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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

‘Not directly. The intellectual-property rights belong to the university, and Otago has the organisation in place to take advantage of them. But then, she would benefit from funding, and would be looked after by them, as it were. The University looks after its own, because it’s in its best interests to do so. Otherwise, it would lose its best researchers to private enterprise.’

‘So it wouldn’t have been in anyone’s interests here, financially speaking, to remove her from the equation.’

‘Hell no. Quite the contrary, in fact.’

54

‘So what have people been saying, then? That I was jealous of her? Why would I be jealous of her? Just because she was everyone’s little darling and their golden child? That she was handed every opportunity on a plate, while others of us had to justify our presence every single day. That what she was working on saw the bulk of the research dollars and overshadowed any other individual projects that may have had merit because they might make some money out of hers? Why do you think that would make me jealous or angry?’

Okay, so we’d stumbled upon the department’s designated bitch, but she wasn’t a very smart bitch, as most people toned it down and kept it looking civil for the police. Maybe she was hormonal, or caffeine-deprived. Even Smithy looked startled. He’d interviewed Dr Penny Hawkins earlier, but I don’t recall him mentioning she was this aggressive.

‘I bet it was Simpson, that puffed-up, pompous git,’ she ranted on, oblivious to the impression she was making. ‘He’d be just the type to say something like that. Talk about the pot calling the kettle—’

‘Look, I don’t mean to criticise,’ I interrupted. Her behaviour was way over the top and despite the Rottweiler demeanour, I had one of those nagging little feelings about her. ‘But you’re not doing yourself any favours being so aggressive.’ Smithy looked at me like I’d gone all barmy on him, so I shook my head a fraction, then stepped up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you okay? Is everything alright?’ At this, she looked as though she was going to let rip, but then she paused, stuttered, then visibly deflated like an airbed with a leak. It was as if someone had pulled the plug.

Smithy looked at me again, surprised, and even I was shocked by the transformation. ‘Do you want a tissue?’ I asked, concerned she was about to start blubbing all over us. If she was, in fact, hormonal, this was one hell of a mood swing.