by Larry Karp
“Seems a little cruel to me.”
“Hey, Mr. Baumgartner. You want cruel? You should’ve met Alma. She set the standard.”
“But it was Laurie you didn’t like.”
Katie coughed, said nothing.
“That Labor Day weekend you went to the shore with your sweetie? What did you say was your sweetie’s name? Joseph? Or Josephine?”
“Damn you.” She grabbed a bookend from the table beside her, threw it against the wall. Her eyes sizzled. “Yeah, Alma was cruel, all right. She gave me a tumble every now and then, but nothing more than that. Said redheads turned her on sometimes, and if I wasn’t a redhead, she wouldn’t have any use for me at all. She liked to tease me…she liked to tease everybody. Once or twice before she took off, she said something that made me think she might be coming into a bundle, like not having to worry about food money any more. So I kept thinking, kept hoping, maybe Alma was gonna show up one day, flash a wad of money in my face, and say, ‘Let’s go see what it’s like in Paris. Or Rio.’ Stupid, stupid.” She pounded a fist onto the arm of the sofa. “Then, when she disappeared, I figured she got her money and went off with it, probably with Mansell. So I checked in the lab. Fat lot of good it really did me, but I’ve got to admit, it made me feel a little better to see the little twit was still there.”
“And you never did see any money? She never told you she’d gotten it?”
Katie shook her head. Copper hair flew one way, then the other. “One day, she was here, next day she wasn’t. Just like that.”
True enough, otherwise, that box with the ten thousand wouldn’t have been in the basement with Wanego’s stuff. But Katie did have a temper, and I could see her losing it, and giving Wanego a clout with a metal bookend.
She flashed me a sad grin. “I guess I’m not the first moron who lost their head over a piece of tail, am I, Mr. Baumgartner?”
“Not hardly. But I still don’t get it. You had a sweetie. What did you need from a cruel woman with a tongue like a viper.”
A look crossed Katie’s face, wistful, longing. “Yeah, right on. Hey, Mr. Baumgartner—you ever have a viper put its tongue between your legs?”
***
After dinner that night, I sat with Iggy in his living room. “No way to know how long this business is going to go on,” I said. “I want you to tell me if I’m in the way here. I can always get a motel room.”
Iggy laughed. “Forget that, Mr. B. No skin offa my back, havin’ you stay here, and besides, this’s the most interesting thing I’ve had in my life since I went straight. You make any headway today?”
“More pieces, no more connections. But this Sanford’s up to his eyeballs in everything. I think he and Dr. Hearn put their heads together to get Joyce Kennett pregnant with an in vitro baby. I’d give my eye teeth to get my hands on Hearn’s log book for the secret experiments she was doing, and I’d bet anything Sanford’s got it. But he’s not going to hand it over to me, and I’m nowhere near having enough evidence to get a warrant. Hell, I wouldn’t even know where to search. His office? His apartment?”
Iggy shrugged, palms up in front of his face.
“Number Two for Sanford. Last August, right about the time Ms. Kennett got pregnant, the lab supervisor saw Hearn spill what she said was an experiment all over the floor, and a couple of months later—when Joyce Kennett’s pregnancy test would’ve turned positive—the supervisor vanishes, poof, and I find exactly ten thousand dollars, to the penny, in a box with her things. If she took off on her own call, she’d never have left that box behind. I think she tumbled to what Sanford and Hearn were doing, and blackmailed them. But before I tell the chief I want a warrant to look at Sanford’s bank accounts, I’ve got to make sure I don’t embarrass myself, tripping up on a loose end.”
“A loose end like what?”
“Like there were other people who might not have minded seeing that lab supervisor disappear. But aside from Sanford, the only one I can see having ten thousand bucks of disposable cash would be the department chairman, who supposedly was having an affair with her. One word from her to his wife, and his rich and influential father-in-law would’ve had his head. I’d love to put him on the grill, but I’d feel a whole lot better if I had some hard proof of that affair with the supervisor.”
