Deadly Misconduct

by R. J. Amos

  ‘Hi, I’m not sure we’ve met properly, I’m Alicia Conway – Trudy’s friend. I’m working in chemistry right now’ bit of a stretch but at least it made me look professional – better than unemployed.

  ‘Ken Jones, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Were you here, Ken, when Prof Conneally was here?’ I knew the answer but I had to start somewhere. Trudy was giving me funny looks but I ignored her, for now.

  ‘Yes, we both started our careers at the same time and I’m still here. It’s interesting how differently things can turn out. But then, life’s a funny thing, hey.’

  So he was open about how things had gone. How Conneally had risen to fame and he had just sat in the background. I tried to read between the lines – was there simmering resentment there? Or deeply hidden guilt? Had he done away with his rival and could now be content with where he was in life? I tried to frame a question that would give an incredibly insightful answer and would break the case wide open, but I couldn’t think of anything at all to say. And while I was sitting there, composing questions, turning phrases in my mind, probably looking like the village idiot, the moment passed.

  Jones turned to the rest of the table, ‘We should organise a plaque or something to commemorate Conneally. Maybe something in the gardens? What do you all think?’

  The rest of the staff discussed it happily. What kind of memorial would they have? Where (most importantly) would the money come from to provide it? The discussion kept everyone around the table happily involved until they all left to go back to work.

  I started to push back my chair but Trudy grabbed my arm.

  ‘Alicia, what’s going on? You were acting pretty strangely there – what are you trying to achieve?’

  ‘Can we go somewhere private? Your office, perhaps?’

  ‘What? My cubicle? In the office with the 11 other desks? Nah, we’re better off here if we keep our voices down. Now, spill.’

  Keeping my voice to a low murmur I told her that I suspected that Conneally’s death was suspicious. And that I was trying to help with the investigation. Doing a bit of snooping to see what I could find out. I was pretty nervous, what if she had the same reaction as Jan and Nate? What if she told me just to leave it all to the police? Was I about to lose another friend? But no, Trudy was thrilled.

  ‘Really? That’s so exciting. I was there too – not at the dinner, but I was at the conference. I’ll have a think about what I saw and I’ll let you know if I think of anything suspicious. I’m not that observant, I know, but if I think of anything ...’

  ‘Thanks Trudy, it’s good to have someone onside. What do you think of Ken Jones as a suspect? Was he in Singapore last year?’

  ‘Singapore? I think so. He had study leave. What I think of him as a suspect ... I’m not sure. He’s not a very ... he’s not a powerful man. He’s not the type to take action about anything really. I can’t see him taking any definitive action like murder.’ Her voice dropped so low on the last word that I couldn’t hear her at all, and had to read her lips.

  ‘I just wonder. Twice he’s talked about a ‘heart attack’ as the reason for death. He might be the type that’s trying to point everyone’s thoughts in the one direction – trying to deflect us from the actual cause of the murder. Sometimes the guys that have repressed everything get to the point where it all just boils out of them and they do something they later regret.’

  ‘Does he look like he’s regretting to you? And wouldn’t you say that this, this, that all this had been planned?’

  ‘I guess so, poison is not something you do in a fit of rage, is it? I’ll keep thinking. And I’d better get back to work.’

  ‘Yes, I had too. But I’ll let you know if I think of anything.’

  ‘Thanks Trudy, you’re a real friend.’

  ‘Ah Alicia, you bring excitement into my dull life.’

  I walked back down the hill, my thoughts in overdrive. In the Biochemistry Department they work with life and death all the time. Was it possible to kill so many mice or rats that you find the step up to a human an easy step to take?

  The chemistry building came into sight again and I remembered the email waiting for me and quickened my pace. The email turned out to be forwarded by Susannah from the coroner’s office. They had (apparently) been given an anonymous tip about a student who was behaving suspiciously at the conference. ‘Now, who could have given that tip?’ I said to myself with a smile.

