Scandal in the Secret City (23 page)

A
fter the meeting, I insisted that I didn’t need an escort home. The most persistent offer came from Teddy. I would have liked having him walk me back but, despite our earlier indiscretion, I needed to keep him at arm’s length until the problem was solved one way or another.

At home, I put on the kettle to make a cup of tea, fantasizing about having a cup of green tea or oolong but I hadn’t seen either of them since the war started. The only thing I could get nowadays was black tea grown in India. While it steeped, I debated whether or not to dig into my dwindling supply of sugar to sweeten the cup but decided that adding a few drops of milk would suffice.

I sat down in front of the coal stove with my cup and
The Song of Bernadette
that Mrs Bishop had loaned to me the previous week – my, how things had changed in a week. Way back then, Mrs Bishop treated me like a second daughter. Last night, she had treated me like the mud on her shoes.

I was lost in the book when I heard a knock, banging me back into the real world. I glanced at the clock – almost 10:30. My arms tingled, my mouth dried. I was afraid to answer the door but too anxious to ignore it.

I rose, crossed the room, pressed against the door and asked, ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s Sally. From the guest house. I’m sorry it’s so late. I just got off work.’

I opened the door and shut it as quickly as I could; the wind outside was absolutely frigid. Even with the door closed, I could feel it seeping around and past the sill, making me shiver. I hurried back to the stove to warm back up.

‘Again, I’m sorry,’ Sally said. ‘But I did think this was important.’

‘Would you like a cup of tea? I still have hot water on the stove.’

‘Oh, thank you, yes.’

‘Come on in the kitchen with me and tell me what’s so important while I fix your cup.’

‘I know who that man is – the one who passed notes to Irene.’

‘Really, who?’

‘Someone named Dr Bishop.’

‘Are you sure?’ Oh, please tell me you’re not.

‘Yes. I hope I don’t get in trouble. We’ve been told over and over not to question the guests about anything. He’s not exactly a guest and I’m hoping he won’t say anything. But I know I broke a rule.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I asked him his name,’ Sally said.

‘You just came out and asked him?’

‘Not exactly. He came to escort a visitor to one of the labs. He asked me to let the man know he was here. I pulled out a piece of paper, wrote down the date and time and said, “May I tell him who’s calling?” He just stared at me at first. I was really nervous. So I said, “New policy, sir. We have to keep a record of everyone who comes to see one of our guests.” He raised his eyebrows at me and said, “Dr Bishop.” And I wrote it down.’

Was it Dr Bishop or was it someone else using his name? ‘Let’s go back in by the fire. This house is so drafty.’ Back in the living room, I asked, ‘What did he look like?’

‘Dark hair with a wave in it. A little gray at the temples. Brown eyes. A dimple in his chin. Distinguished looking. Taller than average. But not too tall.’

That description fit Dr Bishop well – too well. ‘What did he sound like? His voice, I mean. Did he have an accent?’

‘Not much of one. Sounded a little bit like Tennessee. Like he was born here but had spent some time away. You know what I mean? Shoot, a year ago, I wouldn’t know what that meant. But with all the people coming and going through the guest house, I’m becoming an expert on accents,’ she said with a laugh.

‘So his voice was a bit like mine?’

‘A bit. But you definitely don’t sound Tennessee underneath your Yankee polish but there’s obviously a southern influence in your voice.’

Oh, dear, that did sound like Dr Bishop – another arrow pointed in his direction. Could I be wrong about him? Could he be capable of killing Irene? I realized that Sally was waiting for a response to something but I had no idea what she’d asked me. ‘I’m sorry, Sally. My mind wandered.’

‘I was just wondering if you knew this Dr Bishop. But you look tired, I’d better get going and let you get some sleep. If I can help you with anything else, let me know. And thanks for the tea.’

I almost urged her to stay. I needed my sleep but at that moment, I did not want to be left alone with my dark thoughts. I didn’t want to believe Dr Bishop was involved with Irene but I couldn’t deny the reality of what Sally said. An affair. I can accept that. But did he kill her, too? I didn’t want to believe that yet – and I wouldn’t – unless Gregg learned that the story about Ottinger was a lie. That would change everything.

