"Fallen off the perch?" His mouth twisted in a most unpleasant way. "How quaint."
"Thank you, Professor Yarrow."
The deep sincerity in my voice brought a slight frown to his pale forehead. "Australians as a race are admirable," he intoned, "except for your propensity to use diminutives and excessively colorful colloquialisms."
"Hang on a mo," I said. "Fair crack of the whip. Aussies save a lot of time with those shortened words. Like, would you mind if I called you Prof?"
"I believe I would."
"Right-oh," I said. "Professor it is."
"Now, the research paper you're working on with Dr. Wasinsky…?"
I put my hand to my mouth to cover a fake yawn. "Sorry, Professor Yarrow, just got to L.A., so I'm a bit jet-lagged."
"The title of your paper?"
Crikey, this bloke was persistent. "Distribution and Movement Patterns of Urban Platypuses," I said, then had a stab at the appropriate Latin label. "Ornithorhynchus anatinus in the creeks and rivers near urban areas."
The platypus was, as Rube had pointed out to me, a notoriously shy animal, so the discovery of platypuses living in waterways close to large towns and cities was an eye-opener.
"Monotremes, the lowest order of mammals," the professor said with little enthusiasm. Rube had deliberately chosen a field he knew Yarrow wasn't particularly interested in, so that he wouldn't be likely to ask probing questions or follow-up on the work I was supposed to be doing.
"But so fascinating!" I exclaimed. "I'm captivated by the fact that the platypus has its own specially adapted species of tick."
Professor Yarrow got up and came around my side of the desk. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he said, "Ah, the enthusiasm of youth." His grip tightened. "Such zest for life is so attractive in a young woman."
While I was considering my options-play along or unceremoniously brush his fingers off-the office door abruptly opened.
"Jack," said Winona Worsack, gliding into the room, "am I interrupting something?"
Yarrow ripped his hand off me fast. "My dear, of course not."
His wife looked pointedly at my shoulder, then at him. "I thought we might lunch together, darling," she said. "Unless you have something more pressing to do…"
"An excellent idea. Excellent." He turned to me, all business. "As I was saying, I'm sure your time with us will be most valuably spent with Dr. Wasinsky. Unfortunately, my attention will be largely taken up by the symposium, so if you have any concerns or worries I'm afraid you'll have to channel them through my assistant, Ms. Tapp."
From her expression, Winona wasn't having any wool pulled over her eyes. "You always manage to make yourself available when you feel it necessary, Jack." She darted a glance at me. "I'm sure if-"
"Kylie," I said obligingly.
"I'm sure if Kylie needs your attention, she'll get it."
"The Global Marsupial Symposium is all-consuming at the moment, Winona," he said with a frown. "I scarcely have time for my own work, let alone worrying about supervision of a visiting graduate student."
I took this as my cue to hop it. "Bye, Prof. And nice to see you again, Mrs. Yarrow."
He looked pained. She looked irritated.
He said, "Professor, if you don't mind."
She said, "I don't use Yarrow. You may refer to me as Dr. Worsack."
"Sorry."
I left her glaring at him-I was betting lunch wasn't going to be much fun-and set off for Rube Wasinsky's office. I was getting a feel for the geography of the place, so I found it without too much trouble.
Rube's furnishings were nothing like Yarrow's: standard-issue desk, rickety bookcase, a floor of the same material as the hallway. Pen Braithwaite was sitting in his chair with her feet up on the desk. She was wearing quite the ugliest sandals I had ever seen, consisting of many khaki-colored straps attached to a massive sole.
"Rube's off getting me coffee," she said. "How'd it go with Yarrow?"
I recounted the events, including his wife's entrance. Pen snickered happily. "Narrow escape there, Kylie. In two shakes his hand would have been wandering south."
"Good thing Dr. Worsack came in, then."
"Winona? What do you think of her?"
"I haven't had much time to form an opinion, but I reckon she doesn't like me."
"Winona's a professional medievalist," said Pen contemptuously. "Always in costume with those long dresses. Even plays the bloody lyre, would you believe? Jack Yarrow married her for her money, but God knows why she married him. Though I hear he's a randy bastard…"
"He has quite a good body," I observed.
Pen swung her feet off the table and sat up. "You're bi?"
"Not a chance."
Pen sank back in the chair and put her feet up again. "Your partner, Ariana, is a very attractive woman."
I agreed this was so in my best noncommittal tone.
"Has she thawed out yet?" Pen inquired.
It seemed best to play dumb. "I'm sorry?"
"Ariana gave me the big freeze after I mentioned Natalie Ives."
"She was a bit withdrawn," I conceded.
Pen let out a bellow of laughter. "Withdrawn! She near froze my titties off!"
I winced. Pen's voice would carry quite a way. "I'm sure she didn't mean it personally," I said.
"I didn't know the Ives woman," said Pen. "She was before my time. I joined the UCLA faculty just as she was retiring."
My pulse rate went up. Maybe I'd find out who Natalie was without really trying. "Oh?" I said. "So she was in the psychology department with you?"
"Psychology? What made you think that? She was an English scholar. Very noted in her field of-what was it?" Pen gazed at the ceiling for inspiration, which came almost immediately. "Nineteenth-century British literature," she announced triumphantly.
Rube swept in with three coffees on a cardboard tray. "Thought you'd be here," he said, handing me one of the thick paper cups, "but you should be making good use of your time chatting up Georgia Tapp."
I expected a flare-up from Pen at the mention of the Tapp woman's name, but she was smiling. "That was fun this morning," she said. "I love getting up Georgia's nose. She's so predictable."
"I think you should handle her with kid gloves," said Rube. "Georgia's the rigid type who'll snap one day, bring a gun to work and start blasting away." He added severely, "And you, Pen, will be her number one target."
Pen's grin widened. "Kylie, you should have been here the day I pointed out to Georgia the dangers of repressing her sexuality, and made some concrete suggestions about how she might loosen up. She damn near imploded!"
"I thought I'd start with Erin Fogarty," I said. "Oscar said he thought she'd passed on his quokka research to Jack Yarrow."
Pen's smile disappeared. "She's having an affair with Yarrow, the silly little fool. Working her butt off researching papers she fondly believes will be published with her name under his. That won't happen. Professor Jack Yarrow is the only author that will appear. There'll be no mention of her substantial contributions."
"What if she makes a fuss?" I asked.
Rube grunted. "Erin Fogarty's a student: Yarrow's a renowned professor. Say she goes public and accuses him of taking all the credit when she did most of the work. Who'd listen to her?" His mouth turned down. "Unfortunately, it's not all that rare in the academic world, but Yarrow's a particularly egregious offender."
"He's a bastard," said Pen. "You're right, Kylie. Concentrate on the Fogarty girl." She mused for a moment. "You could seduce her. Pillow talk's useful."
"Crikey, you're asking a lot!"
Pen raised her eyebrows. "You're not open to a little hanky-panky?"
"You've got that right."
"Tsk," said Pen. "Subjugating your natural, healthy sexual instincts is unwise."
"I'll risk it."
Pen gave me a slow smile. "A risk taker," she said. "I like that."