“We’re back in the running,” I said to Rosalee as I floated past her desk. “I gotta call David. I’m so nervous I can hardly see straight.”
I couldn’t imagine him saying no to the adoption, but he had said we needed to let decisions percolate. After the letdown, we’d talked about how Miriam and Antonio might have been too young and conflicted for us to deal with in the first place. Maybe that was pure rationalization, but, still, I knew I had to talk with him before giving them an answer now. I pushed the speed dial for David’s office.
His secretary said he was out doing a security evaluation and wouldn’t be back in the office this afternoon. His cell phone went straight to voice mail, and I impatiently disconnected without leaving a message. With oafish fingers, I struggled with the tiny keyboard on my cell phone to text, “Call me ASAP,” and waited for a response that would not come. When my desk phone rang a minute later, I jumped.
I glanced at the caller ID. Julie. I can’t give her an answer without talking to David, can I? Of course not.
I picked up. “Hello, Julie.”
“My clients said they talked with you in the lobby, so I’ll cut to the chase: Do you want to go ahead with this?”
“Much as I’d like to give you an immediate answer, I need to speak with David first. And he’s not available this afternoon.”
I held my breath.
“Oh, for chrissakes,” she muttered. “This is dragging on far too long. Miriam and Antonio are sitting here. Can I put you on speaker?”
I wasn’t a fan of the disembodied, hollow quality of calls on speakerphone, but I could hardly refuse. “Okay.”
Julie’s speaker clicked on. “Please repeat what you just told me for my clients’ benefit.”
Feeling the sudden compulsion to have my hands free, I pushed the speaker button on my own phone. “Hello, again,” I said nervously. “When I got back to my office, I tried reaching my husband but I won’t be able to speak with him until this evening. May I give you an answer tomorrow morning?”
“But you both seemed so sure when we met you on Monday—that is before we asked you to talk with Lily,” Miriam said with a trace of impatience—maybe Julie’s attitude was contagious. “Why do you think he’d say no now?”
Excellent question.
“I’m not sure what he’ll say. We were very disappointed when we left here on Monday. We thought this door was closed permanently, and we had a tough time coming to grips with the loss. Now it looks like the door’s open again, but I can’t agree to walk through it by myself.”
“Well…” Miriam said.
“Please, let me finish. We’ve suffered through a lot in our quest to have other children: an ectopic pregnancy, a miscarriage, and months filled with sorrow over failed fertility treatments. But through it all, we’ve learned how important it is to handle things together. David and I are a team, every step of the way.”
“That’s fine,” Antonio said with authority. “We can wait until tomorrow for your answer.”
I unclenched the fists I hadn’t realize I’d clenched and felt a wave of relief flood my body.
“All right, then,” Julie said. “I guess it’s settled. Call me first thing, Caroline.”
**
The temptation to leave work for the day was great, but it was only two o’clock. Instead I chose the classical playlist on my iPod and forced myself to concentrate on the investigative reports in Kate’s case. It was like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle: George Cooper was required by law to give me all the pieces but didn’t have to put it together for me. That was my job. I could already see some of the university’s research money had gone where it shouldn’t have gone. But I could not see how Cooper could prove beyond a reasonable doubt Kate was responsible.
About an hour later, Rosalee buzzed me on the intercom. “Ms. Spencer, there’s a Martin Braxton here, asking to see you,” she said in her haughtiest tone. “I explained you were very busy, and it would be best if he were to make an appointment. Nevertheless, he asks if you can spare a few minutes to see him.”
Clearly Kate’s colleague, the pompous Dr. Braxton, had rubbed Rosalee the wrong way, and she was intent on putting him in his place.
“It’s okay, Rose,” I said. “You can show him in.”
I pulled at my right ear while Braxton took his seat—my signal for Rosalee to interrupt us in ten minutes, announcing my “next client.”
“Caroline, please forgive my intrusion,” he said, settling into his chair with his shoulders back and legs spread wide. “But I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see how things are going for Kathryn. I’m quite concerned about her.”
“I’m sure you are. The thing is, Kate hasn’t given me permission to share the details of her case with you. I can only discuss what’s public record.” But there’s no reason I can’t get information from you, I thought with a teaspoonful of glee. No one’s in a better position to help me put the jigsaw puzzle together than you—you were right there when it all went down!
“I suppose you’ve heard Kate’s at The Meadows as a condition of her bail?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’ve heard. At first it surprised me, but the more I thought about it, drug usage would explain some of Kathryn’s behavior over the years.”
“Dr. Braxton, may I ask you some questions that might help me put some things into perspective?”
“Of course. I’ll do anything to help Kathryn. And please call me Marty.”
“All right. Tell me about your working relationship with Kate on this grant, Marty. How did it evolve?”
