Tarte Tatin Murder

by Sandi Scott

  Before she could speak, though, Ryan said, “Detective, you'll be all of the thickness of a door away, so you can get there if things go south. You can even keep the door cracked, so you won't have to do anything but push it open the rest of the way. From what we've learned, the murderer didn't bring a weapon with him—he used what was already close at hand. That means he probably doesn't have a gun or another weapon on him, so, even if he snaps, it should take a couple of seconds for him to find something to attack with, and you can be in there before that happens. I don't know who she thinks it is, but I think Ashley's right about him not giving anything away during an official interrogation. She's really good at getting people to tell her things they don't mean to share, though; if anyone can get him to talk, it's definitely her.”

  The detective hesitated a moment, ruminating, and then he nodded. “Okay, this is how we’re going to do it. We go in, and I check out the setup. If I think I can protect you, we'll try it your way. If there's anything that makes me think I can't get into the room quickly, you two will come back here and wait while I talk to them. And, just so you know, I wouldn't even consider this if the sheriff hadn't told me about how you helped him clear up that poisoning case a ways back. He thought you handled yourself well, and he trusts you.” Exchanging a relieved glance, Ashley and Ryan quickly agreed.

  They walked to the second floor of the lab building and found the classroom next to the cancer researchers' lab. Detective Luna slipped inside, looked around at the lab tables and stools, then checked the connecting door. Apparently satisfied, he nodded at Ashley and Ryan to let them know that they could go next door and confront Blake and Evan.

  As they approached the open lab door, Wendy, Blake, and Evan could be heard discussing how to divide up the tasks that Green's death left undone. The three scientists looked up, startled, as Ashley and Ryan entered without knocking. Ashley noticed the connecting door opening the tiniest bit; Luna was obviously using their entrance to cover any sound the door might make.

  “Hello,” Wendy said, looking surprised. “What are you doing here?” She flushed at her own rudeness. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be impolite. Is there something you need, though?”

  “Hi, Wendy,” Ashley replied. “This is Ryan Bregar; he is Charlie Brady's nephew. We had a couple of questions about Dr. Green's death that we were hoping y'all could help us with.”

  “We don't have time for you and your snoopy questions,” Evan growled. “We have things to do that are actually important.” Ashley knew then that she hadn't overestimated his arrogance; she still wasn't sure about Blake, but she thought she could definitely get Evan to talk more than he should.

  “Evan! There's no need for that,” Wendy exclaimed as Blake looked on, seemingly astonished at his colleague's nastiness. “It won't hurt to take a few minutes to talk with them.”

  “More important than the death of your boss?” Ashley asked, ignoring the other woman’s attempt to smooth things over. “Maybe like getting your paper published?”

  “As a matter of fact…” Evan didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice.

  Ashley interrupted before he could continue. “This won't take long, and it could have a pretty significant impact on the future of this project and the journal article. And I'm very sure that your colleagues—and the police, of course—will find what we've learned to be far more important than a research paper, even one about a lifesaving drug.”

  Evan started to brush her off again, but Blake stopped him. “What are you talking about? How could your questions affect our paper? And what do you know that is so important?” Ashley looked closely at him, trying to decide if he was nervous or just curious.

  “I'd like to know that, too,” Wendy said, beginning to look annoyed. “Oliver's death means the rest of us have to do some extra work to finish his portion of the project, but the only real impact will be that it takes a little longer to get the manuscript ready to send to the journal for review and publication. I'm sorry, Ms. Adams, but your statement does seem a bit melodramatic, don't you think?”

  “What if one of you is arrested for murder? Wouldn't that make a difference?” Ryan shot back. Blake and Wendy stared at him, open-mouthed, while Evan narrowed his eyes and glared at Ashley.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Wendy sounded shocked, and her surprise seemed sincere.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” Evan sneered. “Even if one of us killed him—and we didn't—what could you possibly know about it? You're a cook, not a cop.”

  “Evan, you were at the golf tournament the day Dr. Green was killed, weren't you?” Ashley asked.

