Tarte Tatin Murder Page 7

  “Glad you're satisfied, darlin'! I can't have you leaving here unhappy!” Smoke Daddy Lee winked at Patty, who giggled and blushed.

  Ryan and Ashley stood up to leave, but Patty didn't seem to hear their good-byes.

  CHAPTER 11

  As Ashley turned onto Wendy Graham's street, she crossed her fingers in hopes that Jordan Berg wouldn't be at the house. Luck was with her; just as she pulled up in front, a dusty blue sedan squealed out of the driveway, giving her a glimpse of his red, angry face as it sped past her. If they’d been arguing, Wendy might be distracted enough to slip up and give Ashley the clues she needed.

  She pulled into the driveway and took a deep breath, calming her nerves and collecting her confidence. As she walked across the lawn to the front door, she noticed that the ground around the brightly blooming hibiscus bushes looked as if it had been disturbed. A little weeding, or had someone tried to hide something in the dirt? Maybe a missing cellphone, even? She'd have to try to find an excuse to check before she left.

  “I said I'd call when I'm ready to talk to you,” Wendy snapped as she opened the door. “Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you were someone else. Is there something I can do for you?” She looked exhausted, and her eyes were puffy and red, like she'd been crying.

  “I hope so,” Ashley said. “My name is Ashley Adams, and I was the caterer for the CURE fundraiser. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about what happened that day. May I come in for a minute?”

  Wendy looked at the neighboring houses and sighed. “I guess you'd better. I can already see Mrs. Carrolli's curtains twitching. She'll be on the phone gossiping before we close the door.”

  From what she’d known and heard about Wendy Graham, Ashley expected a modern, practical home, maybe one that was even a bit cold and sterile. Instead, the place had the feel of a seaside home. The furniture was white wicker, while the tab-top curtains and soft pillows added touches of beachy blues, greens and sands. The look was uncluttered, but there were still plenty of photos in shell-lined frames. It should have felt cliché and kitschy, but Wendy had somehow made it all work beautifully. Ashley would love to get some tips from the woman; she loved her own little cozy cottage, but Wendy definitely knew how to make a home feel welcoming.

  As they sat, Wendy hugged a seahorse pillow tightly, and Ashley plunged in. “I know Oliver Green was causing you all kinds of problems for a long time. What happened to push you over the edge at the fundraiser?”

  “What?” Wendy jumped up from the chair she'd slumped into and threw her hands up, sending the pillow flying. “Are you asking me if I killed Oliver? That's crazy! I would never hurt him that way—or anyone else, for that matter!”

  “But he was harassing you at work, to the point that you are postponing your wedding, right?” Ashley watched the other woman’s face carefully.

  Wendy threw herself back into the chair and covered her face with her hands. After a moment or two, she looked up at Ashley, her expression very close to despair. “Yeah, he was a jerk, and he didn't even realize how obnoxious he was; he thought women were swooning over his attention. To him, the nasty remarks, fondling, and butt-pinches were flirting that I should take as a compliment. He really believed that, when I was shaking from anger, I was trying to hold back my attraction to him!”

  Ashley started to respond, but Wendy wasn't finished. “I had it under control, though; I told him Friday morning that I had prepared a formal complaint for the Dean. I told him that I was not interested in his mess and that I never would be and that, if he touched me or made any kind of off-color remark anywhere that I could hear him, I'd make sure that everyone in the university knew what kind of sleazy creep he was.”

  “What did he say?” Ashley wasn't convinced Wendy had things as much in hand as she said.

  “Actually, he ignored me. He had something else on his mind, and, when that happened, he pretty much dismissed everything else.” Wendy shook her head, smiling wryly. “As it turned out, what he was worrying over was much more important, and potentially destructive, than sexual harassment.”

  “Was it your affair he was focused on? Was he breaking it off?” Ashley wasn't expecting the response she got.