  Conneally’s (‘the victim’ was what was written in the email but I knew better) belongings had contained a note from that student and analysis of the note had shown traces of various chemicals. The email was to ask whether any of my analysis showed any connection to the list they had compiled from the note.

  This was great! It would give me a starting place when analysing the NMR and MS results. The chemicals on the note were probably the reagents used to build the poison in the first place. The tip had gone somewhere and I was doing the right thing after all.

  All thoughts of Ken Jones pushed out of my mind, I turned to the email, ready to get answers.

  But I couldn’t make it fit. The chemicals on the list weren’t exotic reagents or starting materials. Most of them on the note were pretty innocuous – ammonia, well, that’s everywhere. Acetate – just a normal lab day there. In fact, any molecule could have been made using any one of the chemicals at some point along the way. Maybe the note was written on paper taken out of a lab diary, that could explain everything.

  To tell the truth, I was pretty unimpressed with whoever sent the email. The list was so unhelpful. Nothing could be absolutely linked to the sample I had. It wasn’t evidence that would link Headphones Girl to the murder anywhere but in a gossip tabloid. Why were these people making noises about random chemicals. Everything is chemicals. They should know better.

  I wondered what the note said. If it said ‘You bastard, you let me down and I’m going to make your life hell from now on, as short as it will be’ then sure, that’s pretty incriminating, but they wouldn’t need a chemical analysis to make anything stick from that, would they?

  If it were an innocuous ‘Dear Professor Conneally, I have decided that chemistry is totally boring and I wish to watch movies with my headphones on, whatever the situation, and become a professional critic instead’ written on lab paper that she was never going to use again, then it wasn’t particularly threatening.

  Or how about, ‘Dear Professor Conneally, I love your work and want to be your star pupil!! I will work for whatever you choose to give me and will make your professional dreams come true.’ That one sounds especially incriminating to me – considering her behaviour at the conference. But the detectives wouldn’t have that insight, would they? Not unless they asked me.

  Regardless, whatever the note said, I couldn’t find evidence that would pin Headphones Girl to the murder of Professor Conneally. It had to be someone else.

  I turned back to the NMR results, matching them with the MS and the IR, playing with various ideas and options, piecing together a molecule that fit all the evidence. If there was a ring, attached to a carbonyl here ... that could work. There was still more analysis to go, the NMR was working flat out trying to find through-bond and through-space connections between atoms. But even without the final pieces of the puzzle I was going to have a good go at solving it. By the end of the day I had a few ideas – molecules A and B (imaginative names, I know). They looked right in terms of interpretation of the data but I’d never seen these kinds of molecules before. I had no idea how they’d work as a poison. It wasn’t obvious at all. Maybe Susannah would have some idea. I looked at my watch, it was just after five. It’s amazing how time goes when you’re not thinking about it. That state of flow – how excellent it was. But was Susannah still in her office? Could I catch her before she went home? I sent my work to the printer and ran up the three flights of stairs to her office.

  Running up the stairs wasn’t such a great idea. I could see that Susannah’s door was open s
o I took a moment to stop puffing and panting and to allow my heart to slow down, before I knocked on the door.

  Susannah was chatting to Dan about his research but she waved me in and had a brief flick through the printed spectra while I explained my thoughts so far, keeping things as general as I could so that I wasn’t spilling confidential information.

  ‘I think I’ve got a fairly good handle on what the compound is,’ I said as I handed her the data and my crudely drawn structures, ‘I’ve got a couple of structures that would work well with the different spectra. But it doesn’t match anything in the Mass Spec library and I’m pretty sure that the compounds found on that note don’t work as reagents for the synthesis.’

  Susannah agreed.

  ‘Yes, you’re right about the structures – I think it’s more likely to be structure A than B though – those peaks are really downfield too far to be those methyls on B and the IR shows a nice carbonyl that works with structure A as well.’

  ‘Do you think so? I was going with structure B. I’ll have another look.’

