Oil Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 4) by T'Gracie Reese, Joe Reese Page B
Authors: T'Gracie Reese, Joe Reese
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it.”
“Here. Want a beignet? I got ‘em at Poupard’s Bakery when I was driving back, about five. That’s the best time. They’re fresh.”
She did want a beignet. Then another.
Sugar was getting everywhere.
It did not seem to matter.
“I had a good time last night, Annette. I really did.”
“You deserved it. You’ve been through some stuff.”
“I guess so.”
Silence for a time. Then:
“Nina, I can’t tell you how much everyone in the department thought of Edgar.”
‘”He had that effect on people.”
“I hated it, that he got hired by LP.”
“Why?”
Annette shrugged:
“Writing about oil companies…big oil companies…is what I do. I don’t like them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re frauds. They claim to understand what they’re doing. But they can’t. The whole damned thing is too big. The depth of the wells, the complexity of the operation—there are too many people involved. Too much chance of a mistake. A lot of mistakes. And then all hell breaks loose. It breaks loose, and they can’t put it right again. And everything dies. Hell, we don’t even know how long the dying goes on.”
“And this is what you write about?”
“Hope to make my career about it. Even though it’s sure to hold me down.”
“How?”
“When we go onto the campus, you look around you.”
“At?”
“The buildings. Especially the geology building.”
“What will I be looking for?”
“The money that built them.”
“Which comes from?”
“Big oil, baby. Big oil.”
“So they don’t like you because you don’t like them.”
“It would never be admitted. But that’s the way it is.”
“They hired Edgar anyway.”
“They have money. They need engineers now. Half the young people in our department are already under contract, even before the ink is dry on their diplomas. Hundred and twenty thousand.”
“What?”
“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year. Starting salary. They spend two years on the rig, then they start up in the company.”
“Edgar had his family to support.”
“Yes, he did. So there wasn’t much of a choice about the matter.”
“No. Guess there wasn’t.”
Pause.
“You want another beignet?”
“I’ve had plenty.”
“Well. The dancing is over then. You know what we need to do, Nina.”
“Yes.”
“So. Let’s go meet Professor Narang. And look at this mysterious flash disc of yours.”
Within ten minutes, they were walking into DeGolyer Hall, which, Nina ultimately realized, housed all offices belonging to the geological sciences. Then there was a stop at the departmental office, another at Annette’s office—small and crammed with books lying around like refuse—and finally they were opening the door of a larger viewing room, with computers hooked to overhead projectors.
“My esteemed Ms. Bannister!”
Professor Daruka Narang beamed at her.
He was standing behind a podium, looking up at the two of them as they entered.
It was a classroom meant for perhaps two hundred students, almost empty now except for the three of them.
“Dr. Narang?”
“Yes! Yes!”
He was a small man, immaculately dressed. He had a perfectly trimmed goatee, which shone black against his olive skin.
He gestured broadly:
“Come. Both of you, come down. I have some tea here. Could I offer you a cup of tea?”
And in fact he was standing beside a small table with a makeshift tea service on it.
They descended the steps.
“Thank you so much for letting me come, Sir.”
“No. It is our pleasure. Has Annette been gracious to you?”
“She has indeed.”
“I took,” said Annette, “Nina dancing.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Please—take a cup of tea. There is sugar here, if you wish.”
“Thank you.”
It was so strange , thought Nina. Tea. Dancing .
And the memories of Edgar.
But she drank, and chatted, and talked about the flight into Lafayette…
…and went through all the common courtesies with this man, as
“Here. Want a beignet? I got ‘em at Poupard’s Bakery when I was driving back, about five. That’s the best time. They’re fresh.”
She did want a beignet. Then another.
Sugar was getting everywhere.
It did not seem to matter.
“I had a good time last night, Annette. I really did.”
“You deserved it. You’ve been through some stuff.”
“I guess so.”
Silence for a time. Then:
“Nina, I can’t tell you how much everyone in the department thought of Edgar.”
‘”He had that effect on people.”
“I hated it, that he got hired by LP.”
“Why?”
Annette shrugged:
“Writing about oil companies…big oil companies…is what I do. I don’t like them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re frauds. They claim to understand what they’re doing. But they can’t. The whole damned thing is too big. The depth of the wells, the complexity of the operation—there are too many people involved. Too much chance of a mistake. A lot of mistakes. And then all hell breaks loose. It breaks loose, and they can’t put it right again. And everything dies. Hell, we don’t even know how long the dying goes on.”
“And this is what you write about?”
“Hope to make my career about it. Even though it’s sure to hold me down.”
“How?”
“When we go onto the campus, you look around you.”
“At?”
“The buildings. Especially the geology building.”
“What will I be looking for?”
“The money that built them.”
“Which comes from?”
“Big oil, baby. Big oil.”
“So they don’t like you because you don’t like them.”
“It would never be admitted. But that’s the way it is.”
“They hired Edgar anyway.”
“They have money. They need engineers now. Half the young people in our department are already under contract, even before the ink is dry on their diplomas. Hundred and twenty thousand.”
“What?”
“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year. Starting salary. They spend two years on the rig, then they start up in the company.”
“Edgar had his family to support.”
“Yes, he did. So there wasn’t much of a choice about the matter.”
“No. Guess there wasn’t.”
Pause.
“You want another beignet?”
“I’ve had plenty.”
“Well. The dancing is over then. You know what we need to do, Nina.”
“Yes.”
“So. Let’s go meet Professor Narang. And look at this mysterious flash disc of yours.”
Within ten minutes, they were walking into DeGolyer Hall, which, Nina ultimately realized, housed all offices belonging to the geological sciences. Then there was a stop at the departmental office, another at Annette’s office—small and crammed with books lying around like refuse—and finally they were opening the door of a larger viewing room, with computers hooked to overhead projectors.
“My esteemed Ms. Bannister!”
Professor Daruka Narang beamed at her.
He was standing behind a podium, looking up at the two of them as they entered.
It was a classroom meant for perhaps two hundred students, almost empty now except for the three of them.
“Dr. Narang?”
“Yes! Yes!”
He was a small man, immaculately dressed. He had a perfectly trimmed goatee, which shone black against his olive skin.
He gestured broadly:
“Come. Both of you, come down. I have some tea here. Could I offer you a cup of tea?”
And in fact he was standing beside a small table with a makeshift tea service on it.
They descended the steps.
“Thank you so much for letting me come, Sir.”
“No. It is our pleasure. Has Annette been gracious to you?”
“She has indeed.”
“I took,” said Annette, “Nina dancing.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Please—take a cup of tea. There is sugar here, if you wish.”
“Thank you.”
It was so strange , thought Nina. Tea. Dancing .
And the memories of Edgar.
But she drank, and chatted, and talked about the flight into Lafayette…
…and went through all the common courtesies with this man, as
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