  Wendy threw her head back and laughed. “What affair? I would never have an affair with Oliver Green! Dear heavens, I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him when we weren't focused on the project; I wouldn't voluntarily spend any extra time with him, much less intimate time. An affair? Ugh. That's just disgusting!”

  “Mr. Berg showed us the texts about Green telling someone about your relationship. It sounded like he was pretty adamant about bringing it out into the open and you were just as determined that it stay hidden.”

  “Oh, for heaven's sake! How did Jordan even see those? Never mind; that's a problem for another time. Apparently, Jordan and I have more to discuss than I thought.” She paused, then added, “That wasn't about an affair.” A sigh. “Look, that was about our data. The results are really good—too good, in fact. I had this feeling that something was wrong with them, like someone made a big mistake in the math. I asked Oliver about it, and we both went over the data again to double-check the calculations.”

  “And?”

  “And we both came to the same conclusion: either one of the interns screwed up royally or someone manipulated the data on purpose.” Wendy looked shaken. “The discrepancies were serious enough that neither of us really believed that it was an intern's math problem. We were pretty sure it was intentional.”

  “Could it have been Dr. Green who changed it?” Ashley was pretty sure what Wendy would say, but she had to ask.

  “No way. The guy was really a creep on a social level, but he was an absolute tyrant about ethics in the lab. He didn't tolerate any hint of dishonesty; he wouldn't even take legitimate shortcuts that might look a little shady. When I told Oliver about my suspicions, he was furious. He wanted to tell the FDA right away; they had already started reviewing our application, and Oliver didn't want them to discover the problem before we reported it. I'm the one who wanted to wait; we've worked for years just to build up to this clinical trial, and I didn't want to throw all of that away on speculation. I wanted to take a little time to dig into it more, to be sure of what was happening and what it meant in terms of the drug's effectiveness before we told anyone else. Once we were sure, I would have been totally behind him in regards to reporting it; I just wanted to be really certain first.”

  “Who else in the lab might have done it? For that matter, why would someone do something like that?” Ashley was unsure of the set-up at the lab, who would even be able to falsify the results, much less who might want to do it.

  “I've been trying to figure that out myself. It doesn't make sense. The interns wouldn't benefit, and Evan would be the last one who would make that kind of mistake; his grant is about to end, so he's already looking for a spot in another lab. There's no way he'd want to be associated with the fallout from falsified data on a project he'd worked on. I guess some other research competitor could have paid someone to do it, thinking to turn us in later, but I just can't see it; it's totally out of character for everyone I know working in the field, and we all know each other fairly well. I'm still hoping it was just someone's careless calculation error. I'm going over all of the data, all the way back to the rough trial notes and then up to the final reports, to see if I can find out where it started.”

  “What do you think you'll find? How are the results tabulated and calculated?”

  “The interns—there are two—collected the data, then the doctoral students aggregated it for Oliver and me to put into the final paper. The mistake could go back to an intern writing something down incorrectly on the forms they gave to the PhD. students.” Ashley fiddled with the engagement ring on her finger and let out a huge sigh. “A careless error by an undergraduate student, and two professional reputations could be ruined. Oliver was always adamant about the fact that interns’ names don't go on the published paper, ju
st his, mine, and the doctoral students’. But they're just starting to make a name, so it's less serious for them. Still, though, it would take that error being repeated many times for it to show up so strongly in the aggregated results. It’s just not very likely.”

  “If it wasn’t an error, and someone did manipulate the data, why would they do it?” It didn't make sense to Ashley as an outsider to the whole medical research field.

  “That's what we are trying to figure out,” Wendy said grimly. “The only reason we came up with would be to make sure the drug was approved, but that was pretty likely to happen, anyway. The real results were still very strong, and it is certain that the drug was highly successful in curing several types of cancer. I can't imagine anyone playing around with people's lives like that—the patients and those of us in the lab—especially when it wouldn't make any real difference to the future of the project. I can't find any way someone would benefit from it.”

