Georgia herself appeared at Yarrow's door, her plump hands fluttering in agitation. She looked the perfect lady in her floral dress, sensible heels, and discreet jewelry. "So sorry, so sorry," she cried. "A most urgent procedural matter, most urgent."
She hurried into her office, reemerging a moment later with a sheaf of papers in her hand. "Today's schedule," she announced, distributing pages with alacrity. People began to wander off. "Speed is of the essence," she called after them. "So much remains to be done."
When she came to me, Georgia paused. "Ah, Kylie. Professor Yarrow wants to see you immediately."
"Right-oh."
Yarrow was sitting bolt upright behind his desk, his thin lips set in a tight line. He was not alone. Winona Worsack, medievally garbed, sat primly in a chair; Wally Easton's considerable bulk lounged against the windowsill.
Yarrow managed an excuse of a smile. "Kylie, sit down."
I nodded to the other two-both ignored me-and plunked myself in the chair he indicated. "What can I do for you, Prof?" I asked with a sunny smile.
No one returned it. Easton swiveled his shaved head to look out the window. Winona stared at me as though I were an insect on a slide. I checked out her wheels and was quite disappointed to find she actually had long, slender feet. Maybe there were tiny wheels attached to the soles of her shoes.
Yarrow seemed pained at my contraction of his title, but deciding to ignore it, he said, "You're on friendly terms with Erin Fogarty, and that's what she desperately needs at the moment, a friend. I'm hoping you'll help us keep an eye on her."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
Yarrow sighed. "Frankly, I'm very concerned about Erin. She called me last night at home, quite hysterical, saying the police believe she was the one who pushed Dr. Braithwaite off the roof."
"Crikey," I said. "Do you think she did?"
Winona Worsack broke in with a terse "It was an accident."
"Yes," said Yarrow, "a dreadful accident. But contrary to what Erin says, I'm afraid that she may well have been there when it happened. Apparently, she sent a text message to Braithwaite's phone, setting up the time and place."
"Doesn't sound good for her," I said.
Yarrow did a rueful head shake. "I'm afraid it doesn't, and I'm worried she's so stressed by the situation that she might do something stupid."
"Like what?" I asked, wide-eyed.
Yarrow looked very grave. "Hurt herself in some way."
"Commit suicide?"
My blunt words elicited a grimace from Yarrow and a sharp look from Winona, who said, "The girl's clearly emotionally unbalanced, but hardly suicidal. If we believed she was at risk, steps would be taken to admit her immediately to a hospital."
A monstrous idea was forming in my mind. Could it be that Yarrow intended to plant the idea that Erin might be suicidal, so that later she could be killed? And if her body was found with a note accepting responsibility for Oscar's death, so much the better.
"Maybe Erin does need to see a doctor," I said. "I'd be glad to go with her."
Over at the window, Easton turned his head to look at me. He had a flat, reptilian stare that prickled my skin.
"That won't be necessary," said Yarrow emphatically. "This morning I had a long, intimate chat with Erin, and she's calmed down considerably, knowing I'm taking a fatherly interest in her welfare."
I glanced at Winona, expecting she'd be browned off to have her husband burbling on about an intimate conversation with a female student, but Winona was impassive.
"Erin needs peer support," said Winona, who surely didn't give a brass razoo whether Erin had support or not. "We're asking you to be her friend. Let her talk things through. Find out what's she thinking. Help us to understand her problems."
"I reckon her main problem is she might be charged with murder."
Shaking his head, Yarrow got to his feet. "A tragic situation for everyone. We can only hope the authorities decide it was misadventure and nothing more." He made an attempt at a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Kylie. I do appreciate your help with Erin. If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if at the end of each day you report how Erin is faring to my assistant, Ms Tapp."
"Right-oh."
He took my arm to lead me to the door. "And please, at any time I'm available if you have particular worries about Erin's welfare."
I glanced back to see Winona glowering at her husband. She clearly didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and from the way he was massaging my arm with his fingers, she was right.
TWENTY-ONE
Georgia had put me back to work collating stuff for the symposium attendees, and when I got to the room, Erin was already there, wandering from desk to desk, listlessly collecting a page from each neat pile. Apart from us, the room was empty.
"G'day," I said.
"Oh, hi, Carol."
"Kylie."
"Sorry. Kylie."
For a change, she wasn't crying, but sniffs punctuated the silence every few moments. After a particularly loud sniff, Erin said to me, "Have the cops interviewed you yet?"
"About Dr. Braithwaite? Why would they want to? I don't know anything."
Erin's eyes immediately filled with tears. "You're lucky," she wailed. "I've been interviewed twice, and they don't believe me when I'm telling God's honest truth."
"That's rough," I said.
Erin grabbed my arm-she was turning into a bit of a clutcher. "You said I was being set up," she said, "and you were right. I told the detectives that Georgia Tapp was lying when she said she'd never spoken to me about Dr. Braithwaite, but they just said it was my word against hers."
"I'm sure they'll find out the truth in the end," I said soothingly.
"That's what Jack said this morning." Erin had given up any pretense of calling him Professor Yarrow. She released my arm to blow her nose on a tattered Kleenex. "Jack said he'd have a word with Georgia, and find out what was going on."
"So he believes you. That's good."
Whoops! She'd re-clutched my arm, and her eyes were brimming with tears again. "He wants to," she cried, "he really does, but the scientist in him forces him to say he doesn't know what to believe."
"Let's go over it again," I said, "right from the very beginning, when you were working with Oscar Braithwaite in Australia…"
As instructed, before I left UCLA in the afternoon, I reported to Georgia. She was tapping away on her keyboard, and looked up with a rosy face when I knocked.
"Kylie! Come in." Obviously Yarrow had told her to be friendly and welcoming, because she bestowed a bright smile on me. "Professor Yarrow told me to expect you. You're here to report on Erin?"
I gave her back my warmest smile. "Crikey, you work hard," I said admiringly. "All that work organizing people for the Global Marsupial Symposium as well as keeping up with your own job-I don't know how you do it."
Georgia looked gratified. "Working for an eminent professor is demanding," she agreed. "But it's so rewarding." She gestured toward the papers beside her computer. "Truly, I feel I'm part of scientific history, setting down the words of the extraordinary keynote address Professor Yarrow will deliver to the symposium on Friday."
"The one on quokkas that Dr. Braithwaite was going to do?"
A shadow crossed her well-fed face. "Tragic death, of course, but almost like fate had stepped in to save Professor Yarrow from an unwarranted attack upon his reputation." She lay a hand flat on the pile of papers. "These contain the professor's groundbreaking and entirely original research. He's calling it 'The Quokka Question.'"
My eyes were riveted on the pages under her hand. This had to be the only existing version of Oscar's work, stolen by Yarrow. No doubt he'd rewritten some of it, but the basic elements would be the same. If I could only get my hands on those pages…but then I had nothing to compare them with. Erin had told me she'd destroyed all copies Oscar had before she'd left for the States.