Page 138 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Airtight

Ray stopped dead and looked at him, not in a friendly way.
“Perhaps you can tell us.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” said Waldo, rising to his
feet. No sign of collegial banter between these two, now. I began to
say something, but Ray cut me off.
“But first you can tell her.” He jerked a thumb toward the door.
“You’re next. And you’d better be on your toes, or else you’ll wind
up hanging by them.”
Waldo scowled and looked around the room for support. Blanche
was wondering how to recycle her used Kleenex; habits die hard.
Larry was taking his own blood pressure. Toro was dozing off.
“All right, then,” he snarled. “I’ll go. But don’t make up any
vicious stories about me while I’m gone. And I will be coming back,
mark my words. Nobody’s pinning this on me.”
He stomped out, slamming the door. Ray grinned crookedly, not
exactly an attempt at mollification. He continued pacing.
“For God’s sake, Ray,” I said, since nobody else would intervene.
“Why don’t you sit down and relax? It doesn’t do any good to get us
all upset any more than we already are.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll sit.” He sat, but kept fidgeting. “That detective is
going to have fun with Waldo,” he said wickedly, baring his teeth. It
reminded me that none of these people had seen a dentist or an oral
hygienist in over a year. Ray was ready. “Did you know she has
impounded all our records, our log books, our notebooks, even our
comic books? That means we can’t work on our data or publish our
results until who knows when.”
“Only if they’re kept as evidence, Ray.” Larry sounded tired. His
usually patient voice had an edge to it I hadn’t heard before. “I don’t
think Laurel was poisoned with a page from your journal. Or did Lt.
Gramercy have something else in mind?”
“I resent that!” Larry’s mild insinuation was the last straw for Ray.
He pounded the table. “You can’t accuse me of anything, you—you
Hippocratical oaf! What did you care about our research? We were
just guinea pigs to you, human bacteria under a microscope. We
sweated every day to make those crops grow, and you just sat back
and read your field and stream catalogues.”

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