Claire McNab - Quokka Question

It was a lovely idea, and it buoyed me through two sets of red traffic lights and three SUV drivers rudely cutting in front of me. Then reality came crashing down. Ariana didn't want my love, so why would she desire my company? What she'd really been hinting at was that I should get out of Kendall & Creeling's building and into an apartment.

I arrived at the biology department in a bleak mood-not the state of mind required for my main task today, which was to win Erin Fogarty's friendship. Still, dissembling was a private eye's stock in trade, so I plastered a pleasant expression over my inner angst and headed for Georgia Tapp's office.

On Friday everyone had received a memo advising that in the last days before the symposium, Georgia Tapp would be coordinating all administrative matters. From now on, first thing every morning, all staff concerned with the event were to report to her office for instructions. Because I'd slept in and stopped to talk with Ariana, I was running late, so I got my apologies ready.

Outside Georgia's office I ran into Zoran Pestle, who headed the committee set up by Yarrow to handle the organizational details of the symposium. He was the dark, intense sort at the best of times, but today he looked positively sinister. Gesturing toward Georgia's door, he hissed, "She's a fat spider sitting in the middle of her sticky web, pulling strings and railroading everyone who gets in her way."

For a moment I admired Zoran's mastery of mixed metaphor. "Georgia, you mean?"

His dark eyes narrowed until I wondered if he could see more than a narrow strip of light. "Yes, Georgia Tapp," he spat out. "What is she but a mere administrative assistant? I ask you, does she have a higher degree? Any degree? Has she the right, the knowledge, the experience to tell someone like me what to do?"

"Must be upsetting."

Zoran peered at me suspiciously. "You're only a graduate student," he said, "so you can't possibly appreciate the mores of the upper stratum of academia."

"Too true," I said.

As I spoke, Georgia's head popped out of her office door, giving us both quite a start. "What are you wasting time standing out there for?" she demanded. "Professor Yarrow has called an urgent meeting to discuss the tragic events of Saturday evening. You should be there now at this moment."

Zoran nodded. Obviously, he knew about Oscar Braithwaite's death. I hadn't had time to read the paper this morning, but guessed there would have been an item about a visiting academic's body being found on UCLA grounds.

As Zoran and I scooted off to join the meeting, he gave me the benefit of his advice. "Georgia can seem very sweet, but she's pure poison. You're inexperienced. You could be fooled."

"I'll do my best not to cross to the dark side," I said cheerfully.

Zoran shot me a puzzled look, as though he found it almost impossible to believe that I might be treating a warning from a man with a higher degree so lightly.

"We're here," I said, pushing the metal bar that opened one side of the lecture hall double-door. The room had raked seating, and we'd come in at the top row, so I reckoned we had a good chance of sneaking in unnoticed.

No such luck. Yarrow, standing at the front with a microphone stand, stopped in mid sentence to say sarcastically, "So nice of you to make it."

"G'day, Prof."

Someone laughed. Yarrow was not amused. His thin-lipped mouth turned sour, and his prominent eyes bulged a little more.

He cleared his throat. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Dr. Oscar Braithwaite's tragic demise must not be allowed to impact upon the Global Marsupial Symposium. Yes, it's true he was to deliver a keynote address, but I, myself, will step into the breech with my own original contribution to the quokka debate."

While he'd been talking, I'd been checking out the audience, looking for the future target of my charm, Erin Fogarty. I expected to find her in the front row, gazing adoringly at her hero, but finally spotted her skinny figure at the end of the second back row. It would be simple to manage things so I'd meet up with her as we were leaving the lecture hall.

"What about Penny Braithwaite?" a woman called out. "Are we sending condolences?"

"Of course," Yarrow said. "Dr. Penelope Braithwaite is a colleague- a rather notorious one, I'm afraid, but still a colleague. Arrangements will be made to send flowers and a suitable card expressing our commiserations."

"Deep commiserations," someone offered.

Yarrow scowled. "Oh, very well. Deep commiserations."

"How about deep, sincere commiserations?"

"That's quite enough discussion on the wording of our card of sympathy," said Yarrow firmly. He brushed his hands together in a we've-finished-with-this-topic manner. "And now-"

"How did Dr. Braithwaite die?" a grizzled old bloke called out. "The few lines in the paper this morning said he'd been found dead on Saturday night. No details."

Yarrow ran a hand over his high, domed forehead. "A fall, I believe."

Someone else said loudly, "I heard Dr. Braithwaite tumbled off scaffolding in a construction site on campus. Some of my students told me about it this morning."

A buzz of speculation filled the room. "What was he doing in a construction site in the first place?" someone asked.

Yarrow tapped his microphone, causing an irritating bop-bop noise, until the hum of voices died away. "If I may make a comment, I've had occasion, over the years, to spend a little time with Dr. Braithwaite. I don't believe I insult his memory to say he was not a cautious man, but he was a deeply curious one. I imagine he decided to explore the building undergoing renovation, and simply lost his balance, and sadly, fell. I gather he didn't suffer. His extensive head injuries made his death virtually instantaneous."

"But what was he doing in a building site at night?"

"I've no idea." Clearly, Jack Yarrow considered he'd spent enough time on the topic. "Now, on to more pressing matters. It's vital our global Marsupial Symposium be a resounding success. I hope I can rely on each and every one of you to pull your weight and make sure it is. And one last thing, if you haven't already checked your daily work schedule with Ms. Tapp, please go to her office immediately and collect the information."

I joined the stream of people exiting at the top entry doors, timing it so I'd end up next to Erin Fogarty. "Erin," I said, megafriendly, "bonzer to see you."

"Hello."

"I'm Kylie, remember?"

She nodded absently. This sheila looked like the weight of the world was on her narrow shoulders. Her face was all blotchy, and her nose was pink. Maybe, when Rube Wasinsky had seen Oscar and Erin together on Friday, they'd been getting together again, after the breakup in Western Australia, and now she was heartbroken at his death.

"Awful about Dr. Braithwaite," I said.

She hung her head. "Yes, awful." A few tears dripped down her front.

"There, there," I said, putting a sympathetic arm around her.

Erin lifted her head and looked at me directly. "I killed him," she said. "It's my fault."

The detecting gods smiled on me, for when I got my assignment for the day from Georgia Tapp, I was rostered with Erin Fogarty, our task being to collate the individual information packets that were to be given out to each attendee at the first day registration.

After Erin's revelation as we'd left the lecture hall, she'd had a bit of a crying jag, and I hadn't been able to get another coherent word from her. She'd tottered into the nearest ladies' room to wash her face, and I'd headed for Georgia's office.

Actually, there was another surprise mere for me. I'd knocked politely on the door, and been told to enter. Georgia wasn't alone.

"Sorry," I said, "didn't mean to interrupt."