by R. J. Amos
‘Ok, settle down just a little. Now stop me if I’ve got this wrong but if I’ve heard you correctly, what we have so far is that he HAS to have been poisoned, but you have no idea what poison would have been used, or why, or how, or who.’
‘Uh, no, back up there a bit. I reckon I know why. Brasindon! That’s who and that’s why. He has got sick of the rivalry and decided to take out his major rival once and for all.’
‘Alicia, if you really think this is true, maybe you should go to Nate and tell him. But are you sure this is not just a, well, you don’t like Brasindon very much, do you?’
No I didn’t like Brasindon, and Jan knew it. She’d been there for the conversation in the café after Brasindon’s talk. And Trudy hadn’t been able to wait to tell her my faux pas. She was calling out to Jan before the tinkle of the café doorbell had finished sounding.
‘Jan, you won’t believe what Alicia just did.’
My face had burned again with embarrassment and I busied myself organising a table for us all as Trudy explained to everyone how Brasindon found out just what I thought of his rudeness.
‘Oh wow, Alicia. How to win friends and influence people.’
‘That’s just stunning. Well done.’ The laughter at my misfortune let me know that this moment would be relived in every conference in my future. But having said that, everyone agreed with me, and the four of us went on to pull Brasindon’s character apart completely.
‘We know for sure now he’s been told off for that particular bit of poor behaviour. Pity no-one’s told him off for his other faults.’
‘What, like his unutterably boring lecturing style? Or his incredibly poor fashion sense?’
‘I hear Brasindon was pissed that Conneally’s lecture was scheduled first.’ Robbie said, ‘It makes sense to me though – I don’t think Brasindon should have been given the forty five minutes, twenty would have been more than enough.’
Brasindon and Conneally were unquestionably contrasting people – Brasindon was a harsh, all business, very head down, introverted, only-talk-to-me-about-work kind of guy. We wondered about his home life-what his wife was like and how she coped with him. And we compared him (exceedingly unfavourably) with Professor Conneally – friendly, fun, supportive to his students.
‘But Trudy, how about the leopard?’ asked Misaki.
‘What leopard?’ asked Jan.
‘Oh, yeah, we were talking about Conneally before the lecture, how he used to use people on his climb up the career ladder. Before, back when he was working here in Tassie. Trudy was saying that a leopard can’t change his spots.’
‘It’s true, I thought that. But compared with Brasindon, I mean, at least he has some social skills. Brasindon stomps on everyone’s heads whether they get him to the top or not.’
‘Conneally has social skills alright,’ said Robbie, ‘he thinks he’s a young gun still. Trying to party with the students. I mean, he’s old now. He should just stay old. Hang with the old folk, not try to cut it with the crowd.’
‘Maybe that’s why he’s been looking after himself a bit more – so that he can still run with the young crowd,’ said Trudy. That caught everyone’s attention. We plied her with questions and she told us that she hardly recognised Conneally when he first got up to talk – he looked so different from how she remembered him from a conference five years ago – much fitter, slimmer and healthier. We all agreed again, now that she mentioned it, he did look like someone who was taking the time to look after himself. It was good to see someone going well in their career without giving up on every other part of life to focus on work.
‘That’s what it comes back to, Jan. Conneally was looking after himself. He shouldn’t have died.’
‘Maybe not, but these things happen, and you can’t blame Brasindon just because you think he’s a horrible little man.’
I was taken aback. Jan wasn’t agreeing with me. She always agreed with me. For heaven’s sake, when I tried to convince the class in Grade 3 that Santa was real she agreed with me. What was going on? Maybe I was being too enthusiastic, maybe I was sounding hysterical.
In a much more measured voice I said, ‘I can see what you’re thinking. And yes, I don’t like the guy. But I heard that he and Conneally had been in competition all their professional lives. I am still sure that Brasindon is the one responsible. He is the only one who hated Professor Conneally. Everyone else loved him. Who else would have a motive?’
Jan sighed, ‘Well, I guess the best thing we can do is take your suspicions to Nate. He would know what to do with them.’
‘That’s true. I’ll do that. Do you think he’ll mind talking tonight? It’s a bit after office hours.’
‘There are no office hours when something like this is on the table, don’t worry. He should be back here soon; you can have a chat to him when he turns up. I can’t promise anything, but at least you’ll have given the information to the right person. Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me? We can chat while I make dinner.’
It was a little awkward between us then, just waiting for Nate to show up. But I perched myself on a kitchen stool while Jan peeled and sliced vegetables and braised the meat for an aromatic stew. I was in awe, as usual, when I watched her in the kitchen. She used herbs and spices I never knew existed. I watched her and wondered whether there were spice bottles hidden away in my kitchen somewhere that Mum had bought in the far distant past and never used. I certainly had never used them. You didn’t need them to make sausage and mash, or frozen meals – for – one.
We were quiet for a while, then Jan started a new topic that I could really get into.
‘How did Trudy’s talk go?’
Trudy had given a twenty-minute presentation at the conference on the Thursday afternoon before the conference dinner. Well, it was supposed to be twenty minutes.