“How you gonna get that?”
I grinned. “I’m going to make a phone call to Norway.”
***
The manager of the Midnight Sun Hotel’s business office spoke perfect English, just a hint of Scandinavian flavor. I identified myself as Dr. Camnitz, and repeated my story about the questionable charges by my wife during our stay the past September.
“Certainly, sir. I would be glad to check our records. Do you have the dates you were with us?”
“The conference was last September second through the fifth.”
“Good. Would you like to hold on, or shall I call you back?”
“I’ll hold. Thank you.”
Didn’t take her long. “I have your account, sir. You and Mrs. Camnitz checked in on September first, and checked out September sixth. And, let me see, there are one, two, three…four charges, two for room-service breakfasts, one from the gift shop in the lobby, and one from the lobby newsstand. You signed for the breakfasts and the magazines. The ticket from the gift shop was signed by Susanna Camnitz.”
Oh, Susanna! I cleared my throat. “Can you tell me one thing, please. That item she purchased at the gift shop…”
“A one-carat Burmese pigeon-blood ruby ring. For eight thousand Kroner. Is there a problem with that?”
“Eight thous…Oh, no. Oh, my goodness, please forgive me. I’m terribly embarrassed. I’d been thinking eight thousand dollars—”
That brought a wonderful Ingrid Bergman laugh. “Yes, I can see why you might have been upset. At an exchange rate of sixteen dollars and seventy-two cents per one hundred kroner, the price of the ring in US currency was…one thousand, two hundred and eighty dollars. Quite a difference.”
“Of course. Stupid of me, absolutely stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, sir.” She was clearly enjoying hearing an American grovel. “You might be surprised how often this happens.”
“You’re very kind. Thank you.”
“Not at all. Please come back and see us again.”
“I certainly will. We had a wonderful stay, and my wife loves that ruby ring.”
As I hung up the phone, Iggy snorted. “’Oh, my goodness, please forgive me…absolutely stupid…”
“Laugh all you want,” I said. But now, when I go in to talk to that puffed-up lard-ass, I’ll be packing a howitzer instead of a popgun. And if he gets all his answers right, I’ll feel a lot better about going after Sanford’s bankbooks.
Chapter Sixteen
Baumgartner
Next morning, eight o’clock, Dr. Camnitz’s secretary told me he didn’t see people without an appointment, and she’d be glad to make one for me. “I’m a homicide detective, Ma’am, Emerald Police,” I said. “I’m investigating a murder-suicide in Dr. Camnitz’s department, and I’d like to see the doctor now. If he’s in there, please tell him I want to talk to him. If he’s not there, I need to know where he is and how I can get hold of him.”
She sniffed. “He’s making rounds with his residents. He’ll be back at eight-thirty.
I said I’d wait.
Another sniff. “He has a meeting at nine with the dean.”
“I should be done by then, but if I’m not, Dr. Camnitz will let you know to tell the dean he’ll be a little late.” Then I sat in a padded leather-backed chair against the opposite wall, took my notebook from my shirt pocket, and looked over the entries I’d written after my call to Oslo the night before.
Camnitz sauntered in on the stroke of eight-
thirty, poster boy for precision. Full head of gray hair, every one in place. Not a wrinkle in his three-piece dark blue suit, noncommittal navy-blue tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Clear polish gleamed off fingernails trimmed just so.
“Good morning, Doctor,” I said. “Bernard Baumgartner, Emerald Police. I need to talk to you. If we can get right to it, I should have you out in time for your nine o’clock meeting.”
He turned a furious look onto his secretary.
“I told him you’d be busy, Dr. Camnitz. But he insisted.”
Camnitz turned back. “You’re that detective I saw last Friday, in the lab. What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem is that I need to talk to you about what happened in that lab last Friday.” I jerked a thumb toward the door to his office.
