Cari had gotten to track practice just a few minutes before the organized warm ups started. Unlike her days on high school track, no organized stretching was happening. Everyone was doing their own thing while chatting with their teammates. Several of the students eyed her warily after she revealed that she was a member of the press. The ones that would talk to her claimed that not only did they not know Marjorie, they didn’t even know that Ithaca had a girlfriend. Finally, one of the men on the team admitted to knowing Ithaca’s roommate. He took Cari’s card and said that he would pass it on to the guy and let him decide if he wanted to talk to her.
She decided to cut her losses and was walking back to her car when another athlete pulled up late to practice. The woman was obviously in a hurry but stopped to talk to her anyway.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m with the Brenington Beagle and was trying to get in touch with Marjorie Pryor. You wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?”
“Marjorie? Oh, you mean Stephen’s girlfriend? Yes, I’ve met her.”
“Do you have a phone number for her that you could share with me? I’m trying to write an article about Stephen and don’t know a lot about him other than he ran track.”
“Sure, let me just pull it up for you.”
Cari punched the number into her contacts list quickly. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.” It felt like luck was on her side. The young woman had Marjorie’s number from a group chat she’d saved regarding a team party at the start of indoor season.
Cari hurried over to her car so that she could call Marjorie. It was too windy outside to have a normal phone call. She slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the car on. She didn’t want to get cold if it was a long conversation. Subconsciously, she tugged on her locket and ran it along the thin, gold chain. She hit send on the number the athlete had given her and hoped Marjorie would answer.
This is Marjorie. Leave a message!
“Ugh,” Cari said out loud after she ended the call. “Just answer.” Before she could redial Marjorie, her own phone buzzed with an incoming call. Cari didn’t recognize the number, but wondered if the roommate was already trying to call.
“This is Cari Turnlyle. How can I help you today?”
“Um, this is Ben. Ben Spivets. My friend just texted me that you wanted to talk about Stephen. He said that you work for the paper?”
“Yes, sir. I am a reporter with the Brenington Beagle. I mostly cover the sports section. Ben, I’m very sorry for your loss. How long had you known Stephen?”
“Just since August. Neither of us knew any other guys coming to school here, so we just took potluck on roommates. We actually got lucky, though. Stephen was a great guy. I can’t believe he’s gone. He was, like, the healthiest person I know, uh, knew, uh…you know. He took great care of himself. Ate healthy, always got enough sleep. How could something like this happen?”
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out. You said that Stephen was a healthy eater. Had his eating habits changed at all in the last few weeks?”
“No. Not that I had noticed. He rarely ate any junk, you know? Everything seemed the same to me.”
“Did his behavior change at all? I know you’ve only known him for a few months, but had anything seemed off?”
“Stephen would NOT do drugs, ma’am. He was clean as a whistle. He had his little protein powder or whatever, but—”
“His what?”
“His protein powder. Don’t all athletes take protein powder?”
“I suppose most do, yes, but you called it ‘little.’ Why is that?”
“Oh, you know, it was just in a little package, not a big tub or something. He had a smoothie for breakfast virtually every day, but early on last semester, I saw him put this little packet of powder into it. I didn’t want to be living with someone that was doped up or whatever, you know? So, I asked him about it. He said that it was some sort of nutritional supplement from the athletic department. They gave it to him once a month. I had almost forgotten about it until you called. He told me it wasn’t a big deal, but that they had asked him not to talk about it with others.”
“Didn’t that seem a little suspicious to you?”
“You know, now that you mention, it does seem suspicious, but at the time, he was so casual about it, I just kind of moved on, you know? It just wasn’t a big deal. Do you think this is what killed him?”
“I can’t really conjecture at this point, Ben. I’m just trying to gather information and see what doesn’t fit.” She resisted the urge to say you know at the end of her sentence.
“I guess I should have reported it. I mean, what was I thinking, you know?” Ben’s voice cracked.
“Whoa, Ben. This is not your fault. We don’t even know that the protein had anything to do with what happened to Stephen.”
“Can you let me know if you find out anything about Stephen? I still can’t believe this happened. I missed his track meet—I meant to be there, you know? But it was Friday afternoon and I came back here to catch up on some reading and before I knew it, I had missed his race. But then, my RA knocked on the door last night. He told me that Stephen had been in an accident and…” Ben couldn’t finish.
Cari wasn’t sure how to respond. “It is all very shocking. I promise to keep you informed, Ben. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss. You’ve been a big help. Thank you.” She waited for him to respond.
