I proceeded into my office. No wonder I couldn’t keep my mind on science. As if Steve Upton wasn’t enough, now it looked like the department budget was entangled in some kind of bureaucratic bookkeeping mess.
And then there was Karen. Had I blown it with her?
I checked my email. At least there were no new crises. But there was an interesting one from my student Laurie.
I’ve got some more nice data with a new compound from Josh. Even better than before! Are you going to be around so I can show you? I’d like to plan out what we should do next with this.
I smiled to myself. Good for her. And a chance to escape from fretting about Karen and think about science for a bit. I responded that I’d be right over and headed back out the door.
Laurie was working at one of the cell culture hoods when I got to the lab. The hood was a six-foot-long cabinet with a glass sash separating Laurie from the cultures she manipulated inside it. She was wearing purple latex gloves and a lab coat to protect the sterile cell cultures from the bacteria and yeast on her skin.
“Here I am,” I said.
She looked up with a smile. “Great. Thanks so much for coming over. Just give me a minute, and I’ll show you the good news.”
She continued adding fresh culture medium to a dozen dishes on a metal tray in the hood. When she finished, she stood up and transferred the tray to a nearby incubator. Then she removed another tray containing six dishes. “We can look at these. They’re from my newest experiment and really make the point.”
I followed her over to a microscope on the lab bench in the rear of the room. We both sat down, and she put a dish under the scope. “Start with these,” she said. “Untreated normal cells.”
The dish was filled with healthy cells, triangle-shaped, with nice, round nuclei in their centers. “Okay, these look nice,” I said.
“Now look at these. Normal cells after a low dose of X-rays.”
She put a new dish under the microscope, and I scanned it. Most of the cells were healthy, but some were now dark and shriveled up. Dead cells.
“All right. Maybe ten percent dead.”
“And now these are normal cells treated with Josh’s drug and then x-rayed.”
I looked again. “About the same as X-rays alone.”
She smiled. “Right. Now for the good part. Start with these—untreated cancer cells.”
Nice healthy cells, although different from the normal ones. I could tell they were cancerous because they were rounder and had odd-shaped nuclei. I gave the dish back to her, and she gave me a new one. “Now cancer cells after X-irradiation.”
“Like the normal cells, about ten percent dead,” I said.
She gave me the last dish. “And now the winner. Cancer cells after irradiation and Josh’s new drug.”
I looked again and did a double take. This culture was almost completely filled with dead cells. “Wow, this is at least eighty percent killing! Amazing. Even better than what you showed me before.”
She grinned ear to ear. “I knew you’d like it. This new compound Josh made really works!”
“It sure does,” I said. “An increase like this in killing cancer cells without an effect on normal cells could be a big deal in radiation treatment. You’re right. We should plan out what to put together for a paper on this.”
“Hang on a minute.” She bent down and pulled a paper bag out of the bottom drawer of the lab bench. “Here, this is for you to celebrate.”
“What is it?”
“Look and see.”
I opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of my favorite single malt. I laughed. “Why thank you. But how’d you know what to get? This is the scotch that I always drink.”
“Don’t you remember the Christmas skit? The whole department knows your favorite scotch.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ah yes, I remember.”
It had been a holiday skit where the students had done mock news reporter interviews with three or four faculty members, including me. They’d asked what I did when I got home after a hard day. I told them I had a glass of scotch. Then they asked what I did after a good day, and I said a glass of scotch. And so forth. I didn’t remember telling them my favorite brand, but I guess I had. So it seemed that my drinking habits were public record in the department. How nice.
“Well, that’s kind of embarrassing,” I said. “But thank you. I’ll enjoy this tonight. What will you do to celebrate?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure Seth takes me out for a nice dinner.” She gave a little wink. “But seriously, do you think we should talk with Josh and Professor Upton? I’d like to plan out the rest of the experiments. One of the questions is whether we should test more compounds. Josh says he could synthesize other derivatives to see if we can get one that works even better. Or should we publish what we have first and then make more derivatives for a second paper?”
I considered for a minute. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get more involved with Upton, given his status as the prime suspect. And Karen’s concerns. But Laurie was right. We needed to talk with them to decide how to proceed. And I wasn’t going to let Karen’s unfair accusation that my judgment was compromised interfere with Laurie’s progress. I was perfectly capable of keeping the science separate from the assault case.
“Yes, we should meet with them,” I agreed. “Can you set something up?”
She smiled. “I thought you’d say that. Josh and Professor Upton are both upstairs now, expecting that we may come up. I’ll send Josh a text that we’re on our way.”
Laurie grabbed her notebook, and we took the stairs up to the eighth floor. Upton was in his office, sitting at his conference table with a lanky young man that I recognized as Josh. While Laurie and I took the remaining two seats at the table, Josh turned on a PowerPoint projector that was hooked up to his laptop. Then he went over to Upton’s whiteboard and began to review the relevant features of the drugs he’d synthesized.
