Think Murder (6 page)

The still on TV woke me before my alarm. I turned it off and got ready for work. Planning to go to Cutie Pie right after work and expecting Bruce to be there, I opted for my dressy jeans, my favorite lavender blouse, and a black cardigan.

When I got to the office, I checked for messages and meetings. Matt would be out most of the day and hadn’t left me any work. My plan for the day was to get a handle on the Land Use Survey. I had just started searching for the data on West Virginia when Rick Dempsey came over. Rick is a Research Assistant in the Middle East Affairs Unit and good friends with Duncan.

“Morning, Adina. How are you?”

“I’m doing OK. You?”

“Fine. I was wondering, have you spoken to Duncan since Hilary’s funeral? When I called him last night, he didn’t pick up.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. I should have thought to call him myself. “No, I haven’t. I hope he’s alright. Hilary’s death hit him hard. Do you know when he’s due back?”

“I think he’s flying back tonight, unless he changed his plans.”

“I’ll try to give him a call later. Let me know if you hear from him. I’ll do the same.”

“Good idea. Talk to you later.” Rick started to walk away, then turned back. “Adina, I know from Duncan that you and Hilary were close, and that you were with her that night. It must be a difficult time for you, too. If you want to talk…”

I thanked Rick for his concern. Rick and I are what might be called ‘friends by association.’ The only thing we really had in common was our shared friendship with Duncan and Hilary. Rick has a somewhat reserved air, and our interactions thus far had pretty much been limited to small talk.

After Rick left, I got back to work. Unable to focus on what I was reading, I gave up and went to make myself a cup of tea. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. No stares, no whispers.

I sipped the tea as I debated the merits of calling vs. texting Duncan. In case he was managing to get some sleep, I sent him a text message: “You OK? Want to talk?” He didn’t respond.

The data for West Virginia was in one of the project’s sub-directories on the server. At first glance, it looked straightforward. There were separate files for each year. Hilary had copy-pasted information from a range of places, indicating the sources for each batch of data. She had also prepared a spreadsheet for compiling the data. The completed table would include the acreage designated for conservation, and the easements granted during that year, in total and by end use, for the years 2008-2012.

The total conserved acreage for the start of 2008 had already been entered in the spreadsheet, together with the easements data. There had been some reallocation of land purposes, for the most part for agricultural purposes. I checked the numbers in the table against the snippets in the file. Everything appeared to be in order, so I moved on to 2009.

I read all of Hilary’s online notes for 2009. I then extracted the 2009 data based on how she had processed 2008. The referenced sources were almost identical in structure, various annual reports produced by state zoning authorities. I cross-checked my calculations and data entry before taking my lunch break.

Michelle and I popped out to the sandwich shop for lunch. In between bites, Michelle asked, “Are you going to continue working with Dr. Stickler?”

“Well, I am going to help out for a week or two. You know, those graphs and charts Hilary had been working on.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Adina, you might not want to hear this – I know it’s not true – rumor has it that you’re after Hilary’s job.”

“As much as I’d love a promotion, I’d rather stay Matt’s admin assistant forever than have to deal with Stickler every day.”

“Yeah, Matt is a dream boss.”

“Do you know where the rumor started? I didn’t think many people knew that I was asked to help out.”

“My guess is Carol. She probably resents that he didn’t want her to do the work.” Michelle chuckled, “Besides, she seems to actually like Dr. Stickler.”

“Could be. Carol didn’t look happy when she saw me going through the files at Hilary’s desk.”

“Well, she’ll just have to get over it.” Michelle’s matter of fact attitude was one of the reasons we get along well, even if we don’t spend much time together outside of work.

We exchanged thoughts on a few other rumors circulating the office before clearing our trays and heading back to work.

After lunch, I tackled 2010 and 2011 using the same approach as before. Identify the details in the report, then copy them into the corresponding cells in the spreadsheet. Piece of cake. The data processing part anyway. Summarizing the data might be more challenging, but it could wait for later.

At around 3 p.m., I started to process the 2012 data. The data Hilary had gathered was way out of line with the preceding years. In 2008-2011, there had been almost no re-designation of land for commercial or industrial purposes (average of < 0.5%). In 2012, almost 6% of the preserved land in West Virginia had been rezoned for commercial use. I double-checked my spreadsheet entries against Hilary’s source files. No mistake. Spike in data.

I opened the spreadsheets for Virginia, Tennessee, and Kentucky. Although the data differed from state to state, nothing stood out.

I called Carol to find out if Dr. Stickler was available to discuss the Land Use Survey. She checked with him, then told me I could meet with him at 4:30 in his office.

