“So when will you know?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. I’ll give it a shot when Ottawa closes tonight, but it may take me a day or two to figure out how to hack my way in.
“Okay. Just keep me informed. Can you do another search in the meantime? This one’s urgent.”
Sylvia grunted, a vestigial response from her days as a man. “As usual.”
I ignored the comment. “Graham Connell.” I spelled it out. “And if you find anything —”
Just then I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see Dinah lounging in the doorway.
She gave me a wry smile. “Stinks in here.”
I kicked myself for not being more careful, then continued in a normal voice, “ — leave a message at the hotel, or send me an e-mail. I’ll check in later.” And I hung up the phone.
If someone had told me that less than twenty minutes ago this woman had run from the room distraught, I wouldn’t have believed them. She was clear-eyed, confident, and in firm control of her emotions. She looked down at the floor, toed the cement, then looked back up at me. “Sorry about what happened back there. It was dumb. It affects my work, is all. She could have told me herself.”
“I get the impression she left in a hurry.” “Maybe.” She paused for a second and looked away. “And maybe not. Anyway…”
I waited, but she didn’t seem inclined to continue.
“Maybe you and I should start over.” I extended my hand. “Morgan O’Brien. A post-doc from Ottawa, but I’m also an old friend of Elaine’s. I’ll try to stay out of your way down here.”
After a moment’s hesitation she pushed herself off the door frame and took my hand. Her grip was firm, no damp dishrag here. “Dinah, Elaine’s technician. But you already know that.”
I smiled. As a technician, Dinah would be a font of valuable departmental gossip. “Elaine said you’d show me how to access the network, and she wants you to stick around. She’ll be down to see you before class.” I got out of my chair and came around behind it. “Maybe you could show me now.”
Dinah looked at the chair, then at me. “I’ll grab a chair.” And she disappeared down the hall. A minute later she was back, and she pulled a chair in next to mine. As she sat down, all I could think of was king crab: ninety percent legs. I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to ask.
“How tall are you, anyway?”
“Just over two metres. I used to hate it, but now I don’t mind.” She settled into her chair then turned and gave me the once-over with her eyes. “So,” she said after a minute, “how do you know Elaine?” I could see her watching my reaction as if I were a subject in a study on primate behaviour.
“Graduate school. We shared an apartment and we used to do our fieldwork together. It was less complicated than with the men. You know. Their wives got jealous, you always had to rent two motel rooms instead of one, and they had special restaurants they had to stop at, usually because there was a waitress with big tits.”
“And you weren’t into that.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.
I shrugged. “I tend to judge a restaurant by the cuisine.”
She nodded a response, as if that told her something she needed to know, but kept watching me with that odd, wolfish stare: curious and calculating. It was unnerving.
“So,” I finally continued, “have you been working for Elaine very long?”
“I came over with Cindy.”
I must have looked surprised. “From New Zealand?” She laughed. “From Madden’s lab. Elaine sort of inherited us from Madden. Cindy was having…” she hesitated.
I rearranged the expression on my face to one of warm concern. “Ah huh?” I said, with that upturned intonation at the end. I learned that in the RCMP too: Interrogation 101, another valuable skill. It works like a hot damn: you can keep even the most resistant interviewee disclosing for hours with the judicious use of a warm and inquiring smile and a carefully placed Ah huh followed by expectant silence. Like most people, Dinah felt compelled to fill the silence.
“She was having problems with someone in Madden’s lab. She needed to get out, and Elaine offered to take her in. I was part of the package, which was okay ‘cause a lot of my work was for Cindy anyway. So now I work for Elaine, but I’m still paid through Madden’s grant.”
Elaine. That dirty little liar. End of story, like hell. With her technician paid for by Riesler, if Elaine had any sense at all (which was open to debate) she would side with him in departmental disputes.
“Do you know Jonathan Edwards?”
She made a silent “Oh” with her lips and shook her head, as if I’d asked a naughty question.
“Ah huh?” I said, and waited.
There was a pause, then: “He’s gone to Natural Resources. Around here that’s considered a demotion. It’s like the more applied the work the less important it must be. And nobody’s really saying why he left.” Then she leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “But if you’re going to see Dr. Edwards don’t let the boss lady know. She’ll have a fit.”
That was hard to believe, even for Elaine. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. “The way she acts, you’d think he broke up with her, when she’s the one who called it off.”
My eyes almost popped out of my head. “They were lovers?”
Dinah brought her hand up to her mouth. “Oh God, you didn’t know. Don’t tell her I —”
And just at that moment, the boss lady walked in the door.
The conversation stopped dead. Dinah busied herself examining the floor. I glared at Elaine, but being Elaine she was oblivious.
“Oh good, you’ve met,” was all she said, then she came around behind me and perched herself on the far side of the desk. She had pinioned Dinah with her eyes.
“You know what’s going on with Cindy’s project?” Dinah didn’t look up, kept her eyes on the floor. “More or less,” she mumbled.
“What the hell does that mean, more or less. Can you, or can’t you, do the work on your own?”
Dinah had regained some of her composure and sat up straight, returning Elaine’s gaze. She was almost as tall sitting as Elaine was standing up.
“I can figure it out by tomorrow, but I’ll need a second person on the net.”
“Tomorrow?” Elaine hopped off the desk and crossed the room. She examined a complicated-looking chart stuck to the wall, then she turned back to Dinah. “You don’t have a field run tomorrow. You don’t have another one until Thursday.”
I heard Dinah take a deep breath, as if bracing herself, but when her voice came out it was firm and strong. “There’ve been a few problems.”
Elaine didn’t move a muscle, just bore into Dinah with her eyes. When she finally spoke her voice was flat and deadly. “What kind of problems?”
“Back off Elaine.” That was me. “It’s not her fault that Cindy left.”
Elaine shot me a nasty look, but turned back to Dinah as she started to explain.
“The return to Weaver Creek is way down. The numbers seem to fluctuate wildly. For a couple of days they’re okay, then nothing. No fish returning at all. Some days we can’t even work. There aren’t enough fish. Cindy scheduled some extra runs to make up the days we lost. It should be okay.”
Elaine was now the picture of controlled rage: glassy eyes,