Deadly Misconduct Read online

  I slept, eventually, and I slept in. Woke up to sunshine and a much clearer head. Oh boy, the shock from experiencing the death up close was intense, and it showed me I had so much more grief to work through. What kind of stupid person even begins to think that they can be ‘normal’ in half a year or so after their mother dies. I’m wondering now whether ‘normal’ is even an option.

  Anyway, once I woke up I headed to The Lemon Tree for coffee and comfort. Jan, the owner, looks after me. It makes a difference when you’ve known someone since primary school. She knows what I need to get through.

  I remember when I first turned up at primary school, starting a new school in grade two because Mum and I had just moved into the area. I was wearing the school uniform with the hem right down below my knees and carrying my lunch and books in a red suitcase that I thought was really cool, just like I had read about in books. The other kids didn’t think it was cool though – they all had backpacks – and I knew I was in trouble. But Jan made sure she sat with me at lunch, and she shared her cupcake with me. She sat with me on the mat afterwards too, during story time, and we were fast friends from that day on. Different interests and different personalities but close friends none the less.

  She knew what I needed the morning after the conference dinner. Turns out, one of the big things I needed was food. I had thrown out about half my lunch yesterday in order to save room for the delicious food at the conference dinner. The conference organisers had served us a roll, a muffin, a chocolate bar, and a piece of fruit in a brown paper bag for lunch – what was the message there? We’re all back in school? – and as it turned out at the dinner I didn’t eat anything other than that tiny quiche they served for starters. I’d had a bit to drink on an empty stomach too. So I wasn’t feeling that great when I woke up. But coffee and bacon did their job and helped me to feel more with it.

  The chat with Jan helped too.

  ‘It was just so sudden, you know?’

  ‘I’m sure it brought back a few memories’

  ‘Yeah, it was so different but still, so much the same. I don’t want to make this all about me, but it’s really hard to get my head around it. I’m not coping with someone dying. Such a sudden death. So tragic.’ I traced around the pattern on the table with my finger. Trying to focus, trying to pull myself together.

  ‘So was it a heart attack?’

  ‘I don’t know. It looked like it. I hope they’ll do an autopsy. He being a big shot international visitor and all. I’m wondering if there will be someone at the conference who would have more detailed information about why he died. I just feel like I need to know what happened. Is that bad?’ I looked up at Jan.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not bad. It will help you to process, won’t it?’ her eyes were full of compassion.

  ‘The thing is, I just don’t understand how he could have had a heart attack. He was talking about how healthy he was, just before the dinner.’

  He had been, too. Not talking to me, as such. It wasn’t that I was good friends with Professor Conneally, far from it. It was just that we’d had a couple of hours to kill in between the conference and the dinner and Robbie, Misaki, and I had gone to find a pub close to the dinner venue where we could chill and drink, and a few others, including Conneally, had had the same idea. So we all stood around in a large group, drinks in hand or on the tall wooden tables, just chatting. Or in my case, just standing awkwardly.

  I’m not my best in that situation, I mostly listen and try to feel like I am a part of the group. I wasn’t really part of that group, I know, because when Conneally offered to buy the next round of drinks, I wasn’t included in the offer. But then, neither were Robbie or Misaki. We were just postdoctoral hangers-on trying to get in on the professorial crowd.

  One of the delegates – Ken Jones, a Tasmanian lecturer I remembered from my old biochemistry lectures – was included in the offer, but he passed on the beer in favour of an iced water. He was a short stocky guy in his fifties with hair like a wire brush. His request for water was met with a little gentle derision.

  ‘No beer? Really?’

  ‘No, not for me mate, thanks. I can’t drink as much now, I had a triple bypass last year.’

  ‘Whoah! How did that come about?’ All the attention of anyone in earshot was now focussed on this story.

  ‘I was in Singapore for three months and I was carrying some groceries back to my flat and suddenly I got a pain, right here’ He drew a line across his chest, ‘I stopped and put the bags down and it went away, I walked another 100 metres and the pain came back. I put the bags down and it went away again. Hmmm, I thought, I’ll see a doctor about that when I get home. I stayed in Singapore about another month,’ he was about to go straight on, like it was normal to completely ignore chest pain. Others didn’t think it was quite so normal ...

  ‘A month!’ the mouthful of beer was nearly spat all over everyone in the close circle.

  ‘Ha. Yeah, probably a bit longer than was good for me. Then I went home and the doctor did an angiogram, you know, up through the groin and stuff, and then he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news, the bad news is, I’ve only done one side so far and you have two blocked arteries, the good news: you’re not dead!” Then they did the other side, and I didn’t go home – straight into St Johns and had a triple bypass.’

  ‘Wow. That’s pretty full on.’ No one was worried by the graphic details. I guess we were all scientists and pretty used to the gory or the detailed in one way or another.

  ‘Yeah, so the doctor has told me to drink one glass of red a day.’

  ‘Heh, or three or four ...’ glasses were raised to his health and the conversation went on.

  ‘How about you Conneally? Did you have a health scare? I hear you’ve taken up jogging.’

