Ceremony

by Paul Austin Ardoin

“You think the CSI team will harm the lampreys?”

  “It’s a delicate balance. Diet. Water conditions. Environmental nutrients. When they grow to adults, their livers must have enough of the right amino acids. It’s not something you can undo on a computer screen.”

  Bernadette rolled her eyes. “You don’t even have an overnight staff, Professor.”

  “We have alarms if something goes wrong.”

  She blinked. “Alarms?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like sirens and lights?”

  “Yes. And two of our employees are immediately called. If something gets out of sync with the water pH or the temperature goes haywire, the on-call staff can be here in ten minutes.”

  “On-call staff?” Bernadette remembered Eddie’s admonitions to end the interview—running errands before he went on call. “Who exactly is scheduled to be on call tonight?”

  “It changes twice a week,” Lightman said. “The schedule is set up in advance.”

  “Who’s on call right now?”

  “This week? I’d have to check.”

  Bernadette nodded. “Can you check now?”

  Lightman sighed dramatically but stepped behind his desk. He moved his mouse, clicked around, then harrumphed.

  “What is it?”

  “Tommy was on call all this week, starting on Sunday. Annika’s shift ended yesterday, and Eddie started his on-call week tonight.”

  Kep and Bernadette shot each other worried looks.

  “So—Eddie and Tommy were supposed to be on-call tonight?”

  Lightman rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “Yes—but only in case the alarms go off. And I’ve been here all evening.”

  “Has anyone been down to see the lampreys today?” Kep asked.

  “Of course,” Lightman answered. “The ammocoetes need their feeding. Usually between five and six.”

  “So no one’s been down there since six o’clock?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s go check,” Bernadette said.

  “What—so you can get your team in without my permission?”

  “Humor us, please,” Bernadette said. “If something’s wrong with the aquarium rooms, no one is receiving those emergency calls.”

  Lightman shook his head. “The alarms would be impossible to ignore. I can get down there in thirty seconds. It would have been a big problem if I’d left, but I can call a couple of the interns and have them on call within the hour.”

  “Please, Professor—”

  “Okay, fine,” Lightman snapped. “If it will get you out of my hair.” He shuffled out of his office, past Kymer Thompson’s desk, and ran his hand over his face. Kep and Bernadette followed closely. He turned down the hall and took the staircase down to the ground floor.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he turned to the unmarked metal door and paused.

  “That’s strange,” he mumbled.

  “What’s strange?” Bernadette asked.

  “There’s normally a red light…” His voice faded as he punched in numbers, but there was no soft beeping when Lightman pushed the buttons, and no green light when he was done. He grimaced and tried the door.

  It swung open.

  The room was dark and quiet.

  “What the hell,” Lightman mumbled. “This room isn’t supposed to be—”

  Then the smell hit Bernadette’s nostrils. Fish—a hundred times stronger than the last time she’d been down here.

  Where was the sound of the pumps in the aquarium?

  Why wasn’t the alarm going off?

  A light. Bright, sharp.

  Kep had turned the light of his phone on, and he shined it in the clear acrylic tanks.

  At first, Bernadette saw nothing but water—a little dirty, but she could still see through it. She’d expected to see the lamprey larvae darting around, or searching the rocks for the detritus and algae that made up their diet.

  Instead the tanks looked empty.

  Then Kep moved his light up to the top of the water of the center tank.

  Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of lamprey ammocoetes, floating on top. Most were one or two inches in length—like worms. Bernadette felt sick.

  And there was a dead body floating in the tank among the larvae, face down.

  She recognized the leather jacket right away.

  Curtis.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bernadette sat on the cold sidewalk, the snow melting onto the lower part of her winter coat pulled taut under her thighs. The temperature was in the teens and the slight but persistent breeze off Lake Michigan made it feel even colder. At least she was no longer in the aquarium with the thousands of dead lamprey larvae and one dead CSAB investigator.

