The Perfect Body, page 17
part #8 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“I’m with you. Three groups of rats. Control group, standard no-big-deal treatment, fancy new Bee Corcoran treatment. So what happened?”
“They inflicted an injury and then saw how fast the muscle recovered.”
“Oh no, poor rats.”
“Yeah, like I said, I’m glad I work with plants. Anyway, the experimental group, the one with Bee’s treatment? Had worse muscle recovery. And some of them died.”
“Did more die in Bee’s treatment group than in the other groups?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Wow. That’s bad. So the obvious question is, how did she end up winning the system research grant?”
Emma started to open the notebook and then shut it again.
“It’s kinda complicated. I’ll give you the English major version.”
“Fine. Give me the English-major version.”
“Okay. When a rat from her treatment group started dragging, she’d switch it with a rat from one of the other two groups. Then when it died, the death would be counted as one of the control group or the steroid group. Do that with enough rats and it looks like the treatment is just as safe as the other two conditions.”
“She was switching the rats,” I exclaimed. “Margaret’s friend was right. Except Bee wasn’t careless, she was doing it on purpose.”
“Heck yeah, she was doing it on purpose. What about Margaret’s friend?”
“The young man we saw in Bee’s lab, who told us it was his last day on the job. That’s why she fired him. Because he figured out that she was switching the rats around. Except he just thought she was being careless. Remember, I asked you whether you wanted to hire him, and you said no?”
“I did?”
“Yes. You said you didn’t want some kid coming in and telling you how to run your lab.”
“I don’t remember that at all. Molly, your memory must be going.”
“So when Stephen Park talked about being someone’s guinea pig?” I asked. “Do you think he was developing some kind of side effect of the treatment?”
“Maybe.”
“Like what?”
Emma leafed through the notebook.
“A lot of the rats died from fibrosis.”
“What’s fibrosis?”
“Like out of control scar tissue. But here’s the thing, humans aren’t rats.”
“Yeah, some humans.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m calling Detective Medeiros,” I scooted my chair back and stood up. “If Stephen knew about the treatment’s failure, and was ready to blow the whistle, then Dean Gunderson would have a reason to kill them both to cover it up.”
“And how you gonna explain to Medeiros how you got the notebook?”
I sat back down.
“Good point. Oh, how about if we send it to Honey Akiona? Anonymously, of course—”
A wet blast noise from the direction of the playpen interrupted me. I retrieved Francesca.
“I’ll call her after I change the baby.” I rushed down the hallway, holding the baby at arm’s length.
“I’ll call Honey,” Emma shouted after me. “You go do your hazmat cleanup.”
“Thank you,” I called back. “You can explain it better than I can anyway.”
I came back into the living room with the cleaned-up baby, to find Emma pouring herself a glass of vodka. Her phone was lying on the counter next to her glass.
“I told Honey about the rats,” Emma said. “She wants to talk to you.”
She handed me the phone and took the baby. With her free hand she picked up her glass and started drinking.
“Good news,” Honey said. “Donnie’s alibi for the time of Bee Corcoran’s death holds up. Several regular customers and employees say he was there at Donnie’s Drive-Inn.”
“That is good news,” I said. “Thank you.”
Emma set her glass down and gave me a thumbs-up.
“The other thing you should know is that Geoffrey Gunderson also has an alibi for that time. He was in a meeting in Honolulu.”
“So Gunderson couldn’t have killed Bee,” I said.
“That’s correct.”
“Well then what was he doing snooping around her lab?”
“He says he was in Dr. Corcoran’s lab to look it over before Facilities came in. They’re going to have to fix that busted railing before anyone else can occupy the space.”
“So we’re no further along than where we were before,” I said.
“Well, I was just talking to Professor Nakamura. And I’ll tell you what I said to her. I’ll take a look at any information that comes my way. Regardless of where it comes from.”
“Thank you,” I exclaimed.
“No guarantees, though.”
Emma handed me the baby as soon as I disconnected the call.
“I’ll run the notebook down to her,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Emma was back within half an hour, and Honey called soon after that.
“Medeiros guys have the notebook now,” Honey said.
“Fantastic,” I said. “That was fast. How did you…never mind. Hang on, Emma’s here, so I’m going to put you on speaker. So what happens now?”
“They’re gonna get an expert to look at it.”
“They should hire me to do it,” Emma called from the kitchen.
“Nah, all due respect, tell Professor Nakamura they got their own people.”
“It was worth a try,” Emma said.
The microwave beeped, and Emma came back into the dining room holding a plate of Drive-Inn leftovers.
“So with Donnie and Dean Gunderson both having alibis,” I asked, “who do they think killed Bee?”
“They’re probably gonna put it down as suicide,” Honey said.
“Oh yeah,” Emma cried through a mouthful of Korean chicken. “Cause da kine, ah?”
“Because that’s their go-to when they don’t have a suspect,” Honey said. “What’s da kine?”
“Oh, right,” I said. “You know, being in the closet?”
