Pushover: R&P Labs Mysteries, #10

PUSHOVER

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CYNTHIA E. HURST

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R&P Labs Mystery 10

Copyright © 2013  Cynthia E. Hurst

All rights reserved

Plane View Books

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The characters and situations in this work are entirely fictional and do not portray any actual persons, businesses or organizations.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Prologue

47⁰ N, 127.5⁰  W

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Waves pounded against the ship’s hull and sheets of icy rain blew across the deck. The few crew members who were required to be on deck clung to anything solid and tried to avoid sliding on the slippery surface. The storm had seemed to blow up out of nowhere and they were struggling now as the small vessel pitched on the waves.

Below deck, a sense of controlled panic reigned. A dozen or more scientific researchers were on board, and although none of them had much maritime experience, they all displayed a touching faith in the crew’s ability to guide them to safety. Despite the violent movement of the ship, they were still recording data and poring over the results of the previous day, and seemed to regard the storm as a minor inconvenience.

The crew, including the captain, were less sanguine, but trying hard not to show how concerned they were in front of their passengers. Already there was an alarming amount of water coming through the hatches and the captain had decided that simply riding out the storm was not likely to be an option.

The radio crackled as the operator tried to make contact with any other ships in the area. They were in a part of the north Pacific frequented by shipping vessels on their way to or from Northwest ports, so it wasn’t unreasonable to expect one to be nearby. But his distress signal went unanswered.

The captain and first mate studied the charts intently.

We need to set a heading towards here, the captain said, indicating a point on the chart. If she doesn’t take on much more water, we should be all right. But I’d prefer to do it without our passengers, just in case.

He turned to the radio operator. Any luck, Mark?

I’m getting something, Mark said. It’s not very strong signal. I think it might be a Navy ship. Probably heading toward Bremerton or Everett.

Fine. All we need is to get these guys off. He nodded at the research team. They’re from government labs; the Navy’s government, so there shouldn’t be a problem.

Got them, Mark announced. Captain?

The captain moved to the radio and spoke in low tones, or as low as he could manage and still be heard over the noise of the storm. The researchers looked up and one of them said, What’s happening? Is there a problem?

Thanks. Over, the captain said. He turned to the scientific team. A US Navy frigate is a couple of miles away from us. In view of the weather conditions, I’m making the decision to evacuate all of you onto that ship. Sorry if this screws up your project, but it’s better than risking your lives here.

Is the storm that bad? asked another researcher.

As if in response, the ship suddenly lurched, the bow dipping violently.

Hope that answers your question. Yes, we might ride it out, but I don’t want to take the chance. Your labs would be pretty pissed off if we lost a whole team of scientists. So put on something waterproof, pack up the minimum gear you want to take with you and stand by to evacuate as quickly as possible. If you want to make it formal, I’m the captain of this ship and that’s an order.

There were some mutterings, but the team members stood up one by one and staggering from the motion of the ship, went off to the small cabins where their belongings were stowed. They returned a short while later, bundled up in foul weather gear and clutching waterproof duffel bags.

The frigate approached, steadier in the turbulent sea than the smaller ship. The researchers filed up on deck, trying to balance themselves in the heavy rain and wind. As the research ship came alongside, the frigate’s crew members swung a basket rescue seat over and one by one, the scientists were winched onto the larger ship.

When they were all off, the captain turned to the first mate. Too bad, but we can handle her better without having to worry about them. Let’s see about getting out of here.

Through the rain, the first mate watched the frigate as it began a ponderous turn to the northwest. He frowned.

What’s the matter?

How many people were in that team?

The captain thought back. Fifteen.

I counted them going onto the frigate. There were only fourteen.

They stared at each other. The ship pitched again and they both grabbed at the rail for balance.

One of them must have stayed below, the captain said. Check it out. If he’s there, he’s going to have to stay there until we reach port. I’m sure as hell not calling them back.

I bet it’s that guy they call Walt. He’s spent most of his time so far in the head, puking his guts out. I don’t know why he even came with them if he was going to be sick the whole time.

Right, see if he’s there or in a cabin. I’ll have Mark check to see if the Navy’s got him. You might have counted wrong.

They went off in opposite directions and met up again a few minutes later.

