Cited to Death

by Meg Perry

  I was supposed to meet Diane outside at 1:30. But, at 1:15, she appeared at my door. Her hair today was dyed a more funeral-appropriate maroon color. “Hey, ready to go?”

  “I thought I was going to meet you outside. You didn’t have to park and come in.”

  “It’s okay. I found a parking spot without too much trouble.” Diane looked around the office. “It looks a lot better in here than it did Tuesday.”

  “No kidding.” I took my inhaler from my computer bag and locked the rest of the bag, including my laptop, in my filing cabinet. “I’ve got to visit the men’s room. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

  When I got back to my office, Diane was sitting at my desk, doing something on my computer. What the hell? “What the hell are you doing?”

  Diane looked hurt. “I’m just checking my email. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but it took me by surprise. My computer’s been acting weird the past couple of days. It might have a virus.”

  “Oh – well, I use protection. I’m sure I won’t catch it.”

  “Ha ha.” I logged out of the PC and we left. It occurred to me that I’d caught Diane behind my desk twice now. Could she be involved in my computer issues? She was the only person I could think of that had had access to it besides me. But why would she do that?

  I was still thinking about that as Diane pulled out of the parking garage. But I didn’t think long; Diane was her usual chatty self. She filled me in on all of our classmates, giving me way more than I wanted to know about any of them. “How do you know all this?”

  “Facebook, duh. And speaking of, when are you going to get on there?”

  “I’m not. I value my privacy.”

  “Oh, come on. How are you going to know what’s going on with your friends and family?”

  “Well, see, I have this great new device. It’s called a cell phone. You can actually talk to people live, and not have to wait for them to update their status online. It’s fun.”

  Diane glowered. “You’re such a smart ass.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “Seriously. Don’t you have nieces or nephews or something? How do you keep up with them?”

  “I talk to them. On the phone. No one in my family is on Facebook or any other social media. We all talked about it, and none of us are comfortable with it. Especially because my brother frequently causes people to go to jail for a long, long time, and some of them get disgruntled and might try to track us down. Besides, it’s not like my nephews are in Timbuktu. They’re in San Diego.”

  “That is just weird. It’s practically un-American.”

  I expressed my opinion through sign language. She snorted. “You know, you and Dan had that in common. He wasn’t on Facebook either.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “I guess not. Oh, look! Is that Lindsay Lohan?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake…”

  When we got to Forest Lawn, Diane parked in the main lot by the mortuary. “There’s a viewing inside first, and then they’re going to hold the graveside service.”

  “A viewing? I didn’t know anyone did those anymore.”

  “Well, I guess they do. We don’t have to go in if it skeezes you out.”

  “No, it’s okay. The more time I spend indoors the better.”

  We walked inside and into the odor of dozens of bouquets of flowers. I groaned inwardly. The air quality was almost as bad in here as it was outside, as far as my lungs were concerned. We were directed into a small room, with a couple of dozen people standing around. One guy seemed to be the funeral director, and another a clergyman. A youngish man in a tailored suit was standing by himself, seemingly as far away from the casket as he could get. Someone from the hospital? I wondered. He didn’t look like Dan’s type. There were a couple of tattooed guys who did. An older couple, a woman around 40, and a couple of young teenage girls were sitting in folding chairs, perpendicular to the open casket.

  “That must be the family.” Diane elbowed me. “Let’s go give our condolences.”

  We introduced ourselves. Dan’s parents were both wispy and gray, holding themselves stiffly. His sister was overweight and harried-looking; the nieces looked bored. Dan’s mother held onto my hand when I offered it. “Thank you both so much for coming. It’s nice to know that Danny had friends who cared about him.”

  Diane stepped in smoothly. “Dan loved library work. It was a pleasure to have known him. We’re so sorry about what happened.”

  We moved away from the family and approached the casket. I looked at Dan. He looked peaceful, much more so than he had in life, or at least as I remembered him. When I knew him, Dan had sported piercings in nearly every spot possible, but I didn’t see any evidence of them now. Dan was dressed in a suit and tie. It looked wrong on him.

  Diane was surprised. “He had more piercings than me. Where’d they go?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe his parents didn’t approve.”

  “Hmph. They do look like staunch conservatives.” Diane linked her arm through mine. “Let’s get out of this room. These flowers are making my nose run.”

  Shortly, everyone filed outside and stood somberly as the casket was carried out. The ceremony was brief; the standard ashes-to-ashes spiel. Oddly, there was no mention of Dan’s military service. Diane and I were heading for the parking lot when someone called to us.

  “Excuse me.” It was the man in the expensive suit. Expensive shoes, tie, everything. Including, unfortunately, strong cologne. Drakkar Noir: one of the worst offenders when it came to my lungs. I tried not to breathe deeply.

