Forever Dead (16 page)

Taken aback, I began to explain about my disks, but he impatiently waved me to silence.

“Yes, yes, your disks and larvae and things.” He dismissed my entire career with a wave of his hand. “Don filled me in on it all, and I want it to stop. I can't have you in here wasting my people's time. We've had enough from the police and the press. If you need anything please come to me.”

He was invading my personal space, herding me before him and out of his doorway and into the hall.

“Perhaps I can help you sometime, but not today. As you can see I am extremely busy.” With that, he withdrew his business card, handed it to me, and quietly closed the door behind him.

I stood in the hall a moment wondering why he felt so threatened. I debated precisely two seconds about going behind his back to see Patrick Whyte. But I was on a roll, my confidence level at an all-time high, and I wasn't about to waste it — I never seemed to be able to count on it being there for me, so it was a real bonus. I needed it now, and I had it, so I cruised down the hallway and found a back stairway up to the second-floor labs, hoping Davies wouldn't appear out of nowhere to scream at me. I peered into one lab and was directed down the hall to another whose door was wide open. Through it I could hear a male voice raised in anger.

“Yes, well, keep out of my damn business. I can speak to whomever I want. It's a free world,” said the voice and then I heard a telephone slamming down.

I waited a discreet few seconds so that he wouldn't think I'd overheard and then knocked on the open door. He was standing by the window looking out, and at the sound of my knock he jumped and turned around. Evidently he was making another phone call because he gripped the phone in his hand and I noticed his knuckles were white. He was very tall, maybe 6' 5”, and well built, and his thick, unruly blond hair swept over his forehead
like a tidal wave. His eyes were a soft, deep, clear cobalt blue, and as he turned them on me I felt myself involuntarily melting into them. We stared at each other in silence for some moments, and then he waved at me to sit down. Disconcerted I sat down rather suddenly as he barked some orders into the phone and hung up, having never taken his eyes off me.

“Photo lab's always getting things mixed up” he said. “I asked them for black and white prints and they've given me colour. What can I do for you?” He smiled. You could get lost in a smile like that, I thought, momentarily sidetracked.

“My name's Cordi O'Callaghan,” I said, when I finally found my voice. “I wanted to ask you some questions …” I hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

“So you're Dr. O'Callaghan, eh? Tough luck about your insects.”

I looked at him and then laughed nervously. “Davies?”

“It was in the paper, and dear Davies just phoned to tell me not to talk to you. So, tell me why I should?” His eyes danced in amusement and watched me closely.

I gave him a brief outline of what had happened with my insects and disks and he seemed genuinely interested, so I asked him how well he had known Diamond.

“Well enough. He was a bit of a prick, to tell you the truth. Don't get me wrong, I'm sorry he's dead, but he and I never really hit it off.” He moved over to a jumble of folders on a desk. “Mind if we talk while I work?”

He folded himself like a jackknife into a chair and began sorting through the mess. I sat and watched.

“Quite a mess, eh? It's not usually like this. It's Diamond's main work area — was, I should say. He did most of his work here. Always kept it neat as a pin, but somebody came in a week or so ago and rifled through it.
I haven't had a chance to clean it up yet. Whoever it was spent a lot of time here by the looks of it — all his files have been searched. Don't know what they were looking for, but they sure left a mess behind. Now I have the job of going through it, tidying it all up, and seeing what sort of papers we can publish for him posthumously.”

“Did you call security?”

Patrick looked up in surprise. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

“In case something was stolen.”

Patrick laughed, a deep rich chortle that was infectious.

“Nothing to steal here, but lots over there, and nothing's gone, as far as I can see.” He waved his hand around the room and made his point. I could see three computers, microscopes, and all manner of equipment.

“What about the computer? Any files missing?” He looked at me quickly and frowned.

“I never thought of that. I'll have to check, but I haven't noticed anything missing.”

“You're his PhD student, is that right?”