When I entered Dr. Stickler’s office at the designated time, he asked, “So Adina, how is your work on the project progressing?”

“I think it’s going OK, so far. I wanted to bring a few potential anomalies to your attention.”

He nodded, and I continued. “The data for each state and each year is slightly different. I assume that is to be expected. However, something seems off about the data for West Virginia. In 2012, almost 6% of the preserved land in West Virginia was rezoned for commercial use, compared to less than ½ percent per year in previous years.”

Dr. Stickler looked perplexed. After a pause, he responded, “That is odd. I do vaguely recall Hilary mentioning that she might need to double-check the data sources.” His voice trailed off, “I don’t know if she did so before…”

“How would you like me to handle this?”

“I suggest you check her files and written notes to determine what data she was able to confirm. If the data is accurate, it is important to understand why. It might reflect changes in local legislation, and in turn impact on how I interpret the findings.”

“OK. I’ll double-check the data to ensure its accuracy. If it is correct, then do you want me to check state and local legislation?”

“Good idea. If the information isn’t online, you should be able to find it at the Library of Congress.” His eyebrows slightly raised, he asked, “Have you ever done research at the Library of Congress?”

“Yes, I have. For Matt, for the energy policy study.”

“OK then. Keep me posted.” I was dismissed, for now. I returned to my desk, grabbed my bag and clocked out.

Cutie Pie is quiet on weekdays. Joan and other non-working folks come in during the day. Two or three of us volunteer on different evenings. Bruce, Stacey and I were slated for puppy care that evening. I was glad to see that Stacey was already there when I arrived. Although many of the volunteers have keys, I had never bothered to get one.

“Hi, Stacey. How are you today?”

“Pretty good, you?”

“No complaints.”

“I see Bruce is listed on the schedule. I wonder when our hunky new volunteer will get here.”

I shrugged. Bruce had sure made an impression on Stacey. At close to 30, Stacey is single and a nursery school teacher. I suspect one of the reasons she comes to Cutie Pie is to spend time with adults.

There were only eight dogs at the center today. The German shepherd was gone. He must have been adopted over the weekend. Bruce wandered in just as I was preparing to take the chocolate lab for a walk.

Stacey rushed over to greet him with a broad smile. “Bruce, so glad that you could make it.” I bet she’d have fluttered her eyelashes if she knew how.

He smiled back. “Hi, Adina. Hi, Stacey. How are you ladies today?”

The dog was getting impatient so I responded with a quick “Fine, thanks,” and headed out the door.

I had only been outside for a few minutes when Bruce emerged with Patch. Stacey was right about one thing. Bruce was definitely hot. He moved with confidence, his gray crewneck t-shirt and slim-fit charcoal jeans hugging his body in all the right places.

He smiled as he approached. Fortunately, both Patch and Brandy were well socialized and quite content to be walked together.

“So, Adina, how long have you been volunteering at Cutie Pie?”

“Almost a year now. I’d love to have a dog, but I live in a studio apartment. Wouldn’t be good for me or the dog.”

“I grew up with dogs. Hunting dogs, mostly. Like that lab there.”

We discussed the merits of the different breeds as we circled around back to Cutie Pie.

I took another dog out, hoping that Bruce would join me. Wishful thinking. He didn’t.

When I returned, Bruce was hoisting the contents of a large sack of dog food into a storage drum, biceps bulging. Stacey gawked from across the room. Although I agreed with her assessment, I sure hope I did a better job of hiding it.

As I walked home, my thoughts returned to my conversation with Bruce. It had been a pleasant and impersonal chat with a gorgeous guy – small talk centered on dogs. Something about him was different, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Bruce had a more earthy air than most of the guys I’d encountered in D.C.

Unlike Stacey, I’m not the type to blatantly flirt. I had been self-conscious when we talked, trying to keep it casual, neither eager nor aloof. It was hard to tell what kind of impression I’d made on him. Of course, it would be nice to know whether he was available before my fantasies ran wild.

When I got to the office on Wednesday morning, Matt had left several tasks for me. I quickly handled his correspondence and proofread a few docs.

Within an hour, I was free to concentrate on the Land Use Survey. I reread all of Hilary’s online files and then dove into the hard copies and notes in the project folder from her desk.

Hilary had scribbled, “Discuss this with Glen Gardner?” and a phone number in the margin of her notes. I didn’t recognize the name so I googled it. I found him listed on the website of the Tristate Land Preservation Coalition, an environmental lobbying group focused on issues related to Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky.

I dialed the number even though I wasn’t sure what Hilary had in mind when she had jotted it down. It rang several times. I was about to hang up when a man answered.

“Gardner speaking.”

