for my house.”
“Hey, how’s that working out?”
“I love it. Just the right size and everything.”
“Well, good luck with it.” And he was gone, out, leaving her in the noisy room to struggle with the computer.
Roger Manconi dropped into the chair next to her. Roger was a perennial dropper and hugger and fanny patter, but he did it with guys, too, or anything else that breathed air. Dora liked him.
“Funny one, huh,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she said, concentrating on her typing.
“That guy Winston. The lieutenant says he wasn’t robbed. Wallet still on him, and an expensive watch. Wonder who had it in for the guy? You and Phil were out there?”
“Yeah. He was just lying there, peaceful as an oyster. He looked more thoughtful than dead, to tell you thetruth. Phil and I spent the afternoon going up and down the street across the creek.”
“I didn’t know there was a creek down there.”
“It’s not much. Sort of wide flat gully and a…I guess you’d say a woods. Lots of saplings coming up, right down next to the water. There’s a field on the other side, looks like somebody mowed it within the last week or so, maybe cut hay on it or something. There’s a ball stop. I don’t know why. Nobody in the neighborhood seems to use it.”
“Did you have any luck at all?”
“Even if somebody’d been home, nobody could’ve seen him from over there. Too many trees. Only chance would have been if some kid had been right down in the woods, chasing a ball, maybe.”
He thought a moment. “Did I hear right, this guy was doing research?”
“Yeah. They’re doing genetic stuff with animals. Seeing if they can gene splice them.”
“Gene splice?”
“You know. Mix them up.” She laughed. “Make a rat with feathers. That kind of stuff.”
“Why?”
“You got me. Why do scientists do anything?”
“He’s the second one killed, just lately.”
Dora frowned, suddenly reminded of the other guy. “The one Phil and I did some leg work on. About a month ago.”
“He was stabbed, too,” Manconi remarked. “And nobody robbed him, either.” He saluted with a finger and wandered off, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. It itched at Dora. What about the guy in the parking lot? Phil had completed the file while she was out. Hadn’t that victim been a geneticist, too? She should have made the connection right away!
Both guys had been interfering with nature. Like Jared, in a way. Jared goes out and sprays a plant, then he gets sick from weedspray. And this guy, Winston, he fools around mutating animals, and then he gets verydead. What had the other one been working on?
She went downstairs to Records and waited around until Lynn Beatty was free, then went over to her desk.
“Dora! Hey, sorry to hear about your husband. That was very strange.”
“Yeah, it was.” She didn’t want to say he wasn’t her husband, or wouldn’t be for long, but she didn’t want to lie, either. She reiterated a truth, hoping that would do. “It was all…very strange.”
“What brings you down here?” Lynn gestured at the littered desks, the messy, memo-hung walls.
“That guy who was stabbed in the parking lot outside the medical school? Manconi’s case. Can you pull that file?”
Lynn went tap-tapping at her keyboard, searching for the name, the case number. “June twelfth. Dr. Martin Chamberlain. He was a geneticist.”
“Refresh my memory. What was the weapon?”
Lynn tapped at her keyboard once more. “Wide-bladed, double-edged something.”
“How did I know you were going to say that? What was he working on?”
“All it says here is he was researching into the cause of genetic diseases.”
“I wonder if there might be more. Do you remember any other homicide or assault cases lately where somebody was trying to fool Mother Nature?”
Lynn sat back, opened her eyes very wide. “Fool Mother Nature? How?”
“Any old how. Like somebody who was killing animals or plants,
“Hey, how’s that working out?”
“I love it. Just the right size and everything.”
“Well, good luck with it.” And he was gone, out, leaving her in the noisy room to struggle with the computer.
Roger Manconi dropped into the chair next to her. Roger was a perennial dropper and hugger and fanny patter, but he did it with guys, too, or anything else that breathed air. Dora liked him.
“Funny one, huh,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she said, concentrating on her typing.
“That guy Winston. The lieutenant says he wasn’t robbed. Wallet still on him, and an expensive watch. Wonder who had it in for the guy? You and Phil were out there?”
“Yeah. He was just lying there, peaceful as an oyster. He looked more thoughtful than dead, to tell you thetruth. Phil and I spent the afternoon going up and down the street across the creek.”
“I didn’t know there was a creek down there.”
“It’s not much. Sort of wide flat gully and a…I guess you’d say a woods. Lots of saplings coming up, right down next to the water. There’s a field on the other side, looks like somebody mowed it within the last week or so, maybe cut hay on it or something. There’s a ball stop. I don’t know why. Nobody in the neighborhood seems to use it.”
“Did you have any luck at all?”
“Even if somebody’d been home, nobody could’ve seen him from over there. Too many trees. Only chance would have been if some kid had been right down in the woods, chasing a ball, maybe.”
He thought a moment. “Did I hear right, this guy was doing research?”
“Yeah. They’re doing genetic stuff with animals. Seeing if they can gene splice them.”
“Gene splice?”
“You know. Mix them up.” She laughed. “Make a rat with feathers. That kind of stuff.”
“Why?”
“You got me. Why do scientists do anything?”
“He’s the second one killed, just lately.”
Dora frowned, suddenly reminded of the other guy. “The one Phil and I did some leg work on. About a month ago.”
“He was stabbed, too,” Manconi remarked. “And nobody robbed him, either.” He saluted with a finger and wandered off, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. It itched at Dora. What about the guy in the parking lot? Phil had completed the file while she was out. Hadn’t that victim been a geneticist, too? She should have made the connection right away!
Both guys had been interfering with nature. Like Jared, in a way. Jared goes out and sprays a plant, then he gets sick from weedspray. And this guy, Winston, he fools around mutating animals, and then he gets verydead. What had the other one been working on?
She went downstairs to Records and waited around until Lynn Beatty was free, then went over to her desk.
“Dora! Hey, sorry to hear about your husband. That was very strange.”
“Yeah, it was.” She didn’t want to say he wasn’t her husband, or wouldn’t be for long, but she didn’t want to lie, either. She reiterated a truth, hoping that would do. “It was all…very strange.”
“What brings you down here?” Lynn gestured at the littered desks, the messy, memo-hung walls.
“That guy who was stabbed in the parking lot outside the medical school? Manconi’s case. Can you pull that file?”
Lynn went tap-tapping at her keyboard, searching for the name, the case number. “June twelfth. Dr. Martin Chamberlain. He was a geneticist.”
“Refresh my memory. What was the weapon?”
Lynn tapped at her keyboard once more. “Wide-bladed, double-edged something.”
“How did I know you were going to say that? What was he working on?”
“All it says here is he was researching into the cause of genetic diseases.”
“I wonder if there might be more. Do you remember any other homicide or assault cases lately where somebody was trying to fool Mother Nature?”
Lynn sat back, opened her eyes very wide. “Fool Mother Nature? How?”
“Any old how. Like somebody who was killing animals or plants,
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