  “Mr. Berg said he was buying flowers for you around the time of the murder. Is that right?” Ashley really wanted it to be true; she felt bad for both of them, and she wanted them to be innocent.

  Tears filled Wendy's eyes. “Yes, he picked me up late, and he had that bunch of flowers over there.” She pointed to a glorious arrangement of brilliantly colored lilies, roses, and larkspur, along with lush, lime-green foliage. “I can't believe he betrayed my trust by basically cyberstalking me. I think maybe I delayed the wedding because of a gut instinct, but I couldn’t admit it to myself, so I blamed it on stress at work. I do love Jordan, but I can't deal with that level of jealousy and insecurity. I can't spend our life together wondering if he's spying on me again.”

  Ashley saw Wendy steel herself with her words, sitting up a bit straighter as though she were rehearsing a speech she would give later. Ashley could see the heartbreak, which had left the woman drained and worn out. “One last question, Wendy—who are the doctoral students?” That was a question she hadn't thought to ask at the lab.

  “Evan Richards and Blake Morrison.”

  “I thought Blake told me he is an intern?”

  “No, he's a PhD. candidate. He's the one who works most closely with the interns, though; he's more or less their supervisor. Evan does most of the data aggregation.”

  Ashley thanked her and left, feeling bad for adding to the woman's stress and relationship problems and wondering what the things she'd learned meant to the murder investigation.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Diz, what are we going to do about Patty?” Ashley mused, as she measured flour for a new cookie recipe. “Why is she acting so strange?” Dizzy tilted her head to the right and then to the left, giving the impression that she was carefully considering Ashley's question. She yipped as if to say, “Who knows?” and then plopped down at Ashley's feet.

  “Maybe she's right. Maybe I shouldn't be messing around at detecting. I moved back to focus on baking; maybe I should just give up the rest and concentrate on the business.” Ashley felt a tug of disappointment at the thought of giving up the puzzles of sleuthing. Or was it something else? “Maybe it's not even the detecting I like. What if I'm kidding myself, and I'm only sleuthing so I can spend more time with Ryan?” She sighed and reached for her canister of sugar just as La Vie En Rose rang out from her phone. “And what if I'm wasting that time because he's not interested anymore?”

  She grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen. Suddenly flustered, she saw that Ryan was calling, as if thinking about him had summoned him up. After briefly considering ignoring the call, she answered. Maybe he had news about the case.

  “¡Hola, mi amigo! What's up?” She winced at how overly perky she sounded. Ryan was sure to think something was wrong, but he didn't seem to notice the fake tone.

  “I just wanted to check in with you. I talked to Uncle Charlie last night, and he finally opened up. I just wish what he told me helped clear his name.” Ryan's voice cracked with the stress. “Instead, it's more of a mess than ever.”

  “Why? What did you find out?” Ashley was concerned about the defeat she heard in his voice.

  “He confessed to the embezzlement. Ash, it's worse than just overdoing it with the alcohol; he's been using the money to buy drugs. He says it was to help him cope with the divorce; it's really eating him up. He couldn't take that kind of money out of his own accounts without Aunt Mercy and her attorney finding out, so he was stealing from CURE to support his addiction.” There was such a long silence on the other end that Ashley thought the call had dropped.

  “He checked into rehab late last night, with the sheriff's permission to leave the county. He called me this morning, though, and asked me to visit. Patients usually aren't allowed phone calls or visitors for the first days of treatment, but he says he's starting to remember more about the day of the murder. He wants to talk to me, especially since I told him I had some information about his missing phone.” After a few seconds, he continued, “Ashley, I know it's asking a lot, but will you go with me? So much of what he's said doesn't make any sense to me. Maybe, if you hear it, too—well, maybe we can figure it out together.”

  “Of course I'll go, Ryan; you shouldn't go alone, anyway. When do you want to go? And where exactly are we going?” The thought of being alone with Ryan in the car caused mixed feelings. She liked the idea of spending time with him, but it ruffled her a little, too; she was nervous because she wasn't sure how Ryan felt about her now. Of course, she also wished they had a happier reason for spending time together.

