Knockout Mouse by James Calder Page B

you file charges.I’d like it very much. In the meantime, I think everyone will be interested in the fact you photocopied the notebook. Twice, if the cashier is correct.”
    He had me there. My first thought, which I kept to myself, was that I needed to make yet another copy in complete secrecy. I told Dugan, “The copies are for the police. They’ll want to look into the circumstances of Sheila’s death.”
    “I’m sure they will. I’m sure they’ll want to take a close look at your girlfriend’s apartment and everyone who was there.”
    “We have no problem with that. I’m sure they’ll also want to look at Sheila’s place of work.”
    “I’ll be assisting them in every way.”
    A drop of sweat trickled down my spine as I hung up the phone. I’d had an answer for everything Dugan had thrown at me. So why did I feel like I’d lost?
    Maybe I was in over my head. If we got into a battle of lawyers, he had me outgunned. So what did I have on my side? Information. The journal. I’d yet to find any keys in it, but maybe that was a matter of correctly understanding the lock. I needed an interpreter, a data miner. Marion came to mind, if only she could be trusted. She did work for Dugan. There was also Karen, the woman Sheila was going to meet before our dinner party.
    It could be, though, that Dugan’s strength was also his weakness. Yes, he had the company arsenal behind him, but he also had a lot to lose if damaging news came out about LifeScience. Me, I didn’t have much to lose. Not much in the way of assets except my cameras. And a couple of little things like life and limb.

13
    Work with Rita at Kumar Biotechnics kept me fully occupied on Monday and Tuesday. Sheila’s funeral took place on Wednesday at the Mount of Repose mortuary in Colma, south of San Francisco. Colma had once been the terminus of the coffin railroad, which ran from the funeral homes in San Francisco down to the cemeteries here. Three-quarters of the town consisted of green hills and white headstones. Someone had to do it—San Francisco didn’t have room for dead people. In recent years the Lucky Chances casino had enlivened Colma’s commercial base.
    Mount of Repose had a neoclassical theme. A grand pediment and four columns framed a generous veranda. A few knots of people milled outside. I was glad I’d dusted off the only suit I owned, and glad it was a somber color. Jenny was stylish but subdued in a deep blue cashmere sweater and long skirt.
    A group of guys stood on the steps in khakis, blazers, and dark shoes. The one woman among them wore a skirt that no longer fit. She fingered a wrap as if unsure what to do with her hands. The men all had theirs in their pockets. Engineers, I speculated.
    They glanced at us as we paused on the steps. I nodded to the one closest to me. He’d made an effort to slick his hair back, buta few strands flew solo. His tie looked like a gift from an aunt. His head nodded in my direction, though his eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine.
    I set down the small briefcase I was carrying. Inside was a mini-DV camera, a DAT recorder, and a small shotgun mike. I wasn’t sure I’d use the gear, but having it around made me feel better. A few years in the documentary world had helped me lose any inhibitions about walking up to people and posing questions.
    “Hello,” I said, stepping forward with my hand on Jenny’s waist. “How did you all know Sheila?”
    The guy with the bad tie scratched under his chin. “We worked together.”
    “I remember how excited she was when she started at LifeScience. Did you work with her before or after she got transferred?”
    Glances were exchanged, then most of them gazed at their shoes. Finally the woman spoke up. “None of us were happy to have her go. She was really into the program.”
    “She told me about the monoclonal antibody. It’s going to do some good things, I hear.”
    Their mouths remained closed. Jenny gave one of her candy-apple smiles, which