Formula for Murder

by Diana Orgain

Karen’s mouth pressed into a line. She looked upset that Jake would even suggest someone else might have information that she didn’t, much less an intern. She shook her head absently and waved at Jake. “Of course Kate is free to speak with her but . . .”

  Jake caught my eye and gave me a discreet nod, which I took to mean I’d better have a word with Ellie.

  The phone on Karen’s desk lit up and rang. She sighed and grabbed the receiver. She spoke into the phone at the same time as she rummaged around her desk. She put the party on hold, located a business card, and handed it to me. “Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.”

  Further assistance?

  I nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

  Jake waited for me to leave Karen’s office and pulled the door closed behind me. “Ellie will need to sign you out. You can ask her about any news stories Nancy was working on. If anyone’s on the pulse of this place it’s her.”

  We walked toward the exit, passing the green room. A tray of hot food had been delivered in the short time I’d been in Karen’s office. I peeked over at the tray—cheesy enchiladas.

  Could it be a coincidence?

  I pointed to the tray. “Who does the catering?” I asked.

  Jake looked surprised. “Oh. Sorry, would you like some?”

  I laughed. “No. No, thank you. I’m just curious who the caterer is.”

  Jake picked up a card peeking out from under the tray and handed it to me. It read Ramon, the Brave Gourmet: Traditional Mexican Dishes with an Untraditional Flare.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “I wish I could help you. Losing Nancy was a great shock to us. She was a wonderful lady.”

  Ellie materialized in the doorway to the green room. “Do you need me to sign you out now?” she asked.

  I nodded and followed her down the hallway.

  Jake called, “Good luck,” after me.

  “Ellie, do you know anything about the French consul story Nancy was working on?”

  Ellie stopped walking and turned to face me. “The biotech story?”

  “Biotech?”

  Ellie looked past me down the hall. I turned. No one was behind me. I faced her. She waved for me to follow her outside. We walked the rest of the corridor in silence. She pushed on the exit door and we stepped out into the lobby. The security guard glanced up at us from his computer, looking about as interested in us as if we were chopped liver. As soon as we passed him his attention went back to his monitor.

  Ellie asked, “Where are you parked?”

  “In the lot across the street.”

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  We exited the building; the breeze from the bay was whirling my hair around and making my scalp feel cold. Jim was right: I needed to get into the habit of wearing a hat, the last thing I needed was pneumonia.

  Ellie moved closer to me, so no one could overhear us or so I could block the wind, I couldn’t decide.

  “I didn’t think of it until you mentioned the consul, but we got a call . . .” She squinted and then looked up toward the sky. “. . . I don’t know, probably a couple weeks before Nancy died. It was a guy from a biotech company in South City. He mentioned something about the consul. I transferred him to Nancy.”

  “Do you remember his name or the company?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t. I know it wasn’t Genetech. Because that’s pretty much the only one I know, but I associated it in my mind with Genetech. I’d forgotten about it until now.”

  “Why did you transfer him to Nancy?”

  “She liked that sort of thing. She was our best investigative journalist . . .”

  “What about Kimberly Newman?”

  Ellie looked surprised. “Kimberly?”

  “Was she . . . is she working on any story involving the consul?”

  “No. Well, wait. I take that back. She did go to their Christmas party. That’s her regular type of story.”

  “Was she scheduled for that even before Nancy’s death?”

  Ellie swallowed hard as if I had just suggested Kimberly was responsible for Nancy’s death.

  Had I just suggested that?

  We crossed the street and entered the parking lot where I’d left my car earlier.

  Ellie scratched at her chin. “I think Kimberly must have already been assigned . . . I don’t really know though. I know Nancy was handling everything consulate related. So, it could be we would have sent Nancy instead of Kimberly.”

  Could Kimberly have been jealous that Nancy had been assigned to the story she thought should be hers?

  “Who’s in charge of the assignments?” I asked.

  “Karen,” Ellie answered in almost a whisper.

  I nodded.

  “Is it important?” Ellie asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know at this point.”

  “Well, if you talk to her again, please don’t tell her, you know, that I said anything.” A frown creased her forehead. “I don’t want her to think I’m talking about station stuff if I’m not supposed to be.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said.

  Ellie looked semi-soothed although the frown line didn’t disappear.

  I thought about Nancy’s apartment and the stolen computer. “Can you tell me if any of Nancy’s things are here at the station? Her computer, notes, that sort of thing?”

  “The police took her computer and I just finished boxing all the rest of her things and gave them to her father yesterday.”

  We reached my car. I showed her the catering card. “Is this Ramon the same guy that was dating Nancy?”

  She smiled. “Yeah! Isn’t he hunky?” Suddenly she seemed to realize that drooling over a guy who’d so recently lost his girlfriend might not be appropriate because she grabbed my arm and looked serious. “I mean . . .”

  “It’s okay. So, it is him?”

  She nodded. “He was always bringing us snacks when Nancy was . . . when she was working. Then when she passed, he stopped coming around. We missed him. We decided to hire him.”

  “Who decided?” I asked.

  “Karen,” she admitted.

  I opened my car door and climbed in. “Thanks, Ellie, you’ve been a big help.”

