Breathing Space (Ellis McFadden Mysteries #1)

Chapter 28

N eedless to say, we skipped the remaining laps and went straight to Frank’s. Excitement thrummed through me. I had high hopes.

Gracie greeted us with a trilling little riff as we walked in. “Good evening, Ellis. Good evening, Papa.”

“Hi, Gracie,” I said.

“How’s my girl?” Frank held out his hand to her, and she flew to him, nuzzling her face against his jaw.

“I missed you,” Gracie said.

He cut his eyes at her, obviously amused. “I was just here twenty minutes ago to change.”

“But you left again.”

“And now I’m back with work to do.” He put her on his shoulder. She sidestepped closer so she could touch his face.

He tapped the button to open his hidden office door. It whooshed open, and we went in. He took his desk chair while I settled into the dining chair beside it. Quickly, he scanned his retina, then brought up the unlocked pin drive.

I chewed on my lower lip as he worked, nerves running through me.

A list of files appeared, most of them a series of letters and numbers. The first one was HGE 100.

I shook my head. “None of those make any sense to me, but if he was using the Dewey Decimal System, that first one would be about philosophy and psychology.”

Frank’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

“100 is philosophy and psychology, 101 is the theory of philosophy, and so on.”

“Oh. Do you … know all of those by heart?”

“Not all of them, no.”

“What’s 400?”

I didn’t even need to think about that. “Language.”

“What’s 007?”

I laughed. “It’s not spy novels, if that’s what you were thinking. That number is actually no longer in use.”

“Interesting. What’s Botany?”

“Five eighty-one. Five eighty is botanical sciences.” Okay, I knew a lot of them.

His brows lifted. “Very impressive, Mrs. McFadden.”

“Not as impressive as you breaking the password. Come on, open up that first file.”

He tapped the screen surface of his desk. The big screen across from us went momentarily black, then a video popped up.

Andrew. The video was dated several months ago.

“This is going to be big. I feel it in my gut. If I can get it to work.” He stared into the camera. He appeared to be in his office at his quarters, which made sense, since that was where Harry had found the pin drive. “The Morphae plants have blossomed, so the next step is germinating them with the secondary aconite in the hopes that I can produce a nonlethal variety that still has the same potent characteristics. I’ll be germinating at least six new plants, possibly eight. There is no control group, as one isn’t necessary. Without modification, there will be no change in the plant’s toxicity. Hoping for the best possible outcome. Obviously.” Frowning, he ended the recording.

I looked at Frank. “He said Morphae plants. He must have gotten the seeds there like I thought.”

“You think he had a special permit to bring those seeds on board?”

“Maybe. But there’s as much chance that he didn’t.”

“Agreed. On to the next one?” Frank asked.

“Yep.”

Once again, Andrew’s face filled the screen. “Now that the plants have blossomed, it’s time to dehydrate the various parts, turn them into powder, and do some further testing. Specimens three and five look most promising. I’m going to keep documenting this progress so that later generations can have a front-row seat to how I developed the Woolsey Hydrogel Restasis Formula.” He wiggled his brows. “Stay tuned for greatness.”

“Humble as ever,” I muttered as the video ended. “I wonder if anyone else in the Botany Department was a part of all of this growing and testing?”

“If they were, why is he making these videos in his personal office? And why keep the pin drive in there? Feels like this is something he’s doing on his own.”

“I think so, too. Number three?”

With a nod, Frank tapped on the third file. But this one wasn’t a video. It was a document containing notes and a spreadsheet of some kind, listing out all the variables of the different plants he’d been growing.

Specimen Five was highlighted.

“You want to read all of that?”

“Not particularly.”

Frank clicked on the next file, and we got another video. This one was dated two days before Andrew had been found dead.

“Specimen Five it is,” Andrew said. “Tomorrow I start the process of dehydration. I’ve decided to use all four parts. The roots, the stem, the leaves, and the flowers. I don’t know which will be most effective yet, obviously, but the roots are showing significant toxicity, so I’ll have to be careful.”

He shook his head. “It’s not what I was aiming for, obviously, so I may attempt some further hybridization, but as I am eager to get to work on the hydrogel itself, you can imagine my reluctance to go back to breeding.” He sighed long and deep. “This is the frustrating part of my job. Waiting on growth. And I just don’t want to do it. I’ll see what I can produce with this batch, then make a decision.”

The video ended.

Frank went straight into the next file. Another video.

Andrew looked happier this time. He was holding up a small glass vial filled with brown liquid. “The powdered material didn’t work as well as I thought it would. I’m thinking it was too weak, so my next step is to try this tincture. It’s four times the strength of the powder, so that ought to do the trick. If not, my last resort will be to turn the tincture into a salt. It’s an ancient technique, but I’ll soon have a recipe on how to do it. Wish me luck!”