He sniffed and his voice cracked again. “Thank you for investigating. I hope you can figure out what happened to Stephen. I just can’t believe that he just died like that, you know?” He ended the call.
Cari wrote protein powder with a question mark in her notebook. She wondered which person in the athletic department would have given it to him. She was pretty sure none of the athletes would talk to her about it, but maybe she could try Marjorie again. If Ithaca’s roommate knew about Stephen taking a mysterious powder, maybe his girlfriend did too. She hoped if she called again, Marjorie would get curious about the same number calling twice and answer. She hit send on her number again.
“Hello?” An uncertain voice answered the phone.
“Is this Marjorie Pryor?”
“This is she, uh, yes, this is Marjorie.” She stammered.
“I’m Cari Turnlyle. I work for the local newspaper—”
“No comment. No. I’m not. No—”
“Please just hear me out. I want to help. I’m sorry for your loss. I think we almost met at the track meet. Um, I was sitting near you on the bleachers…?” Cari let her question drift off.
“Okay, and? How can you help?”
“I would like to meet with you—we could get coffee maybe? Or breakfast?”
“No, I’m not meeting. What is your question?”
“Marjorie, I’m…” Cari struggled to find the right words for do you know if your boyfriend was using steroids? “Did Stephen mention anything you thought was unlike him or different recently? Had his moods changed or was anything different?”
“What? Are you accusing him of something?!”
“No! No. I just want to figure out what happened. It was terrible. Again, I’m so so very sorry for your loss. Is there anything at all that seemed off about Stephen in recent weeks?”
“He was Stephen. He was excited about the hurdles, about running in college. He was setting goals for the season—he wanted to go to nationals, you know? He said that…well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What? What doesn’t matter?”
“It’s nothing. He had a nutrition plan that he thought was really going to take him to the next level. That’s all.”
“Nutrition plan? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. It was something he worked out with Dr. D. I can’t tell you anything else. I’m sorry. Stephen is gone. Nothing you do will bring him back.”
“Wait, please. Did this nutrition plan involve some kind of powder?”
“Powder?” Marjorie paused, but Cari could hear a note of recognition in her voice.
“Something that he got from the athletic department perhaps, or you mentioned Dr. D?”
“I can’t, um, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about that.” She ended the call.
Cari pounded her palm into the steering wheel. Ugh! I really thought we were getting somewhere. She knows something else. She thumbed off a text to Marjorie.
I meant it when I said that I wanted to help. If you want to meet and talk about Stephen or anything else, please let me know.
Marjorie did not respond. Cari couldn’t help but hear a note of fear in the young woman’s voice. She wondered how Dr. Delamont tied into this. She felt confident that Dr. D was in fact, Dr. Delamont. She was certain the deaths were related. She set her phone down and put her car into gear. It was time to do some research on Dr. D.
* * * * * * * * * *
Emma went over the day’s events in her head while she did her recovery run with the team. She was still reeling from Stephen’s death yesterday, but today had brought about a whole host of challenges. She had been stopped by two people wanting phone numbers while she was trying to get to practice. The newswoman had seemed harmless, but still, Emma felt a little guilty sending newshounds onto Stephen’s poor girlfriend. But before that, before she had even gotten out of the building after the meeting with the detectives, another athlete had stopped her in the hall. He’d given her his number and said that they all needed to talk. His name was Andrew Niles and he was on the baseball team. He had said that he knew about the program and it was time that they all got together.
She had kind of shrugged it off since she was in a hurry to get to practice, but now she was curious. Maybe one of the others knew how to continue the program or how to get more of the powder. She was glad she had agreed to give him her number too. They were all in the same boat and could work together to make this right. Even though her legs were a little tired from the meet yesterday, she picked up the pace so that she could check her phone sooner.
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari sat down at her desk and immediately pulled up the archives site for the newspaper. She seemed to remember that Delamont hadn’t been with the university all that long. Maybe she could find an article about when he was hired. She typed his name into the search bar, but nothing in the last few years popped up. Maybe the university has an article on it, she thought. She went to the school’s website and found a link to their newsletter. She searched for Delamont and got several hits, including the announcement that he had been hired as the chair of the sports medicine staff. Cari opened the article and skimmed it.
“…local boy…former high school standout…” She read aloud. He grew up here! She kept reading and saw where he mentioned looking forward to spending more time with his long-time friend, Dr. Bryan Hartfeld, who also worked for the university in the Biochemistry department.
