“Why?”
“There was an accident in the lab. Some equipment got destroyed. Some expensive equipment. He thought it was my fault.”
“Was it?”
“I can’t say for sure. Both of us were in the lab at the time, but I was the one who set up the equipment, so I got the blame. He fired me right after the accident. I didn’t get a chance to inspect the equipment closely.”
“Would you like me to speak to Dr. Ward for you?”
Kevin shook his head. Even if she could do it, he wouldn’t go back to work for the Arrogant Asshole. “No, thanks. After I was fired, I checked with all of the other chemistry professors. None of them had any open positions until the fall semester, so I found a job at Hermann Hospital in the biochemistry lab.”
“You like the job?”
Kevin shrugged. “It’s good experience. And it pays the rent.”
“But not your tuition.”
“I’d need a lot better job to pay $15,000 a year in tuition. That’s why I need those school loans.”
“And that’s why you lied on your financial aid forms about your father?”
The reason for her letter. The reason Kevin had raced over to justify his actions. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “No, I didn’t lie to get more money. I did it for personal reasons.”
“Kevin, giving false information about your financial aid status is a serious offense. I could have rescinded your student loans and required you to pay them back immediately. I sent that letter to give you a chance to explain before I acted, which should have been by the end of today.”
Kevin began to speak, but Dean Baker held up her hand. “Unfortunately, I have to finish preparing for a speech I’m to give at 5:30. We’ll have to discuss this further on Monday.”
“But without those loans…”
“Kevin, you’re an outstanding student. I haven’t heard your story, but I don’t think kicking you out of South Texas is the answer. As I said, we’ll talk about this on Monday. The office opens at eight. Now, please close my door on your way out.” She went back to reading the papers on her desk.
Kevin tried not to let her see him sigh with relief. “Thank you,” he said, gently closing the door behind him.
Teri was waiting by the door as he entered the main office. She was talking to a huge body-builder type, no doubt her boyfriend. When she saw Kevin, the disgusted look returned to her face, accompanied by a scowl from the body builder. She nodded in his direction and whispered “Finally.”
Kevin pretended to ignore them. He smiled, pushed the door open, and strolled down the hall, feeling much better than when he had run through it ten minutes before.
His life wasn’t over after all. He had just dodged a bullet.
David Lobec closed the bedroom curtains in case someone happened to drive by on the otherwise deserted suburban street outside. Their car was on the other side of the house where it couldn’t be seen from the street.
Richard Bern spoke from behind him. “So did Ward say anything important?”
He turned to see Bern carefully place Michael Ward on the bed next to his wife. Ward had already been stripped and put into his pajamas. Irene Ward, dressed in a negligee, looked as if she were sleeping peacefully next to him, belying the fact that Lobec had smothered her with a pillow.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“When he was whispering right before he died, it looked like he was telling you something.”
Lobec’s expression didn’t change. “No, he was babbling.” He took an unopened switchblade out of his pocket and threw it to Bern, who caught it with ease.
“I thought you were kidding about this,” Bern said, his eyes wide.
“It’s your bullet,” Lobec said. “Therefore, you will take it out. Would you like to explain to Mr. Tarnwell that there is incriminating evidence linking us to Dr. Ward’s murder?”
Bern’s slowly shook his head, pondering the thought. Tarnwell was a bear of a man, a stout six foot six, and still every inch the football player he used to be. Everyone in his employ feared him. Everyone except Lobec. He had his own reasons for obeying Tarnwell.
Lobec handed Bern a pair of thin rubber gloves and put a pair on himself.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “When you’re through, wipe down everything in the room that we might have touched. Then come down and remove the slug from the office ceiling.”
Lobec left the bedroom and stopped at the upstairs smoke detector. He took the battery out and slipped it into his pocket. He would do the same to the others. It wasn’t uncommon for firemen to find brand new houses burnt to the ground with the occupants still inside because they had forgotten to install batteries in their smoke detectors. The Wards would be another sad story the firemen would use to warn second graders and their parents.
It was possible that the coroner would be able to determine that the victims’ lungs contained no smoke from the fire, but Lobec thought the likelihood was minimal. Once Lobec and Bern were through searching the house and Ward’s computer for anything associated with Adamas or the missing $10 million, flames would consume the entire building long before the fire department could arrive on the scene. Fortunately, the Wards had elected to use gas in their kitchen appliances. Two smokers in a house with a gas line and smoke detectors missing batteries was a recipe for tragedy.
Lobec smiled at his luck. With the gas fueling a raging inferno, the bodies might not even be identifiable, let alone capable of providing a definitive cause of death. Unless, of course, the coroner found a bullet in one of the corpses. And Bern was taking care of that.
Several issues still troubled Lobec, and he stopped smiling at the thought. Who was N. Kevin Hamilton? And what was the message Ward sent to him? He’d noticed Ward surreptitiously press a key as they walked into his office, but Lobec had thought little of it at the time. Now it could be a severe problem. He had checked the computer, but the message hadn’t been saved when it was sent. Of course, the message may have been incomplete, but it was bothersome nonetheless.
Lobec needed to know more. After emptying the other two smoke detectors, he headed for Ward’s office. The next item on the agenda was to look for anything regarding N. Kevin Hamilton. Unless they found him quickly, whatever was in the message might find its way to the police. He couldn’t let that happen. In more ways than one, their involvement would be disastrous for Lobec.
Reggae blasted from the stereo of the stifling, overcrowded house. Kevin opened the window he’d been looking out of, leaving the screen to repel the late summer mosquitoes.
It was 8:00 and Nigel Hudson was throwing his traditional beginning-of-the-semester party. Before coming over, Kevin had returned to his apartment, showered again, and put on khaki Bermuda shorts, a white V-neck pullover, and a pair of beat-up Bass Rangeleys with no socks.
Someone tapped his shoulder from behind.
“Is she coming?” said Nigel, handing a beer to Kevin.
“I can tell you’ve been drinking,” Kevin said. “Your accent’s back.”
Nigel, an immigrant from Jamaica who’d been a US resident for 15 years, was meticulously stylish and probably the most gregarious person at South Texas. He was also one of the few friends from his undergraduate years at Texas A&M that Kevin kept in touch with.
Nigel shot him a bemused look. “Don’t change the subject. You’ve been looking out the window ever since you got here.”
“You mean Erica?” Kevin shrugged and looked around at Nigel’s business school friends, most of whom he didn’t know.. “She’s still got two weeks left on her ER rotation. You know how busy med students are.”
“But she did say she was coming.”