Smart, But Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 3)

by Nancy G. West

  I knew the difficulty of succeeding as a woman from climbing the corporate ladder of my Chicago bank. Banks were relatively open to female advancement, yet I had to work harder and smarter to make it to vice president. I’d heard that in academia, women were prominent in research and lauded accordingly.

  Had the academic society embittered this young woman? Had she given up marriage and family to climb the academic ladder, only to be knocked to the bottom too many times?

  “If you felt ignored in Dr. Carmody’s Boston lab, why did you follow him here?”

  She shrugged. “He has great ideas.”

  “You assisted Dr. Carmody with groundbreaking research?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you as fascinated as he was by the prospects of manipulating telomeres?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at the irresistible power of discovery.

  “And learning the daf-2 gene could ‘power’ downstream genes to make changes that might affect aging?” I was getting excited. We were grinning at each other. “Did you work with him on APOE genes related to Alzheimer’s disease?”

  She squinted at me. Her smile faded into a noncommittal expression. “We worked on a lot of projects.”

  It appeared Brandy was done sharing information. “Working by Dr. Carmody’s side for so long must be a great comfort to you.”

  She checked her watch.

  “I’d better go. I’m glad you’re doing okay.” That was an understatement. She was drop-dead gorgeous. And grief hadn’t subdued her taste in clothes. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  “Sure. Nice to see you.” She hustled me out and closed the door.

  I walked to the corner elevator and pushed the button. When the door opened, Sam stood there.

  Twenty-Two

  His eyes widened. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I pictured Brandy’s stretched camisole. I bet you didn’t. I hiked my chin. “I thought I’d visit some of my classmates.”

  “Remember I told you I’d talk to Brandy about scientists who visited Carmody?”

  “Sure.” He’d have a hard time thinking about Carmody once he laid eyes on that hot pink. It was ridiculous to be jealous because Sam interviewed a dead man’s colleague. He was doing his job. But her figure was perfect. Dressed like she was, she was obviously expecting somebody special. She wasn’t shy. And she was probably fifteen years younger than me.

  I marched around Sam and stomped into the elevator.

  “Wait, Aggie. Are you feeling better? I guess you are. I need to talk to you, as soon as I finish with…finish interviewing Brandy.”

  I pushed the button. As the door rolled to close, I scorched him with a penetrating look. “It shouldn’t take you long.”

  As the door shut, he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

  I descended to the ground floor with angry steam rising off me, probably making the elevator hotter. When the door opened, I puffed and tromped to the car.

  Okay, I was jealous. She was young, gorgeous and smart, and she’d been expecting him. All dolled up. Did she dress that way for every man? She could shimmy out of that camisole like a molting snake. If that was her usual modus operandi, Dr. Carmody wouldn’t have stood a chance. He probably died from a heart attack just thinking about her. Maybe they’d had practice sessions. Maybe when they started, he was virile and young and her ticket to fame. Did she figure it was worth sleeping with the old coot to share his discoveries? How long had that been going on? Now that he’d croaked on her, what would she do?

  She’d have to work out new angles. Professor Eric Lager was an intriguing, if revolting, possibility. The scientist she’d been cozy with under the stars might be a target. The two postdocs might be in the running. Was she buttering up men capable of helping her confiscate Carmody’s work? Were any of them murder suspects?

  And there was Sam. He could be her insurance policy in case she needed to use law enforcement to lay claim to Carmody’s discoveries. She might be ripening him up, along with her other prospects. That thought made me nauseous.

  But maybe I was wrong about Brandy. Her flirtatious demeanor and skimpy clothes were hard to ignore, but maybe that was just who she was.

  Sam said he needed to talk to me. If I could find someplace where we wouldn’t get heatstroke, maybe I should see what he had to say.

  I spotted a bench under a shade tree that faced the ground floor of the building. From there, I could see Sam when he came off the elevator. It was nine forty-five a.m. I would also know how long he stayed upstairs with Brandy.

  Thirty minutes seemed like an eternity until he emerged from the elevator at ten fifteen. He looked pretty normal ambling toward his car until he saw me. His face lit up.

  “I didn’t know if you’d stay. I’m glad you did. How’s your head? I was afraid to leave you last night in case you had a concussion, but I fell asleep…I’m an idiot. Your note said you’d get breakfast but you didn’t say where. Are you okay?”

  Bless his heart. He’d been concerned about me last night and was concerned about me now. Brandy couldn’t make him feel that way. At least not yet. Maybe she was just a young girl who enjoyed showing off her assets.

  “My head still hurts, but I think it’ll be okay. Did you learn anything about the scientists who came to see Carmody?”

  “Not really. She said he might have kept a list of their names in the lab. She was pretty closed-mouthed. Mostly she wanted to flirt. Which was not why I was there.”

  I smiled. “There was something you wanted to tell me?”

  “I read the medical examiner’s autopsy report. Carmody didn’t die of a stroke or heart attack. He died of a fungal infection.”