The first drug that Laurie had gotten results with had a double-ring structure with twelve carbons. Josh explained that he’d modified this by adding chlorines to several different positions. Laurie had so far tested three of these and one, with a chlorine added to carbon number 10, was the compound that had given the remarkable results she showed me today. Testing of the others was in progress, and Josh suggested that he could make derivatives with several other chemical groups added instead of chlorine. Maybe the new compound could be made even better.
Laurie also wanted to test the compounds on several different types of cancer cells to determine the generality of their action. In addition, she thought it would be a good idea to see whether Josh’s drugs made cancer cells more sensitive to anticancer drugs, like they did to irradiation. If so, they could play an important role in chemotherapy as well as radiation treatment.
Upton and I exchanged glances and nods of approval. These kids were good. The two of them had obviously thought this through, as if they were seasoned investigators. We had little to add except encouragement and congratulations on a job well done. This was one of the biggest rewards that came from being a thesis advisor for a graduate student—watching students become independent enough to develop their own research plans. I basked in Laurie’s progress, and judging from Upton’s encouragement, he was feeling the same about Josh.
When Laurie and Josh excused themselves to go down to the lab and work out some experimental details that didn’t need our input, I asked Upton how Emily was doing.
“Surprisingly well,” he said. “She seems like her normal self, working hard in the lab and interacting with me and the rest of the group just like always. She’s been to someone in student health that your detective colleague recommended, and she says that seems really helpful. How about on your end? Are you making any progress in figuring out what happened?”
I wasn’t about to touch that one. Certainly not to fill Upton in on our progress. “Working on it, but not there yet.”
I’d been struck by Upton’s f
ocus on the science and obvious pride in Josh earlier. And he certainly seemed straightforward and supportive in talking about Emily. If he was Emily’s assailant and worried about our investigation, it was an impressive act. Or he was innocent and not thinking about it. My mind was still open on his involvement, but this meeting made it still harder for me to picture him as a pervert.
I started to leave the office, but he got up and walked me to the elevator. When it stopped on our floor, he offered his hand and said, “Thanks for what looks like a good collaboration.” We were shaking hands when the elevator door opened, and Mike Singer stood there, looking at us.
I got into the elevator and exchanged brief greetings with Singer before he returned to talking to the woman beside him. When he did, I politely faced the front of the car and let them continue their conversation without interruption. But I could feel his eyes boring into my back as the elevator descended.
12
I went back to my office and spent the afternoon dealing with relatively normal things—faculty requests for departmental research support, graduate student funding, teaching schedules, and the like. The standard department administration wasn’t the kind of fun working with Laurie on her experiments had been, but it was better than dealing with sexual assault. Especially because Karen’s focus on Steve Upton gave me an uneasy feeling about the way the case was going. But she was the pro, and I needed to step back and let her do her job. And for my own sanity, I needed to get over the idea that something more was developing between us. Whatever sparks seemed to sometimes fly, our differences in viewing the case created a conflict that clearly made it impossible to develop the kind of personal relationship I kept hoping for.
That litany all made sense until Karen’s email came in toward the end of the day.
Brad, I’m so sorry about this morning. I had no reason to be short with you, and I apologize. I know you’re just trying to help. And I realize that you know Upton much better than I do, so I need to pay attention to your instincts.
Can I make it up to you over dinner tonight? Carmella’s in the North End at seven, my treat.
I read it twice, with a growing feeling of excitement and anticipation. Surely this meant that Karen was interested in more than talking about the case. Meaning there was hope for our budding relationship after all. The rest of the afternoon passed slowly.
The North End, aka Little Italy, was one of my favorite parts of Boston. Less than a mile square, it had a distinctly European feeling, with its maze of narrow streets lined by Italian bakeries, groceries, and restaurants. The population was about one-third Italian American, down from virtually 100 percent in the 1930s, but you could still hear Italian spoken on the streets.
I took a rideshare to avoid the parking hassle and had it drop me off at the downtown end of Hanover Street. It was a pleasant evening, and I strolled up Hanover, past two of my favorite bakeries and the Paul Revere House. When I got to Charter Street, I turned left toward Carmella’s, which was also in the direction of the Old North Church and Copp’s Hill Burying Ground. The Puritan ministers Cotton and Increase Mather, famous for their roles in the Salem witch trials, were buried there. An omen that I hoped was not a reflection on the way the current investigation was going.
Carmella’s was the kind of small, intimate restaurant the North End was known for, with murals of old Italy hanging on exposed brick walls and vases of dried flowers on the tables. Karen was already seated at a corner table with an open bottle of wine. I joined her, and she poured me a glass.
“It’s a Chianti Classico. I hope you like red.”
I took a sip. “Nice. And this place looks good. Haven’t been here before.”
“It’s one of my favorites. I think you’ll like it.” She smiled. “Even better than your neighborhood Starbucks.”
“I certainly hope so.” I put my menu aside. “If it’s one of your favorites, what do you recommend?”
“Well, the eggplant rollatini is a fantastic appetizer, but it’s a lot. Want to share?”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“And then you’ll have to choose your own entrée. I’ve never had anything bad here, so you’re on safe ground.”