She looked Hartfeld up on the list of staff and found his office number. Of course, they didn’t list his home address on the university webpage, but Cari had a different directory she could search for addresses and phone numbers. Sometimes, she was even able to dig up unlisted numbers or addresses, but not always. She opened the application and typed his name into it. Hartfeld was a fairly common name, but luckily, he was the only Bryan Hartfeld in town. She punched his number into her phone and called him.
“Dr. Hartfeld speaking. Who is calling, please?” A gravelly voice asked her.
“Hi, Dr. Hartfeld, this is Cari Turnlyle. I work for the Brenington Beagle and was wondering if you had time to answer a few questions today. I’d prefer to meet in person, if possible.”
“Certainly, can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“Well, I’m doing a little research on hometown kids that return and work in their communities and your name came up,” Cari responded. It wasn’t completely a lie. She was researching someone who had returned to their hometown to work. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger absentmindedly.
“Sounds interesting. Could you meet me at my lab? I’m just finishing something up before lunch.”
Cari got the building and room number from him and headed back out to her car. Biochemistry, huh? Maybe he knows about the nutrition program.
* * * * * * * * * *
Genevieve and Alex were back at the station, comparing notes again. They had eight student athletes on a nutrition program, an athletic director acting suspicious, and a wildly emotional research scientist. They all seemed capable of swinging the trophy at Delamont, even if the scientist came off as a bit of a nerd.
“What are we missing here? Should we interview the AD again?” Alex asked her.
“And ask him what? That he seems to be lying about something, and we want to know what it is? That should work.”
Alex groaned. “I know, but they’re all hiding something. That whole nutrition program smells fishy too.”
“No puns. We agreed.” Genevieve rebuked him.
“Oh, come on, that was a good one. Not to mention the eccentric scientist and his pet project with the hamsters.”
“I can only imagine how long you’ve been holding onto that one.” Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Surely, they keep a record of their drug tests somewhere. We could request the history on these eight athletes.”
“Nine, if you count Ithaca.”
“Ithaca, right. Did the tox screen from the ME include performance enhancing drugs? You call down there and I’ll call Beverly Simpson to request the drug test results.” She got up and walked over to her desk so that they could both make their calls without talking over each other.
“Hi, Ms. Simpson. It’s Detective Viacorte again. Who would I contact for the results from your athletes’ drug tests?”
“Drug tests? What? And please, call me Beverly. Everyone does.”
“Surely your student athletes have to undergo random drug testing, both for steroids as well as other illicit drugs?”
“Oh, well, yes, but we’ve never had an athlete test positive for anything like that. I’ve worked here for two decades and we’ve never had that happen. We pride ourselves in that. I can send you the results, but they’re all negative, for every athlete, for every substance.”
“That’s impressive. Sure, go ahead and send them on over. I only need them for eight of your athletes.” Genevieve read off their names.
“I’ll get those to your email in the next ten minutes. Easy peasy. Can I help you with anything else?”
“Not at this time. Thank you, Ms. Simpson, er, Beverly.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” She ended the call.
Genevieve found it hard to believe that none of their athletes had tested positive for a single drug in two decades, but who was she to argue with Beverly? She wondered if the ME had any useful news for Alex. He was just putting the phone back in its cradle when she walked back to his desk.
“Anything?” She asked him.
“I left a message. The last I heard, his parents didn’t want an autopsy, so we might not ever learn the cause of death.”
“And, we’re back at square one.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari parked along the curb outside Dr. Hartfeld’s building. The man had sounded older than someone in his forties on the phone, but maybe he just had one of those voices. She hoped he would be waiting for her when she got to the door. It seemed to be somehow windier than it had been just an hour ago. Thankfully, she’d wrapped her hair into a messy bun that morning. Otherwise, it would have been a disaster right now. Plus, it was a great place to stash her pencil when she wasn’t carrying her purse around.
The wind whipped her jacket open as she walked toward the building. She struggled a bit to button it as she walked along the sidewalk. She glanced up at the entrance to the building. A middle-aged man with dark, wavy hair was looking out the double doors. She waved and held up her press pass as she approached the building.
He opened the doors and let her inside. She noticed that his hair did have a few grey streaks at the temples. His dark eyes stared at her intently through a pair of thick glasses. He was wearing a tweed jacket that looked so old it could have been her grandfather’s.
“Ms. Turnlyle, I presume?”
She nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, especially on a Saturday.”
“Happy to do it. Tell me more about your article while we head up to my lab. I still have a few things to finish up.”
