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“Who just happened to be dealing drugs on the side,” she said. “It also includes two members of a drug gang, a podcaster who claims to investigate cold cases, and a novelist who just happens to have been a patient at the Institute. Trust me, we have a problem, Dr.Fenner.”
Hugh turned away from the view of the campus. “Margaret is right. This is serious. We all know how Mr.Knight feels about his anonymity. He will be furious if he thinks his precious Institute is going to be dragged through the media mud.”
“You are both overreacting,” Fenner said, impatience sharpening his tone. He put on his glasses. “I assure you everything is under control. When the detective in charge of the case called to confirm that the medication that was found in Geddings’s house had been stolen from the clinic I had no choice but to tell him the truth. There is no getting around the fact that the vials were taken from the Institute’s medication locker. But I explained that I had let Geddings go precisely because I suspected he was the thief.”
“Are you sure he bought that story?” Margaret asked.
“Yes,” Fenner shot back. “Logan wanted to know why the Institute hadn’t pressed charges. I explained it was because we couldn’t prove anything and because Geddings had taken off for parts unknown. If the police want to chase after Geddings, that’s their business. As far as we’re concerned, it ends here. The Institute is not involved.”
Guthrie thought about that for a moment. “You may be right. Given the speed of the twenty-four-hour news cycle, it’s possible thiswill blow over very quickly. No one will care that two low-level drug dealers are dead and a third has disappeared.”
“It’s the podcaster and the writer who worry me,” Margaret said.
Hugh groaned. “They could be a problem.”
He went to the window and surveyed his campus empire with a moody gaze. Margaret knew what he was thinking. He, like Fenner and herself, was fully invested in the success of the Sleep Institute. None of them had ended up at the small backwater college by choice. They were here because, for various personal and professional reasons, their careers had been fading for years. They all knew it was too late to reinvent themselves and start over. Carnelian College was the last stop for each of them.
Margaret looked at Fenner. “What happened to the medication?”
“The detective returned the vials and I personally logged them back into inventory,” Fenner said.
“What did you tell the detective about the meds?” Margaret asked.
“The truth, of course,” Fenner said, exasperated. “I explained that it was an experimental sleep medication and that the Institute was participating in clinical trials.”
“Was he satisfied?” Hugh asked.
“Yes,” Fenner grunted. “Why wouldn’t he have been satisfied?”
Margaret looked at each man in turn. “The police may be satisfied, but that still leaves us with the podcast people. I think we can assume one of two things will happen.”
Hugh scowled. “What are you talking about?”
Margaret got to her feet and adjusted the drape of her stylishly cut blazer. “Llewellyn and Drake may conclude that they just hit pay dirt in terms of content for their podcast. If that happens they will hang around Carnelian to ask more questions.”
Hugh’s jaw twitched. “That will stir up more trouble for the Institute.”
Margaret went to the door. “The other possibility is that they will realize there’s no story here—or, at least, not one they want to pursue. After all, it sounds like they nearly got killed today. Podcasters are only interested in becoming media celebrities. They aren’t real journalists, and they certainly aren’t agents of law enforcement. With luck, Llewellyn and Drake won’t want to take the risk of getting murdered for the sake of an episode ofThe Lost Night Files.”
She opened the door and let herself out into the hall. Llewellyn and Drake might decide to abandon their podcast project and leave town, but she and Hugh and Fenner were trapped in Carnelian. They had fallen to the bottom of the academic pool. Keeping the Carnelian Sleep Institute open and well-funded by Mr.Knight was the number one priority for all of them.
Fenner was obsessed with his experiments. He was happy to run Mr.Knight’s clinical trial on the side so long as he could continue to pursue his own trials with the hallucinogen he ordered from a compounding pharmacy that did not ask too many questions. He was convinced the crap was the next miracle cure for insomnia. Hugh was in a state of near-panic at the realization that the money might stop. Neither man could be depended on to handle the crisis.
It was up to her to formulate a strategy for saving the Institute. She needed more information on Llewellyn and Drake. There had to be a weak point. There was always a weak point. All you had to do was look for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Calvin sent themthe data on the Carnelian Sleep Institute finances shortly before five that afternoon. Ambrose added it to what he and Pallas had gleaned from the newspaper research they had done with the help of the reference librarian at the Carnelian Public Library.
They discussed the findings over wine and dinner at the vegetarian café.
“Here’s what we’ve got,” he said, flipping to the first page of his notes. “The Carnelian Sleep Institute was established about a year ago thanks to a major donation to the college endowment made by an anonymous donor. That was front-page news here in town at the time. The money was funneled into the college account by a financial advisory company that handled it for the unknown client. Calvin says he hasn’t had any luck identifying the donor, who is concealed behind a million shell corporations. I told him to let that go for a while and focus on Brooke Kendrick. With luck he will have something for us after dinner.”
Pallas, seated on the other side of the booth, leaned forward andfolded her arms on the table, her expression intent, her intelligent eyes illuminated with energy. Her words whispered in his head again.Nothing like almost getting killed together to cement a friendship, I always say.
Okay, that was probably true. A close brush with death was bound to create some sort of bond between two people. But they had shared a lot more than the disaster at the Geddings house. They had each undergone an unexplained spell of amnesia and they had both emerged from their lost nights with a new sensitivity that could only be described as paranormal in nature. They had both worried that they might be on track to take up residence in a psychiatric ward. Bottom line, they had a lot in common, which was a solid basis for a friendship, or at least a partnership, just as she had said.
So why did that bother him?