  “I’m sorry – I overheard you introducing yourselves to the family.” He smiled thinly, but his gaze was belligerent. “I thought I knew all of Dan’s friends. I’m Benjamin Goldstein. Dan’s lover.”

  An odd choice of words these days. Did he want to shock us? “We’re so sorry for your loss. We were in library school with Dan.”

  “Ah.” Goldstein surveyed both of us and didn’t seem impressed. “You’re not medical librarians.”

  “No.” What an ass. “Are you?” I could do belligerent too.

  Goldstein snorted. “I’m on the clinical faculty at USC School of Medicine.”

  A doctor. No wonder. Suddenly it hit me. Benjamin Goldstein. The authors of the second article were Oliver, Wray and Goldstein. B. Goldstein. Holy shit. The picture was suddenly a lot more complicated.

  “Oh, how wonderful.” Diane stepped in as I tried to control my facial expressions. “Were you close to Dan’s family?”

  “God, no.” Goldstein’s face twisted with disgust. “Pathetic, right-wing Christian losers. Their precious son couldn’t be gay, no matter what he said. They never accepted him for who he was. We’d been together for nearly two years, and this is the first time I ever saw them. He’d cut ties with them almost completely, but as soon as he was gone they swooped in and took control of everything. If they’d known who I was, I’m sure they would have had me removed.”

  Well, that could explain the belligerence. I stood up a little straighter and looked right at Goldstein. “I’d like to have seen them try.”

  Goldstein looked at me in surprise, then barked a short laugh. “I wish they had. Dan would have loved it.” He shook his head. “I have to go. Thanks for coming.” He turned and strode away.

  Diane watched him go, then turned to me. “Well. I don’t even know what to say about that. Want to get a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d better not.” I hadn’t been paying attention, but now I realized that I was a little too short of breath. “I need to get back into air conditioning. You can owe me one.”

  “Okay, rain check it is.” Diane patted me on the arm. “Let’s get you back to safety.”

  On the way back to campus, I tried to sort out what I knew. I’d now met two of the three authors of the second article. Benjamin Goldstein seemed to be grieving over Dan, but did he know Dan was questioning the article he wrote? I
only had Goldstein’s word that he and Dan were still together. Had Dan confronted him with some kind of evidence? If they were still together, why would Dan be investigating his boyfriend’s work?

  And then there was Dr. Oliver. He seemed awfully paranoid about the possibility that someone would copy his research. Would he be willing to kill someone to protect it? Surely not. He seemed the type who would rather bankrupt a patent infringer in court.

  None of it made sense. And I still didn’t know if there was anything unusual at all about Dan’s death, much less a murder. I needed to ask Kevin to check on the autopsy report.

  The smog, flowers, and cologne had done a number on me. I used my inhaler in the car, but it wasn’t helping as much as I’d like. By the time we got back to Westwood, it was nearly 4:30. I picked up my laptop from my office, and called Dr. Loomis to tell her I’d finish out the day working from home.

  When I got home, though, it occurred to me that there was something better to do. I could go to Cedars and see if I could get a look in Dan’s office. Maybe he’d left something there that would give me a clue or two about how to solve this puzzle he’d dumped in my lap.

  Because I was going to solve this.

  I turned around and went out to my car.

  The parking lot at Cedars was pretty full. I got a spot near the street, but far from the door. I went into the lobby and checked the directory, then headed for the stairs.

  I walked into the library and looked around. It was a small space, with books on one wall, journals on two walls, and computers in the center. There was a reception desk, but no one was there. There was a door in the far wall, with Dan’s name posted on it. I tried the handle; it was unlocked.

  I eased into Dan’s office, leaving the door open. If anyone showed up, I could claim that I was looking for someone to help me. Dan's office was small, much smaller than mine, and crammed full: books, journals, scattered computer equipment, and too many chairs for the space. His desk was so close to the back wall that it was hard to see how a person could slide into the chair behind it. I was going to try, though.

  I squeezed behind the desk and looked around. I doubted that Dan would have left anything lying around in the open, but I scanned the items on the surface of his desk just to make sure. There was a textbook to the right - "Essentials of Stem Cell Biology." So he was reading up on the subject. Interesting. He could have passed that off as being interested in Ben's work without raising suspicion.

  I slid open the drawer to my right. It held an unorganized mashup of office supplies. The drawer to my left contained a stack of printer paper. The drawer in the center was locked. I got up and checked out in the hallway; no one was in sight. I went back to the desk, pulled a paper clip out of the jumble of office supplies, picked the lock on the center drawer, and found what I was looking for.

  Inside the drawer were two items. One was a 5x7 picture of Dan with Ben. They seemed to be on a tropical island. They were holding frozen drinks with umbrellas in them and had their arms around each other. They looked happy. Dan’s piercings were nowhere to be seen. Apparently he’d made a few changes in his life. So Dan was out at work, but Ben wasn't? I couldn't think of any other reason for Dan to be hiding the picture. Ben hadn’t hesitated to mention his relationship with Dan at the funeral. But if Ben was out and proud at work, I thought Dan would have displayed the photo. Or - maybe he and Ben had split, but Dan still had feelings for Ben and had kept the picture.

