Cited to Death (4 page)

Thursday May 31

But I didn’t get a chance to tell Kevin anything. When I got up at 5:30, he was already dressed and out the door, on the way to a crime scene.

The day dawned hot, hazy and humid, with an air quality alert. That was especially bad news on this day. People with asthma were supposed to stay indoors on days like this. Instead, I’d be heading towards the Valley, and the worst of the smog, to stand outside for at least 30 minutes. I usually went for a run on Thursdays, but because of the alert, I went to the pool instead.

I’d had asthma as a kid, but it got worse when I moved to LA. The air in LA was a lot better than it used to be, but still not as good as in Oceanside, north of San Diego, where I’d grown up. Or Berkeley, where I’d gone to college. Or Oxford, England, where I’d gotten my doctorate. I had to use a preventive inhaler every day and carry a rescue inhaler with me wherever I went. I was sensitive to just about everything. Dust, smog, pollen, and cats were all no-nos. But the worst was perfume and cologne. Some brands just made me cough, but some made me start wheezing even before I could get my inhaler out of my pocket. Everyone knew not to wear scent around me. I even had a sign posted on my office door banning those wearing perfume, cologne, and other scents from entering.

As I left the house, I patted my pocket to make sure my inhaler was there.

When I got to the office, I had a voice mail waiting for me from Dr. Loomis. “Jamie – please come see me.”
Oh shit
. What did I do? I hustled upstairs and knocked at her door, and she beckoned me in. “Please come in and look at this.”

Dr. Loomis’s email was open, and it was full of messages from me. Most of them seemed to be offering Dr. Loomis the opportunity to invest in metals. I was appalled. “Holy sh-um – crap! How many of those are there?”

“At least 100. George and Lesley in Technical Services inform me that the same phenomenon has occurred in their email. I expect there will be others. Can I assume that you know nothing about this?”

“No, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am, you can assume that. I have no idea what’s going on. My computer crashed yesterday, but I thought IT fixed it.”

“Have you turned on your computer yet this morning?”

“No, I came straight here.”

“Perhaps you should go check your own email. I have called IT to come look at mine; I’ll send them to you when they are finished here.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m really sorry about this.” I headed back downstairs. What
was
going on? First my computer crashed yesterday, and now this. It flashed through my mind to wonder if it had anything to do with Dan’s articles and the visit from Dr. Oliver. But I dismissed that immediately. That was eccentric-patron conspiracy theory land, and I wasn’t going there. It had to be coincidence. No one from outside UCLA should be able to hack into the system deeply enough to affect only my computer, and no one from inside UCLA was involved in the Dan thing.

As I walked into the office, my phone was ringing. It was Karen Lewis. “Hey, Karen.”

“Hey back. Do you have a problem with your email?”

“Oh, shit, you’ve gotten carpet bombed too?”

“Oh yeah. Big time. Do you really think I should invest in a nickel mine?”

I snorted. “It looks like everyone in my internal address book has been getting spammed by me all night. Dr. Loomis called me in first thing about it. IT’s on the way.”

“Okay. Just wanted to see what was going on.”

We said goodbye. I logged on to my computer and opened email, then files. Everything looked okay. My own email seemed to be unaffected. However, I had messages from people all over the university telling me they were being spammed from my account. I did a group email to all of my contacts, explaining and apologizing. I didn’t know what else to do.

In the meantime, I had to get some work done. I finalized my budget presentation and started working on collection development requests. I had switched my reference shift to the morning to accommodate the funeral, and the desk was busy. I ate the lunch I’d packed at my desk, still working.

I was supposed to meet Diane outside at 1:30. But, at 1:15, she appeared at my door. Her hair today was dyed a more funeral-appropriate maroon color. “Hey, ready to go?”

“I thought I was going to meet you outside. You didn’t have to park and come in.”

“It’s okay. I found a parking spot without too much trouble.” Diane looked around the office. “It looks a lot better in here than it did Tuesday.”

“No kidding.” I took my inhaler from my computer bag and locked the rest of the bag, including my laptop, in my filing cabinet. “I’ve got to visit the men’s room. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

When I got back to my office, Diane was sitting at my desk, doing something on my computer.
What the hell?
“What the hell are you doing?”

Diane looked hurt. “I’m just checking my email. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but it took me by surprise. My computer’s been acting weird the past couple of days. It might have a virus.”

“Oh – well, I use protection. I’m sure I won’t catch it.”

“Ha ha.” I logged out of the PC and we left. It occurred to me that I’d caught Diane behind my desk twice now. Could
she
be involved in my computer issues? She was the only person I could think of that had had access to it besides me. But why would she do that?

I was still thinking about that as Diane pulled out of the parking garage. But I didn’t think long; Diane was her usual chatty self. She filled me in on all of our classmates, giving me way more than I wanted to know about any of them. “How do you know all this?”

“Facebook, duh. And speaking of, when are you going to get on there?”

“I’m not. I value my privacy.”

“Oh, come on. How are you going to know what’s going on with your friends and family?”

