The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [30]
At the personnel office Kerney explained to three different people that his request to speak to Dr. Kent Osterman had nothing to do with either national security or Osterman’s status as an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. Finally, the last person in the hierarchy, a woman with big teeth and a frozen smile, arranged for Kerney to meet with Osterman in the cafeteria.
Escorted by the woman with the frozen smile, Osterman made his appearance in ten minutes. Kerney introduced himself and guided him to a corner table away from chatty clusters of employees.
Forty or so, Osterman had worry lines that creased his forehead, serious brown eyes, and blond, baby-fine hair that covered the tips of his ears.
“You’re here to ask me about Anna Marie,” Osterman said, sliding onto a chair. “I was so shocked to learn about her disappearance, and now to know she’s been murdered.” His expression turned into an unhappy grimace.
“How well did you know her?” Kerney kept his eyes fixed on Osterman, looking for any sign of uneasiness or deception.
“We were undergraduates together at the university. Both of us took our degrees in psychology. That was twenty years ago.”
“Is your specialty still psychology?” Kerney asked.
“No, I discovered that I didn’t have the patience or personality to work with people with emotional or mental problems. I switched to hard science in graduate school and took my advanced degrees in physics.”
“When did you last see Anna Marie?”
“We worked as field interviewers on a research project the summer after we graduated. I left New Mexico when the job ended and spent a year taking the math and science prerequisites I needed to switch my field of study to physics.”
“Were you romantically involved with Anna Marie?”
“No, we were just friendly. I really didn’t get to know her very well until we worked together that summer.”
“Tell me about the research project,” Kerney said.
“It was a social psych study to assess the cultural causes of alcoholism among Hispanic males. Anna and I conducted interviews to gather raw data about family, employment, and educational histories, drug and alcohol use patterns, and criminal behavior. We spent a lot of time in jails and area treatment programs. It got Anna Marie interested in social work as a career.”
“Who ran the project?”
“The primary investigator was a professor named Jeremiah Perrett. I always wondered if he ever published the findings. I never saw it in any of the psych journals. After a while I lost interest and stopped looking.”
“Did Anna Marie have any personal problems that summer?”
“No, but both of us thought Perrett was a bit of a flake.”
“Why is that?” Kerney asked.
“He kept changing the data-gathering instruments we used in the interviews. You can’t draw any significant conclusions unless you have reliable and consistent information to work with.” Osterman forced a chuckle. “Maybe that’s why he never published.”
Kerney smiled at Osterman’s humorous attempt. “Did you keep in touch with Perrett?”
“No. He wasn’t one of my favorite instructors. At the time, he was thirty-something and tenured, so he may still be at the university.”
“Was Anna Marie romantically involved with Perrett?”
Osterman chuckled again. “That’s a laugh. He’s gay. Or at least he was then.”
“Why did you try to contact Anna Marie?” Kerney asked.
“Just to reconnect,” Osterman said. “I lost track of a lot of people after I left New Mexico. I thought it would be fun to catch up with old classmates.”
“Did you reconnect with anyone else?” Kerney asked.
“A few people,” Osterman replied, his eyes widening a bit. “Are you thinking I’m a suspect?”
Based on his conduct, Kerney didn’t think Osterman was a murderer. But he’d learned never to rely on first impressions. “Would you mind giving me their names?”
“I’ll write them down for you,” Osterman said, a touch of coolness creeping into his voice. He reached for a pen in his shirt pocket, scribbled