  ‘Nah, nothing wrong with me – fit as a horse. I actually find that the jogging clears my mind, helps me do more work, you know? Time to myself to think without any interruptions.’

  ‘Oh really? That works? Maybe I’ll have to take it up.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not doing too badly for the old figure either – I can eat more at things like this. It’s all a benefit.’

  Professor Conneally laughed and patted his stomach and the discussion continued along the lines of diet and exercise. People love discussing what other people eat, I find. Even when you don’t want it to be a point of discussion. But Professor Conneally seemed happy enough to share his fitness regime and diet. He was proud of it.

  So I knew that he was looking after himself and I found it really strange that he would suffer a sudden heart attack when there was nothing wrong, when he was doing all the right things health-wise. Just so unexpected.

  ‘Maybe he was exaggerating,’ Jan said ‘or sometimes people who were unhealthy and then take up jogging, they have heart attacks. They go for a jog, and fall down dead. It happens all the time.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m probably making too much of this. It’s probably just one of those things that happen. Except ...’

  ‘Except, what?’

  ‘Except that he wasn’t jogging. He was just eating his dinner!’

  ‘What can I say? The thing is, he’s gone. Worrying about how or why he died isn’t going to bring him back. Sorry to be blunt, but ...’

  ‘I know. I just wish I could find out what happened. I’m sure it would help me find closure. Do you think ... would Nate be able to find out anything?’

  Nate is Jan’s husband. He’s a detective with the Hobart police force. Jan met him in Melbourne when she was at university and they moved back to Tassie after they got married. People do that a lot in Tassie – move away and then move back. The move back usually presages the birth of children, but I hadn’t seen that with Jan and Nate yet. Not so much as a suspicion of a bump on Jan’s gorgeously slim figure. They were young though. There was time.

  ‘I guess so. There is bound to be an autopsy or a coroner’s report or something. This guy is a big name, you tell me, and an over
seas visitor. The thing is, I’m not sure if Nate will be able to tell you the outcome. It will probably be confidential. And you know Nate, he’s a stickler for the rules.’

  ‘Could you try him for me anyway? He might be able to just give you a nod or something and then you can tell me if it was all natural and stuff.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Jan. She didn’t look too happy about the request, but I have been receiving that look since primary school, and I knew she’d come through for me. But she had to check one more time, ‘Are you sure this isn’t just because he was giving you a job?’

  ‘Oh, it might be.’ I looked down at my hands, cupped around the coffee mug. She was right, I was probably paying too much attention to his death because it also changed my life; because Conneally’s death had also destroyed the dreams I had of an exciting career in Cambridge.

  One of Jan’s staff called her to the register. She had a café to run and she’d spent too much time looking after me already. I sat and sipped my coffee and my thoughts went around and around, playing over every detail of the night before. The conversation with Misaki and Robbie, the scene at the VIP table – all the chatter and laughter cut short. The feeling of being outside in the cool evening air.

  I thought about all the people who would be affected by the professor’s death. I wondered whether Mrs Conneally had someone to look after her. Whether I could find her and offer my comfort and then just be there when she got the coroner’s report ... But that was a bit mercenary, wasn’t it? Latching on to someone and ‘supporting’ them for my own benefit, just so I could get answers.

  Another sip of coffee and I realised that the conference was still going on. There was another day of talks booked, and I assumed they’d be holding them still. And Trudy would be there, and would be wondering what happened. She didn’t make it to the dinner and she wouldn’t know.

  Robbie had asked her, ‘Are you coming to the dinner tonight?’ which was a bit of a mistake. Trudy works at the uni in Hobart, and is the primary carer for her four children, and always feels guilty for not giving more to one of those jobs or the other.

  ‘Yeah, no, I can’t come to the dinner, it all got too hard. I have to pick up one son from table tennis, then drop off another to band practice, then the grandparents are coming around for dinner and then I need to mark assignments.’

  ‘Are you serious?! That’s a crazy night!’

  ‘That’s pretty normal for Trudy’ I’d said, ‘she’s superwoman.’

  ‘Not really,’ Trudy had looked humbly at the floor ‘It could be just bad time management. There’s always so much to do.’

  ‘Nope, really superwoman,’ I’d assured the rest of the bunch. ‘Enjoy your night Trudy, we’ll think of you as we eat and drink more than is good for us! We’ll try not to feel too guilty!’

  I felt guilty now. I should have rung her or something straight away, let her know what had happened. It’s not fair that she’s always the last to know just because she’s so dedicated to her family. I shoved the last mouthful of bacon and egg into my mouth and swilled it down with the rest of the coffee. Then I headed to the conference centre.

  The empty foyer of the conference venue had all the warmth and charm of a hospital waiting room, especially after the hospitality and comfort of The Lemon Tree. The large room was dotted with white plastic tables and around the edge the poster displays had big gaps, like missing teeth, where posters had been taken down prematurely. But maybe I was being unfair. At the beginning of the conference I had had no such reaction to the room.

  That Wednesday morning when I had arrived, the first day of what I hoped would be a new start, I had been full of anticipation. After a year away from the academic scene, this was my first foray back in.