The waiter greeted Karen by name when he came to take our orders. I went with veal marsala, Karen with the chicken parmigiana.
I took another sip of wine. “Looks like you’re a regular here.”
“Yes, I live just a couple of blocks away, so I’m probably in once or twice a week. Sometimes for takeout and sometimes to eat here.”
“Really, you live here in the North End?” This seemed like the chance to ask the obvious but overly personal question on my mind. “Alone?”
She looked at me with a faint smile. “I love the ambiance. Been here over ten years now. And yes, alone. How about you?”
“I have a condo in Back Bay, right on Commonwealth Avenue.”
Her smile broadened. “And the other part of the question?”
I felt myself flush. “Yes, alone.”
“How nice. I like the whole Back Bay neighborhood. Have you ever been married?”
“I gave it a try once, but it didn’t mesh with the demands of doing science. My wife wasn’t happy with all the nights and weekends I spent in the lab, especially after we had a kid. We stuck it out for several years, mostly for our son’s sake, until we finally admitted that we were just making each other miserable.”
“I’m sorry,” Karen said. “It can be tough combining marriage with a demanding career. How do you get along with your son?”
“We’re good. He’s a lawyer in Los Angeles—got married himself a couple of years ago. My ex and I are actually on pretty good terms now too. Better than for most of the time we were together.”
“And how about living alone? Do you like it, or do you get lonely?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine on my own. Maybe I’m too busy to be lonely.” I smiled to lighten the mood. “Especially now that you have me moonlighting as a detective’s assistant.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Happy to help.”
Was there a hint of a different kind of help to come? I was trying to figure out how to respond when the waiter came with our appetizer. I let the thought go and tried the eggplant.
“Delicious,” I said. “Good recommendation.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it. I’m hoping a nice dinner will serve as an apology for my being a bitch this morning.”
I swirled my wine. “Don’t worry about it. You’re the pro, and I can see where the forensics left you pretty well settled on Upton. And how you don’t want my nagging doubts to hold you back.”
“True enough, but it wasn’t fair of me to accuse you of bias. I have a lot more respect for you than that. Anyway, I hope the rest of your day went better.”
“As a matter of fact, it did. It turned out to be one of those rare days when we get a really promising result in the lab.” I told her about Laurie’s experiments as we ate our appetizer and the waiter brought our entrées, discreetly omitting Laurie’s name so that she didn’t recognize this was based on my collaboration with Upton. That had become an inconvenient truth, and I didn’t want to retrigger her reaction of this morning. I’d deal with it later, if necessary.
She raised her glass in a toast when I finished. “Congratulations. That sounds great. But is it really so unusual to get good results like that?”
“Very unusual to get something like this, actually. People get results and publish papers all the time. But something really important, like this could be? You maybe get something like this a few times in your career, if you’re lucky. Or sometimes not at all.”
“Important results must not be so unusual for you, though. After all, you’ve got the top position in your department.”
I laughed at that. “No, that’s not how it works. Department chair isn’t really the top position, and it’s not particularly based on research accomplishment, although you need to have a solid record
to get the respect of your colleagues. But being chair is more of an administrative task that you do for a limited period, usually five years. After that, you go back to being a regular faculty member.”
“Doesn’t sound as if you like it much. Why’d you agree to do it?”
A good question. I gave her my best shot at an answer. “Well, it was hard to say no with both my colleagues and the dean asking me to take it on. And it is giving me the chance to bring in some new young faculty and have a hand in shaping the future of the department, so that’s a good thing. On the other hand, it’s really taken me away from research, and I’ve been worrying about keeping my lab going. I guess that’s partly why I’m so pleased with these new results.”
She furrowed her brow. “Interesting. It’s so different from my world. For me, promotion to the top is the only way to go. And it’s a fight to get there, not something I’d ever be asked to take on as a chore.”
There was a look of determination in her eyes. I asked, “Are you in the middle of a promotion fight now?”
She nodded. “That’s actually the meeting I had to get back to the department for this morning. The chief is retiring and the search for a successor is in full swing. I’m pretty sure that I’m the top internal candidate, but they’re also looking at an outsider.”
“Do you know who?”
She hesitated and frowned. “Unfortunately, I do. It’s the asshole who harassed me years ago on the Boston force.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry! Do you really think he could get it?”
“I hope not. I wouldn’t have much of a future here if he does. But I think it’s mine if I have the dean’s support.”
I finished my veal. “Great. I’ll make sure I get a chance to put in a good word for you.”
She smiled and clinked my glass. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that. What I need to do is to get this case closed. Everything’s in now, and bringing it to a successful conclusion will be a big plus on my record. And in the dean’s report on me.”
I drained my wine as I thought about it. I wished I could make it easy for her, but I couldn’t do it. “I just don’t know. I agree with you about the evidence, but there’s nothing solid against Upton either. And I’m not so sure we can dismiss that idiot wrestler.”
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