  She shut her eyes and let the air numb the tip of her nose and freeze the tears that didn’t even make it to her cheek.

  Curtis had only been with the group for about eighteen months. It was his first job out of college, and he’d taken to it with zeal. Maura had seen something in him too. He’d already gotten a pay and title bump.

  She pulled herself to her feet, and, looking at the ground to avoid patches of ice, walked carefully to the river.

  The Riverwalk passed here, a wooden sidewalk at the river’s edge, in some places, like it was here, suspended above the river.

  She looked up and down the Riverwalk, half-expecting to see Rhonda with her shopping cart, but the wooden walkway was empty. She lifted her chin and gazed out over the ice—the river was a solid sheet. Snow piled on sections of the frozen river, the wind forming drifts, like miniature hills over a landscape. It looked surreal, almost like a snowglobe had broken and its contents spread out.

  Bernadette shivered. The icy sidewalk had leached its chill into her body. She wanted to get into a hot shower.

  A shadow fell over her from the bright lights of the lab building. She turned; it was Kep.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Bernadette looked back across the river. “Like shit.”

  He was silent and shuffled his feet on the planks.

  “Is this another poisoning?” Bernadette asked. “Or was he shot, like Eddie?”

  Kep rubbed his hands together, a cloud of breath in front of his face. “CSI hasn’t said yet. The team removed him from the tank. I wasn’t able to see a wound—bullet or otherwise. I strongly suspect another syringe full of ibogaine.”

  “You smell it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even with all those dead lamprey larvae?”

  “Yes.”

  Bernadette was quiet. She could hear late dinner patrons straggling out of a restaurant across the river. She cleared her throat. “Do you think the killer took the rented SUV Curtis was driving?”

  Kep shook his head. “We found it in the lot on the other side from where we parked.”

  Bernadette nodded, staring at the lights from the restaurant. “I should have seen that.”

  “Lightman didn’t do it,” Kep said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “No smell on him, right?”

  “Correct. But I’m at a loss for a motive, also. All of the lamprey ammocoetes are dead.” He sighed. “The aquarium tanks are where the stolen TFM ended up. Most, if not all, of those forty-five kilograms were dumped in.”

  “You sure it was TFM?”

  Kep pointed to his nose.

  Bernadette nodded. “Even though it dissipates?”

  “It dissipates quickly in a running river, not in a fish tank with the filter turned off.”

  “But you don’t suspect Lightman.”

  Kep shook his head. “I’m aware that Lightman is no saint. He can speak of nothing but Eponymous Pharma putting an end to their funding and eliminating his position. He hasn’t once asked about Curtis.”

  She looked down at her feet. “At least his lawyer won’t give us any grief about the CSI team now.” She craned her neck to look at the lab building. “They find anything interesting yet?”

  “No,” Kep said. “I’
m hopeful they’ll soon discover a syringe. I have noted that whoever killed the ammocoetes was able to get forty-five kilograms of TFM into the aquariums. That’s quite a bit of heavy lifting. It would require upper-body strength.”

  “But—aren’t there ten fish tanks? That’s only ten pounds in each.”

  Kep screwed up his mouth. “Yes, you’re right. Four-and-a-half kilograms is more than enough to kill them all.” He held up a finger. “However, all forty-five kilograms would need to arrive at the same time. That presents a transportation issue.”

  “The blue van.” Bernadette closed her eyes and saw herself chasing after Nick LaSalle, who had been carrying two large totes down Highland Avenue. “Or someone strong enough to carry the TFM a few blocks.”

  Harsh light and shadows washed over them. Bernadette looked up; a small black sedan turned into the parking lot.

  “Is that a Subaru WRX?”

  Kep squinted. “I believe it is.”

  “We’ll finally get to interview her.” Bernadette took a few steps, but the ice on the ground made the going slippery. Cecilia Carter got out of the car, a worried look on her face, and rushed into the entrance. “I better see if I can stop her before she says too much to Lightman. He probably called her all upset, and she’s offering him a shoulder to cry on.”