In the meantime, I needed to get confirmation of Dr Bishop’s alibi from Ann. I hoped she knew something that made it totally impossible for him to have returned to Oak Ridge that night.

When I walked into the lab Thursday morning, I went past Gregg’s work station. As I approached, he shook his head. ‘Couldn’t get her,’ he said. ‘I’ll try again tonight. You won’t believe whose phone I used.’

‘Whose?’

Gregg nodded his head to his left. ‘Charlie’s.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I went to his house after the meeting that night. I told him that I was concerned about some information I received that could indicate a security problem but I didn’t want to say anything to any of the authorities until I could confirm the accuracy of the information.’

‘That was bold, Gregg.’

‘Actually, he commended me for not taking any risks with someone’s reputation until I knew what I heard was fact. Anyway, he said I could come back tonight and try again.’

‘I know Dr Bishop was involved with Irene. One of her co-workers identified him as the man who was slipping notes to her. That doesn’t mean he killed her, but that does make his credibility about Ottinger a major concern.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll follow up tonight,’ Gregg said.

While I worked, I tried to think of a good reason to go to Ann’s desk. Failing to come up with any good ideas, I kept an eye on the hallway, hoping to see her pass by on the way to the rest room. It took a couple of hours, but, finally, there she was. I followed her.

When I opened the door, Ann spun around and said, ‘What do you want?’

‘I need to talk to you, Ann. I need to tell you what I’ve been doing and how you can help.’

Ann folded her arms across her chest. ‘OK. What’s going on?’

‘I’ve been looking into Irene Nance’s death. Some people – important people – haven’t been happy about that.’

‘That girl they found outside the fence?’

‘Yes. But Ann, please don’t tell your dad I talked to you.’

‘Of course not, Libby. I’m surprised you even said that. But why do you care about what happened to that girl?’

I searched Ann’s face. Her expression had softened and her folded arms didn’t cling as tightly to her body as they had a few seconds ago. ‘Her sister was my roommate when I lived in the dormitory.’

‘Oh, so you’re doing it for her? What about the police or the sheriff – aren’t they investigating it?’

‘Ann, I found her body … well, my old roommate and I did. When we saw it, it wasn’t outside the fence. It was at the high school.’

Ann’s eyes widened. ‘Did you move the body outside the fence?’

‘Good heavens, no.’

‘Then who did?’

‘The army,’ I said.

‘Whatever for?’

‘They claim it was both for the sake of security and for the morale of the community.’

‘That doesn’t sound right, but we are at war. You said I could help. How?’

‘I need to know if there is any chance your dad could have come back here to Oak Ridge Christmas night.’

‘You think my dad …? How could you?’ Ann said, her arms flying out from her body and pinwheeling in the air.

‘I can’t believe your dad would kill her but I do believe he was having an affair with her.’

‘You are a liar! You are trying to destroy my parents’ marriage. Why is that, Libby? You want my dad for yourself?’

‘Of course not, Ann, I—’

‘You just get away from me, Miss Elizabeth Clark. You stay away from me. You stay away from my dad. You stay away from my home. You hear me?’ Ann shoved the restroom door hard and stalked down the hall.

Oh dear, that was a mistake to try and explain the situation to Ann; I should have realized that being told her father had had an affair would be too much of a shock for her to handle. What could I do about it? Not much. Not now. I filed it away for later consideration and focused anew on the work at hand.

At the end of another long day, I bundled up before stepping outside. My hand was on the door when I heard my name.I tensed when I saw Ann hurrying towards me. ‘Wait up, Libby.’

I fought the urge to run outside and all the way home.

‘Boy, you sure work late. I’ve been waiting forever for you to finish up for the day.’

‘Well, I’m done now. What do you have to say?’ I braced for the worst.

‘I need to talk to you. Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you home.’ We walked quietly for a couple of minutes. Instead of looking at Ann, I focused on the boards beneath my feet. Finally, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Libby. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like I did earlier. I’ve been thinking about what you said and it made my parents’ fight make more sense. How do you know about my dad having an affair?’