  “A fungus? How in the world…”

  “It apparently started in his head. His nasal passages and brain were inflamed. The ME called it fungal meningitis. From his brain, the fungus spread through his body. It was too massive for his immune system to fight it off.”

  “Wouldn’t antibiotics help?”

  “Antibiotics apparently have no effect on a fungus.”

  “His nasal passages…he had allergies and was always spraying Afrin up his nose.”

  “We need to get our hands on that bottle. The fungus could have been in it.”

  “You think he got a bad batch of nasal spray?” I remembered the spray bottle I’d seen by Carmody’s bed. I couldn’t go back. SAPD was probably en route to his apartment. They would find it. “Could somebody have put fungus in his Afrin bottle? To kill him?”

  “That’s what the ME thinks happened. Somebody grew the fungus and planted it in the Afrin, knowing he’d spray it up his nose. With everyone assuming he had a stroke or heart attack, and EMS attempting to revive him, no one paid attention to the nose spray. As soon as I talked to the ME, I went to the classroom to look for it. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t there. But we’re treating this like a homicide, which means you can’t talk to any more classmates. We’ll talk to the president of UHT. He’ll probably want to keep Carmody’s cause of death quiet. Everybody’s a suspect, and we’ll interview them discreetly. You should probably drop the class.”

  “I can’t possibly do that. I’m sure classes will continue as usual. They’ll try to maintain a normal class schedule.”

  “That’s probably true. But, Aggie…”

  I looked up with raised brows.

  “You could be in close proximity to a killer.”

  If only he knew how close. I shivered remembering Penelope’s apparent determination to discredit Dr. Carmody’s approach, the lab tour, my head bashing, and the suspicious colored powders on Brandy’s window sill. I should tell him all this, but I was getting close enough to actually solve this crime myself. I could put the pieces together and then tell him everything.

  “You should g
o straight to class and leave as soon as it’s over. Don’t engage anyone in class or any scientists on campus. You can tell Meredith what killed Carmody, but have her keep it confidential. I read your column suggesting the direction of Carmody’s research. Don’t write any more provocative articles about him or about what he might have been doing.”

  “You don’t have to raise your voice.” I knew he cared about me and was trying to protect me. What he didn’t know was that a major motivation for my even taking the class was to stay young and interesting for him. I was glad he didn’t know I’d conducted other interviews and received an enlightening tour of the lab. That would really set him off.

  He was right to think we were dealing with a desperate person who would do anything to keep me or anybody else from knowing the details of Carmody’s work. That person probably killed Carmody and whapped me on the head.

  My study of anti-aging was getting way too personal. I could expend all my energy to stay young and vital and end up dead.

  He put me in my car, admonished me again, told me to report anything suspicious around my house and said he was going to headquarters to check the backgrounds of every scientist within a thousand-mile radius who worked in Carmody’s field.

  “You might consider interviewing Eric Lager,” I said, turning on the ignition. “Even though he’s not as young and cute as his assistant.” I couldn’t resist saying it. Looking straight ahead, I pulled Albatross away from the curb and lurched forward.

  Twenty-Three

  I knew I’d have to return to Dr. Carmody’s lab. His computer was there. I might find his research notes in a drawer and the list of scientists he worked with. Even students’ notes could be helpful. I’d studied the lab pretty carefully, but if Carmody’s killer left a clue, something regarding the deadly fungus might catch my eye. I’d have to be very careful.

  If Eric killed Carmody, he probably scrubbed the place clean before he gave me the tour. But how would I know whether he changed anything after I left except to go back there?

  UHT would make every effort to have the university operate as usual. The science building would have to remain open for classes. If it was locked, I thought I could open the building and the lab door with my dental implement.

  I couldn’t break into Carmody’s apartment again. SAPD would be swarming it. They’d test his nasal spray and the drugs in his bathroom and try to make sense of his scientific papers. They’d search for fingerprints. Hopefully mine wouldn’t be there.

  If I told Sam everything, it meant confessing to touring the lab with suspect Eric Lager, getting whacked on the head instead of stumbling off a curb, receiving a warning note from a probable killer and interviewing Penelope Farquhar and Hortense Bigsby, in addition to Brandy with the stretched-out Spandex.

  I’d been trying to summon courage to tell Sam the secret from my past that I feared would doom our relationship. Confessing more lies and omissions now would not further my cause. He’d be furious. If I could just help him solve this crime, he might find me brave and intriguing, and we could take it from there.

  But I had a problem: my head still hurt. At times, I felt dizzy. I wasn’t sure I should even be driving. Meredith had mentioned her family doctor, a specialist in internal medicine. Maybe she could get me in to see him.

  When I got home, I called her. She got me an emergency appointment and picked me up. I told her Carmody didn’t die of a heart attack and was killed by a fungus in his nasal spray. It felt wonderful spilling at least part of the beans.

  We arrived at her internist’s office in the Medical Sky office building. After Dr. Satcher asked me a slew of general questions, he sent us to the radiologist down the hall. Dr. Knowles’ nurse instructed me to swath myself in a sheet. After he asked me more questions, they took me to a room and had me recline like a mummy with my head stuck in an MRI tube. The noisy apparatus made my headache worse. When the MRI was finally over and I was dressing, I heard familiar voices in the hall.