“Yes.” He smoothed out his frown. “I've been working with him for two years now looking at parasites on Canada lynx. He does most of the fieldwork and I do the lab stuff.”

“What was he working on up in the bush before he died?”

“I don't know for sure. He said it was follow-up stuff on his lynx population experiments, that he needed to get a tad more data, but he'd already put in six weeks up there earlier in the spring with our pilot, Jeff, following our radio-tagged lynx. At first I thought he was goofing off, three weeks and all, when he had a lot to do here, but everyone needs a holiday and it was so peaceful without him hanging around me like a leech.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I got the impression that he was either working on something new or had a new angle on something old. He seemed quite excited about it, but then he always overreacted to everything. I did get the impression that it might have been a new project or maybe something to do with the logging, but he never said and I wasn't about to ask. We all keep things close to our chests when it's something new. No one wants to be scooped.”

I felt a pang of resentment. First Leslie, now Diamond. Why couldn't I find something new?

“You didn't like him.”

“No, I didn't.”

He ended the sentence as if he was ending the conversation, but I persevered.

“I understand you two didn't see eye to eye over this logging business.”

Patrick looked up quickly and fixed me with a frown that made his eyebrows merge into one long bushy slash. I much preferred the smile.

“We had our differences. He was a real firebrand radical when it came to the logging issue. He had to win at all costs. I thought he was an asshole and not harmless. He was a dangerous man. Intelligent but with a real temper, and he had a real problem with women. He did try to treat them as equals, but they shone out of his eyes as sex symbols — with no brains. If you've ever met his wife you'll get my drift, although I must say his current girlfriend isn't so bad. Guess he's getting better at picking them.”

“He's got a girlfriend? Does his wife know?”

“Does his wife know? Are you kidding? Everybody knew. The wife was filing for divorce. He'd been through half the department here. The man chased anything in a skirt. He wasn't a cruel man — just horny.”

I thought about Lianna's tear-streaked face. Perhaps not such a grief-stricken widow as she had seemed, pretending to rein in emotions that weren't there. Good actor though. I had to wonder why. To get the black book? Why was it so important?

“Who's his girlfriend?”

“You mean his current one?”

“Yes.” God, how many had he had, I thought, suddenly feeling sorry for Lianna in spite of myself.

“Shannon. Healthy, shy little thing, not like his usual mannequins. She was in here the other day picking up some stuff from his office. Pretty broken up about it, I'll say that for her. Not like the wife. They had a hell of a fight here. Met in the hall outside his office.”

“What happened?”

“They lost it. What a ruckus. They were screeching so loudly and the swear words were colouring the air blue. Something about Diamond's property and will, but why Shannon should be hoping to get it is beyond me. Wife's entitled to everything unless he left a will saying otherwise. Anyway, it was pretty ugly, and Davies nearly burst a gut trying to get them out before the students heard any more. Quite comical, actually. He looked just like a sheepdog trying to herd his sheep.”

“Had she and Diamond been together long?”

“Year, year and a half, I'd say. No more, anyway. I must say, he seemed quite happy with her. She'd be able to tell you more about Diamond than any of us if you're willing to be patient. She's in Ottawa. Lives on McLeod, I think. Diamond commuted on weekends. I can give you her number if you like.”

I nodded. Patrick rummaged through a desk, then wrote down the number on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. I noticed his fingers were long and
slender and he wore a single ring on his right hand, a grey star sapphire that showed dull in the false light of his office.

“You should talk to Leslie, too. Do you know her?” he asked as I took the paper from him. He didn't let his half go right away, and I wasn't sure what to do. I shook my head and looked up at him, feeling like a fool as I hung onto my half of the little piece of paper.

He smiled and suddenly let go. I squirreled the piece of paper away and said, “I was just talking to her.”

