Part 24 (1/2)
thirteen.
crone is waiting for us at the jail. Harry called ahead to make sure the guards would deliver him to one of the attorney-client consulting cubicles over the dayroom where ”the Professor” has been pumping iron and putting miles on the treadmill while we've been in court.
The news that Epperson served as a source of information for Kalista's mother hit us out of the blue. Harry has tried and gotten nowhere with Epperson. Now we are faced with the prospect of hostile testimony, what we have feared from the former basketball star from the inception.
”What did Crone say when you gave him the news?”
”If he was surprised, he didn't voice it,” says Harry.
”You think he knew?”
”If he didn't, he's the coolest character since James Dean. Didn't seem to phase him in the least. Said he had absolute confidence in us.” Harry looks at me with a crooked grin.
”Maybe he didn't know what else to say.”
”He could have shown a little fear,” says Harry. ”That would be a nice change.”
”So the man's got ice in his veins.”
”He's a f.u.c.king snow cone. Which leaves us right where we started. Kalista Jordan being dead, anything she told her mother we can keep out. That's hearsay,” says Harry. ”But Epperson's another matter. He's alive and available. If Tannery puts him up on the stand and Epperson testifies that Crone was mixing some genetic stew with the entrails of wombats to come up with a new formula for African IQ, our closing argument is gonna resonate like the n.a.z.i national anthem. It wouldn't be a long leap for the jury to conclude that Kalista was killed because Crone found out she was about to go public on some hair-raising racial experiments. You're going to find yourself defending the angel of death,” he tells me.
”That doesn't make sense,” I say. ”Why would he hire her in the first place if he was working on something that was racially charged? Why take the chance?”
”Who's he going to hire?” says Harry. ”There's not a lot of skinheads running around with Ph.D.s in whatever it was.”
”Molecular electronics,” I tell him.
”Whatever. Crone needed qualified researchers to get funding. And the presence of a minority or two didn't hurt. He knew how to play the game. Maybe he didn't have a choice. You have to remember Crone had to get the funding, the corporate grant, from that company.”
”Cybergenomics.”
”That's the one. If he had to take Epperson to obtain a research grant, it could be he was induced to hire Kalista Jordan for the same reason. They knew each other before they went to work there. Epperson was still with the company when Kalista was hired. He didn't come on board at the center until after,” says Harry. ”What if they were working together to get information on Crone? If Kalista's mother is telling the truth and she fired up her daughter with tales of activism from the days of yore, the daughter could have gone to Epperson, enlisted his help.”
”And you think they were out to set him up?”
”If the mother is to be believed. And if Epperson comes through for him on the stand, Tannery's got a good chance of selling it to the jury.”
I think about this for a moment. ”There's something wrong, which doesn't fit.”
”What is it?” says Harry.
”Why would a corporation like Cybergenomics touch anything like that? I mean if Crone was engaged in research with a social and political downside why would they get involved, sully their corporate image? I can't imagine there would be that much money involved in it.”
Harry mulls this over for a moment, deep in thought as we walk through the courthouse lobby. ”What if . . .” He's thinking out loud. ”What if their funding was for something else? What if Crone was working on the racial stuff on the side? Something the company didn't know about? If news of it got out, think what would happen to his funding.”
”Dry up overnight,” I say.
”It could be worse than that,” says Harry. ”If Crone was diverting funds for something else, playing hide-and-seek with grant money, you're talking some nasty criminal s.h.i.+t. Now there's something to kill for.”
Harry and I suffer the same thought instantly. We utter the words in unison: ”A financial audit.”
We turn to look at each other, stopped dead in our tracks. Anybody watching us from the top of the escalator, looking down, might half expect by body language alone to see some luminescent green light flicker on behind our eyes.
”Was there one?” I ask.
”I don't know.”
Then I remember I had some of the doc.u.ments, working papers on the early grant request for the Huntington's study on the children.
”That would give us something to start with. The project number and the name they used for the princ.i.p.al research. It was on the grant request.”
”What do we know about the funding?” I ask Harry.
”Squat,” he says. Suddenly the sickening thought: We've been looking in all the wrong places.
I think maybe I might have filed the grant request in one of the cabinets back in the office, but then I realize where I left them. They were copies only, and when we finished with them I left them with Doris Boyd.
I tell Harry I'll call her in the morning. He can stop by and pick them up. ”That'll give you a start, anyway. Tell us where to begin looking.”
”If that's it,” says Harry, ”Crone would be under a legal hammer.”
”Like a moth under a mallet.”
”He could have been personally liable for the funds,” says Harry.
”That's if they were feeling charitable. Didn't nail him criminally for diversion, embezzlement,” I say.
”That wouldn't look too good on his resume next time he goes out fund hunting. And it's tough to get a grant when you're in the joint,” says Harry. Though I suspect Harry has known a few clients who have done it.
”You think this is what Jordan and Epperson were doing, chasing the money trail?”
”I don't know.” Harry doesn't want to think about it. ”Maybe we're just worried about nothing,” he says. ”I mean, we can't connect all the dots.”
”Let's just hope Tannery can't. I don't need any more surprises. Find out everything you can about any audits. Track the trail of the grant money, especially anything coming in from Cybergenomics.”
Harry makes notes as we walk, then clicks the top of his pen and sticks it back in his vest pocket. ”If there's anything there, I hope you have an answer for them.”
”Me?” I look at him as we stride across the lobby. I'm half a step behind.
”You're the one Crone has all this confidence in,” he says.
”What about you? You're the one who's dreaming up all this s.h.i.+t to worry about.”
”That's probably why he doesn't have any confidence in me.” Harry smiles.