  I remember the holiday atmosphere as the different conference delegates met and renewed connections from the last conference or caught up with lab and office mates after separation caused by differing travel schedules and hotel bookings. I had arranged to meet Trudy first thing but she was living up to her reputation of being late to everything and there had been no sign of her with twenty minutes to go before the first session. And to tell the truth, I enjoyed having some time alone to take it all in.

  Snippets of conversation reached my ears:

  ‘When did you arrive?’

  ‘Two days ago – I’ve already done a bush walk, now I’m ready to sit for a while!’

  ‘Tell me where you went! I’m heading out right after the conference.’

  A far as I was concerned, that was a group doing exactly the right thing! Tasmania is awesome for nature lovers, but Hobart is a bit of a small town if you are into city life or night clubbing. Or whatever people do. I am the nature sort, myself. Or actually more the ‘good book, comfortable chair and fireside’ sort.

  ‘How are you enjoying the weather, coming from Brisbane?’

  ‘Is this summer? I’m wearing more layers than I usually wear in the winter.’ The girl had wrapped her light jacket more tightly around herself.

  ‘It’s not so bad. It’s pretty similar to the English summer, I’m feeling pretty much at home.’

  I had decided to join this conversation, I didn’t want my beloved state getting a bad name. I had just wandered up and joined in.

  ‘It’s not great weather right now but it should be better by the end of the week, you know, they say, if you don’t like the Tassie weather, come back in five minutes.’

  ‘Are you a local? How hot does it get here in summer?’

  ‘Not real hot actually. We usually get about five very hot days and we always get a crash straight afterwards. We could have one day of 35 degrees but the next day will probably be 16.’

  The girl from Brisbane shivered expressively but the English delegate was appreciative.

  ‘That sounds pleasant – none of the tortuous long hot spells where you think you’re going to pass out from the heat.’

  ‘You get used to it. We all enjoy the heat but we only really like it for a day or so. The really fun bit is that the summer doesn’t heat up properly until after the students go back to school in February. That’s when we have our lovely hot days, and that’s when the water has warmed up enough to go swimming. And there are all the students stuck in school. I remember being really put out about that as a kid.’

  ‘You go swimming?’ This was the girl from Brisbane. ‘I dipped my toes in the water at the beach yesterday. It looks nice, yes, but it was freezing, so cold. I can’t imagine anyone swimming here.’

  ‘It’s pretty cool, yep.’ I nodded. ‘Direct line to Antarctica. But you won’t get a good picture of summer this week. December is reasonably volatile, weather-wise. We have even had snow for Christmas. In fact, in our newspaper we had a report of a UK family who came here for a holiday and experienced their first ever white Christmas.’

  ‘Hopefully the weather will be decent on our afternoon off. It would be great if we could go up the mountain and actually see the view.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like our chances are very good though. Knowing my luck it will be pouring with rain for the whole four hours I have to spend sight seeing.’

  ‘I’ll cross everything for you – fingers and toes. But you may just have to come down and visit again.’

  The conversation felt like it was at an end and I was wondering how to bow out gracefully when I heard a yell in my general direction.

  ‘Alicia! What are you doing here, Woman?’

  ‘Robbie! Didn’t you get my email?’

  ‘What email? I haven’t checked in the last week. I’ve been saving them for the boring sessions. No worries.’ Robbie gave me a hug and checked in, ‘how’s life for you since you left the big city?’

  ‘I tell you, I’m so enjoying the easier pace of life here. It’s slower, but it’s much more peaceful.’

  I had decided that I would stay positive and keep my real thoughts about life to myself. I assumed that a few people would know that I left work because my Mum was sick. But they di
dn’t need to know, really, about how I was feeling now. No-one would want to know about my grief, or my uncertainty about being able to go back to work, or my double-mindedness as to whether I even wanted to go back to work at a university. I would keep it light. At least until someone asked more deeply. And Robbie, friend though he was, was unlikely to ask more deeply.

  ‘You’ll be very glad to know that I’ve found a place to get good coffee, so the important things are taken care of. How has your year been?’

  ‘Yeah, alright,’ he said, ‘I’ve had three papers published this year and there are another two in the pipeline so I’m a bit stuffed, to be honest. Five papers will do for one year don’t ya think?’

  Yes, I did think. This competition for more and more output was one thing about the academic career that I had found completely draining. Can’t we just do the work creatively and see where it takes us? Keep it positive, keep it light I told myself, repeating it like a mantra. As far as encouraging me to get back into the scene, this was not a great start.

  ‘What’s the plan for next year?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, if there’s funding then another couple of years as lab manager but I’m starting to look around for a more permanent place – I’ve had ten years already on short-term contracts.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you were on soft money there ...’

  ‘Yeah, no security – two-year contracts at most. I’m starting to think industry might be the way to go. A good lab manager position in R&D in a pharma would be awesome, I just need time to start looking.’

  I nodded, ‘I get that. I hope you didn’t come down here to look for work though. Tassie is not the place to be looking for an industry position – no big pharmaceutical companies here. But I hope you find someone here at the conference you can talk to, I’ll keep an ear out for you. Robbie, you’re being rude. Who’s your friend?’

  The young girl hanging around behind Robbie moved forward to say hello.