“Good,” he said. “She can tell you a lot, I'm sure.” He laughed and shook his head. “They loved to hate each other, those two. He got tenure and she didn't. Apparently they were equally qualified, but there was only one tenured position open. They say she was very bitter and vindictive. Claims it was sexist. Who knows? Happened before I was here. She's got his job now and tenure will follow I'm sure. Damned happy about it, I should say. Poor taste though. Wouldn't put it past her to have been smiling at the funeral.”

I picked up a small tooth on top of the desk, twirled it in my hands. It looked like the tooth of a carnivore.

“What's this?”

“That's a Canada lynx tooth. Diamond collected a lot of samples whenever he could, and he had an extensive tooth collection that he prized. All the cats from all over the world: lion, cougar, jaguar, cheetah … He nearly knocked the lights out of one of the loggers at a meeting when he broke the chain around Diamond's neck and flung it across the room. It was one of his precious teeth, and nobody lays a finger on his precious teeth without permission. There's a film of that meeting. You should take a look at it if you want to see what Diamond was like. Quite entertaining.”

“What meeting was that?”

“An information meeting about the logging up near Dumoine. It got quite emotional.”

“How can I get a copy of that film?”

“I'll set up a showing for you at the media centre here if you want.”

“I'd like that. It could be useful,” I said. I put the tooth back on the desk. “Did Diamond usually take photos when he went out on his trips?”

“Yes. He always had his camera with him just in case.”

“What about this last trip? Anything turned up?”

He looked at me curiously, and I noticed that his blue eyes were flecked with black motes that made them appear fathomless.

“Nothing's turned up here that I know of, but then the police are probably sitting on it still.”

“They didn't find any film.”

He frowned but said nothing.

“Did you ever go on any of his field trips?”

“Yes. He hated company, but he usually needed it when he was tranquilizing the cats to put a radio collar on, and that's when I'd get my samples — you know, you're a zoologist — vials of ticks and stuff. Anyway, I always shot the dart — he hated to do that.”

“Isn't that out of character? I would have thought he would be the sort of macho man who would hunt.”

“No, he hated weapons of any kind. He blinded a kid in one eye with a BB gun when he was eight. Apparently they were in the woods alone and the kid screamed and there was blood everywhere and he kind of lost it. It made him sick. As I said he was a sensitive man, at least when it came to anything inherently violent. I can't help but like that in the man. But he was too damn stubborn. Thought he was right all the time. Trouble was he was bright enough that he usually was.
Anyway, I would shoot the darts and then I'd help with the radio tracking equipment.”

“How easy would it be to accidentally shoot yourself with a tranquilizer gun?” Patrick looked at me and turned his head to one side. God, he was a nice-looking man. I mentally kicked my thoughts to scatter them out of my mind. They were too damn distracting. The effect this perfect stranger was having on me was unnerving.

“What kind of question's that?” He shuffled some papers uneasily and cleared his throat. “Not easy, but I suppose it could happen. It's a gun really, and the ammo is a dart that shoots out. The impact of the dart in the animal's hide releases the tranquilizer. Still, you'd have to be pretty dumb or fantastically careless or accident-prone to do that unintentionally.”

I found Leslie in among a whole truckload of boxes in Diamond's old office. His name was still on the door, and the snarling face of a Canada lynx growled out at me. I knocked, and a moment later Leslie appeared at the door eating an apple. Her black closely cropped hair made her face look quite masculine, but the rest of her was definitely a woman.

“Well, so we meet again.”

“Looks like you got promoted?”

“Yeah. Soon to be full professor from associate. But what a way to do it, eh? Over Diamond's dead body. Nothing like taking over the responsibilities of a dead man.” I was startled by the bitterness in her voice, but then she smiled and I thought maybe I had been mistaken.

“We never properly introduced ourselves back up there in the woods. Leslie Mitchell.” She hastily switched
the apple to her left hand, wiped her right hand on her pants, and held it out to me.

“Cordi O'Callaghan,” I said as I gripped her hand in mine. I winced at the strength of it. This was getting to be ridiculous. Had everyone learned that a limp grip labelled you a wimp? The harder you squeeze the more important you are?