an intricately patterned shawl over her shoulders and brushed her hair behind her left ear. “I trust you have an update on Professor Bastian’s death. We’d of course be interested in hearing any leads you have before the media does.”
Mort watched Snelling’s slow nod and assumed he was trying to look useful.
“I didn’t come here to update you,” Mort paused. “What should I call you, by the way? Folks around here seem to be touchy about titles.”
He was happy to see the first genuine smile of the morning. “Yes, Detective.” Her grey eyes twinkled and Mort saw ten years disappear from her face. “A university runs on its hierarchy, I’m afraid. Please, call me Meredith.” She tilted her head to the man leaning against her desk. “And this is Carl. Let me know if he says anything different.”
Mort gave Snelling a wink and a grin. “Old Carl and I are off to a fine start, Meredith.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “What can you tell me about Bastian’s research?”
Meredith focused immediately. “You think his work with animals led to his death?”
“Bastian worked with monkeys and dogs, I understand?” Mort watched her face.
Meredith nodded. “And rats, of course. Animal research is a necessary piece of meaningful advancement, Detective. His labs were overseen by both university and federal regulatory agencies. I can assure you any animal in Bastian’s lab was treated properly.”
He wondered how skilled a woman would have to be at hiding her emotions to climb this high up the academic tower. “How close were you to his research?”
Snelling interrupted. “What’s the point of these questions? Surely you don’t expect a woman running a university this size to be knowledgeable of every faculty member’s work.”
Mort kept his eyes on Meredith. “You said he was a personal friend.”
The president nodded and brought her hand to her throat. Mort sensed their relationship may have been more intimate.
“What can you tell me about Ortoo?” Mort asked.
Meredith glanced away and shook her head. “I don’t know that term.”
Mort’s attention stayed focused. “It’s not a term, Meredith. It’s a name. Tell me what you know about Ortoo.”
Snelling left the desk to stand behind the sofa. “She’s already answered you.”
Mort ignored him. He stayed fixed on Meredith. “You’ve never heard the name Ortoo?”
When she shook her head he glanced up at Snelling. “How about you?”
“Where’s this going, Detective?” Snelling’s voice had an aggressive edge his position didn’t warrant. Mort returned to Meredith.
“We’re in possession of a video of Bastian butchering a primate named Ortoo. A silverback gorilla. We have reason to believe the murder of Ortoo led directly to someone putting out a contract on Bastian. Possibly in retaliation.”
Meredith folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them for several long moments before speaking. “I want to see that tape, Detective.”
He was impressed with her control. “Then you are aware of Ortoo?”
She snapped her head up and Mort took a fast inhale at the fury in her eyes. “You come here and tell me a valued member of my faculty was experimenting with a gorilla. That’s both illegal and unethical. Then you tell me that faculty member, my friend, butchered said gorilla and it led to someone hiring an assassin.” Meredith stood and walked behind her desk. Snelling walked over to his president and reached a hand to her shoulder. She brushed it away with an angry wave.
“Forgive me if I find this situation outlandish,” Meredith snapped. “I need to see that tape. If someone’s fabricated something for YouTube and it’s out there tarnishing the reputation of this university or its faculty, I demand to see it.”
Mort pulled himself out of the chair and reached for his jacket. “You don’t get to demand anything, Meredith. This is my murder investigation. What I can tell you is that the tape wasn’t fabricated. The best computer forensic expert in the business assures us it’s legit. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what you know about Bastian murdering Ortoo.”
Meredith locked her stare on Mort and tapped perfectly manicured nails against the back of her office chair. “You make serious allegations against my faculty. I’m going to stop this conversation now and consult with university attorneys before we speak again. I’m sure you understand.” She turned to Snelling. “Carl, you’ll escort the good detective out?”
Her request left no room for refusal. Mort said his farewell to a silent president and followed Snelling out to the reception area. He pulled on his parka, called out a goodbye to Angela, and was heading for the door when he felt Snelling pull on his arm. He stopped, looked down at the hand that griped his sleeve, and fixed a quizzical gaze at the skinny man with red hair.
“A moment? Please?” Snelling dropped his hand.
“One minute, how’s that?” Mort had had enough of the ivory tower for one day.
“You were rough on her.” Snelling put his hands in his pockets. “There was no need.” Snelling looked toward Angela and lowered his voice. “Next time come talk with me? I’ve seen three university presidents come and go. I know far more about how this place really runs than Meredith ever will.”
Mort shook his head at the frightened sycophant and left. He passed Bodie on his way out and recalled the young man’s assurance of help. Mort wondered if any purple-coated ambassador could tell him why the university president still hadn’t asked how Bastian was killed.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lydia parked her car three blocks east of Cameron William’s catering shop, grateful for the rain. She pulled the hood of her jacket up and kept her eyes down as she walked, hoping any passer-by or security camera would register her as an amorphous blur.
She stood across the street and watched Cameron’s building. It was nearly six o’clock. When she called the caterer that morning to suggest a meeting to finalize the plans for her dinner party, Lydia asked for an evening appointment. She needed Cameron alone.
Lydia crossed the street. A bell mounted above the shop’s door jamb announced her entry. Pleasant aromas of savory and sweet contrasted with the dimly lit interior. She reached her right hand into her jacket pocket and slid the safety of her Luger off.
“Hello,” she called out. “Cameron?”
No answer. Lydia turned and locked the shop’s front door. She flipped the hanging sign to read “Closed”.
“Anybody home?” Lydia stepped behind the counter and pushed open the aluminum door leading to the kitchen.
Empty.
She walked down the narrow hallway leading to the back of the building. A door fifteen feet away stood open. Soft golden light spilled onto the worn hardwood floors. She glanced over her shoulder before continuing. She saw Cameron. Alone in her office. Sitting at her desk, staring into nothingness.
“Cameron?” Lydia’s voice was barely a whisper as she stepped inside.
Cameron turned to her visitor and blinked twice before speaking. “Dr. Corriger.” She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. Her voice was that of an automaton. Numb. Detached. “Now’s not a good time.”
Lydia closed Cameron’s office door and quietly engaged the lock. She kept her eyes on the disoriented blonde seated in front of her.
“Is something wrong?”
Tears welled in Cameron’s blue eyes. She didn’t answer for several moments. Lydia didn’t move, hoping her steady presence would calm her.
“It’s Fred,” Cameron finally said. She looked up at Lydia. “My fiance.”
“I remember.” Lydia said. “Are you having a bad go of it today?”
