Molokai Reef (14 page)

Dr.
Miller wasn’t crying, but her voice occasionally broke and
sometimes she paused for several moments to collect her thoughts.
“What is GeNesRus?” Gybe asked.

The
answer came naturally. Dr. Miller had founded the company two years
earlier. She had left UC Davis to work for another research company
here on Moloka‘i. “They were very generous with the
relocation. The company insisted that I find a place to live,
unpack, and settle before reporting for work. I received full pay
during the relocation. Then on the Friday of the first week of work,
I received a termination letter. They terminated everyone in the
company. It folded without warning. We were given until noon to
clear our offices, then security locked the doors.”

Dr.
Miller lamented that she hadn’t learned the names of many of
her coworkers. No one knew or at least told them the reason for the
shutdown. As a recent hire, they gave her a severance check equal to
three month’s pay. She was stunned.

The
company had paid for everything, so Elizabeth had no out of pocket
losses. Her only real problem was that she was on Moloka‘i
without a job. She considered applying for a position at one of the
other companies. On the following Monday, she had driven by the old
company and was surprised to see a For Lease sign on the door. She
called the agent and made an appointment.

“
The
agent drove over immediately with a set of keys. She hadn’t
seen the property yet. She told me that the principal broker had
listed the property over the weekend.”

Inside,
Elizabeth was shocked to find that all of the equipment and
furnishings were still in place. Desks complete with computers and
telephones occupied every office. The labs were intact with all
equipment left just as it had been on the previous Black Friday. The
agent was equally puzzled.

When
told of the lease terms, as is, Elizabeth said she’d take it.

“
It
was pretty ballsy, if I do say so.”

She
explained that she had no company, no business plan, and no
employees. She researched Hawai‘i’s generous
technology-development tax credit. Moreover, as a woman, she was
certain there would be other grants or preferences available. She
stepped into her new office, turned on the computer and connected to
the Internet.

“
The
rest is history as they say. Today, I have nineteen employees –
all women.” She threw in with a glance to Gybe.

“
Wow.”
Was all that Kara could say. “You must be very proud.”

Aware
of the skyrocketing estrogen levels, Gybe re-directed the
conversation. Another five minutes and these women would sync their
menstrual cycles.

“
Have
you had other problems in the past, before Jean’s death?”

Except
for Susan and her activist friends, there hadn’t been any other
problems.

“
No
threats? Break-ins? Vandalism?”

“
Now
that you remind me, there was one odd break-in just after I signed
the lease. It happened during that first week when I doubted the
wisdom of what I had done. I was wondering what I was doing with a
fully outfitted office and laboratory. Anyway, someone broke into
the building and stole one of the computers.”

“
Just
one?”

Dr.
Miller thought that it was odd, but that was all that the thief had
taken. There were more than twenty-five other computers plus much
more valuable laboratory equipment, but the thief had taken just the
one computer.

“
What
was special about this computer? Who used it before the previous
company disappeared?”

She
told them that the theft had occurred so soon after she signed the
lease that she hadn’t taken a complete inventory of the
building. Although she had worked in the building for almost a week
before the previous company disappeared on that awful Friday, she
hadn’t learned who occupied each office.

“
To
be honest, since I had a company to found, I didn’t pay much
attention to the theft. The burglar had used a key to enter the
building. Changing the locks moved up the priority list and I forgot
about it until now.”

“
What
was the nature of Jean’s work?”

“
That’s
proprietary, of course. Biotech research is very competitive. I
won’t tell you, at least not specifically. But in a general
sense, you can learn this from our press releases, Jean experimented
with the transfer of genes from one organism to another.”

“
You
mean like those idiotic French scientists who removed the green
fluorescent proteins from sea life and inserted them into a rabbit?
Just so they could make a glow in the dark rabbit.” Kara
huffed.

“
NO!
It is irresponsible to conduct trans-species genetic transfers for
the purpose of art or novelty or whatever they called that rabbit.
Stuntmen like that give genetic science a bad name.”

“
Bring
those goofballs in here and I’ll splice in some rabbit genes.
Next thing you know, they’ll be sprouting cottontails on their
noses and butts.”

Gybe
and Kara stared at the scientist, but didn’t see any horns or
other telltale signs of evil.

Dr.
Miller waved her hand. “Sorry, that was a bit of genetic
humor.”

It
was clear to Gybe that Kara’s accusation had touched a raw
nerve.

Dr.
Miller continued. “Here at GeNesRus, my company, I allow
genetic research among plants, not between plant and animal. Our
research goals are to add beneficial traits not tricks. For example,
we have created and released a variety of corn that was resistant to
Begonna cornrottus
. In some parts of Africa, only this
variety of corn can survive.”

Dr.
Miller’s explanation was like rubbing Kara’s nerves with
sandpaper. She wasn’t buying the researcher’s arguments.
Sensing Kara’s rising hostility, Gybe redirected the
conversation away from the ethics discussion and back to Jean. “Dr.
Miller, we are trying to find who murdered Jean. If you can be more
specific about her work it would really help.”

“
All
I am willing to say is that Jean, when she was killed, was working on
the transference of genes from one plant species to another plant
species.”

“
Her
greenhouse is wall to wall corn. Short stuff, ready to pick?”
Gybe said.

“
I
wouldn’t know about that.”

“
Was
she growing experimental corn at home?”

“
Oh,
definitely not. The US Department of Agriculture, Environmental
Protection Agency, Hawai‘i Department of Agriculture, all sorts
of agencies have very strict regulations controlling the growth of
our experimental corn. A hybrid corn buffer and a tree buffer, for
instance, must shield the field test plots. Any two test plots must
be at least one quarter mile from each other.”