“In the closet about what?” Honey asked.
Emma and I looked at each other.
“About being trans,” I said.
“Sorry Professor Barda, about what?”
“You know, transgender?” I said. “Identifies as female but was assigned male at birth?”
I thought the phone had gone dead. But then Honey said,
“You’re talking about Bee Corcoran?”
“Yes,” I said. “She wasn’t out about it. And she could pass pretty well. I only know for sure because Stephen told me.”
“Stephen Park told you this?”
“I know he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t his story to tell. But I never told anyone else. Well, not while she was alive. Except Donnie, but that doesn’t really count because—”
“Let’s go back for a minute,” Honey interrupted me. “What exactly did Stephen Park tell you about Bee Corcoran?”
“Well, let’s see. He talked about how brave she was to live her truth, how her family wasn’t speaking to her, how despite everything she was the most feminine woman he’d ever met, I don’t know, I can’t remember everything. Basically how awesome and courageous she was. In contrast to me, of course, because according to him I abandoned my true calling and sold out to the business school. That was a favorite theme of his, in fact—”
“Did he ever tell you straight up that Bee Corcoran was transgender?”
“Well, he—”
“Or that she was assigned male at birth?”
“I mean, I don’t think he ever phrased it as clinically as that, but he got the message across. That’s why her family cut off contact with her. Isn’t it?”
“Bee Corcoran was an only child,” Honey said. “Her parents passed away years ago. That’s why she’s not in touch with her family.”
“Are you sure about that? Because Stephen—”
“Professor Barda, Bee Corcoran was, how do I put it? She was on her time of month when she died.”
“Wow,” I said. “They can do that now?”
“No. They can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stephen Park misled you, Professor. Bee Corcoran was not transgender.”
“What? But then why would Stephen…ugh, never mind, I think I just answered my own question.”
When I hung up, I noticed that Emma was trying not to laugh.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” I fumed. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” Emma got up and went into the kitchen. “Well, I kind of am. But it’s just such classic Stephen Park. He lets everyone assume he’s half-Korean cause his last name is Park, he lets you assume Bee’s transgender, cause she’s ripped. Eh, at least you never told Stephen’s parents, right?”
“I guess. But of all the lies he could have told, why would he choose that one? Why would he try to make me think Bee was trans? It was like he wanted to convince me she had something I didn’t. I mean, not like that, but it was like he was trying to tell me Bee’s backstory was more interesting than mine. Why? What was the point?”
Emma came back out with a bottle of wine and two clean coffee mugs.
“Once again, you just answered your own question. Too early for wine?”
“Nope. Pour away. I can’t believe it. What a jerk—”
“Whoa, what about speaking ill of the dead?” Emma slid one arm of the corkscrew under the foil and popped it off in one piece.
“I’m not speaking ill, I’m telling the truth. He’s a jerk. It’s an objective fact. You know, you’re right. I shouldn’t be surprised. Stephen is just a big phony. It’s not any more complicated than that.”
“Was a big phony.”
“Do you know when he met me, he was going through a Bernardo Bertolucci phase? I’m starting to think that’s the only reason we even got together.”
“Sorry, I don’t know who that is. Bernardo who?”
“A famous Italian director. Well, famous with people who care about that kind of thing, anyway. You know, now that I look back on it, I think the only reason he pursued me is because one, he thought I was Italian and two, I supposedly looked like that actress whose name I keep forgetting. Bee was just another prop for him. To show everyone how adventurous or progressive he was or whatever point he was trying to make. And he tricked me into being nice to her.”
Emma rocked the cork out of the bottle.
“Tricked you? How’d he do that?”
“I thought she was marginalized because of her gender identity and you’re not supposed to be a jerk to marginalized people. If I’d known she was just some fit blonde cis woman I’d have told her to eff right off with her stupid fitness advice. Come on, I’m letting my two-month-old get lazy by carrying her?”
“Molly,” Emma whispered. “Let it go. They’re both dead.”
“Good!”
I immediately clapped my hand over my mouth.
“I didn’t mean it,” I whimpered.
“It’s okay, bubbeleh.” Emma filled a mug with wine and handed it to me. “We all grieve in our own way.”
Chapter Forty-Four
I came home from a well-baby checkup the following afternoon, to what I thought was an empty house. I put the sleeping baby down in her crib and started to undress for a shower. The sound of voices outside stopped me. I got dressed again, grabbed the baby monitor, and tiptoed down the hallway. The voices were coming from the back lanai.
I recognized one of the voices as Donnie’s. Relieved, I went out to the back to see who he was talking to.
The other man was Detective Medeiros.
Both men stood when I came out back. Because there were only two chairs and three people, no one made the first move to sit back down.
“Professor,” Medeiros greeted me.
“Where’s Francesca?” Donnie asked.
“Sleeping.” I held up the baby monitor to show him. “So what’s going on?”
“Good news,” Donnie said.
“Autopsy results came back,” Medeiros said. “Stephen Park died of natural causes.”