  ‘But you’re right,’ she went on, ‘we still have no real answers. It really is a sad business isn’t it? I should be cutting Joshua some slack I guess, it’s not surprising that he’s a bit upset. He used to study with Prof Conneally.’

  ‘Did he? For Honours?’

  ‘No, no. For a PhD.’

  Dan was surprised and I was too. Though come to think of it, Trudy had pointed out a Joshua in that photo Professor Conneally had put in his talk. Was that the same Joshua? I remembered a photo of a clean-cut young lad in a white-collared shirt, bright smile on his face – nothing like the angry, messy, unreliable lab-tech that we knew and loved.

  ‘Yes, he did years of post-graduate study. Back when Prof Conneally was a lowly lecturer here up at biochemistry.’

  Dan was impressed. ‘Wow, I didn’t know that. Hang on, what jobs are there then? If Josh did all this like me and he’s just a lab tech, what can I expect to get? I don’t want to be stuck washing dishes for the rest of my life.’

  Susannah put on her career adviser hat, and tried to calm Dan down by explaining how important it was to work in other universities after your PhD, and how it was looked on with favour by Australian universities if you could do a postdoctoral fellowship overseas, how it was important to get published in ‘level A’ journals and so on, but her words receded into the background for me.

  Dan’s question really was a good question. Why was Joshua washing up in a lab when he had done so much study? I needed to look into that. He should be at least working in industry somewhere, or doing research at a university. What had gone wrong? The big question was: had he graduated? Was he Dr Joshua? Did he actually (after all those years of post-graduate study) end up with a PhD?

  Suddenly something clicked in my head. Everything fell into place. It all came together.

  I interrupted, quite rudely, ‘Susannah, what is Joshua’s last name?’

  She looked at me in surprise, ‘Hume, Joshua Hume. Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, and raced out the door.

  I was about to run back up the hill to Biochemistry but I felt my aching legs and thought the better of it. I rang Trudy instead.

  ‘Trudy, I need your help.’

  ‘My help? Is everything ok?’ I could hear panic in her voice and I felt so guilty. I could have phrased my request a bit less urgently, if I’d been feeling a little less urgent about it. Oops.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just need to get some information from the biochemistry records. Are you still at work?’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry Alicia, I leave at 3pm most days to pick up the kids from school, and I’m actually making dinner now. Could it possibly wait until tomorrow? Or I could try to contact someone else for you.’ Emergency over, Trudy prioritised her life correctly, family was put first as it should be.

  Could it wait? I nearly tore out my hair with frustration, the curiosity was getting overwhelming and I wondered whether I would be able to sleep at all, but it probably could wait. I didn’t want anyone else involved, and I didn’t want to pull Trudy away from her family for a wild goose chase. After all, I wasn’t completely sure.

  ‘If I came up tomorrow first thing, would I be in the way? You’re not teaching or anything?’

  ‘No, yes, come on over. I’ll meet you in the foyer.’

  ‘Thanks so much Trudy, it will be so helpful!’

  ‘What do you need our records for anyway?’

  ‘Ah, look it’s a bit complicated. I’ll tell you tomorrow.’

  So that was that. Everything was put off until the next day and I needed to sit on my thoughts and wait. I wasn’t going to do anything without firm evidence this time. I needed to be absolutely sure. It was time to go home and try to relax.

  I stepped through the cottage door and placed the keys carefully on the hall table. Turning my stereo on, I moved to the kitchen to try to find inspiration for food for myself.

  ‘Why do we have to eat all the time?’ I asked out loud as I stared into the fridge hoping for a delicious and easy idea to spontaneously form in my brain or to spontaneously form in my fridge so I could just take it out and eat it. Where were the sci-fi dinner pills when you needed them? No matter how long I stared, I couldn’t work out what I wanted. In the end I gave up on the healthy option and went for fish and chips from the corner store. The sky was clear and blue with wispy white clouds sitting on the horizon and the air was beautifully balmy. I could go for a nice long walk along the beach at the same time as picking up my dinner and perhaps get the swirling thoughts in my head into order. Maybe even exhaust myself enough so that I would sleep.