  • CHAPTER EIGHTEEN •

  Any plan I’d had to shop vanished when my phone buzzed. I pulled the key from the engine and picked up the phone. I found myself secretly hoping it was Mom or Galigani, but I didn’t recognize the caller ID.

  It turned out to be Nancy’s brother, Elliot. He and his father were at his father’s home on the peninsula, could I meet with them?

  I hung up and texted Jim.

  Pull out the formula. Need to go for a ride to the peninsula.

  The drive took about thirty minutes without traffic and thankfully since it was the middle of the day I didn’t have any to fight.

  When I arrived, Nancy’s father greeted me at the door.

  He was wearing a gray sweater that seemed to draw out gray flecks in his blue eyes. He smiled sadly at me and showed me into a large, bright family room. Elliot was seated on a leather ottoman, but rose when we came into the room.

  Elliot was tall with long skinny legs and a long skinny face to match. He had a man’s classic receding hairline, which only gave the impression that his face was longer.

  “Thank you for helping us find out what happened to Nancy,” he said, shaking my hand. “Dad, do we have any eggnog left over from the reception? Maybe Kate would like a cup.”

  “Oh, no, I . . .”

  “Please,” Elliot insisted. “At any rate, I think I’d like a cup.”

  Gordon Pickett nodded and left the room, looking relieved to have something to do.

  “I don’t like him to think about Nancy’s death . . . about her being hurt . . .” He shrugged.

  “I understand. I know this is difficult for you.”

  Elliot moved across the room and patted an office file box. “After I got your message, I saved this for you. I don’t know if it
will help you, but when Chuck told me he suspected Nancy had been killed due to a story she was working, and then her office called telling me to pick up her stuff, seemed like I should go through it. So, I did, but I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

  I tried not to feel giddy about it. But any chance at real information could help me solve this case.

  “Thank you. If it’s okay with you I’ll review it at home . . . uh, I mean my office. My home office and then return it to you,” I said.

  Yes. Home office made it sound better. Saying “home” sounded altogether unprofessional.

  “Absolutely. Take your time with it. All that matters is finding out what happened to Nancy.”

  Nancy’s father returned with three mugs of steaming eggnog. Elliot crossed the room and fetched a bottle of brandy. He held it out to me.

  “No. Thank you. I have to drive.”

  He nodded, and then proceeded to pour a hefty amount into his own and his father’s mugs.

  Gordon picked up the mug and seated himself on the couch. “What can we tell you that will help?”

  “Did either of you know that Nancy’s apartment had been broken into?”

  Anger flashed across Elliot’s face and his head whipped toward his father. “Dad?”

  “No! When was this? Was Nancy there when it happened?” Nancy’s father asked.

  “I don’t think so. Her apartment was broken into a few days before her disappearance. Her computer was taken,” I said.

  “Her computer? Is that what made Chuck think she was targeted? So, it wasn’t just a random attack in the park, was it?” Elliot asked.

  “I don’t think it was random. No. Did she talk with either of you about the French consul, Eloi Leppard?” I asked.

  They shook their heads.

  “How about Armand Remy? Did she speak with you about him? Mention his name? I found she made several calls to him and she had his address.”

  Elliot shook his head and looked at his father.

  “I found Armand dead on Sunday.”

  “Good lord!” Gordon said. “Do you think his death has anything to do with Nancy?”

  Elliot’s face flushed. “How can that be? How can they be related at all?”

  “I don’t know that they are related. I thought that if Nancy uncovered something about the consul, and she found it out from Armand—”

  “Then they killed the stool pigeon?” Elliot asked.

  Gordon’s eyes grew wide.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know anything for sure. It’s just a theory.”

  “How do we find out?” Elliot asked.

  I glanced at the office file box. “I’ll start with that.”

  Elliot picked up the box. “I can take it out for you.”

  Nancy’s father rose, his eyes welling with tears. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “One more thing. What about Ramon?”

  Elliot and his father exchanged glances. “What about him?” Elliot asked.

  “Do you know him? Do you like him? Trust him?”

  Nancy’s father sipped his eggnog and kept quiet. I looked to Elliot.

  Elliot shrugged. “Sure. We liked him, right, Dad?”

  Nancy’s father nodded and swirled the remaining eggnog in his mug. “Yes. He cooked so many nice things for the service . . .”

  “You don’t think . . . Ramon?” Elliot asked.

  I gave my best reassuring smile. “I’ve really only begun my investigation. I met with Ramon, he was very helpful.”

  Elliot let out a sigh. “Right. He’s a good guy. I think he cared for Nancy a lot.”

  He cared about getting a catering gig at her place of employment, too.

  I wonder how deep Ramon’s loyalties ran.

  Elliot walked me to Jim’s car and placed the office file box in the trunk. He cleared his throat. “Uh. About Ramon. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dad, but I never trusted the guy.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Elliot sat on the bumper of Jim’s car. “I don’t know, he was kind of a male gold digger, if that makes sense. My sister was very successful. After the breakup with Chuck, she could have been with anyone. I didn’t get the whole Ramon choice. It’s obvious the guy didn’t have a lot to offer.”