“Fibrosis?” I guessed, remembering what Emma had told me about the rat research.
“What?” Donnie asked.
“It’s an overgrowth of scar tissue, and apparently it can be fatal…sorry. What were the natural causes?”
“The cause of death was abdominal aortic rupture,” Medeiros said.
“Oh. What?”
“Since you seem to be interested in the details, the aorta is the main artery of the body, going from the heart down into the abdomen. It can spontaneously rupture, or break—”
“No, no,” I interrupted him. “That’s okay. Don’t describe it. Stephen Park died of a medical condition, though, is what you’re saying. Right?”
“Yes.”
“He wasn’t murdered?”
“No.”
“Wow. Okay, so I was wondering, Sorry Donnie, but I have to ask. Detective, Stephen called my name that night as I was walking past. I ignored him. And I kind of assumed he tried again and leaned over too far and fell. I was wondering whether it was my fault he died.”
“You were?” Donnie asked.
“Yeah. I was. I’ve kind of been obsessing about it, to be honest. Thinking, if I’d just stopped and acknowledged him, maybe he’d still be alive, and you wouldn’t have had to go through this whole trumped-up…this whole ordeal. But it had nothing to do with me. Is that what you’re saying, Detective?”
“Correct. Park’s death wasn’t caused by anything you did.” Medeiros was staring out over the back hedge. Unlike me, he was tall enough to see the graveyard beyond it. “There’s nothing you could have done besides call for help, which you did. He was gone before he hit the ground.”
“So why do you think he called out to me?” I asked.
“My opinion? He probably realized he was having a medical emergency. It would explain why he left the dining room in the first place. He probably started to feel some discomfort at that time. But like I said, it happened quick. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to hug Detective Medeiros. But of course I restrained myself.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Okay.” Medeiros said.
Medeiros and Donnie did that handshake-backslap-hug thing that guys do, and then Medeiros gave me a hug.
“I gotta get going,” he said. “You have a nice evening. Nah, nah, I’ll see myself out.”
“So how’d our baby do at the doctor’s?” Donnie asked when Medeiros had gone.
“She had a tough afternoon,” I pulled up the chair that Medeiros had just been sitting in. It was still warm. “Francesca likes getting shots about as much as I do. It was kind of heartbreaking to watch her, actually.”
“What are you doing?” Donnie asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Sorry, I’m still feeling a little queasy after what Detective Medeiros told us. I’m going to keep my head between my knees and try not to think about exploding blood vessels.”
The baby squawked over the monitor.
“It’s okay,” Donnie said. “You stay there. I’ll go get Francesca.”
After a few minutes I was able to sit up like a normal person.
“So, this is great news, right?” I said. “I mean, not great that Stephen died, of course that’s tragic, but at least you’re not a murder suspect now. Right?”
“That’s right.”
“And we can get the bail money back now?”
“M-hm. It’ll take a few weeks but yes.”
“Did Medeiros say anything about how something like that can happen to someone so young?” I asked.
“He said there are factors that can increase your risk. Smoking. Certain recreational drugs. Steroids.”
“Well, I guess that’s... steroids? Really?”
“M hm. He said a lot of the high school boys are doing it now.”
“And they can tell?”
“Ka`imi said the toxicology report’s going to take a little longer. They’ll know more when it’s done.”
Francesca was dozing in Donnie’s lap, her fat cheek resting on his forearm. I reached over and stroked her fuzzy head.
“This is such a relief,” I said. “I’m so glad—”
“Your name was the last word Stephen Park ever spoke,” Donnie said. “I didn’t think about it until today.”
“It was the last thing I heard. But maybe he said other stuff afterwards. Like when he fell over the railing he said some swear words or something. Would that make you feel better?”
Donnie frowned.
“No, of course not.”
“I feel bad for his parents.”
Donnie touched Francesca’s cheek. “Yeah. I do too.”
“I wonder what they’re going to do now.”
“Probably just go back home,” Donnie said. “What else is there?”
Chapter Forty-Five
The next morning, I was in the middle of filling out Student Retention Office forms when my phone rang. I saved my work and went to answer it. The caller ID was flashing Tiffany Schwartz’s number.
I wasn’t thrilled about having to talk to Stephen’s mother, but at least it was a break from filling out Rodge Cowper’s overdue paperwork.
Rodge hadn’t filled out a single form all year, which meant I had to go back and do every single one for him in order to keep the department in compliance.
I reminded myself not to take it personally. This was the same Rodge who missed most of our department meetings and always turned in his grades late. Which mystified me, as he never gave out anything lower than an A, so what was the holdup? Rodge assigned no homework, he used class time to show videos or have “chat sessions,” and his final exam was a beer party at his house. The only thing Rodge put any effort into was writing his own online reviews.
Because of his “student success” rates and stellar student evaluations, the Student Retention Office—the same Student Retention Office whose paperwork Rodge neglected—had once again anointed him Teacher of the Year. An honor that I had never once received.