He’s not on board, the first mate said. Or if he is, I can’t find him.

The Navy says he’s not on board there, either. They’ve got fourteen. The research guys weren’t too worried because they thought he must have stayed behind here.

What the hell ... then where is he?

They both automatically scanned the surface of the ocean, but there was nothing to be seen but waves, wind and rain.

The captain uttered a profanity. The first mate nodded in sober agreement.

When this calms down, we’ll make a complete search of the ship, because right now we’ve got better things to do. If he’s not here and he’s not there, then he must have ...

... Gone overboard. Goddamned scientists, anyway.

Chapter 1

San Diego, California

Folding chairs creaked across the conference room as nearly a hundred backsides settled themselves for a long session. An occasional cough or rustling paper broke the silence, but otherwise the room was still as the speaker took the podium, brushed floppy blond hair back from his forehead and cleared his throat.

He glanced at a row of seats in the middle of the room, where two red-haired men in their mid-thirties and an older, silver-haired woman were sitting, a vacant chair beside them. A younger man of oriental appearance hurried up the center aisle and slid into the empty seat, giving the speaker a cheerful thumbs up sign. The woman smiled encouragingly. The speaker nodded at the four of them and launched into his presentation.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Ellis Freeman, and I’m from R&P Research Laboratories in Seattle. The paper I’m presenting is on The Effectiveness of Various Volatile Plant Oils in Developing Insect Repellents ..."

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TWENTY minutes later, the majority of the audience were still listening attentively, but the four in the center row were showing signs of restlessness. It wasn’t exactly that they were bored, but they had been listening to Ellis’s regular progress reports on his cinnamon oil based mosquito repellent for more than a year and so their attention was tending to wander.

It didn’t help that they could see a cloudless blue sky and palm trees through the conference room windows, an enticing sight to visitors from a colder, damper climate.

Ellis turned the final page of his paper and said, And in conclusion ...

Thank God for that, muttered the man who had given him the thumbs up sign.

Ellis completed his presentation, gazed out over the audience and asked, Does anyone have any questions?

There were some rustlings and murmured comments, but no one raised a hand.

In that case, I’ll just say thank you very much for your attention. Ellis walked down the steps from the raised stage and joined his colleagues.

The conference chairman stepped up to the microphone and announced, We will have a fifteen minute refreshment break now – coffee, tea, soft drinks and cookies are available in the next room.

How was it? Ellis asked the other four, as the majority of his audience stampeded in the direction of the food and drink.

Fine, Rob Mangan replied truthfully. Good presentation, and people seemed very interested in your research. I saw quite a few taking notes.

You sure they weren’t just doodling or doing the crossword? asked the thumbs-up man.

Shut up, Ellis said. "I don’t see anyone inviting you to present a paper anywhere."

That’s because I haven’t written any. All I did was help you correlate the data from all the times your friggin’ mosquitos chewed me up before you finally hit the right formula. And did I get any thanks for it?

Mitch, you were listed as a contributor.

I know, but you didn’t say it was my blood I contributed.

Stop it, you two, Rob said. It was very good, Ellis. You did R&P proud. Now let’s go get some coffee.

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WHEN ELLIS had first announced two months previously that he had been invited to present his mosquito repellent research paper at a scientific conference in San Diego, Rob, as R&P’s senior partner, was happy to approve his attendance, but had assumed he would go on his own. This was because Ellis normally was the last person on the lab’s staff to need any kind of backup, brimming as he was with a self-confidence bordering on arrogance, not to mention possessing a healthy bank account.

But as the time grew nearer, he began to drop hints about how rewarding it would be if all five of them attended the conference, and Rob suspected he wanted to be sure he had at least four people in the audience when he read his paper. So Rob cautiously sounded out the other four staff members, checked the lab’s financial situation, and with a sigh, booked flights and hotel rooms for all five of them to go to California.

And now here they were, ensconced in the upmarket waterfront hotel that was hosting the conference and, he hoped, getting something out of the three-day trip besides a dramatic drop in the lab’s bank balance.

The conference had brought together scientists in a variety of disciplines from all over the country, and as it turned out, Rob had found some of their presentations to be interesting and even thought-provoking. It was also exhilarating to be out of the lab for a change and away from home for a few days. He felt like a student given an unexpected break from classes, but the effect on the rest of the staff was debateable.

