LITMIR.BIZ

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curtains to see if it was Don. But it was an old man carrying some parcels up his path. Another wave of nausea slammed into me and I grabbed hold of the curtains to support myself. As I did something tumbled out from the curtain box above my head and fell to the floor.

      When the nausea passed I stooped to pick it up — a small black book with a bright orange slash — Diamond’s diary. So Don had the black book! How had he got hold of it? I remembered the day I had met him. So concerned that the body was Diamond’s. It had been Don who had insisted Ryan and I could leave and that he would lead the police to the scene. Could he have found a chance to pocket the diary before the police searched the tent? Maybe there was something in the diary to implicate Don in the fake data?

      I was sweating now and feeling very weak, so I sat down in a chair and flipped through the diary. No will, but then several pages had been torn out, and in the centre was a folded letter from Diamond.

      Don:

      Unless you can come up with a damn good explanation I have no choice but to fail Roberta at her defence next month, unless you postpone it until we’ve sorted this out. I have no way of knowing whether Roberta was involved in what appears to be wholesale data faking or not. You can understand my refusal to pass a student without knowing the truth. I have also put the publication of our joint paper on hold until this is all settled to my satisfaction.

      Jake

      So Roberta was involved too? Diamond’s death had certainly made things easier for her and for Don. Maybe they had conspired together in some way that had led to Diamond’s death, either premeditated or accidental. Maybe Don had gone up to reason with Diamond and had failed. The bear had appeared and he’d taken advantage of that. It was obvious Don couldn’t afford to lose tenure. He was barely scraping by as it was, and it looked from the unpaid bills as if he would have to find another, much cheaper, place for his daughter. I wondered what that would do to him. I suddenly felt tremendously uneasy as another wave of nausea gripped me.

      The words on the page in front of me began to blur and jump, and I thought for a moment that it had been smudged when it was printed, until I shifted my gaze and realized everything was looking blurred. My head was pounding and I felt weak and dizzy. I felt an overwhelming urge to lie down and sleep.

      I stumbled through to the front door, knocking over the vase on the hall table on my way, my head growing more fuzzy and woolly and my heart pounding so that I thought someone was knocking on the front door even as I tried to fill my lungs. Too late I remembered the humming sound coming from near the stove. I needed air. The door was just inches from me, and I watched in quiet desperation as my hand reached out for it just as my mind swirled into darkness.

      “My dear Cordi. You’re just lucky to be leaving this place vertically instead of horizontally.”

      Martha was perched on the windowsill of my hospital room, right by a huge bouquet of daisies — there being no chair big enough for her. Ryan was trying to stuff my oversized dressing gown into a tiny overnight bag.

      “You were damn lucky, Cordi,” agreed Ryan. “The place was thick with carbon monoxide fumes. If Roberta hadn’t needed to pick up some papers from Don and dropped by when she did …” his voice trailed off.

      “You’d be fodder for my med students, dear girl.” I looked toward the door, where Duncan stood framed. “The lethal effects of CO poisoning on the human body. Great topic. Aren’t you going to ask the old codger in and introduce us all?” Duncan slid his eyes over Martha and Ryan and winked at me as their faces went through the usual contortions on being faced with a nose the likes of Duncan’s.

      Ryan gripped his hand, muttered some inanity, and looked at Duncan’s left shoulder, but Martha, whose face had raced through surprise and astonishment to sheer delight, chortled with glee, “Goodness gracious, man, what a nose you have.”

      Duncan’s smile turned into a huge grin, as he strode over and gripped her pudgy hand in his own two massive ones. “Music to my ears, my dear woman. Most people tend to look at my left shoulder and pretend my nose isn’t there, while their minds are thinking about nothing else.”

      He turned his twinkling eyes on Ryan and raised his eyebrows.

      “This nose was a gift from my dear dead parents.”

      He released Martha’s hand, having held it for slightly longer than necessary, and strode over to the chair by my bed.

      “How did you know I was here?”

      “I have admitting privileges at this hospital and saw your chart lying at the nursing station this morning. Figured there couldn’t be more than one Cordi O’Callaghan, so I called the cop who brought you in, before coming to visit. They told her, as you know, that the gas stove in the kitchen was left on and malfunctioned.” He looked at me and grimaced.

      “I think you’ve stirred up some muck and it’s beginning to swirl around you like a bloody tornado. No proof, of course, but it’s not exactly easy to leave the gas on. The police version is that Don turned on a back burner to cook some stew, received a phone call that made him rush out of the house, writing you that note, which was scribbled and almost illegible, and then forgot the gas on. Not only, that but he accidentally turned on the wrong burner and then the burner malfunctioned and you wouldn’t have noticed because carbon monoxide is odourless.” With my hay fever I wouldn’t have noticed a frightened skunk at five feet. But I did remember now the hissing sound that must have been coming from the kitchen, and not the basement, and the pot on the front burner. “And that’s how I almost died?” Duncan nodded. “His neighbours told the police that Don had had a problem with it last week and had tried to get a repairman in. But they were fully booked and he’d vented his frustrations at them.

      “His neighbours? Why didn’t the police talk to Don?”

      “Because he hasn’t shown up, and I don’t think he’s going to,” said Martha.

      Everyone swivelled to look at Martha, who was twirling one of my daisies in her right hand. I wondered if she’d sneaked a peak at Patrick’s card when she fished out the daisy. Roberta must have told him right away for the flowers to arrive so quickly.

      “Why not?” I asked.

      “Because he’s pulled a bunk, as they say in the movies, hightailed it out of here, disappeared, because he couldn’t face going to jail for what he’s done.”

      “And what do you think he’s done?” asked Duncan his lips twitching in amusement.

      “He faked data and then when Diamond found out he somehow manoeuvred Diamond in front of that damn bear and while he didn’t throw the killing blow he still murdered the man so that he wouldn’t lose his job.”

      “Cordi’s old baiting theory, huh?”

      I looked at Duncan and said, “Did you know Don has a severely handicapped daughter who lives at a very expensive nursing home and he was having trouble paying the bills?”

      “There. See? What did I tell you?” said Martha. “The poor man couldn’t afford to lose his job or he’d have to move his poor kid to some horrible place. A parent’s love of a child is a very powerful thing, you know — strong enough to kill for.”

      “And now he’s just abandoned her forever?” asked Duncan dryly.

      Martha fluffed up her hair and said straight and cool, “He’s abandoned her and himself. I say he intended to kill himself but some fool phone call or something interrupted him and whatever it was, it was important enough for him to race out of the house with the gas left on. Cordi just got unlucky and was in the wrong place at the right time. He hasn’t returned, and I’m telling you he won’t, because he’s dead. Killed himself out of remorse for his daughter, guilt over Diamond, and shame over the faked data. At least he didn’t have to know that he almost killed you by accident, too.” She nodded at me.

      “But, Martha, if he was going to kill himself why would he then write a note and tack it on the door for me to find?” I asked.

      “He

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