“Good morning. My name is Adina Donati. I’m a colleague of Hilary Sterling at the Drake Institute for Policy Planning and Research. I’ve taken over her work on the Land Use Survey and I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

He snapped, “I spoke to Ms. Sterling briefly a few weeks ago. I told her that I have no information pertaining to the subject of that study. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be of any further assistance. Have a nice day.” And he hung up.

An hour later my phone rang.

“May I please speak with Adina Donati?”

“Speaking.”

“It’s Glen Gardner. First of all, let me apologize for the abruptness of my response when you called earlier. There’s a lot going on and I couldn’t speak freely in the office.” He paused. “I can’t talk right now. I’d be happy, however, to meet with you when I take my lunch break. Can you meet me at Farragut Square at 1?”

“Sure, that’s not far from here. How will I recognize you?”

“Wait for me on the sidewalk facing the statue of Farragut. I’ll find you.”

I was intrigued by the ‘cloak and dagger’ vibe this guy was giving off. At the same time, I found myself rethinking the wisdom of meeting him.

Matt was in his office so I decided to see what he thought. I told him about the odd conversation and the lunch appointment.

“This guy sounds a bit paranoid, of course, it never hurts to be careful.” I wasn’t sure how serious Matt was when he offered, “Do you want me to play backup? I can camp out in the park and keep an eye on things if you want.”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. After all, it’s a public place and I certainly won’t agree to go anywhere with him.”

“Well, if you aren’t back by 1:45, I’ll send out the cavalry.”

I wasn’t really afraid, still I did feel better knowing that I had told someone where I was going.

I stopped at the sandwich shop on the way to Farragut Square. My take-out lunch in hand, I was standing in front of the statue a few minutes before 1 o’clock. I hadn’t waited for long when a lanky red-headed guy approached me wearing dark glasses. Although he wore a shirt and tie, he looked more like an absent-minded professor than a typical lobbyist. Partly because his hair was longer than most D.C. types, an unruly mop of curls, and his sunglasses were crooked.

“Adina?”

I nodded. He introduced himself and then motioned toward a nearby bench where we both sat down.

He removed his sunglasses and turned to me. “I was sorry to hear about Hilary. She was such a nice person.”

“How did you know her?”

“I first met Hilary at an environmental protection seminar last June. We were seated next to each other and struck up a conversation. She mentioned the study she was working on, and I gave her my card.”

I was going to have to eat while we talked so I unwrapped my turkey sandwich.

“I was thrilled when she called, and I was happy to try to help. You see, I had a bit of a crush on her…”

“What did she ask you about?”

His eyes darted left and right. In a barely audible tone, he explained. “Hilary had some questions regarding the policies in different states, whether I had heard of any irregularities in the repurposing of lands. Although I hadn’t heard anything, her questions sparked my curiosity.”

I took another bite of my sandwich and waited for him to continue.

“I looked up the data we had in our internal database, and I saw that her observations appeared valid, particularly with respect to land repurposing for commercial purposes. The next time we spoke, she was bent on finding out more about the decision-making process and the decision-makers.”

“Sounds like Hilary. She would want to know the who, what, and why of any anomaly,” I responded. That’s why she enjoyed the challenge of research.

“When I attempted to ask one of our senior staff what he thought, he brushed me off. Told me to leave it alone, that sometimes things are just what they are. It’s not so much what he said as how he said it. Almost like a warning.”

“Wow. Do you think there’s more to it?”

“Well, I didn’t suspect anything was seriously wrong. Then when I tried to get back to Hilary, her line was turned off. When I googled her name to see if I could find other contact information, I saw a news item reporting her death. It kind of freaked me out.”

As Glen’s words sunk in, something compelled me to scan our surroundings. People were cutting through the park en route to parts unknown. A couple was making out on the bench next to us, and a guy in a Redskins cap was sitting on the bench opposite us reading a newspaper. No one seemed to even notice us.

“I don’t think anybody knows what happened to Hilary. The police are still investigating.” I tried to reassure him, and myself. “Surely it has nothing to do with the study.”

“Probably not, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want to lose my job either.”

“I understand. Do you have any idea why so much land is being repurposed for commercial use? Any suggestions, off the record, for me?”

Fidgeting, Glen answered in an almost inaudible voice. “If I were to investigate, I would start by examining the relevant commissions and past decisions. Is this a new development, or acceleration of an existing trend… I wish I could help you… I just don’t want to get involved.”

“I understand. I’m not sure what I can do with the information I have, but thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

We both stood up. He shook my hand and ambled away. I sat down to finish my sandwich before returning to the office. On the way back to the DIPPeR, I had an odd feeling that someone might be following me. Glen’s paranoia was contagious.