  “I’ll provide distraction for the professor. Come on.” Kep stepped up from the wooden planks onto the asphalt of the parking lot and reached a hand over to help Bernadette.

  “I got it,” she said, and took a step up.

  The lights of the Milwaukee CSI van gave the far side of the building a surreal, ghostly look. Detective Kerrigan Dunn, in a Milwaukee Police wool hat and a long wool overcoat, stood halfway between the van and the propped-open side door which led to the aquarium rooms. She raised her hand in greeting as Kep and Bernadette got closer.

  “This is what they get for not authorizing appropriate overtime.” Dunn’s voice carried across the parking lot and seemed to bounce off the frozen river. “One officer on protective duty. He can’t be on two floors at once.”

  “Do you have a suspect in mind?” Kep asked.

  Dunn laughed derisively. “No. That’s why we called in the Feds and their fancy consultant with the supersonic sense of smell.”

  “I’m appalled by your use of catachresis,” Kep said.

  “My what?” Dunn asked.

  “Ignore him.” Bernadette stepped closer. “You got a look at the aquarium rooms, though, right, Detective?”

  “Yep. Those dead lamprey babies look like gross little worms.”

  “And more than that,” Bernadette said, “they’re worthless. Lamprey larvae grow for four or five years before they become adults, and now that these will never get to their adult stage, the scientists won’t be able to harvest their livers and inject the ibogaine into them. Literally millions of dollars in investment gone.” And thousands of dead cancer patients.

  “So why wasn’t the room hooked up to an alarm?” Dunn asked.

  Bernadette crossed her arms. “It was. Nothing went off.”

  “How can that be?”

  Kep shrugged. “We don’t know the answer yet. CSI has theories; I suspect someone tampered with the system.” He nodded toward the open door. “The room had no lights, and all the systems were off—filtration, pumps. We’ll know more when CSI examines the wiring.”

  From inside, the sound of yelling—a woman’s voice and Lightman.

  “So much for getting to Cecilia before she talks to the professor,” muttered Bernadette.

  The three of them hurried into the open side door. There was a second door inside, also open, which led to the stairwell where Lightman had taken Kep and Bernadette earlier. Dunn took the stairs two at a time; Bernadette followed.

  Lightman and Cecilia Carter were arguing in the area in front of Kymer Thompson’s desk.

  “You wanted this to happen!” Lightman stuck a finger in Carter’s face.

  “I did not!”

  “Oh, don’t lie to me, Cecilia. You’ve hated that my work harvests the livers from—”

  “Listen to yourself, Jude!” Cecilia yelled. “Don’t say harvest, like the fish are potatoes. They’re alive. They’re living, breathing—”

  “Well, they’re neither living or breathing now. And it’s your—”

  “Do you really think I’d want to save all the lampreys by killing all the lampreys?” Cecilia shrieked, turned and began to stomp off—but ran straight into Kep.

  “The lady has a point, professor,” Kep said.

  “I’m not talking about this,” Lightman said. “And I’m not talking to you.” He pointed at Kep. “Or you.” He shot Bernadette an angry look.

  “You’re one of the few people in the building when our colleague was murdered,” Bernadette said. “A federal employee was murdered while he was investigating a crime. We don’t take that lightly. And we won’t let a lover’s quarrel get in the way of finding out who did it.”

  “You think I had anything to do with this?” Lightman said, voice raised. “Those dead lampreys represent years of research and millions of dollars down the drain. We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose our grant. Next week, I might be out of a job.”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t do it,” Cecilia said. “I’ve fought for the last ten years to keep marine life viable in Lake Michigan. I wouldn’t have done that by killing thousands of lamprey larvae.”

  “Ammocoetes,” said Lightman, under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Look, you say you love them so much, and you keep saying you and I are over because of what I do—the least you could do is call them by their correct name.”