  The other thing in the drawer was a manila folder. I slid it out of the drawer into my lap and closed the drawer quietly. Inside the file folder was a copy of Oliver's article. There were several places throughout it where Dan had underlined passages. He'd made cryptic notes to himself in places - "Medium?" "SEM?" "Source?" but I didn't understand them. There was one I understood, written at the beginning of the statistical section: "BULLSHIT!"

  Nothing cryptic about that.

  I folded the article into thirds and slid it into my inner jacket pocket. I put the file folder back where I found it and was closing the drawer when a voice said, “Hey! What are you doing in there?”

  I jumped to my feet, whacking my right kneecap on the bottom of the drawer. Ow. A very young woman was standing at the reception desk, staring at me. “Who are you? I’m going to call security!”

  “No, no, please don’t do that.” I came out of Dan’s office but didn’t move any closer to the girl, who looked more scared than angry. “I’m a friend of Dan’s, and I just came from his funeral, and I just…” I tried to look very, very sad. “I wanted to see…where it happened, you know?”

  Her expression softened, but she was still suspicious. “Are you on staff here? I’ve never seen you.”

  “No. I work at UCLA. I’m Dr. Jamie Brodie.” If she thought I was a medical doctor, I wasn't going to correct her impression. "Do you want to see my ID?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I pulled out my UCLA employee badge. She examined it for a minute then handed it back. “Okay…I’m Lily. Mr. Christensen was my boss.” She sat at the reception desk and looked up at me. “I wanted to go to the funeral, but since I’m the only other employee in the library, I couldn’t go. Was it nice?”

  Well, not really. “Yeah. It was outdoors, so that was nice.”

  She nodded. "Yeah, he would have liked that. So, this is like a pilgrimage for you? I understand completely."

  “Yes, exactly.” I relaxed. It seemed that Lily was just gullible enough to let me get away with this. “How long did you work for Dan?”

  “Just about six months. I liked working for him. He wasn’t demanding at all.” She looked at me sympathetically. "I hope you don't think this is too forward, but...were you one of his boyfriends?"

  Wow. So Dan had been out here, at least a little bit. "Yes, I was. Several years ago. I hadn't seen him for a while - I was so shocked when he died."

  She nodded. "We all were. Did you know he had seizures?"

  "I did."

  "No one here knew. But the police went to his house and found the anti-seizure medication." Her face took on a slightly disapproving expression. "He didn't share much."

  "But he was out here."

  She looked puzzled. "Out? Oh, out of the closet! Yes, he was. He didn't hide that at all. You could really say that he flaunted it some. He wore his rainbow pin all the time, and just the way he talked and dressed and did his hair - it was pretty obvious."

  Huh. That was a change from when I'd known Dan. "Did that bother people here?"

  "Not me, not at all." Lily crossed her arms and looked defiant. "But it bothered some of the doctors, especially the older ones. And some of the older nurses too, and some of the male nurses..." She paused and made a face. "I guess it bothered a lot of people. But there were a lot of people that were fine with it too."

  I nodded, thinking. Even if Dan's death wasn’t accidental, maybe it didn't have anything to do with the letter. Maybe he was facing a different kind of enemy. "Well, I'm glad he wasn't hiding it.” I smiled at her, still trying to look sad. It wasn’t hard; this was sad. “Thank you for letting me be in here for a while. It’s made me feel better.”

  She smiled. “Oh, good. I’m glad I could help.”

  “I wonder if you could do one thing for me. Or, rather, not do something.” I leaned in, conspiratorially. “Please don’t mention to anyone that I was here. I wouldn’t want it to get back to Dan’s current boyfriend that I’d been here.”

  She looked surprised. “Okay. I don’t think Dr. Goldstein would mind, but I won’t tell him.”

  So they were together, and at least one other person knew it. Interesting. “Thanks, Lily. I appreciate that.” If there was something to Dan’s paranoia, maybe the person or persons responsible wouldn’t find out that I’d been here.

  But when I got to my car, all four tires had been slashed.

  I said a few choice words and looked around. None of the other cars nearby had been damaged. Just mine. Should I report it? Yes, I should. I
called Kevin. After he read me the riot act for staying out on a bad air day, he said he’d inform the appropriate station.

  In about thirty minutes, a patrol car from Wilshire Division arrived. The officer took a look and shook his head. "We'll dust for prints, in case they touched your fenders while they were doing the slashing, but the chances of finding out who did it are pretty slim. This area isn't covered by cameras."

  I shrugged. "I knew it was a long shot, but I figured you all would rather know than not."

  The officer nodded. "You're right. If we do find some evidence, or if it happens again, then the detectives can look into it further."