Cari had reviewed her ruse to get Hartfeld to talk about Delamont on her way over to the school. She hoped he bought it.
“What made you come back to Brenington?”
“I came back initially to help my sister out with our parents. Dementia runs in our family and unfortunately, they both were showing early signs of it. But, I’ve always loved the area. I probably would have come back either way.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents. How are they doing?”
“That’s the funny part. My sister and her husband wanted to move to a warmer climate, so they packed up my parents and moved them down to Florida a few years ago. I love it here, so I stayed.”
They had ridden the elevator up to the sixth floor. Dr. Hartfeld directed her to go to the right.
“My lab is just down the hallway here. I was just finishing up with my hamsters when you called.”
“You work with animals? I read that you were a biochemistry teacher.”
“Oh, I am. I also conduct some research with my senior level students.”
“I see. What are you researching?”
“We mostly study metabolic pathways, but the hamsters are kind of my pet project.”
Cari stifled a groan into a chuckle. What a terrible pun!
“Oh interesting! What do you do with the hamsters?”
“Come on in and I’ll show you.”
She started to follow him into the lab, but just as she was about to step inside, he stopped short and turned around. She could see a wall of hamster cages behind him. His brow was furrowed and a darkness had entered his eyes.
“What I’m about to show you is unpublished research, so I’ll need to see a copy of your article before it gets printed.”
“Oh, of course. I would be happy to let you look it over first.” She smiled lightly, hoping to ease the sudden tension.
“Perfect. I’m sorry to be so uptight about it, but people get scooped all the time in science. I’m sure, as a journalist, you can understand.”
Cari nodded. “Of course, Dr. Hartfeld. I get it.”
“I’ve been studying the metabolic pathways of hamsters and was able to maximize their endurance and strength.” He showed her how some were running faster on their little wheels while others were sleeping or eating.
“Like hamster steroids?”
“NO!” Hartfeld whipped around and shook his finger at her. Then he took a breath and calmed down in a snap. “Sorry. But it isn’t a steroid. It’s just a supplement that enhances the abilities that they already have.” He paused when she crinkled her nose in confusion. “It’s like the governor on cars that keeps them from being able to go really fast. We have genes in our bodies, as do hamsters, that keep us from going faster or jumping higher or being stronger. This supplement just mutes those genes. Silences them so that the hamsters can run faster for longer. They don’t do a lot of jumping, so that’s more hypothetical.” He said, looking at the hamsters.
“And this is approved for human use?”
He whirled around again. “No! Never! It could never be used in humans. Not without significantly more research. I just wanted to verify that my hypothesis regarding the genes was correct.”
“It’s never been tested in humans?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t allow it. It could be highly detrimental if you don’t know absolutely everything about the person, genetically speaking. That’s one reason why I’ve been hesitant to publish my findings. People are too obsessed with financial gains to see the beauty of scientific study for what it is. They would try to capitalize off my findings and rush the process before we really have a true understanding of the big picture.” His face darkened again.
“On second thought, Ms. Turnlyle, I would prefer that you not include my research with the hamsters in your article. The risk is too high.”
Cari nodded again. “That’s just fine, Dr. Hartfeld. Do you use the hamsters in other aspects of your research here?”
“Oh, of course, my dear, of course. My lab studies many aspects of the major metabolic pathway. Everyone wants to learn how to improve their metabolism these days, right? Thankfully, it’s a hot topic, so there’s a lot of grant money in metabolism, both from the government and the private sector. We’re all trying to win the war against obesity together! We’ve made several major contributions to understanding how our bodies process food and gain energy with these hamsters, well, not these exact ones. Hamsters don’t live forever, of course.” He grinned.
“Would it be okay if I included a sentence about your research with regards to improving health and wellness—the fight against obesity, as you said?”
“That would be perfectly okay. I still want to see the article before it’s in print though.”
Cari wanted to ask him about his relationship with Dr. Delamont, but was worried that she might blow her cover. He seemed a bit volatile and she didn’t want to spike his temper again. She decided that she could always call later with some follow up questions.
“Did you have any other questions for me?”
“No, I think I got everything that I needed. Thank you again. I really appreciate your helpfulness today. Good luck with the hamsters!”
“Can you find your way back downstairs on your own? I’m supposed to escort you out, but no one is here, so who cares?” He shrugged.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you again.” She waved goodbye and walked back to the elevator. I might have just discovered the link between Delamont and Ithaca!