  “He's in a place in Galveston. Can you leave now? That would give us time to make the drive, spend some time with him, and still get back before too late tonight.”

  “Give me twenty minutes to clean up the kitchen and drop Dizzy back at the house. I'll meet you there.” Ashley was already covering the dry ingredients she'd measured together and piling the few dishes onto a dishwasher tray as she spoke.

  “Okay, see you there. And, Ash? Thank you—really; this means so much to me and to Uncle Charlie.”

  She assured him that she was happy to help and ended the call. She rushed to finish tidying up and headed home.

  “Come on, Dizzy - Ryan needs us. You can make him laugh and I'll help him with Charlie,” she told the dog as they climbed into the car.

  CHAPTER 13

  Ryan was waiting on the front porch swing when Ashley got to the house. “Thanks again, Ash,” he said, leaning down to pet the dog. “Hey, why don't we take Dizzy with us? We should have enough time for a quick run on the beach after we talk to my uncle; I bet she'd love it, and it might be relaxing for us, too!” Dizzy put her head on her lowered front legs and looked up at her mistress, whining softly.

  “I swear that dog understands exactly what we're saying,” Ashley said. “How about it, Diz? Wanna go to the beach and run on the sand?” A bark answered the question, leaving them laughing at the mutt's antics.

  “Well, in that case, let me grab a different pair of shoes and an old towel, and we can get going.” Ashley detoured through the kitchen to collect some of the cookies she'd baked the night before; Ryan was the perfect guinea pig to test the new recipe on, and it would give them something safe besides the case to discuss.

  They drove out along Highway 59, taking the exit at Edna to get to State Highway 35. With only a quick stop in Bay City for some bottled water, they had plenty of time to talk about everything, including their case.

  “Have you heard anything about Serge Payton since we talked?” Ryan glanced at Ashley, knowing the topic of her ex-boyfriend was a touchy one.

  “No, as far as I can tell, he's still flying under the radar, hoping no one in law enforcement catches a hint of where he's hiding. I think—I hope—that he believes coming after me would give him away.” She shuddered to think about the last time she saw her charming and lying ex-boyfriend. “He was furious when I wouldn't cover for him. He thought he'd be kicking back on the beach of a remote island, rich as Midas, by now; he blames me for having to run. He never cared that
I almost went to prison because of him.”

  “You really do attract trouble, don't you?” Ryan teased. “First, it's Payton talking you into hacking into brokerage accounts with his plans to strip them, and now Uncle Charlie and me with murder. Thank goodness Sheriff Mueller believed you when you told him about Payton. Now, if we could convince him that Uncle Charlie's innocent—well, not a killer, anyway.”

  Ashley brought him up to speed on her conversation with Wendy Graham. They agreed that they needed to find out whether or not Green had told Charlie or the Board about the data problems.

  Ashley broached another subject, a little unsure that she really wanted to talk about it. “Have you noticed anything different about Patty lately?” She didn't know if she wanted to tell him what she was thinking, but she was curious what he thought, too.

  “Not really; I haven't seen her that much, but that's about it. I figured she was just busy with business. Why?”

  Ashley hesitated and then decided to confide in him. “I don't know; it seems like she's been acting kind of weird lately. She seems distant; I keep wondering if she's upset with me—like, maybe she thinks I'm wasting time that I should be spending baking and working with customers instead of sleuthing, both now and back when I was helping the sheriff.”

  “Hmm. She did seem a little distracted the other night at dinner, but I didn't think much of it. Like I said, I just assumed she'd been busy and was thinking about some event she has coming up. After all, she's the one who brought up the case and started us talking about it. You're best friends, Ash; why don't you just ask her?”

  She shrugged, not quite willing to admit that she was a little afraid of what Patty might say and that the conversation might cost her a friend. She changed the subject by handing him a cookie, and they spent the rest of the drive talking about the new recipe and other safe subjects.