“I’ve got mapping software going here, just need to put in as much information as I can about it. Can you toss those files over to me?”
“As long as you delete ‘em after we’re done, sure,” she said, flicking the collection of reports toward him on her tablet. They bounced back to the center of her display, but appeared on his as if she’d physically thrown them.
“Thanks,” he said absently, already leaning in to scan for relevant information. “Wish these were in a more current format, I’m going to have to dig out the details manually.”
“So sorry to inconvenience you,” she groused, though she smiled as she said it. She turned her own attention back to the files. They told largely the same story until she got nearer the end, then things took an abrupt turn toward the dark. “Whoa,” she said. “This one … according to the report, the owner of the lab filed a complaint. It says he ‘got into an altercation with one of his fellowes,’ but he refused to tell the police what the fight was about. Said it was confidential and dangerous information.”
Quinn’s fingers were still flashing over his keyboard, but he paused and looked up a moment. “A fight between lab researchers doesn’t sound all that dark. What else does it say?”
“Someone died. It isn’t exactly clear about how, though,” she said slowly. “The constable wrote that the lab’s owner was a pillar of the community, well known for a lifetime of service and intellectual leadership, and that murder wasn’t in his character, but that the circumstances were suspicious.”
She frowned. “They’re blacked out in the record. It does finally name the owner though; someone called Archerd Dolet.”