As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew I should’ve asked a more specific question. Marty had the same look on his face as my grandfather when someone asked him about living through the Depression. We could be here for hours.
“When I first met Kathryn, she was a surgical resident at Stanford,” he said, leaning back in the chair with his hands behind his head. “I was there visiting a surgeon friend of mine. A group of us got together for drinks one evening, and I had the opportunity to chat with her. She confided she was unhappy in surgery.”
“Yes, I remember Kate telling me that.”
“I inquired whether she’d ever considered research,” he said. “Told her I’d be delighted to have someone of her caliber on my team.”
Or someone with her looks.
“She elected to pursue a Ph.D. while working as my research assistant. Kathryn is, as you know, a very bright woman. The university was delighted to hire her to teach once she’d finished.”
My irritation at him was growing. He had to know I knew all of this.
“For the past five years, we’ve been co-applicants on all of the grants for our research, sharing equal responsibility in the planning, administration and work. Quite frankly, I’ve been struggling without her. She’s much better at dealing with the research assistants than I am. She has incredible intuition about what will or will not work in the lab. Caroline, we need her. Can you win an acquittal?”
“Oh, it’s far too early to tell,” I replied, determined to remain vague. “Maybe you can answer a few questions for me about the case. I know the alleged fraud was first discovered during an audit by the university. Was it a routine audit or had they been tipped off to potential problems?” “Officially, I can’t say. But one of the auditors told me in confidence they were looking for problems. It seems a student who’d applied to be a lab assistant became disgruntled when she was rejected. She told the university about the person Kathryn put on the payroll who did not actually work for us.”
Joe Ames. “Was it common knowledge?”
“Oh, no. I should’ve known, because I co-signed the paperwork. But I simply signed the forms Kathryn presented to me. I hold myself personally responsible for the mess: I should’ve paid more attention to the details. But I trusted Kathryn.”
“Back to the disgruntled student,” I said. “How did she find out about the fictitious employee?”
“I believe one of her friends worked for us and had seen the payroll.”
“Was there only one fictitious research assistant?” I asked.
“I think so, but he was paid for three years.”
“Tell me about—”
The intercom buzzed.
I picked up the phone, rather than leaving it on the speaker. “Rosalee, Dr. Braxton and I still have a few things to discuss. Could you please take a message and then hold my calls? Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, returning to Marty. “What can you tell me about how the rest of the fraud was accomplished? Let’s start with the consulting fees.”
“Sure. Kathryn and I are well-known researchers—you might say we’re ahead of the field. When other scientists seek to replicate or expand on our research, they often call on us as consultants. We help set up protocols, explain our findings, that kind of thing. Any fees we’re paid for such consulting are supposed to go back to the university. Apparently, Kathryn kept some of the fees.”
“I see. I guess the rest was pretty simple: submitting phony expense vouchers for travel not taken or padding the actual expenses?”
“Yes, that’s basically it. Kathryn rarely traveled—she said she didn’t like to be away—but she submitted travel vouchers pretty regularly.”
The information he was providing wasn’t new to me, but I was fascinated to see how he couched his answers about what he did and did not know. “Marty, you said drug usage might explain some of Kate’s behavior. Can you give me a few specifics?”
“Well, let me think. Her mood. She’d go for long stretches being upbeat and energetic. Then she’d suddenly turn sullen and testy, especially to me. I chalked it up to PMS at first, but her moodiness didn’t really seem to fit a regular pattern.”
He tracked her periods?
“She became prone to making mistakes, usually clerical in nature,” he said, shifting in his chair. “And she sometimes missed meetings and other appointments without notice. Some of the staff complained about her, which would have been unheard of a few years ago.”
“Okay, that’s helpful. Can I call you if I have other questions as I’m preparing for trial?”
“Certainly.” Braxton leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “Do you think the case will go to trial?”
“That’s my assumption at this point,” I said off-handedly. “What are the chances of Kate being reinstated at the university?”
“If she’s acquitted, the Board of Regents is required to reinstate. If she’s found guilty, slim to none.”
I thanked Braxton for his time and ushered him out to the lobby.
“That man is an officious misogynist,” Rosalee sputtered as I walked past her desk on the way to my office. “If I worked for him, I’d probably use drugs too!”
I laughed. “Unfortunately, working for a jerk is not a legal defense for fraud.”
Back at my desk, I leaned back in my chair and consciously adopted Braxton’s hands-behind-the-head pose. I closed my eyes and thought about what he’d said, trying to remember my visceral reactions to his answers and non-answers. Something’s fishy here.
I got up and rushed to the conference room, where I could spread several reports over the table to compare them. All of a sudden it became clear. “Holy shit!” I said aloud. “They’re both guilty.”