‘Oh man. Jan, it was awful. She just went on and on, I didn’t know how to look her in the face afterwards.’
‘Oh no.’ Jan was more concerned about this than about Conneally’s death. But then, she had never met Conneally.
‘She started well, really explained the theory behind the research so clearly that anyone could understand it, but then, oh dear, she took too long over that and too long to explain everything. She just went on and on. The chair tried to wind her up and she said, ‘just a bit more’ and kept going. Then he stood beside her to make her stop and still she kept going, by the end she was gabbling away really fast but she just kept going, making sure she finished Every. Single. Slide.’
‘What did you say to her?’
‘Nothing. I just gave her a wan “well done”. I didn’t know what to say. I mean her research was good, but not good enough to cut into the afternoon break for.’
‘I guess it’s just Trudy’s bad sense of time.’
‘I guess so. I think the way to go about it is to complain about someone else who does the same thing. Maybe she’ll get the message obliquely. I don’t want to hurt her.’
‘Possibly ...’
‘Anyway, I was lucky really. The talk after hers was worse so I could complain about that instead.’
‘How could it be worse?’
‘It was an honours student. The research was bad. The presentation was dreadful. She didn’t go overtime, but she read the whole thing word for word from a piece of paper she was holding. The paper was shaking so much that she had trouble reading it and her laser pointer was shaking so much we could barely work out which bit of the slide she was pointing at. Poor thing, she was so nervous.’
‘Glad I didn’t have to sit through that.’
‘It made sense of something for me though ... she was the girl I had seen in Brasindon’s lecture, watching a movie with her headphones in both ears.’
‘Watching a movie? During a talk?’
‘Yep! I couldn’t believe it myself, but then if she was an honours student it makes a bit more sense.’
‘Maybe, but it’s rude nevertheless.’
�
��Absolutely. I was wishing you were there so that I had someone to roll eyes with.’
‘Naww, that’s sweet – cynicism buddies, that’s what we are.’
A car pulled into the driveway.
‘That’s Nate – hang here, I’ll just let him know what’s going on.’
Jan walked to the door and let Nate in. I could hear a quick murmur of conversation from Jan and Nate’s ‘Really? Now?’ in response. He didn’t sound that impressed. But I was there for a reason. And that reason came out the instant he walked into the room.
‘Hi Nate, I want to report a murder.’
‘How about I dish us up some dinner and Alicia, you can tell Nate what you’re thinking,’ said Jan and disappeared into the kitchen. She left the door open though, I think she wanted to hear what was going on.
I explained my theory again; the health of Professor Conneally, the sudden death, the possibility of poison.
‘And the only person I have seen in the whole conference who has anything against Prof Conneally is Brasindon, Professor Brasindon. The two have been rivals for years, since their undergrad degrees. And Brasindon is such a horrible person, I can imagine him doing anything. He’s so cold blooded.’
‘Look, are you sure you’re not just taking offence? I know he’s treated Trudy badly (Jan told me about that) but a cutting comment is a little different to killing someone in real life.’
‘Nate, they have history. History! Going right back to their undergrad.’
Nate smiled, ‘that’s a lot of history.’ Then he became more serious. ‘I’m sure you’ve seen on TV how a case can be thrown out because all the evidence is circumstantial? Well, I hate to break it to you Alicia, but you don’t even have circumstantial evidence. I can’t go around arresting people because someone has a hunch. There has to be at least some evidence. You don’t even know that this was a murder.’
‘But – he said he was healthy.’
‘Look, Professor Conneally, he’s a big name foreign visitor. He’s died suddenly, there will definitely be a post-mortem and a report for the coroner. In fact, I’ve been asked to help out with the report. People will be looking into it. The coroner will find out if there’s evidence of foul play. How about you just let us do our job?’
‘Yes, Jan and I had talked about that. Do you think that when the results come through you could let me know whether the death was natural or not? I’m sure it’s not but it would be great to get confirmation.’
‘Alicia, look, I’m sorry, but these things are confidential. I can’t go sharing them with every man and his dog. I’m sure you understand that it just isn’t possible. Just trust us. We know what we’re doing. Are you sure you’re not taking things to heart because of your Mum?’
I’d like to say that I responded maturely, I could see his point, I agreed with him and backed down. And I’d like to say that I then stayed with them and had a lovely meal and chat and that I went to bed and slept soundly that night. But it turns out that I’m not as mature as I would like to be.
Instead, I just felt embarrassed, that I’d been fobbed off, treated like a preschooler. I was angry and upset. I felt sure that both Jan and Nate thought I was insane.
Feeling my face grow hot, and swallowing tears that threatened to break through, I said thanks but no thanks to Jan’s invitation to dinner and left them to it.
I was so disappointed that they weren’t on my side, that they weren’t willing to work with me to find the evidence. I knew that the incident with Trudy’s question in the lecture wasn’t that big a deal, but I thought it was an outworking of Brasindon’s character. If you have no respect for anyone then it’s a short step to getting those you don’t like out of your way, isn’t it?