Ellis was taking the conference seriously, as he did everything, listening to all the speakers he could fit in, taking copious notes and exchanging contact details with anyone he felt might be useful.

Rob’s younger brother Phil – R&P’s usual conference delegate when one was needed – had run into some people he had met previously, and had bar-hopping and poker sessions scheduled.

Virginia McClain, their senior bacteriologist, had serenely gone her own way and Rob had seen her speaking to several people who like her, appeared to be on the verge of retirement. As for Mitch Okada, her much younger fellow bacteriologist, Rob didn’t even want to think about how he was entertaining himself on the first trip he had ever taken outside of the Seattle area.

The five of them moved up to the refreshment table, picked up cups of coffee and cookies and stood in a semi-circle. This was something that happened on a regular basis at their own lab, and lent an air of normality to the day, even in a strange location.

Seems weird not to be at work, Mitch said.

We’ll probably have loads of e-mails and phone messages when we get back, Rob said. But it’s good to have a complete break. We deserve it.

We didn’t have anything major going on anyway, Phil pointed out. The barnacle buster’s off with the manufacturer now, and the restaurants and the peanut butter guy can hang on for a few days before they send any more samples over.

I had an e-mail from Sly a little while ago, Ellis said. She went around to check the lab this morning and said everything was all right. No break-ins, no graffiti, not even much mail. It’s as if no one even noticed we’re gone.

That’s a relief.

These cookies sure aren’t as good as yours, Mitch told Virginia. I bet they just opened packages from the supermarket.

You could hardly expect homemade cookies when they’re feeding two hundred or more people, Virginia said. But thank you for the compliment, anyway.

Ellis scanned his agenda, which was thick with scribbled notes. There’s a paper coming up on fish protein concentrate I’d like to hear, he said.

Go for it, Rob said. We may as well get our money’s worth. He turned to the two bacteriologists. Anything catch your eye?

Mitch swallowed a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie and brushed the crumbs off his chin. "Well, that foxy chick over there sure caught my eye, he said, nodding toward a curvaceous blonde woman in her early thirties, wearing a body-hugging floral print dress. If I wasn’t a reformed sinner these days, I’d have been getting her phone number for sure, not to mention her room number."

You’re probably holding back only because you know we’re watching you, Ellis said. We promised Catherine we’d give her a report on your behavior when we got home.

"I think Mitch and I might be interested in this paper on vibrio, Virginia said, indicating one of the listings on the agenda. It’s unlikely we’ll ever see another case, but it could be useful, just on the off chance."

Mitch’s face fell, and Rob was sure he had anticipated spending the rest of the afternoon by the hotel’s swimming pool, sipping a cool drink and trying to impress young women. It was true that he had matured considerably in the last couple of years and no longer saw every female as a potential conquest, but the temptation was obviously still there.

Yeah, OK, he said.

And Phil and I will probably try and catch a couple more analytical chemistry papers, Rob said. It’s handy, this conference covering more than one discipline. Sort of a scientific smorgasbord.

Pick ‘n’ mix, Mitch said.

Yes, indeed, Virginia said. Well, it looks as though we will all be going our separate ways for the remainder of the afternoon.

Phil glanced at his watch. Sounds good. Do you want to rendezvous in the bar at about six for happy hour? Dinner’s scheduled for seven.

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BY SIX o’clock, the five R&P staff members had put in a productive afternoon. Ellis had crammed in three papers and sent e-mails to half a dozen people. Rob and Phil had set a more leisurely pace, listening to two papers, phoning their respective wives and re-connecting with people they knew from university days and professional societies.

Virginia had strong-armed Mitch into listening to the vibrio presentation, but had then given up and sent him on his way.

I don’t want or need to baby-sit you, she said. But remember R&P Labs paid for you to come down here, so you’re expected to get something constructive from the conference.

Yes, Grandma.

Virginia fixed him with a stern blue gaze. And that does not mean young women’s phone numbers.

No, Grandma.

So I’ll see you about six o’clock.

Awesome.

Virginia had watched him saunter away, hiding her smile. Then she looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching her, and seeing that the coast was clear, walked out the front door of the hotel into the bright California sunlight.