“Well, see, I have this great new device. It’s called a cell phone. You can actually talk to people live, and not have to wait for them to update their status online. It’s fun.”

Diane glowered. “You’re such a smart ass.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Seriously. Don’t you have nieces or nephews or something? How do you keep up with them?”

“I talk to them. On the phone. No one in my family is on Facebook or any other social media. We all talked about it, and none of us are comfortable with it. Especially because my brother frequently causes people to go to jail for a long, long time, and some of them get disgruntled and might try to track us down. Besides, it’s not like my nephews are in Timbuktu. They’re in San Diego.”

“That is just weird. It’s practically un-American.”

I expressed my opinion through sign language. She snorted. “You know, you and Dan had that in common. He wasn’t on Facebook either.”

“No surprise there.”

“I guess not. Oh, look! Is that Lindsay Lohan?”

“Oh, for God’s sake…”

When we got to Forest Lawn, Diane parked in the main lot by the mortuary. “There’s a viewing inside first, and then they’re going to hold the graveside service.”

“A viewing? I didn’t know anyone did those anymore.”

“Well, I guess they do. We don’t have to go in if it skeezes you out.”

“No, it’s okay. The more time I spend indoors the better.”

We walked inside and into the odor of dozens of bouquets of flowers. I groaned inwardly. The air quality was almost as bad in here as it was outside, as far as my lungs were concerned. We were directed into a small room, with a couple of dozen people standing around. One guy seemed to be the funeral director, and another a clergyman. A youngish man in a tailored suit was standing by himself, seemingly as far away from the casket as he could get.
Someone from the hospital?
I wondered. He didn’t look like Dan’s type. There were a couple of tattooed guys who did. An older couple, a woman around 40, and a couple of young teenage girls were sitting in folding chairs, perpendicular to the open casket.

“That must be the family.” Diane elbowed me. “Let’s go give our condolences.”

We introduced ourselves. Dan’s parents were both wispy and gray, holding themselves stiffly. His sister was overweight and harried-looking; the nieces looked bored. Dan’s mother held onto my hand when I offered it. “Thank you both so much for coming. It’s nice to know that Danny had friends who cared about him.”

Diane stepped in smoothly. “Dan loved library work. It was a pleasure to have known him. We’re so sorry about what happened.”

We moved away from the family and approached the casket. I looked at Dan. He looked peaceful, much more so than he had in life, or at least as I remembered him. When I knew him, Dan had sported piercings in nearly every spot possible, but I didn’t see any evidence of them now. Dan was dressed in a suit and tie. It looked wrong on him.

Diane was surprised. “He had more piercings than me. Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe his parents didn’t approve.”

“Hmph. They do look like staunch conservatives.” Diane linked her arm through mine. “Let’s get out of this room. These flowers are making my nose run.”

Shortly, everyone filed outside and stood somberly as the casket was carried out. The ceremony was brief; the standard ashes-to-ashes spiel. Oddly, there was no mention of Dan’s military service. Diane and I were heading for the parking lot when someone called to us.

“Excuse me.” It was the man in the expensive suit. Expensive shoes, tie, everything. Including, unfortunately, strong cologne. Drakkar Noir: one of the worst offenders when it came to my lungs. I tried not to breathe deeply.

“I’m sorry – I overheard you introducing yourselves to the family.” He smiled thinly, but his gaze was belligerent. “I thought I knew all of Dan’s friends. I’m Benjamin Goldstein. Dan’s lover.”

An odd choice of words these days
.
Did he want to shock us?
“We’re so sorry for your loss. We were in library school with Dan.”

“Ah.” Goldstein surveyed both of us and didn’t seem impressed. “You’re not medical librarians.”

“No.”
What an ass
. “Are you?” I could do belligerent too.

Goldstein snorted. “I’m on the clinical faculty at USC School of Medicine.”

A doctor. No wonder
. Suddenly it hit me. Benjamin Goldstein. The authors of the second article were Oliver, Wray and Goldstein. B. Goldstein.
Holy shit
. The picture was suddenly a lot more complicated.

“Oh, how wonderful.” Diane stepped in as I tried to control my facial expressions. “Were you close to Dan’s family?”

“God, no.” Goldstein’s face twisted with disgust. “Pathetic, right-wing Christian losers. Their precious son couldn’t be gay, no matter what he said. They never accepted him for who he was. We’d been together for nearly two years, and this is the first time I ever saw them. He’d cut ties with them almost completely, but as soon as he was gone they swooped in and took control of everything. If they’d known who I was, I’m sure they would have had me removed.”

Well, that could explain the belligerence
. I stood up a little straighter and looked right at Goldstein. “I’d like to have seen them try.”

Goldstein looked at me in surprise, then barked a short laugh. “I wish they had. Dan would have loved it.” He shook his head. “I have to go. Thanks for coming.” He turned and strode away.

Diane watched him go, then turned to me. “Well. I don’t even know what to say about that. Want to get a cup of coffee?”