  “It’s better if she doesn’t know you’re here,” Meredith said, “but I had to call you. I’m concerned.”

  “Okay, we won’t mention it,” Sam said.

  I couldn’t believe she’d called him.

  “Falling off that curb could be serious. Then when she told me Carmody was probably murdered, I had to call you.”

  Thank goodness I hadn’t told Meredith about my interviews and lab tour.

  “Has she seemed touchy to you lately, a little grouchy?” he asked.

  Spandex tugged across a girl’s boobs for every man to ogle tends to make other women grouchy.

  “She’s been acting a little different,” Meredith said.

  Criminal investigations make you tense. I couldn’t tell her everything I’d been doing. Obviously. Blabbermouth.

  “This class means so much to her,” she said. “She’s always been interested in how to stop aging, and geneticists are now probing the secrets. Dr. Carmody wasn’t her favorite professor, but she felt sorry for him. She sensed right from the start he didn’t die from a stroke or heart attack. She’s determined to find out why somebody killed him. She wants everything to be fair and just. Like you do, Sam. That’s one reason she likes you. Now that Carmody’s dead and you think somebody killed him, I’m afraid she might do something…ill-advised.”

  “She’s so stubborn. Why can’t she relax and let SAPD handle it? When I lost my family, there was nothing fair and just about that. If this is murder, and Aggie gets herself involved and we lose her…” He hung his head. “I just don’t know…”

  It touched me that Sam was worried, but I thought he and Meredith had talked enough. I made noise in the dressing room getting my clothes on and gave Sam plenty of time to disappear before I opened the door to the hall.

  “How was the MRI?” Meredith said, her eyes wide in an expressionless face.

  “It was loud. Let’s go see what the doctors say happened to my head.”

  They reported a mild concussion with residual swelling. They didn’t expect any permanent damage. I had to be careful and protect my head. Other than that, I could resume normal activity.

  All right then. I could concentrate on more important matters.

  Twenty-Four

  With all the trauma going on, I hadn’t worked out in ages and felt like a slug. But I had to go to class Thursday to see how everyone was reacting to Dr. Carmody’s death.

  Eric Lager was teaching the class. He smiled at me with his fishy leer and dove into an account of the history of genetics. He covered Tay-Sachs disease, a rare neurological disorder observed in the 1880s that attacked children between ages two and ten. Their nervous systems shut down and they died, rarely living past fifteen. They had inherited a defective copy of the HEXA gene from each parent.

  Scientists had also discovered a mutated gene that caused Meryon’s Disease, or Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a destructive neurological disease that affected only males and lead to death in their teens or twenties.

  I’d read about these inherited diseases from links Dr. Carmody gave us. Dr. Eric Lager wasn’t revealing any new information.

  Brandy and Penelope gave me drop-dead looks. Brandy had more clothes on, and Penelope shot me penetrating stares. I’d just about worn out my welcome at UHT.

  After class, Meredith and I met at Taco Bell for lunch.

  We didn’t have much to say to each other, so we chatted about the weather.

  I knew she’d contacted Sam because she was worried about me, but I simply couldn’t give her any more information. It would further complicate my life.

  Once I got home, I was too agitated to study, so I decided to go to Fit and Firm on the Austin Highway and attempt to get back into shape. I donned new Adidas and my best-looking workout clothes, in case I saw a gorgeous male who could take my mind off Sam.

  The treadmill I chose had
a TV attached. I turned it on, flipped through channels and managed to walk at a moderate pace for forty-five minutes. I couldn’t stop thinking about Carmody’s demise. Had he inadvertently squirted fungus up his nose? Or had somebody actually killed him?

  I’d have to eventually return to that lab and, unfortunately, I was less fit than usual. I had a knot on my head which I was supposed to protect, and Eric Lager gave me the creeps. After my treadmill session, I got off and strolled aimlessly around the gym, hoping I’d find a class to inspire me.

  In one room, Zumba dancers gyrated to Latin music. I didn’t think I should gyrate. Another group stepped frantically on and off risers. Too dangerous. I’d trip.

  In a room toward the back of the gym, a man instructed a small group of women. I read the sign on the glass: “Self-Defense for Women. Instructor: Retired SAPD Sergeant Igor Koslov.” Perfect. I needed to learn to protect myself if attacked. My head didn’t need another concussion. Maybe this man could teach me how to defend myself and give me a dose of courage.

  I walked straight to the reception desk and signed up for his Friday morning class.

  Twenty-Five

  When I walked through the door at eight forty-five a.m. Friday morning, sweaty, satisfied people were already pouring out of Fit and Firm. I showed my membership card and hustled straight back to Sergeant Igor Koslov’s class, eager to master self-defense. He spoke to each of as we entered and handed us health and permission forms. I smiled.

  “You’re no longer with SAPD?”

  “No. I retired five years ago. I do private security consulting now.”

  “So you don’t get to hang out with the officers anymore?” I produced my friendliest conspiratorial smile.