I hated telling her about it. ‘He used to slip notes to Irene. Someone who worked for her said she was in love and they thought he was the one.’

‘But see, you don’t definitely know, do you?’ Ann asked.

‘Not one hundred per cent. But it doesn’t look good.’

‘But just because he might have been having an affair, doesn’t mean he hurt that girl. In fact, I know he couldn’t have.’

‘How do you know that?’ I asked.

‘Because Dad couldn’t have gone anywhere on Christmas night – my aunt’s car disappeared.’

‘How do you know he didn’t take it?’

‘My cousin and I were up late playing Monopoly – the game went on forever. Anyway, about ten o’clock, my dad asked my Aunt Mabel where her car keys were. They both looked around without finding them and Dad went outside. When he came back in, he said that the car was gone. My aunt said that nobody should expect him to go to a meeting on Christmas night anyway.’

‘Where was the car?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Who couldn’t have taken it? Do you have an uncle? A cousin? Could it have been your mom?’

‘My Uncle Henry and my mom had both gone to bed. I was playing with one cousin and my other cousin had shipped out with the Navy. But anyway, around midnight my Aunt Mabel and my dad went to bed. It was after two in the morning before I landed on Boardwalk where my cousin had a hotel and I lost the game. The car wasn’t there then. It was there the next morning but nobody wanted to talk about it. My cousin and I both asked about it but all we got was: “It’s here now, that’s all that matters.” But it wasn’t there when my dad went to bed so I know he couldn’t have gone to Oak Ridge. He wanted to go, but he couldn’t.’

‘Irene came home early on Christmas night. She wasn’t supposed to come back until two days later. But she planned on meeting someone that night.’

Ann sighed. ‘Probably was my dad. But he didn’t make it. She had to have met up with someone else.’

‘Thank you, Ann, for telling me about this. Do you want to come in? I don’t have anything but eggs and spam but I’d be glad to share it with you.’

‘Nah. I need to get home. Mom’s already going to be mad because I’m late for supper. She’s been so touchy the last couple of days. I don’t want to give her another reason to get all steamed up. You won’t tell her about my dad, will you? She’ll probably find out if she doesn’t know already. But if you tell her, she might tell me I can’t see you again.’

I fixed supper thinking about Dr Bishop. I was pleased that there was now a very strong possibility that he could not have killed Irene. But where did that leave everything? Why did Irene say Dr Bishop was named Bill? Is that what he told her? Or did she just make it up to protect his identity?

And who did kill her if it wasn’t Bishop? Did Irene pick up with someone else when Bishop stood her up? Or did someone just happen to run across her and take advantage of finding her all alone, waiting for her lover? But if they always met at Towncenter, how did she get to the high school? Did they change their meeting place? Or did she know the person she encountered at the usual place? Could it have been Dr Ottinger?

W
hen I stepped out of the house Friday morning, someone was huddled beside the coal bin. I walked down a couple of steps, and he turned around. ‘Gregg, what are you doing here?’

‘I thought walking you to work would be a good time to talk. I reached my cousin last night,’ he said.

‘And?’

‘I asked her if there’d been some sort of scandal involving a professor last year. She said she didn’t know of any but said if I told her a bit more, she’d ask around. So, I told her what Bishop told you but I didn’t mention Dr Ottinger’s name.

‘And she said, “Oh, that wasn’t my school – that was Teresa’s. That’s all she wanted to talk about last summer at the family reunion.” Teresa is my second cousin. She goes to the University of California. I hadn’t heard about it because I couldn’t go to the reunion since I already went up to Rochester at the time. So, I got Teresa’s phone number and talked to her later that night.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘I asked her the same question and she confirmed the scandal, said it was horrible. One girl left in disgrace – total disgrace. I asked her if that girl was pregnant. And she said, “What do you think I am telling you?” I almost came over after I got off of the phone with her but it was pretty late by then. The time difference out in California made it hard to get hold of her at a civilized hour.’

Wasn’t Dr Bishop at the University of California? I wondered but didn’t dare say those words out loud.