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ROB WAS the first of the R&P staff members to turn up at the hotel bar for the cocktail hour preceding dinner. The bar was a large, glossy room, with glass and chrome fittings, so that the sound of voices and background music bounced off the walls and made it seem crowded even when it wasn’t. Rows of bottles were reflected in the mirror behind the bar so the shelves, too, looked fuller than they were.

He ordered a glass of Merlot at the bar and looked around. Not many people had arrived yet, and he supposed some of the conference delegates would skip the social hour and go straight to the dinner. Those who were already there were holding drinks and talking in small clusters, and Rob felt a little like an outcast.

He had no sooner thought that than a soft voice behind him said, Are you here on your own, too?

He turned to see the woman Mitch had been ogling earlier. She had changed the floral print for what Rob was sure his wife would call a Little Black Dress, elegant but perhaps a little too revealing for the occasion. It showed off her tanned arms, legs and a generous cleavage, and provided a backdrop for her short blonde hair and wide blue eyes. A small silver purse on a chain dangled over one shoulder and black stilettoes completed the ensemble.

Rob looked down briefly at his own neat but unremarkable shirt and slacks and, although flattered, wondered why he was being targeted.   

Only temporarily, he said. The rest of my staff should be here in a few minutes.

The rest of your staff? That sounds very impressive.

Not really. There are only five of us. We’re a very small independent research lab.

She smiled up at him. That sounds interesting. I’m Katrina Houghton, by the way.

Rob Mangan.

What’s your area of specialization, Rob?

Chemistry, although I seem to spend most of my time these days as a secretary and salesman. And you?

Marine biology. I’m based at Scripps in La Jolla.

So this is your home turf, Rob observed.

More or less, but I’m in the oceanography research section, so I do a lot of field work. I can be away from San Diego for weeks at a time. Where is your lab located?

In Seattle, near the University of Washington.

A faint throat-clearing sound from behind his shoulder alerted Rob to Phil’s presence.

This is my brother Phil, he said. We’re partners in running the lab. Phil, this is Katrina Houghton. She’s a marine biologist, based at La Jolla.

Phil beamed and shook her hand enthusiastically. Pleased to meet you, Katrina.

Katrina looked from one to the other. Are you two twins?

No, Phil said promptly. Rob’s much older than me.

Rob shot him a warning glance. It was true they looked much alike, but Phil was slightly taller and slightly blonder, besides being a year and a half younger. He sincerely hoped his brother wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in front of Katrina, who looked amused. The thought flashed through his mind that she was probably hoping he would, and then wondered why he had thought that.

He was rescued by Ellis, who was crossing the room carrying a glass of white wine.

Hello there, he said. I thought I might be the first one here.

Rob performed the introductions and was amused to see Phil’s irritation as Katrina transferred her attention to Ellis, no doubt correctly estimating his net worth to be several times that of Phil’s.

I found your paper very interesting, she purred.

Ellis preened himself as Phil said, But I don’t imagine mosquitoes are much of a problem for marine biologists, are they?

That would depend on whether they work mostly on land, on board research ships or underwater, Ellis said. Besides, Katrina said she found my paper interesting, not that she planned to put the formula to a practical test.

Just as well.

Rob blinked at the two of them in amazement. It was common practice for Ellis to pick an argument, but his usual target was Mitch. To see him and Phil – both happily married – sniping at each other for the attention of an attractive marine biologist was dismaying, to say the least.

Here comes Virginia, he said, putting a warning tone into his voice. To his relief, both Phil and Ellis seemed to pull themselves together, probably because they knew Virginia wouldn’t hesitate to comment publicly on their behavior.

Katrina’s gaze flickered toward Virginia, and Rob chuckled inwardly. He knew Katrina was seeing a conservatively dressed, silver-haired woman in her mid-sixties, and was assuming Virginia would be no match for her either intellectually or in terms of attracting male attention. As Virginia’s colleagues knew, Katrina was wrong on both counts.

Before Virginia had reached the group, three men had claimed her attention, and one hurried toward the bar to bring her a glass of wine. Katrina’s blonde eyebrows lifted in ill-concealed amazement and she said, "If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I see someone