  “Yeah, so what? The money was going to pay for the rest of our research, so I figured I ought to do my part to help out. It's stupid, but you have to schmooze with the money people; wastes a lot of time, but you have to suck up, sometimes. I was just doing my part.” His tone hadn’t improved; clearly, he thought they were too stupid to realize they were wasting their time.

  “Blake, you were here at the lab that day; isn't that what you told me?” Ashley turned to the intern.

  “Sure. Dr. Green thought someone should be here; he wanted someone at the lab 24/7, and I volunteered to stay. I don't play golf, and I'm not all that into the great outdoors. Dr. Green, Dr. Graham and Evan are better with the donors and people like that, anyway; I don't feel comfortable with people with a lot of money to throw around.”

  “Was there anyone else here with you that day?”

  “No, I was here alone. Well, I was here by myself most of the day. There were a few people around for a little while in the morning, but then everyone left for the fundraiser.” Blake looked puzzled. “Even most of the interns took the day off. I stayed around until around noon, until one of them came back, and then I took off for Corpus to catch some waves.”

  “I thought you said this wouldn't take long,” Evan snarled. “What's your point? That Blakey was alone, so he could have slipped out and popped Dr. Green on the head without anyone missing him?” The other student looked indignant, either at the snarky nickname or at his fellow student throwing him under the bus. “If so, you're way off base. He doesn’t have the guts to confront anyone, much less kill them. He can’t work up enough passion about anything to get that angry.”

  Ashley ignored him. “Blake, was Dr. Green here that morning?”

  “Yes, he came by for about an hour. It's his lab, so that wasn't unusual. Why?”

  “What about Evan? Did he stop by as well?” Ashley hoped she wasn't about to make a complete fool of herself.

  Blake looked sideways at Evan. “Yeah, he was. I remember now that he and Dr. Green were talking in the classroom.” He pointed at the door. “I didn't hear what they were saying, but I think Dr. Green was really pi—angry.” He turned toward Evan, his face showing he was beginning to understand.

  Ashley turned back to Evan. “He was angry, wasn't he? He confronted you about the data manipulation you've been doing. He told you that he was going to talk to Charlie Brady about investing in the project, but then he told you that he was halting the work until the discrepancies were cleared up, and that he was dropping you from the project because your fake data jeopardized both his results and his reputation.”

  “That's ridiculous!” Evan snapped. “Yes, we talked; he told me he was going to ask the old sot for more money, but that's all. No one was angry, because no one changed any test results. Why would anyone do something like that?”

  “Really? Wendy, didn't you tell me that you and Dr. Green had discussed the fact that the results were too good and that someone had clearly been changing them?” Wendy’s face was starting to show comprehension as well. “Didn't you say that, if it was intentional, it was most likely that one of the Ph.D. candidates was responsible?”

  “Yes. He wanted to tell the board and the FDA right away. I convinced him to wait until after the fundraiser, but there was no doubt that the results were wrong.” Wendy looked at Evan. “He accused you of manipulating th
e data? You're the one who did it? How stupid are you? Do you have any idea what you've done to this project, what your actions are going to cost us and the patients who are waiting for this drug?”

  Evan didn't answer. He crossed his arms over his chest. and tried to look disinterested, but his darting eyes gave him away.

  “You were driving around the course, putting up signs that morning, weren't you, Evan? In fact, you almost ran over me in the parking lot because you had them piled up so high,” Ashley continued. “You drove your cart out to the fifth hole to meet Charlie and Dr. Green; you knew Dr. Green was going to ask Charlie to help pay for the go-to-market campaign, and you wanted to make sure it happened without him saying anything about the data. You took a bottle of Charlie's favorite Scotch; you figured that would seal the deal. But then you heard Dr. Green tell Charlie that the money might not be needed for several months or maybe even longer because he was stopping the research to double-check on some results. You knew then that he was going to follow through with his threats to you here that morning.”

  She paused to gauge Evan's reaction. He still didn't speak, but he dropped his arms, clenching his fists tightly enough that his knuckles turned white, and his whole body almost vibrated with anger.