His ruddy cheeks darkened to near-purple. “Miss Vogelsang, please hold any calls.” Then, without a word to me, he stomped off. I winked at Miss Vogelsang, and followed him.
Camnitz’s office was the size of our squad room and then some. A slinky, curved mahogany desk and chairs were set in the far corner. Medical books filled shelves to either side of the desk. Diplomas on the wall made it look like he’d gone to school for half a century. Two monster paintings hung behind the desk, Hippocrates on the left, and L. Gerald Camnitz, Hippo’s apparent representative on earth, to the right. The room reeked of perfume.
Camnitz dropped into his chair, thud. “Yes?”
“I want to ask some questions about the disappearance of your lab supervisor, Alma Wanego.”
“For heaven’s sake. What does that have to do with what happened Friday?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out. I think it’s possible there were some connections between the two events. How long had Ms. Wanego worked in your department?”
Camnitz made it clear he was not in the habit of suffering fools. “Not quite three years. But—”
“Good employee?”
“Oh, yes. Excellent.”
“No problems with her?”
Just a moment’s hesitation. He saw me notice. “Well…I don’t really know whether to call it a problem. Keep in mind, Ms. Wanego was the supervisor, and any supervisor worth her salt is going to have to do some, you might say, unpopular things. Actually, that was why she was made supervisor. When her predecessor resigned—”
“Which was why?”
“She was pregnant, and wanted to stay at home with the baby. The person in line for promotion, Laurie Mansell, was a very nice young woman and a good tech, but frankly, in my opinion, she didn’t have, well, the backbone for the supervisory job. And as Department Chairman, I’m the administrator of that lab, so I spoke with Dr. Hearn. We agreed that Ms. Wanego was better suited for the position.”
You agreed from the beginning, or you agreed after some discussion?”
He studied my face. “What’s the point, Mr. Baumgartner?”
“The truth. The facts. Did you and Dr. Hearn agree from the get-go, or did you need to persuade her?”
“Very well. The truth is and the facts are, Dr. Hearn felt Ms. Mansell had earned the opportunity, and not only she, but the other techs, might feel some resentment should we appoint Ms. Wanego. But the nature of the work in those labs is delicate and complex, and a firm hand at the helm, you might say, is necessary. So yes, we discussed the matter, and Dr. Hearn came around to my point of view.”
“How did it work out.”
Shrug. “I’d say quite nicely. Forgive me, but I really do think Dr. Hearn could have given you an answer from, should we say, a closer vantage point.”
“But I can’t ask her, can I? Let me ask you this, Doctor. If Dr. Hearn’s vantage point was that much closer, why did the administrator of that delicate and complex lab overrule the person with the best read on day-to-day operations?”
His mouth and jaw locked, brows bristled. “A wise administrator keeps tabs on his staff at all levels, and never gives a completely free hand to any subordinate.” Spitting the words across the table. “I’m aware that seniority has come under challenge these days from the younger segment of society, but a certain capability does accrue with age and experience. Perhaps when I was younger, I’d have made the same choice Dr. Hearn did, but I’ve learned not to let personal feelings influence personnel decisions. All right?”
“Fair enough. And you told me your joint decision worked out fine?”
“Absolutely. The lab ran like a well-oiled machine. Yes, Ms. Wanego did, you could say, ruffle some feathers, but everyone knew his or her job, and got it done properly and in timely fashion.”
“How was her absentee record?”
“Normal. Usual. As best I can recall.”
“She seems to have taken a good number of short vacations.”
“Yes, she did. She felt that as supervisor, it would be a bad idea for her to be away for long stretches, so she scheduled her breaks a few days at a time, a week at most. I would guess her yearly records would show she actually was away for fewer days than she was entitled to. Mr. Baumgartner, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re asking me these pointless questions.” He tapped his wrist. “I have an important meeting with the Dean in just a few minutes.”
“I know you do. How did Ms. Mansell take it when Ms. Wanego was named supervisor?”
