Jean were spending
Saturday’s at her house?”

“
I
believe I already told you no. I didn’t know. What difference
does it make?”

“
Have
you visited Jean’s house?”

“
Of
course, it’s a small island.”

Gybe’s
blood pressure inched up a few millimeters. If he heard the phrase
‘it’s a small island’ one more time, he might
coronary out. Except for Greenland, every fricking island was small.
One could argue about England and Japan and some such places, but
they seldom referred to their nation as an island.

“
Wall
to wall corn fills Jean’s greenhouse. Short corn with more
ears than an Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day. It looked ready
to harvest. Why?”

“
As
I explained at our last meeting, any corn in Jean’s greenhouse
has nothing to do with her work here. It’s illegal. For
research, environmental, and business reasons, we maintain tight
security here at GeNesRus.” Elizabeth crossed her arms just
below her breasts.

“
And
you still don’t know Ray Wilson?”

“
No.
I never met the man.”

From
Mongoose’s snooping, Gybe knew the specific goals of the
trans-species genetic research conducted by GeNesRus. “I know
that your company is perfecting a technique of on-demand or to spec
plant-to-plant gene transfer. You intend to improve upon existing
techniques by an order of magnitude. You hope to create new viable
stock in one-tenth the time that it now takes. Isn’t that
correct?”

Elizabeth’s
eyes widened as she leaned forward across her desk. “How do
you know that?”

He
ignored the question. “What kind of genetic transfers was Jean
working on when she was murdered?”

Elizabeth
sat back from the desk; her eyes darted to the upper left. After
several seconds, she asked Gybe what he knew about hemp.

Gybe
knew that hemp had been an important product in America from
revolutionary war days when farmers were
required
to grow hemp up through the First World War. It had been cultivated
for use in a number of products. But, because of its association
with marijuana, its production was nil in this country in the
twenty-first century.

The
U.S. Customs Service frequently confiscated imported hemp products.
Their weak argument was that they couldn’t differentiate
between hemp and marijuana.

She
confirmed Gybe’s beliefs. Hemp can substitute for fibers,
fabrics, paper, oils, soaps, and dozens of other uses. Almost
anything made from petroleum, cotton, or timber could be produced
from hemp. “Many applications are economical today.”

“
Hemp
offers boundless opportunities if and only if the government could
disassociate the marijuana angle. Native strains of hemp contain
minute traces of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the much sought-after
hallucinogenic in what the islanders call pakalolo.”

Jean
was developing a new strain of hemp by removing the genes that
created the minute traces of THC. As a marker for the feds, so that
they could tell the difference between a marijuana plant and a hemp
plant, Jean implanted genes from cilantro, sometimes called Chinese
parsley, to impart a distinctive aroma. “She also added genes
from a variety of the jalapeño plant. If someone, a college
student for example, tried to smoke the hemp – what college
student wouldn’t try?” She smiled. “They might
fly, but it would be to the nearest water fountain.”

“
Sounds
like a salsa recipe?”

Elizabeth
smiled, but made no comment.

“
Okay,
but this seems to be more of an end product than a procedure. I
thought GeNesRus was perfecting a procedure for spec’ing new
genetically modified plants.”

“
You’re
correct. I founded GeNesRus to develop the techniques. But, reality
is about financing. I ran short of money, so I reviewed our
resources, and decided to develop this one product. The final test
for the new hemp, we call it
red bhang,
will conclude next
week. I have completed negotiations to sell the product to the
largest agricultural conglomerate in the Midwest. The initial
payment plus residuals will fund GeNesRus for several years. By
then, we will have achieved our core goal.”

Outside
the office, Gybe scanned the parking lot before he got into the
’vair. A silver Lexus with tinted windows filled the slot
labeled ‘director’.

51

It
was a quarter of twelve when Gybe entered the small café on
the mauka side of Kaunakakai’s main street. Since it was early
for lunch most of the seats were unoccupied. From his meeting with
Dr. Miller, he had driven straight here.

A
waitress motioned him to a two-person table beneath the front window.
While scanning the board of daily specials, he noticed Lea, the
secretary from GeNesRus, enter the café. Flyn entered behind
her.

When
he caught Flyn’s eye, he motioned her away with a slight shake
of his head. He wanted Lea to join him at the table.

Lea
had taken a seat at another table before she saw Gybe at the front of
the restaurant. With a smile and a hand gesture, Gybe invited her to
join him.

Flyn
took another table.

Lea
and Gybe chatted while they waited for their meal. Lea told him that
she had worked with Dr. Miller almost from the beginning. She used
to work in a real estate office.

“
I
prepared the lease papers for our building. Dr. Miller impressed me
with her daring and confidence. On the lease application she had
written a description of the new company, GeNesRus.” She
chuckled. “At that time, GeNesRus WAS a description.”

Two
days later during her lunch hour, Lea drove to the new company. “I
talked Dr. Miller into hiring me. I think her confidence was sagging
as she sat alone in the new office with all of the empty desks and
labs.” Lea bragged that she was employee number two, just
after Dr. Miller. Working at GeNesRus was far more interesting than
working in a real estate office, she added.

She
asked Gybe why he was involved. Hadn’t the police captured the
murderer? Didn’t he think that Susan was the killer?

“
No,
I don’t. The case against Susan seems strong, but every
argument is circumstantial. No one saw her kill them. Unlike the
movies, there is no murder weapon or DNA or fingerprints. The
victims drowned.” He didn’t mention the difficulty of
swimming with a concrete helmet.

“
But
she coulda done it, right?”

“
Yes.
But so could someone else.”

Gybe
defended his position. “Lots of evidence shows that Susan
hated genetic engineering. The police arrested her several times for
protesting the research companies. Furthermore, rumor says that she
participated in the vandalism of a research field east of town. But,
it’s a big step from killing a corn plant to killing a human
plant. Especially, when you consider the method used to kill Ray and
Jean.”

The
waitress returned with their meals.

Gybe
changed the topic. “Tell me about yourself. Were you raised
on the island?”

Lea
had been born in Maunaloa on the west end of the island. She had the
usual islander hobbies – surfing, diving, and fishing. Like
many people who were raised in the islands, Lea was a regular paddler
in a six-person outrigger canoe. “Our canoe came in second in
the Na Wahine O Ke Kai last September.”

“
The
na wahine what?”

Lea
repeated the name of the race. “Phonetically, it’s nah
wa-hine oh kay kye”

“
Let
me guess. Na wahine means women, right?” A letter to the
editor in a local newspaper had chided the editor for pluralizing a
Hawaiian word by adding an ‘s.’ The writer stated that
prefacing the word with ‘na’ was the correct way to
indicate the plural.