Page 25 of The Botanist's Assistant
“Wow,” Calvin says.
“Yeah, I’ve got a business plan and everything and, really, I’ve got Dr. Deaver and this place to thank.”
Zhang looks around the lab.
“You all taught me about research and data analysis andabout not giving up. It took me a lot of trial and error, but Ifinally found a formula that works. One taste of my mocha dark chocolate sativa truffle and my brother was all in.”
Margaret is stunned.
“You weren’t angry with Dr. Deaver, then?”
Zhang waves a hand. “That whole harassment thing was my mom’s idea. Dr. Deaver was right. I don’t belong in a lab. I only wish he was around so I could tell him the news.”
“So, when you laughed…?” Margaret starts.
“I don’t know why it happens, but ever since I was a kid, I laugh when I’m not supposed to. At weddings, at my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary. You should have seen me at my grandmother’s funeral. Total humiliation.”
“Your company sounds like a pretty sweet deal.” Is that a bit of envy in Calvin’s voice?
“Totally,” Zhang says. “Look, I’ve got some paperwork to do to get out of here, but I’m having a party at Ten-Thirteen Tavern at seven tonight to celebrate. It would be great if you guys could come.”
Zhang looks over at Margaret. “And I’m sorry for all the broken stuff. At least chocolate won’t explode, right?”
He grins.
Margaret isn’t sure of that. Who knows what Zhang could do to a vat of thick, hot liquid? Still, she should congratulate him for finding what he loves.
“Best of luck, Travis,” she says. “I hope you find success.”
“I’m sure I will,” he says, “and I hope you have success too. You’re doing good work. It’s just not for me.”
With that, Zhang is gone, and so is Margaret’s theory of him being Dr. Deaver’s killer.
“Well, that was interesting,” Calvin says.
“It certainly was.”
“Now what?”
“Time to get back to it. We’ve got work to do.”
As they labor at the bench, Margaret wonders how she could have gotten her theory so wrong. Maybe the dean was right and she’d leapt to a conclusion based on coincidence rather than fact. Still, there were things that couldn’t be dismissed: Dr. Deaver’s dark pupils, the state of his office and the missing glass, the availability of atropine. Plus, there were now others who might have wanted Dr. Deaver gone, specifically, Blackstone and maybe Veronica Ann Deaver. What other secrets besides the divorce filing did Dr. Deaver have, and would any of them have led to his demise?
Suddenly, Margaret doubts herself. She’d observed details, formed questions, assembled a credible hypothesis and, yet, somehow failed to realize that the research wasn’t supporting her theory of Zhang’s guilt. Had she twisted facts to fit her thesis? What kind of scientist—or detective—was she?
She will not do that again.
Meanwhile, she needs to find Joe the custodian and let him know that she has slandered an innocent man.
It’s on her way to find Joe at five forty p.m. that Margaret spots a woman leaving the grief counselor’s temporary office. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a thick braid, and she wears a red and black dress that shows off a stunning figure. As she turns, Margaret sees it’s the new assistant professor of biochemistry, Rachel Sterling, and that her cheeks are blotched pink and her eyes damp. She holds a tissue to her nose and ducks her head as she passes Margaret.
It seems strange that a woman who, as far as Margaretknew, only crossed paths with Dr. Deaver a few times would have this reaction. Yet, who can tell how another person will react to death? Margaret often gets it wrong. Last year, for instance, she was flummoxed by a condolence card circulated around the breakroom for a cell biology professor whose giant tortoise, Leonardo, had died.
Margaret herself had considered making an appointment with the counselor but decided that talking about the loss of Dr. Deaver would be like picking at a wound so that it would never heal. No, it was best to let her grief scab over, leaving a scar next to the one that was already on her heart.
17
An Apology