  “What about his catering business?”

  Elliot made a face. “What catering business?”

  “He’s catering dishes for the station,” I said.

  “Since when?” Elliot asked.

  “I don’t know. I was just there—he was catering for them.”

  Elliot scratched his chin.

  “How long had they been dating?” I asked.

  “A few months,” Elliot said.

  “Why did she and Chuck split up?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Why does anyone break up? It just wasn’t working for them anymore. Probably more on her side then his. He was always in love with Nancy. But he’s fifteen years older than her and as his age started to slow him down I think Nancy started to pull away.” He gave a cynical laugh. “Nancy, well, she could be kind of superficial.” He fingered his receding hairline. “Every time she saw me, she gave me the name of a guy who does hair plugs.”

  I covered my face, trying to suppress a giggle. Elliot laughed outright.

  “This is San Francisco, right? Not LA. And it’s not like I’m on TV,” he said. “But, in terms of Chuck and Nancy, you could probably ask Chuck. He’s a good guy. He’d never hurt Nancy and he’ll tell you anything you want to know.

  At home Jim was working on the computer and Laurie was napping. I took advantage of the downtime to dig into Nancy’s office file box. There were framed photos of Nancy and Ramon, a stack of business cards, and several yellow legal pads. There were also a lot of file folders. Like Nancy’s apartment, her records were neatly labeled and organized.

  She’d been in the habit of dating everything, which for my purposes was extremely helpful. I put everything in chronological order and began reading the most current items. On one of the pads I found notes about the consul. If I was reconstructing the notes correctly, she’d received a call from Kevin Gibson at Reparation Research.

  Reparation Research must have been the biotech company Ellie had told me about. Kevin had told Nancy that he’d had concerns about the consul placing several French scientists at Reparation Research. Apparently, it was rumored that some trade secrets and formulas may have been leaked to the French company L’éternelle Jeunesse. Could the consul be concerned this rumor could hit the newspapers? Would word getting out have affected his award?

  I dialed the number listed for Kevin Gibson. I got the Reparation Research general voice option tree, so I punched the option for the operator. When I asked her to put me through to Kevin Gibson, she told me he was on vacation in the Bahamas, returning after the New Year.

  Must be nice.

  Jim looked up from his computer long enough to tell me two packages had arrived in the mail for me. He handed me a bubbled manila envelope with no return address and a larger box with my brother’s address on it.

  I tore into the larger box. Inside were three smaller packages wrapped in Christmas paper. I pulled them out and placed them under the tree. I eyed the box with my name on it.

  “Can I open mine now?” I called to Jim.

  He left the office and joined me in the living room. “What are you, a child? Can’t wait until Christmas?”

  Before he could even finish the sentence I had already torn into the box. It was a baby sling in a beautiful bright blue fabric with pink roses on it. This was the very sling I’d seen other mothers wear so effortlessly.

  This was perfect. I could use this and nurse Laurie in it and not have to worry about waking her when she inevitably fell asleep in it. I loved the BabyBjörn that I carried her in, but getting her out of the contraption while she was asleep and not waking her was next to impossible.

  The sling came with an instructional video that I placed on top of the TV. I put the sling a
round my shoulder and stuffed a sofa pillow inside it, then adjusted the ring.

  Jim eyed the sling, then the video. “Are you going to watch that?”

  I rocked the pillow around. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  Jim handed me the manila envelope. I ripped it open and frowned. I’m not much of a techie, but it looked like a raw computer part.

  “Do you know what this is?” I asked Jim.

  He squinted at it and shrugged. “I don’t know. A hard drive?”

  “Why would somebody send me a hard drive?”

  Jim shrugged. “Who sent it?”

  I showed him the blank envelope. Jim frowned. “Call Kenny. I’m sure he’ll know exactly what it is and what to do with it.”

  Laurie began to stir from her nap. I plucked her from the crib before she could cry. During the day she napped in the crib, but overnight she still slept in the bassinet by my bedside. Now, she was getting so big that soon she would outgrow her bassinet and would have to sleep in the crib overnight. That meant out of our room.

  I cradled her and whispered. “You don’t need to grow so fast, you know.”

  She kicked her feet and moved her legs in a circular fashion as if riding a bicycle in midair.

  “Are you trying to outrun me?” I asked.

  I slipped her into the new sling, yet unlike the pillow, she was squirmy. I fussed with the material, the ring, and readjusting Laurie for over twenty minutes, by which time she was restless and wanted out.

  That’s what I get for not watching the instructional video!

  I grabbed my keys and the diaper bag and closed the front door behind me. The café was within walking distance and I hoped Laurie would settle down during the walk.

  Kenny was sitting in our usual spot in the café. A cappuccino cup in front him. All that was left was the foam. His headphones were firmly in place with only his tapping foot revealing that music was on.

  I slide in across from him. It was actually difficult to fit into the chair at the small café table with Laurie in the sling.

  Kenny nodded to the barista. “Tracy,” he said with a lovelorn look on his face.

  “Butterfly?”

  He nodded and sighed.

  I handed him some money. “Why don’t you get me a decaf latte and get yourself whatever.”