  “They’re larvae.”

  “They’re ammocoetes,” Lightman hissed.

  Bernadette stepped between them. “Maybe we should interview you in separate rooms down at the station. Come with me, Ms. Carter.”

  Bernadette took Cecilia Carter by the upper arm, gently but firmly, and began to steer her into the empty conference room.

  “Get your hands off me,” Cecilia snapped.

  “We can do this at the police station,” Bernadette said. “Or maybe you’d rather talk to the U.S. Attorney.”

  It was a bluff, but an effective one. Cecilia stopped protesting and sat down at the conference table.

  “Good,” Bernadette said, closing the door. She sat at the head of the table, about five feet away from Cecilia.

  “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer.”

  “I’ve heard that from Douglas Rheinstaller, too,” Bernadette said. “Of course, that makes sense when we can put you both at the Wildlife Specialties in Fond du Lac buying a hundred pounds of TFM.”

  Cecilia’s face fell for a split second before her expression changed to dignified shock. “What? I wasn’t anywhere near—”

  “Your cell phone certainly was,” Bernadette said, “and I suspect when we get the camera footage from the store, we’ll see the two of you together.”

  Cecilia was silent.

  “You did a great job, acting like you don’t want to see those precious lampreys die,” Bernadette continued. “But raising them in the lab and releasing them into the wild is sure to screw up the ecosystem, right?”

  Cecilia crossed her arms.

  “You and Rheinstaller had a common enemy,” Bernadette continued. “Those lamprey ammocoetes had to be killed. So you started an affair with Professor Lightman to get information out of him. Maybe to find the weaknesses in the alarm system. Maybe to find out who was on call if something happened.”

  Cecilia pressed her lips together and turned her body slightly away from Bernadette.

  Bernadette stared at Cecilia’s face for a moment and saw a slight tremble in her lip.

  “Hmm,” Bernadette murmured.

  Cecilia glanced quickly at Bernadette, eyes defiant, before dropping her gaze to the table in front of her.

  “You had a plan to kill the lampreys,” Bernadette said slowly, tapping h
er fingers on the table. “But the TFM disappeared before you could do anything about it.”

  Cecilia flinched. “I’m not answering anything without my lawyer present.”

  “I thought you’d stolen the TFM. After all, you were the one person who knew that Douglas Rheinstaller bought it. You might have even helped him put it in the shed.” Bernadette leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “But you didn’t even know it was missing, did you?”

  “I told you, I’m not answering any questions without my lawyer.”

  Bernadette stood. “Wait here.”

  She left the room and walked to Lightman’s closed office door. Through the window, she saw Kep across from the professor, whose eyebrows were knitted, a frown on his face. Bernadette opened the door.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Lightman snapped. “I have to report this incident.”

  “I think the university is aware of what’s going on, Professor,” Kep said.

  Lightman glared. “I’m not talking about reporting it to Kilbourn Tech—I’m talking about reporting it to the people who are bankrolling this research. We’ll be in enough trouble if they have to postpone the clinical trials. If we cancel, my career is over.”

  “You can’t tell Eponymous now,” Bernadette said. “It’s after hours. They won’t be able to do anything until tomorrow morning.”

  “A moment?” Kep asked.

  Bernadette turned her head. Kep motioned toward the corner of the room, and she followed.

  “Lightman clearly has no motive,” Kep said. “Cecilia, on the other hand—”

  “Right. We know she was with Rheinstaller, buying the TFM.”

  “And who else would know that he kept it in his shed?”

  “I don’t know that she knew it. The two of them were conspiring to kill all those larvae, but… well, the way she’s acting? I don’t think she had a clue the TFM was stolen.”

  “How sure are you of that?”

  Bernadette screwed up her mouth before answering. “I’ve seen it before in my money laundering cases. When people realize their trust was misplaced. I don’t think she committed the burglary.”

  Kep screwed up his mouth.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I said nothing of the kind. We need more data points.”