I walked down to the beach, hoping the evening breeze would cool my face and that the walk would help me pull myself together. I must have looked a strange sight, pounding my way up and down the beach until I had walked off all the frustration. But as my feelings cooled I slowed down a bit and tried to think it all through again.
Nate and Jan were right, of course, there was no evidence, I had jumped to conclusions, and it was probably due to losing Mum and to losing face in front of Brasindon. An accusation of murder is a huge thing and you can’t just do it because things feel wrong. I had been too strong in saying what I said to them. For some reason I had decided that talking like I was absolutely sure was the way to convince them that something was worth investigating. But instead, I had come across as unhinged and insane. And probably more insane because of the way I left so abruptly. What an idiot I was. There was no way that Nate would follow up on anything now. He was a sensible man and would sensibly put everything I had said out of his mind.
I wished I could put things out of my mind.
Why couldn’t I just let it go, just say that he died and it was a tragedy and that was the end of it?
But I couldn’t. The death felt wrong. I had a hunch that there was something dodgy about Professor Conneally’s death and I couldn’t get rid of that feeling no matter how scientific I tried to be. This went against all my training but it wouldn’t go away. I had to find evidence. But how?
Jan closed the front door and leaning against it, looked back at Nate.
‘She was pretty upset,’ she said.
‘Hmmm,’ answered Nate.
‘Could there be anything in it? I mean, could there?’
‘No. Of course not. He’s just had a heart attack or something. It happens.’
Both of them trailed back down the hallway and sat at the dining table. They looked at their meals but neither of them felt much like eating.
‘She is very upset though,’ said Nate.
‘She really is.’
‘I tell you what, I’ll look into it thoroughly. If I can find out exactly what happened then we might be able to calm her down, stop her thinking about it. At the very least I can make sure there’s absolutely no sign of foul play.’
‘That would be so good. I’m a bit worried she’ll stop talking to us over this one, and I’d hate for that to happen.’
‘Yeah, me too. I’ll give it a good go. I’ll make sure I get the coroner’s report first thing and go over it with a fine-toothed comb. We’ll be able to sort it out, I’m sure.’
He took a mouthful of the stew.
‘Man. How do you do this? Turning food into nectar of the gods? This is good. Are you going to eat?’
‘Yeah, I think I can now. Thanks Nate. And let me know how you get on too will you? I’m curious now too.’
‘No problem. As much as I can. Without giving away confidential information. You know how it is.’
‘Yes, Nate. I know how it is.’ Jan gave him a loving slap and got on with her food.
The next morning it was hard for me to get going. The conference was over. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. I had a hunch I wanted to work on but I just wasn’t sure what to do with it.
One thing I was sure of, I didn’t want to go back to The Lemon Tree. I would need to find a new place to have a morning coffee. It was just too embarrassing to go and see Jan. She’d ask if I was ok, if I’d changed my mind, and I’d have to try to explain that while I could see her point, I was sticking to my guns. For no reason I could understand. And I didn’t really want to face up to the kind of person I’d been the night before. I decided to start looking for a new café straight away.
Kingston Beach is a tiny little township on the bank of the Derwent River. The speed limit is 40 km/h for the whole suburb. There is no industry, just cottage crafts and eateries. It isn’t really a place, just an extension of a place. For groceries, or petrol, or anything really, you head into Kingston itself. For business you follow the Derwent into Hobart, Tasmania’s tiny capital.
One thing I loved about The Lemon Tree was that it was just around the corner from my little cottage. I could walk along the river bank, enjoy the sight of children playing in the playground or kayakers on the river, I could even feed the ducks if I wanted to
be mobbed by angry squawking birds. And then right there was decent coffee and delicious food. But it wasn’t that much further to find another café. I would just have to get in the car.
I headed away from Kingston Beach and into Hobart proper. There had to be heaps of places that would be pleasant to sit in, drink a coffee, write in a journal for a while. And Hobart wasn’t that far from home – it only took ten minutes to drive in, especially if you waited for the peak-hour traffic to pass. Or maybe I should call it peak-minute traffic – there really aren’t that many people in this tiny state I call home.
I headed to the Hobart waterfront and after a short wander, decided I could take a chance on a café called (fittingly) Waterfront. It couldn’t have been more different to The Lemon Tree. From the tinkle of the bell as you open the door to the dining room in The Lemon Tree you feel at home. The furniture is mismatched chairs and tables from the 60s, the walls are a warm red, the L-shaped room is always full of a variety of people. There are often mothers’ groups seated around the big table, the strollers lined up against the wall and the older children running in and out of the play room on the side. The seats outside are taken by dog walkers and the dogs wish you good morning as you walk in. There are smaller tables where older couples sit and enjoy the sunshine and a good coffee. There are couples eagerly conversing over shared slices of cake. It’s a friendly environment, a homey place.
The café I found myself in this Saturday morning was not of the same ilk. The tables were square and black, the chairs were black leather, the customers didn’t look relaxed at all. Even if they were sharing a table, there was no conversation. They were just staring at their phones or reading a paper. The music was loud. The servers didn’t smile. And the coffee, ugh, the milk was overheated, the beans themselves must have been super-poor quality, it tasted dreadful.