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“I do,” Ambrose said. He got to his feet. “I think it’s time to apply more pressure. Let’s go interview Dr.Conrad Fenner, director of the Carnelian Sleep Institute. I’m sure he’ll be excited to know that he’s going to be featured on aLost Night Filespodcast.”
“Of course,” Pallas said. She jumped up and grabbed her messenger bag. “I keep telling you, everyone wants to be on a podcast.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Carnelian SleepInstitute was housed on the ground floor of an imposing but gloom-filled three-story mansion that had once been the private residence of Xavier Carnelian.
In Ambrose’s opinion the building had more in common with a mausoleum than the stately home of a wealthy man. The windows were narrow and dark. The extensive gardens that surrounded it should have lightened the atmosphere, but somehow they managed to appear funereal. The upper floors were sealed off with a chain at the foot of the main staircase and a sign that readPrivate. The overall effect suited a structure said to be haunted by a man who had been driven mad by the ghost of his dead wife.
Fenner had agreed to see them immediately even though they had arrived without an appointment. That was not a surprise. The small waiting room was empty. It was obvious the Carnelian Sleep Institute was not attracting a lot of business. The middle-aged receptionist had been doing some online shopping when Ambrose and Pallas had walked through the door.
There appeared to be only one other member of the staff in thevicinity—a woman in her late twenties who was dressed in scrubs. She was on her phone. Ambrose did not recognize either of the two employees. He was certain he had not seen them on the night of his sleep study.
He had used the walk from the lobby to Fenner’s office to take a look around. His scattered, snapshot memories of the night he had spent in the facility were blurred and distorted, but as far as he could tell they were fairly accurate.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr.Drake.” Conrad Fenner clasped his broad hands on top of his desk and peered through the lenses of his black-framed glasses. “May I ask why you are interested in a former employee of the Institute?”
Fenner was exactly as Ambrose remembered—brusque, rigid, and authoritarian. His lousy bedside manner probably explained the vacant waiting room. You had to be desperate to book a consultation with Conrad Fenner. Not surprisingly, he had refused Pallas’s request to record the interview. With a cool smile she had taken a small spiral notebook and a pen out of her messenger bag. Fenner had not been happy about that, but his only choice at that point was to refuse to say another word. Instead he had pretended not to care about the notebook. It was clear he would not toss them out of his office until he discovered what was going on.
Ambrose glanced at Pallas. She quietly signaled him to take the lead.
He opened the window in his mind and studied Fenner’s aura. There was a lot of hostility in the wavelengths, but there was something else as well—Fenner was nervous. Worried.
That was interesting.
Ambrose changed position ever so slightly in his chair, leaning forward just enough to project some don’t-try-to-con-me attitude.
“A couple of weeks ago I was contacted by someone who identified himself as Emery Geddings,” he said. “He reminded me that he had been the assistant working the night shift here when I checked in for the sleep study. He claimed to have some information about the results. He said I needed to see them. Geddings and I made an appointment to meet at the old asylum outside of town. He never showed up. He appears to have vanished. Ms.Llewellyn has agreed to help me investigate his disappearance.”
Anger and alarm flared hot in Fenner’s aura and in his eyes. It didn’t require any psychic talent to know that he intended to give them as little information as possible.
Fenner glared at Pallas. “Are you a professional private investigator, Ms.Llewellyn?”
“No.” Pallas smiled a smile that did not go below the surface. “Strictly an amateur. But I’m sure you’re aware that cold case podcasts are very popular. My associates and I have had quite a bit of experience. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you do not,” Fenner grated. “You are a cheap, muckraking promoter. If you were a real investigator you would know that there is no mystery here. Emery Geddings is no longer with the Institute. I have no idea where he is, and even if I did have a forwarding address I would not be able to give you the information. There are laws about that sort of thing.”
“Did he quit or was he fired?” Ambrose asked.
Fenner shot him a fierce look. “Geddings left to explore other career opportunities.”
“Right,” Pallas said. She jotted down a note. “He was fired.”
Fenner’s jaw clenched but he did not confirm or deny the statement.
“Any idea why Geddings thought I would be interested in some data from my sleep study?” Ambrose asked.
“No,” Fenner said. “You were given a printout of the results. You have all the information that was collected that night.”
“Except for the video,” Ambrose said.
“Because it doesn’t exist,” Fenner shot back. Anger splashed across his face in blotchy red patches. His pale eyes glittered. “The camera was not working properly. That was explained to you the morning you checked out. The equipment failure was noted in the file. I assure you none of the other information that was collected that night indicates that anything unusual occurred while you were asleep, with the exception of the sleepwalking incident. I recall suggesting that you consult a psychiatrist to deal with your nightmare issues.”
“Yes, you did,” Ambrose said.
Fenner abruptly pushed himself to his feet. “I’m afraid that is all the time I can spare to deal with this nonsense. I suggest you forget Emery Geddings and his connection with the Institute. There is no story here. Your so-called investigation is a waste of time. If you do or say anything that harms the reputation of the Institute, I assure you the college will sue. You will be made to appear mentally unstable. As for you, Ms.Llewellyn, your podcast will be ruined. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very clear.” Pallas dropped her notebook into her messenger bag and stood. “Thank you for your time, Dr.Fenner.” She looked at Ambrose. “I think we’ve learned as much as we can here.”