‘I really didn’t want to use names over the telephone line. But I had to know, so I asked her, “Dr Ottinger, right?” And she said, “Ottinger? I never heard of him.” And I asked who it was. She said she couldn’t remember the name off the top of her head. All she could remember, she said was that his name had something to do with church. So I said, “Parrish?”’

‘Who’s Parrish?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. I just made it up – trying to prod her into remembering. But she said that wasn’t it. So I said, “Chapel?” And again she said “no” but insisted she’d know it if she heard it. So I said it. I asked her, “Bishop? Dr Bishop?” And she said, “Yes, that’s it. Dr Bishop – Marc Bishop if I remember correctly. They said that no female chemistry student was safe around him. There were a lot of other girls besides the one who got pregnant”.’

I stopped walking and stood still, my mind racing as it sought a way to discredit or minimize what I’d just heard. Gregg went a few steps and then came back to my side. ‘I didn’t want to believe it either, Libby. But there it is. He had several affairs with students. One of them got pregnant. He got into a lot of trouble for that. If he got another girl pregnant maybe this time he’d handle it differently.’

‘He’d kill her?’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of, Libby. It sure follows the laws of probability. And the simplest solution is usually the right one. It’s logical that whoever had an affair with Irene is the one who killed her.’

‘But he couldn’t have, Gregg,’ I said and started walking again.

‘Why not?’

I told him about the vehicle situation on Christmas night and said, ‘See. He had no way to get here when Irene was murdered.’

‘Think about it, Libby. If he were planning a murder, don’t you think he’s smart enough to cover his tracks? What if he hid the car earlier and put on that little act. And when Ann thought he was going to bed, he slipped out the back door or a window and went to the car, drove down here, bumped off Irene and drove back?’

‘I can’t believe that’s true, Gregg. Marc Bishop isn’t that unusual a name, is it? And there’d be signs, wouldn’t there? I mean, he seems so nice and …’

‘I’m having a hard time with it, too, Libby. I think we need to get the group together and try to hash this all out. Someone, like Tom, who doesn’t know Bishop, might be able to show us where our logic is faulty. Or maybe we’ll convince him that Bishop isn’t the kind of man who’d commit murder. I’ll spread the word and see when we can get together. I don’t think I can pull it off tonight. How about Saturday night at Joe’s?’

‘It’s too loud there on weekend nights to think and impossible to have a conversation. What if everyone comes to my place – Sunday afternoon?’

‘Are you sure that’s wise? It might look suspicious.’

‘Nothing is wise right now, Gregg. But it would look less suspicious during the daytime than it would be if all of you snuck into my place after dark. And we’ve got to sort this out. If we reach any strong conclusion, I’ll go see the lieutenant colonel on Monday. If not, we can plan what to do next. In the meantime, I’ll try to get a minute with Ann and find out if they were in California.’

‘OK, I’ll see if I can gather all our molecules together.’

I giggled at the sound of his words. ‘I’m sorry. It just sounded so silly.’

‘No apologies needed. I told you it was a goofy, alcohol-induced name.’

Once again, I worked with an eye on the hallway, watching for Ann. When I spotted her going down the hall, I waited a couple of minutes, hoping to make the encounter appear serendipitous. I walked in as she emerged from a stall. ‘Hi, Ann. How are you?’

‘Typing like mad. It seems as if everybody wants a letter sent out today – typical Friday.’

‘I wanted to ask you about something.’

Ann turned a sad face towards me. ‘About my dad?’

‘Oh, no. Nothing like that. It was just wondering about your accent. I was talking to a girl about all the different accents around here and she was trying to figure them all out. It made me think about you. I know your family all lives in Tennessee but you don’t have a real definite Tennessee accent.’

‘That’s because I moved away from the state years ago and just moved back this year.’

‘Where did you go? Up north?’ I prodded.

‘No, we went out west. California. Berkeley, California.’

‘What were you doing out there?’

‘It was because of my dad,’ she said with a smile. ‘He was a professor at the University of California. I thought you knew that.’

‘If I did, I’d forgotten.’ I slipped into a stall, hoping Ann would go away.

She shouted, ‘Talk to you later,’ and went out the door.