He shifted in his chair. “I have no idea. You really would have had to ask Dr. Hearn that.”
“You mean this administrator who doesn’t give a completely free hand to any subordinate has no idea how the decision he forced on the lab staff affected those employees?”
I thought that might set him off, but he shrugged. “A good administrator operates through channels. I dealt with Dr. Hearn, and it was her job, you could say, to deal with Ms. Mansell.”
“Like the Army.”
Smug smile. “Precisely. Now, Mr. Baumgartner, I’m sorry, but I must go.
“I understand how busy you are, Doctor, but we need to finish first. Why don’t you have your secretary call the Dean’s office, and tell him you’ll be delayed a little longer. I’ll do my best to be as brief as possible.”
He slung his best harrumph at me, but he did pick up the phone and mutter instructions to the secretary. Then, he swiveled back to face me, laced his fingers across his bulging breadbasket, and said, “Could we please stop beating around the bush, and get to the point?”
What a straight man. “Sure,” I said. “We can do that. I think your interest in Ms. Wanego went a long way past administrative considerations.”
Every muscle in Camnitz’s body contracted. He leaned over the desk toward me, aimed a sausage finger at my nose. “How dare you? That’s the end of this conversation. I’m going to call Security and have you removed.” He grabbed for the phone.
“Bad idea,” I said. “This isn’t a conversation, it’s a police interrogation, and you’re going to look foolish, trying to have University Security throw a cop out of your office. And you’ll look even more foolish when your father-in-law gets wind of why you did it. Does he know about your, uh, relationship with Ms. Wanego?”
Right then, the secretary must have said something over the phone, because Camnitz snapped, “Forget it, Miss Vogelsang. Sorry,” and replaced the receiver.
“Good,” I said. “Much better.”
He looked me over like I was a med student who’d told him his diagnosis on a case was a crock. “You have some nerve,” he spluttered. “Don’t you think I know there were rumors going around the lab? But that’s all they were, rumors. The kind of thing small people like to bandy around about their superiors. Neither my father-in-law nor my wife would put any stock in that nasty little tittle-tattle.”
“Well, who knows,” I said. “Maybe your wife won’t believe it. She must still be ecstatic over that Burmese ruby ring you bought her in Norway.”<
br />
Bull’s-eye. He looked like a tire on a car that had caught a nail at sixty.
“She must have loved that little jaunt to Scandinavia last Labor Day weekend. Luxury hotel, breakfasts in bed, shopping sprees while you were at the meetings. And that ring, from the hotel gift shop, 8000 kroner—why, that’s over a thousand dollars, Doctor, signed for in her hand. I’ll bet that was a holiday she’ll remember forever. Not to mention all the other delightful brief getaways you and she have enjoyed over the past year and a half.”
Long pause, then, “What is it you want?” He sounded like a frog with laryngitis.
“I want to know about the ten thousand dollars you gave Ms. Wanego right after that trip to Oslo. Was that hush money, or was there another bauble she fancied?”
He looked at his wits’ end. “I never gave her ten thousand dollars. Absolutely not.”
“Never gave her any money at all?”
“Well, yes. Fifty here, a hundred there. But ten thousand?” He shook his head vigorously. “Not a chance.”
“She wasn’t putting the screws to you, was she? Threatening to tell your wife?”
“Why would she do that? She had her supervisory position in the lab and a raise in pay, all perfectly secure as long as I was around. She had free trips all over the world, with a piece of good jewelry here and there. Let it come out about us, and we’d both lose. She was not a stupid woman, believe me.”
“Doesn’t sound like she was stupid, no. I’d say she was pretty clever, getting herself so nice and cozy with the big boss. What was in it for you?”
“Jesus, Baumgartner, what do you think?”
I pictured a viper’s tongue. “That’s all?”
He shrugged. “I’m forty-eight, my wife’s forty-six.” He looked me up and down. “I’m guessing you’re even older than I am. Married?”