“
No,
I assure you that if Jean has corn in her greenhouse, it is most
definitely not an experimental variety. There are large fines –
several hundred dollars at least – for violating the
regulations.”

Gybe
stifled the smirk that wanted to mount his face when Dr. Miller
mentioned the hundred dollar fines. He waited as Dr. Miller searched
for her next words.

“
I’ve
met Susan, albeit on somewhat adversarial basis.” Dr. Miller
went on. “Susan is very determined and steadfast in her
beliefs. You may think it odd, but I respect her position. Don’t
misunderstand what I’m saying; she is unequivocally wrong about
our work impacting the reef. However, she is correct when she says
that the reef is dying. It is. The reef is dying.”

“
Did
you know Dr. Wilson, the other victim?” Kara asked.

Dr.
Miller said that Moloka‘i was a small island. Although there
were several competing seed research companies, it was impossible not
to know most of the other scientists, especially the ones who lived
here. She had met him at conferences and social events. She did not
know his area of research although she had heard that his company,
SynCorn, customized the color of corn kernels.

Taking
a different tack, Gybe asked. “Tell us about Dr. Splicer’s,
Jean’s, personal life. We understand that she wasn’t
married. Was she seeing anyone regularly?”

The
intercom buzzed before she could answer. After replacing the
handset, Dr. Miller excused herself and said that she had another
meeting. Gybe and Kara left her office.

Back
in the ’vair as Kara cranked the engine, Gybe voiced his
thoughts. “That interruption seemed a bit too convenient. The
meeting felt good, but what did we learn?”

Kara
wheeled out of the lot and turned left onto Maunaloa Hwy. They
headed towards SynCorn’s office.

23

“
I’ve
been expecting you,” said the SynCorn receptionist. “Have
a seat. Director Spooner will be with you in a moment.”

Kara
and Gybe exchanged puzzled looks. While they waited for the
director, Gybe surveyed the reception area. A deep tan cloaked the
receptionist’s lean build including well-developed biceps,
probably exercised on the long paddles out and back from the break.
Beyond two ear studs equally distributed amongst her ears, he saw no
lip rings, nose hoops, eyebrow studs, tongue doohickeys, or other
metal. He couldn’t see her navel. A two-inch tattoo, maybe a
frigate bird, flew across her upper left arm. Gybe guessed that she
was a surfer.

In
front of them, several trade publications littered the coffee table.
Large plants dominated two of the corners. There were no windows.
The hard, plastic, molded seats were tolerable for sits of less than
ten minutes. Replace the magazines and this could be the reception
area of a doctor, dentist, or lawyer. The best description of the
reception area was sterile.

“
Hello.
Hello,” voiced SynCorn’s director, as he barreled in
through a side door. “I’m Dr. Spooner, Lester Spooner –
you can call me Les.”

Gybe
made the introductions this time. Les led them into his office.

Gybe
estimated that Les stood about five nine or ten. He was dressed more
like a Texas oilman than a research scientist. Many business people
in the islands wore aloha attire – aloha shirt, pressed
trousers, and loafers. While in the office, the shirt was worn
tucked in. Les, on the other hand, wore starched denims, plaid
cowboy shirt, bolo tie, and pointed boots. A forty-quart hat rested
on the two-drawer file cabinet behind the desk.

The
potbelly above the hubcap sized belt buckle suggested that Les
preferred vodka to veggies and/or excuses to exercise. There was
nothing distinguishable about his face, but his hair was thick with
tight kinky curls that sprung a half-inch from his head. A
dark-skinned marauder had swum through this white man’s
ancestral gene pool.

“
Cigar?”
Lester offered the humidor first to Kara then to Gybe. Both
declined.

“
Isn’t
it illegal to smoke in an office building here in Hawai‘i?”
Kara, never one to hold her thoughts, asked.

“
Sure
is.” Les snipped the end from a fresh cigar then after enough
affection, foreplay, and tongue action to satisfy most women, set
fire to one end and savored the virgin smoke.

Gybe
fought the urge to look up to see what Les found on the ceiling.

The
modern desk was the size of a sheet of plywood. A flat panel display
and keyboard stood at one side. Gybe had chosen his seat so that he
could catch the reflection of the display in the window behind the
director’s desk. A naked woman and two small furry rodent-like
creatures filled the reflected image of the computer monitor.

A
cascade of paper-clipped documents, their edges aligned, sat to Les’s
right. There were no bookcases in the office. Over Les’s left
shoulder, a poorly concealed wet bar occupied one corner of the room.
In the other corner, the one in the sunlight, a terra-cotta pot
supported a stalk of growing corn. Behind the stalk, a spear gun
leaned into the corner.

Enlarged
photographs of ocean reefs teeming with fish covered one wall. In
one of the pictures, Gybe saw a diver – spear gun in one hand,
string of gored fish in the other. Pictures on the other wall showed
Les in various poses on water-skis and jetskis.

With
the cigar, now on full afterburner, Les leaned forward. “How
can I help you?”

Gybe
explained their theories about Susan and that they were looking for
the real murderer.

Les
leaned back and drew a deep lungful of smoke, then another. “Isn’t
the Maui Prosecuting Attorney convinced that Susan did it?”

“
We
aren’t.” Kara responded. “Can you tell us what
Dr. Wilson was working on when he was killed?”

“
No.
That is confidential information. Proprietary. Trade secret, you
know.”

“
We
heard that he was using genetic modification, what do you call it?”
Gybe answered his own question. “Gene splicing to create corn
kernels of various colors.”

“
No
comment.”

“
How
long have you known him?” Kara continued.