I didn’t want her to say that. I wanted Irene’s killer to be anyone but Dr Bishop. If he was charged with murder, I knew my friendship with Ann would be over. Even if Ann didn’t cut it off, she and her mother would move away from Oak Ridge. I’d never see her again. At least not until after the war. The last phrase curdled. I was so tired of waiting for ‘after the war’.

At the end of the day, Gregg reported on his progress, ‘The old lab telegraph is working well. Caught up with most of the guys. Me or one of the other guys will talk to the remaining three at the dorms tonight. We’ll all be at your place on Sunday afternoon at two.’

Each little step in the right direction gave me a good feeling. As usual, everything was moving too slow for my taste – but I had to admit that I always felt that way in my life and in my work for as long as I could remember. I always wanted to charge ahead much faster than the situation would allow.

When I reached my block, I saw a light shining in my house. Had I forgotten to turn them off that morning? I didn’t think so. Someone must be inside. I stopped on the boardwalk, unsure of whether to go into the house or run for help. I grappled with my emotions by running a quick logic check: I’d told several people to feel free to come in out of the cold if I was not there when they arrived; and wouldn’t anyone with a reason to harm me want to catch me unawares? The light was on. It was not a surprise attack.

I couldn’t see any flaws in my line of logic but still, I was apprehensive about the reliability of my conclusion. I mounted the stairs with heavy feet and opened the door. Mrs Bishop was sitting under the lamp by the coal stove. Knowing who was there did little to alleviate my anxiety. Our last encounter had not been pleasant. Maybe Ann told her about my suspicions. Maybe that was why she was here.

Mrs Bishop stood and said, ‘Good evening, Libby. I hope you don’t mind me coming inside. I was getting cold out there on your stairway.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ I lied, standing between Mrs Bishop and the door.

‘First of all, dear, I wanted to apologize for being in such a foul mood the other night. It wasn’t you. I was rather irritated with Dr Bishop.’

I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but the couple had had an argument after I’d left. Maybe it was true. I relaxed a bit and smiled. ‘Think nothing of it, Mrs Bishop.’

‘That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m worried about Ann. She’s hasn’t been herself. I don’t know what to do and was hoping you could help me.’

‘I’ll certainly try, Mrs Bishop. How about I make some tea for us first?’

‘That would be delightful, dear.’

I went into the kitchen with Mrs Bishop trailing behind me. As she stood behind me, it seemed as if she was constantly moving out of my range of vision. Her movements made me feel uneasy but I pushed that feeling aside, chastising myself for being a nervous Nellie and imagining danger where none existed.

I was pouring water from the kettle into the teapot when something flew past my face and jerked me back. My throat tightened. The kettle clattered to the floor. Hot water sloshed from the spout scalding the skin on my legs. But worse, I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I tried to cry out but only squeaked the puniest of sounds. What was happening? At first, I had no idea but when I did, panic washed over me.

Mrs Bishop had cinched something around my neck and she was tightening it more with every passing second. I clawed at my throat, trying to relieve the pressure and kicked my feet back at Mrs Bishop, but she shifted around, keeping me off-balance and unable to land a solid blow. Why was she doing this?

In the drawer, there was a knife, but I couldn’t reach it. My head was swimming. I had to act immediately or it would be too late. Desperate, I lunged forward, falling on the counter. Mrs Bishop tightened her grip.

I fumbled open the drawer and felt inside until I found the handle of my biggest knife. I whipped it out and stabbed backwards.

Mrs Bishop shouted out and fell to the floor. A scarf fluttered down on the linoleum beside her. Mrs Bishop wasn’t moving. Blood pooled on the floor. The knife protruded from her side.

My head was spinning but I could breathe. I took a deep breath, reveling in it but when I took a step, I nearly lost my balance. I used the counter and the walls to keep upright as I staggered to the front door. Outside on the landing, I inhaled deeply again, trying to regain my equilibrium. I felt very unsteady but my fear summoned sufficient adrenaline to move my feet down the stairs and up the boardwalk. I moved as quickly as I could on my uncooperative, shaking legs. I didn’t stop until I collapsed against the counter at the police department.