  “You waited until they finished the sixth hole, then you called Charlie on his cell phone and told him there was an emergency at the clubhouse that needed his attention. You intercepted him along the way and refilled his flask, knowing his weakness. He was already pretty crocked, so you stole his phone at the same time, covering your tracks. You figured as long as the phone was missing no one would know that you made the call, and no one would believe that Charlie wasn't with Green when he was killed.”

  Still no reaction. She went on. “You know a lot about science and cancer research, but you apparently don't know as much about technology, especially cell phones. Ryan was able to get copies of the call log and found a call from your number—it is 574-1029, right?”

  Evan's head came up sharply. “How did you get my phone number? That's none of your business.”

  She ignored this too. “Once Charlie was on his way, you found Dr. Green at the seventh hole. When he wouldn't back down on stopping the project and blew you off to go back to his game, you clubbed him over the head with the mallet you were using to pound the signs into the dry ground around the course. You must have already had it planned in case you couldn't talk him into staying quiet. The wind blew your hat off, but you didn't want to take the time to look for it. You had to get away from the scene before the next golfers got there in order to blame the murder on Charlie.”

  Ryan spoke up. “FYI—the event photographer got lots of pictures, and CURE's publicist posted them to their Instagram account. There are several shots of you wearing that ridiculous hat. It's pretty noticeable; there couldn't be another one that silly-looking around. And the photographer did manage to catch your face under the hat in a couple of those shots, too, so there's no use denying it's yours.”

  “Anyway,” Ashley continued, “after you dragged Dr. Green's body into the underbrush, you drove the cart to the clubhouse and returned it to the storage lot. You disabled Charlie's phone, left it where someone would find it and turn it in, and left the event. You knew the sheriff would suspect Dr. Green's golfing partner, and you knew that Charlie was probably too drunk to remember enough to incriminate you. Unfortunately for you, someone saw you arguing with Dr. Green on the seventh hole, and your hat helps prove you were there.”

  Evan’s fists came up. “Yes, I killed him!” he shouted. “I need that publication credit. I worked my tail off in graduate school for eight years, and then I slaved for that jerk for four more. He never acknowledged my work; he didn't appreciate everything I did on this project. My name on that paper means I’ll be taken seriously enough to have my pick of jobs anywhere I want to go. He was going to take that away from me, but I stopped him. He got what he had coming to him; he asked for it. He can't fire me now, can he?”

  “You nosy little…“ Evan suddenly lunged at Ashley, hands outstretched toward her throat. “You’re not going to ruin this for me. I’ll shut you up!”

  “Freeze! Get away from her, or I'll drop you now.”

  They all heard the click of Detective Luna's sidearm as he cocked the hammer in preparation for firing. Momentarily stunned, Ryan and Blake shook it off and grabbed Evan, wrestling him away from Ashley and to the ground so that the detective could handcuff him While the detective read him his Miranda rights. Evan twisted until he could see Ashley, hate filling his face.

  “He deserved it! He was a malicious, arrogant bastard, and he was going to ruin my life. He deserved to die.” He made an unsuccessful attempt to move towards her, but Luna’s hand yanked him back. “If you stayed out of it, it would have all worked out—the paper would have been published, the drug would go on the market, and I'd finally get the job I've dreamed about. You ruined everything!” He continued yelling as Luna dragged him from the room and down to the car.

  Trembling, Wendy dropped heavily onto a stool. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears. “Oliver was arrogant, and he had the social skills of a seashell, but he didn't deserve to die. I can't believe Evan killed him over a research paper. Oliver wouldn't have let Evan's name go on the paper, and he wouldn't have written him a glowing recommendation, but he wouldn't have said anything about the data manipulation.”

  Ryan looked skeptical. “What makes you so sure? Wouldn't he have wanted to make sure Evan didn't do the same thing somewhere else?”

  “If someone else asked, he wouldn't have lied about it, but he wouldn't have brought it up to begin with. We had an intern on another project who screwed up the data from the research so badly that we had to drop it all and start from the beginning—that's how we ended up on this project—and Oliver only fired him. When the guy's next potential employer called, Oliver said he worked hard as long as he had clear instructions and close supervision. He believed everyone deserves a second chance.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks. “There were times I absolutely hated that man, too. I didn't think I was mourning his death at all, but I guess I was fooling myself. And I can't believe Evan still thought his name would be on the paper after he confessed to murder; did he really think that, if he got to you, Blake and I would go along with his plans?”

