A Wrongful Death by Kate Wilhelm Page A

snow, but not yet. She got into her car and headed for the university bookstore where she usually found books the chains didn't stock.
    For the next two hours, she chose gifts. A book of dolls from around the world down through the ages was perfect for Shelley. The Russian doll within a doll within a doll, Japanese geishas, straw and wood fetish dolls from the Yanomamo tribes of Brazil, porcelain dolls from China — she started to read the text, and forced herself to stop. But she would read it before she wrapped it, she decided. For Dr. Minnick, Darwin's exploration, notes and drawings from the Galapagos. The world's most fabulist natural places for Todd — waterfalls, mountain lakes, an underwater grotto. The two-volume set by Jared Diamond, /Guns, Germs and Steel, and Collapse/ for Alex. Suddenly she stopped scanning the shelves. A book for Todd? She bit her lip but did not remove the book from her basket. She moved on to a complete Sherlock Holmes collection for Maria. An audio book for Maria's mother, who could not sit still to read, but would listen as she did mending, ironing, cooking, knitting or something else useful. For Maria's daughters? She didn't even know if they were readers. Busy teenagers, did either of them actually sit down and read? Ask Maria, she decided and moved on.
    Then she stopped again. Halfway down the next aisle Brice Knowlton stood, regarding her with a cool appraising look that, while not overtly hostile, was not friendly, either.
    She took another step forward, then said, "Mr. Knowlton, can we talk a few minutes?"
    "Why? What's to say? Elizabeth Kurtz is dead and out of reach. I don't have any other business with you."
    "She's dead, and everyone keeps trying to involve me whether or not I belong in the picture. I'd like to learn the truth about your father and the Diedricks Corporation if you're willing to tell me about it."
    "Again, why? If you're not involved, what's it to you?" They both moved aside as several other customers came down the aisle. She waited until they were past.
    "I don't know. I assume you read the newspaper and know that they keep pulling me in in spite of what I say. I'd just like a little more information than I have." Three students, talking, turned down the aisle.
    After they had passed, he nodded. "Sure. Quid pro quo. Isn't that the term?"
    "It is."
    "Where are you parked?"
    She told him behind the store, and he said, "You can't stay there or they'll ticket you. Let's go to the Excelsior for coffee. You can drive and then bring me back to get my car. It's just a few blocks."
    She checked out her purchases and they both pulled up hoods against the steady silver rain and hurried to her car. He directed her the few blocks to the alley behind the restaurant where there were half a dozen parking spaces, all but one empty now. The lunch crowd had left and it was too early for happy hour or dinner arrivals.
    Inside the restaurant, with coffee at hand and the carafe on the table, he said, "You first."
    She told him what she had told everyone else. "That was the extent of our meeting. She called to ask me to meet at her apartment at five or a little after, but when I got there, she was dead."
    "At her apartment," he said. "Strange, or was it?"
    "It was. At first she asked if she could come to the office immediately and I told her that various people had been asking about her — Sarah Kurtz, Terry Kurtz, you and your sister. She was afraid someone might be watching the office and that's why she asked me to come to the apartment. She told me to make certain no one was following me. She was running away from someone, Mr. Knowlton, but it wasn't me."
    His expression changed subtly as she spoke. He looked more thoughtful and slightly more believing perhaps. "Your turn," she said, refilling her cup.
    "Okay. We lived in California near Caltech where I was enrolled and Dad worked with a group on robots. They had been at it for years. Diedricks got in touch with him and wanted to