The screen went dark.

“Two things,” I said. “One is that salt recipe he talked about. That’s in the book he had me print. So now I know why he wanted that. Second thing, did you see the date on that video?”

“I did,” Frank said. “Interesting timing.”

“Very. That would have been the night he died.” I tipped my head at the screen. “What are those last two files?”

“Let’s see.” He opened the second to last. More notes. Pages of them. He opened the final one. More notes.

None of it made much sense to me, but I could read the title on the document as easily as the next person. “WHRF v4. That has to stand for Woolsey Hydrogel Restasis Formula, Version Four.”

Frank nodded, eyes on the screen. “This is his formula. The most recent version of it, anyway. This could be very valuable.”

“We have to turn this over to the ASF. As much as I don’t want to, it’s the right thing to do.”

“You can’t do it.” Frank looked at me. “They’ll think you’re guilty if you suddenly show up with his pin drive in hand.”

“They already think I’m guilty.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Frank, no.” I shook my head. “That’s really sweet of you to offer, but whoever turns this in is immediately going to become their new suspect. I can’t let you do that.”

He smiled. “I didn’t mean I was going to personally walk it into the ASF offices. I’ll have it delivered there anonymously. No one has to be connected to it.”

“You can do that? Safely?”

“I can. But not before I copy all of this for our file.”

Our file. I loved it when he said stuff like that. Feeling better, I exhaled. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“How are you going to— You know what, maybe don’t tell me. Better that way.”

“Wise.” He tapped a few keys, and a brief message appeared on the screen announcing the files had been saved to a new folder. “You ready for tomorrow?”

Our date. I nodded. “I am. What time should I expect you?”

“Eleven. That good with you?”

“Perfect. What should I wear?”

“Something comfortable. And casual.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Jeans. A shirt. Shoes.”

“So descriptive.” I laughed. “Okay, I’ll be ready at eleven.” There was no point in asking him what we were doing. I knew he wouldn’t tell me. “I guess I should go.”

“Let’s look at the murder board one more time before you do.” He brought it up with a few clicks. “Did we learn anything tonight that we should add?”

“The plants are from Morphae. He either smuggled those seeds in or had a special permit. I’d be interested to know which. And why he was recording his progress from home and not the lab.”

“You know,” Frank said, looking at me, “there’s one really good reason for that. He wanted to keep it a secret from the rest of the department, although we know Sarah knew, so he was sharing some information.”

“But how could he keep it a secret if he was growing these plants in the lab?”

“Maybe…” Frank stared at the board, eyes narrowing. “Maybe he wasn’t growing them in the lab. Maybe whatever he was doing in the lab was a cover for this project.”

“But again, Sarah knew about it.”

“But how much did she really know? What if he was keeping the true details of it to himself?”

“She’s the one who told me about the hydrogel,” I reminded him.

“But did she know the plants were poisonous? Earth plants she probably would have recognized. But plants grown from Morphaen seeds?”

“I see what you’re saying. He could have told her they were something else. She was as confused as I was about the alchemy book. It’s possible she didn’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposely not telling the rest of the department everything in order to ensure he and he alone got the recognition. We need to talk to her.”

“Could be a worthwhile conversation.”

I glanced at the screen. “There’s just something that isn’t sitting right with me. I feel like … like I should already know something I don’t.”

“A good night’s sleep might help. The brain keeps working even when we aren’t.”

I nodded. “It would be fantastic to wake up tomorrow with the answer.”

He smiled. “If that happens, call me first thing.” He stood. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

He walked me back to the elevators, where I made him say goodbye. It was sweet that he was willing to walk me all the way back but not necessary. Not when he deserved sleep as much as I did. “Night,” I said as the elevator arrived.

“Night.” He kissed me. “See you tomorrow.”

“Eleven.” Smiling, I stepped onto the elevator and let it whisk me to my deck.

As I walked into my place, Harry meowed half-heartedly from his spot on the couch.

“Hi, Harry.” I stopped in the doorway between the foyer and the living space and reconstructed Andrew’s apartment in my head as I’d seen it when I’d gone to drop the book off.

The end table had been on its side. A dining chair had been pulled out from the table, facing the couch. A bottle of whisky and a single glass had sat on the table. The top was on the bottle, and there was no evidence he’d poured any into the glass.

What had he been doing? About to have a drink, it seemed. Then what? Had he been interrupted by a visitor who’d attacked him and killed him? Poisoned him with some kind of inhalant? How had the visitor not been affected?

A breathing mask would have been too weird and obvious. Andrew would have questioned that.

No answers came to me, but they felt as if they were right there, just out of reach. Maybe Frank was right and a good night’s sleep would help my brain sort it all out. I could only hope.

“Come on, Harry. Time for bed.”