Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

thirty minutes, a patrol car from Wilshire Division arrived. The officer took a look and shook his head. "We'll dust for prints, in case they touched your fenders while they were doing the slashing, but the chances of finding out who did it are pretty slim. This area isn't covered by cameras."
    I shrugged. "I knew it was a long shot, but I figured you all would rather know than not."
    The officer nodded. "You're right. If we do find some evidence, or if it happens again, then the detectives can look into it further."
    The evidence techs arrived in a few minutes and did raise a couple of palm prints. Maybe they would be able to find something out. I signed off on the police report, and the officer gave me a copy of it for my insurance. He left, and I called Triple A.
    Kevin and the tow truck arrived about the same time. I filled Kevin in on the events of the day.
    The tow truck headed to the garage with my VW, and I got in Kevin's car to go home.
    Kevin started the engine, then turned and looked at me. "So. Your computer is messed up, and it's the only one that is, and your tires are slashed, and they're the only ones that are. Think there's any connection?"
    "It’s unusual, but I still don't see how there could be a link. Computers crash all the time. It just so happened that this was my week for it. And the tires - who knows? No one knew I was coming here. I didn’t even know I was coming here. Maybe someone didn't like my 'No to Prop 8' bumper sticker."
    "Maybe." Kevin started the car. "I just don't like coincidences. I'll check on those palm prints, see if anything turns up."
    "Gee, thanks, detective." I stuck my tongue out at him.
    He laughed. "Hey, we protect and serve."
    Since we had a car, we stopped at the grocery store. By the time we finished there and got home, I was getting tired. It was Abby’s turn to make dinner, and she had soup and sandwiches ready. After dinner, Kevin and Abby settled in to watch TV, and I started reading the second article again. The methodology was hard to follow, and the statistics were beyond me, but the results were pretty clear. Their procedure had been successful. The discussion noted the possible application to fertility treatment. It was couched in scientific language, but reading between the lines, I thought the authors sounded pretty pleased with themselves. That would certainly fit with my initial impression of both of the authors I’d met.
    I retrieved the copy of the article that I’d found in Dan’s desk and studied his margin notes again. I still couldn’t understand most of them. I Googled “SEM” and figured out that it probably stood for scanning electron microscopy. “Source” probably meant just that – Dan was wondering about the source for the statement. “Medium” was still a mystery. I looked again at his “BULLSHIT” notation over the statistics section. I was going to have to take a shot at interpreting those. But I’d have to do that at some time other than late evening. My brain wasn’t up to it now.
    Before I went to bed, I used my peak flowmeter to check my lung function. I was supposed to check and record it every morning and evening, but sometimes I forgot. I’d been trying to be more consistent with it since I got out of the hospital. This morning my peak flow had been within 90% of normal, but this evening it had dropped some, to 82%. If it got below 80%, I was supposed to call the doctor.
    I decided to take a hot shower before bed. I needed that peak flow to come back up by morning. Fifteen minutes of breathing clean, steamy air should get it turned around.
    I still wasn’t much closer to figuring out anything about Dan’s request. Tomorrow was Friday. In the morning I had my budget presentation, but after that, maybe I could find someone to help me analyze the statistical section of Oliver’s article. Or at least find a copy of “Statistics for Dummies.”
    I thought about my impressions of Drs. Oliver and Goldstein. The first thing I’d noticed with both of them was how expensively they were dressed. Did stem cell research pay that well? And how did they make their money? I needed to do a little research of my own, into the authors of the two articles and the labs they worked in. Maybe I’d get some answers, or at least an idea of what questions I should ask.

Friday June 1
    The next morning, I hit the snooze button three times before I could drag my brain to full consciousness. God, I was tired. I sat up and checked my