  The weather had improved so much from this morning’s cool breeze and showers of rain and it looked like all the local inhabitants had also decided to go for an evening walk. I met and greeted several of my mother’s old friends as I wandered along the beach bare-footed in the rippling waves. I greeted quite a few people I didn’t know as well. That was the way down here – everyone you passed gave you a friendly ‘Hi’ or ‘Good evening’ or ‘Lovely night, isn’t it?’

  It was a really delightful aspect of a small town that you had this community around at all times. I could see that it might get a bit overwhelming if anonymity is what you were craving but I enjoyed the off-the-cuff conversations and the greetings as I walked along the street (or beach as it may be). It was a friendly way to live.

  Then the community became a whole lot less comforting because I saw Jan and Nate in the distance. What to do? I didn’t really want to talk with Nate. Not yet. Not without evidence. What would I say? What on earth could we talk about that didn’t involve the Conneally case, that didn’t encroach on awkward territory? A quick ‘Hi’ and moving on would not be enough.

  Had they seen me?

  As quickly as I could (trying not to draw attention to myself) I walked back up to the footpath and tried to hide behind the trees and cars lining the beach. If I could just make it to the take-away on the corner ... they would never go in there. I could hide in there. I would be safe.

  Just two more cars ... one more ... I was so nearly there – but no, Jan was waving. Could I pretend I didn’t see her? Not really. I pasted a smile on my face and headed back to the beach again to say hello. Crazy isn’t it? In my head, when I’m not around them, I’m so angry that they have ignored me and not let me in on their secret, but I don’t have the guts to tell them so. I can’t be the one to break up the relationship. Passive-aggressive me. Disaster.

  ‘How is the work going?’ Jan wanted to know. I could keep that safe, I guess, if they didn’t ask pointed questions about what I was working on.

  ‘Really good. I’m really enjoying it, feeling like I’m getting somewhere.’ Nice vague answer. And Nate took the conversation to an easy place.

  ‘Do you think they’ll keep you on after this?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘It’s very unlikely. They just can’t do it. If they want to
employ someone permanently there needs to be this whole big process. The uni is always bragging about how its workforce are so internationally first-class and all. They can’t just employ whoever they like.’

  ‘But you are first-class.’

  ‘Aww Jan, you’re so supportive, but the difficulty is persuading the Human Resources Department and the Provost.’

  ‘What’s a Provost?’

  ‘He’s the guy that holds the purse strings for the university and makes the overall funding and staffing decisions.’

  ‘Do you know who he is? Could you go and talk with him?’ Nate was really trying to solve my problem for me.

  ‘It just doesn’t work that way. I’m going to have to wait and see if someone has research funding and can take me on, or wait for a job to come up. I don’t really like my chances though, I think I’ll have to head back to the mainland eventually.’

  ‘Back to the mainland? You don’t want to do that. Surely there’s something available here, surely something will come up.’

  ‘The problem is that I’m trained to work at a university, to do research, and here in Hobart there’s only the one small Chemistry Department. If I want to work here, I’m waiting to fill a dead man’s shoes and the staff here are young – not likely to die anytime soon.’

  ‘I have an idea, you’re a chemist – you could make some poison and kill one of the lecturers off. Shouldn’t be too hard.’ Jan said with a smile.

  ‘That’s a bit close for comfort.’ I said, laughing.

  And Nate agreed, ‘Too soon Jan, too soon.’

  Jan gasped. ‘Oh the guy who died, oh Alicia, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

  I reassured her that I was fine, and tried to figure out whether it was safe to talk about this yet. It felt a bit like an opening to ask Nate if they had found out what or who had killed him. But then, it was all a bit awkward really. Nate seemed to think so too and tried to change the subject back.