G'Day to Die: A Passport to Peril Mystery - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,45
and smiled. “You wanna see some pictures? I got a new batch.”
I gestured to Conrad and Ellie while Nana plowed through her pocketbook. “Are you all set to leave Melbourne behind?” I asked as they joined us.
Conrad looked so miserable, even his mustache was drooping. “I’ve failed you, Marion. The university has failed you. My sincere apologies. It pains me to think what might have been.”
Ellie nodded in sympathy. “Connie knows a scientist in Sweden who has a long-standing offer to award one million American dollars to anyone who can provide him with samples of plants previously thought extinct. Just think. The two of you might have ended up splitting all that money.”
“I’m a scientist,” Conrad said dismissively. “The last thing a scientist ever concerns himself with is money.”
Ellie stared at him as if his nose had suddenly been injected with growth hormone. “That’s not what you said last night when you were fretting about how you were going to scrape together the down payment on the new condomin—”
“These ladies are not interested in our financial affairs,” he snapped, cutting her off.
“Well, you’re an old fool if you can stand there and claim that five hundred thousand dollars wouldn’t solve a lot of our retirement problems.”
She glared at him. He glared at her. Nana handed them a photograph.
“That there’s Bernice when she was gettin’ chased by the emu. I got a real good angle showin’ off her new boots.
“This is the stain on Bernice’s shirt after the koala peed on it. I’m real happy we’re not doin’ scratch and sniff.
“Here’s the stagecoach at Ballarat. Them two fellas makin’ horns behind their wives’ heads are the Dicks.
“This one is a little four-legged critter what I found runnin’ around. Couldn’t figure out what it was.”
Conrad studied the last photo in lengthy silence. “Where did you shoot this, Marion?”
“I think it was down by them trees ’fore you get to the gold mine.”
“Have you any idea what this creature is?”
“I was leanin’ toward chipmunk.”
“This is a desert rat kangaroo!” he said excitedly.
Nana froze. “THERE WAS A RAT RUNNING AROUND THAT PLACE WE WAS AT YESTERDAY?”
“That’s not the point, Marion. It hasn’t been seen since nineteen-thirty-five!”
Chapter 10
I was missing something. I knew I was missing something. But what?
Upon arrival in Adelaide, we’d boarded an air-conditioned bus for a tour of the city and its environs. Adelaide seemed a sleepy, genteel place, big on city parks and Parliamentary-style buildings, and short on skyscrapers and kamikaze traffic. Mothers pushed fancy prams down city sidewalks. Children were meticulously dressed in school uniforms. Everyone looked healthy, happy, and incredibly handsome. It had such a 1950s It’s a Wonderful Life feel to it, that if I lived here, I expected my neighbors might be Ozzie and Harriet, or Wally and the Beav.
Our hotel sat cheek to jowl with the shopping district and was pretty upscale with its sliding glass doors, balconies, posh bathrooms, and computer hookups. I was sharing a two-bedroom suite with Nana and Tilly, who were exploring Rundle Mall while I sat at the desk in our living room, staring at Nana’s computer screen.
From the web, I’d discovered that Conrad Carver was exactly who he said he was. He’d had a distinguished career as a paleobotanist at the Smithsonian Institution, authored several university textbooks, and enjoyed bird-watching, World War II documentaries, and championing environmental issues that promoted the survival of native wildlife on a global scale. There was nothing in his background that hinted of unscrupulous behavior.
So why was I haunted by the feeling that something wasn’t quite right? That some critical clue was staring me in the face, but I couldn’t see it?
I recalled the scene in the airport this morning, pinpointing the moment when I’d begun to toy with another theory.
It was when Ellie mentioned the money.
Conrad had been so irritated with her. Why? Was he embarrassed about having his financial difficulties revealed, or simply angry that she’d spilled the beans about the million-dollar award? Had he been planning to sell the plant on the sly so he could pocket all the loot himself? Not that Nana would care. Since her big lottery win, five hundred thousand was chump change to her, but if that had been his intent, it was so dishonest!
Dishonesty aside, however, the question that baffled me the most was how could he sell a plant that no one could find?
I drummed my fingers on the desk as I studied Nana’s infamous Polaroid. How could a team of university botanists miss this