  Just then, Jordan Berg rushed in, halting when he saw his fiancée in tears. “Wendy, baby—what's wrong?” He turned to glare at Ashley and Ryan. “What did you do to her?”

  “Jordan, stop; it's not their fault. Evan just confessed to killing Oliver. Everything hit me finally; Ashley and Ryan didn't do anything. What are you doing here, anyway? I told you I needed some time away from our relationship to work things out in my mind, and yet here you are. How can I think properly if you won't even respect my request?”

  He stammered for a moment, then said, “I drove over to see if you would go to lunch with me. I want to make up for the stupid things my jealousy made me do. I hope I can convince you to forgive me.”

  She sighed. “We have a lot to talk about, Jordan. We can't get married unless we both trust each other. And we both have to understand and accept the needs of the other.” She looked at her fiancé with uncertainty in her eyes, but it looked like there was still a spark of love that left some hope for their future together.

  Ashley realized that their presence was definitely no longer needed, so she signaled Ryan, who looked at Blake and jerked his head towards the door. They slipped out, leaving the couple together to begin to repair their relationship.

  “Man, I can't believe that!” Blake was apparently still feeling the effects of the adrenaline rush from the confrontation. “Evan killed Oliver Green. I can't wrap my head around it; I was working with a murderer! Wait until I tell my roommate!” Still exclaiming, he rushed off.

  “Ah, the enthusiasm and resilience of youth,” Ashley remarked, amused. “It makes me feel old and tired just to watch him!” She slipped her arm throu
gh Ryan's and smiled at him as they returned to his car, hoping that things would work out for Wendy and Jordan—not to mention for her and Ryan.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Look out!” Patty shouted as she watched her golf ball leave the ground and fly through the air. She and Smoke Daddy Lee had agreed to play a round of golf with Ashley and Ryan, even though Ryan was the only one of them who had played before.

  “Patty! You're putting; you aren't supposed to hit the ball hard enough to lift it up like that!” Ryan objected. “Tap it gently toward the hole—this one, not the one in the next green!”

  “Hey, I told you when you invited us that I've never played golf before,” Patty huffed. “I've never even watched anyone play before. You had to know we'd be pretty bad at it!” The twinkle in her eyes defeated her attempt to look insulted.

  “Yeah, what's that about, anyway?” Smoke Daddy Lee asked. “I love me some sports on the TV, but who watches televised golf? Watching the dew dry is more exciting than watching those guys squatting down to stare at their golf balls! Give me a good Spurs game over that, any day, any way!”

  Ryan opened his mouth to reply and thought better of it. There really wasn't a good answer to that one; he loved playing golf, especially with Uncle Charlie, but he had to admit that it was pretty slow to be much of a spectator sport. He pretended to look miffed and bent to line up his own putt.

  “So, Ash, how did you figure out that Evan was the killer?” Patty asked. “There were several other good murder suspects. I was really sure it was going to be Jordan Berg or maybe Javier Ortiz.”

  Ashley smiled at Smoke Daddy. “It was Smoke Daddy's business advice that clued me in. What he said about putting your name out there and making things happen with the customers; it all came together. Someone mentioned that Evan's grant was running out and he was looking for a new job. He had to get his name out there, like a business owner, and that professional paper was the key to his future. When Smoke Daddy said that, I remembered that Javier Ortiz mentioned having seen someone arguing with Dr. Green. I also remembered seeing that stupid hat when Evan almost ran me down in the parking lot. I didn't recognize him when I first went to the lab, but something kept nagging at me after we found the hat. It wasn't until I realized how much was at stake for him that the hat and the fact that he was driving around the course seemed important enough to think about. After that, when I considered what we heard about Dr. Green's ethical stance in the labs, it seemed obvious that he'd fired Evan as soon as he was sure that's where the false data came from. That meant that Evan had the three things mystery stories emphasize—motive, means, and opportunity.”