‘‘Besides his forestry job? I don’t think so. He was working hard on his thesis and his job—and seeing Kacie. He didn’t have time for much else.’’
‘‘What did you think of Chris? Did you think he was good enough for Kacie?’’
‘‘Oh yeah. He was a great guy. Sweet. Good sense of humor. He wasn’t self-centered like most guys.’’
‘‘Do you know his friend, Steven Mayberry?’’
‘‘Steve. Yeah, sure. A little. We’ve gone out a cou ple of times.’’
‘‘What is he like?’’
‘‘Not like Chris. He talks about himself a lot. Has big plans for getting a job in his uncle’s paper com pany. He always talks like he has a lot of money, but I don’t think he does. At least he never spent any on me. We ate out mostly at fast food places.’’
‘‘Who are Chris and Kacie’s other friends?’’
Madison shrugged. ‘‘I don’t know, really. The guys in their department, I suppose.’’
‘‘Do you know if they had any friends who are missing?’’
‘‘Missing? What do you mean? Like Steven, you mean?’’
Diane had made smaller copies of Neva’s drawings to carry in her purse. She pulled them out and showed them to Madison.
‘‘Do you know any of these people?’’
Madison looked carefully at each one. ‘‘They don’t look familiar. Who are they?’’
‘‘Have you heard from Steven lately?’’
‘‘Not for about a week—since he’s been missing. What’s all this about?’’
She looked at Diane with large, liquid brown eyes— she wanted answers, Diane could see. She needed some meaning to all this. Diane needed meaning too.
‘‘When was the last time you spoke with Steven?’’
‘‘Spoke with him? Not for a long time. He left a message on my voice mail about a week ago. He wanted to go out, said something about having a ship come in. I have no idea what he meant. I didn’t call back. I really don’t like him very much.’’
Ship come in. That was the first sign that anything was going on. She was surprised at the sense of relief she felt. Finally, something.
‘‘Did Chris or Kacie mention anything about what he might have meant?’’
‘‘I didn’t tell them. It was just a voice message. It didn’t really mean anything.’’
‘‘Did you get a sense that Chris was about to come into some money?’’
‘‘Well, he got the ring—but then, I just thought he charged it.’’
‘‘He’d need one big credit limit.’’
‘‘When you’re a student, that’s pretty easy. They send you cards in the mail by the dozens with huge limits. My dad’s an accountant, and he’s lectured me from the time I was three about owing money, so I don’t use them big time, but some people do.’’
‘‘Did Chris seem especially happy about something?’’
Her face brightened. ‘‘Yes, now that you mention it. Kacie did mention that he’d been really happy lately— almost manic. She didn’t know why—she figured he’d gotten a really good job and was going to surprise her.’’
‘‘Did any of them seem to be frightened of anything?’’
‘‘No. Just after—you know—Chris died, Kacie was a basket case, as you can imagine. She had nightmares and was taking Valium.’’
‘‘Were her nightmares about anything specific?’’
Madison looked at Diane as if she were an idiot. ‘‘She found Chris.’’
‘‘I know, but I thought her dreams might have some clue that her subconscious was trying to bring to the surface.’’
‘‘She didn’t say. It was always about finding Chris like—like that.’’
‘‘Madison, if you remember anything, however
small, give me a call.’’ Diane fished a card out of her purse and wrote on it. ‘‘I put my cell number on here, and the number of Chief Garnett. He’s the detective in charge. Call him or me if you remember anything or need to talk.’’
Madison took the card, turned it over and looked at the numbers. She nodded. ‘‘I will, I promise.’’
Her tears had dried and her nose had stopped bleeding, but Madison looked profoundly sad. Diane wanted to say something that would help, but she felt completely helpless in the face of grief. She should know a lot about grief, and she did, but she didn’t know how to make it go away.
‘‘Do you have someone to stay with?’’
‘‘I think I’ll go home—to Columbus. Jerry, the cameraman, will drive me. He’s been after me for a date. I guess I’ll see what kind of stuff he’s made of.’’
They were almost finished with the CT scan when she returned. The image on the monitor was of the abdominal cavity.
‘‘We’re thinking he had a tumor on his kidney,’’ said Lynn. She pointed to the screen. ‘‘You know, if we could just get a piece of that tissue.’’
‘‘I can try again with the endoscope, now that I know where to look,’’ said Korey.
‘‘We’ll have you a great three-D image of your guy,’’ said one of the doctors. ‘‘You going to do one of those facial reconstructions?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It’ll be a lot of fun to know what the guy looked like.’’
‘‘Well, we are happy to be of help. Interesting case.’’
Before she left, Diane thanked the hospital person nel for their help. She thanked Lynn and asked her if she had time, if she’d like to write a report. Diane had a couple of motives. One, she genuinely wanted her expert input. She also wanted to pat down her ruffled feathers. As long as Lynn stayed at her job, Diane would have to work with her. If she could build up some good interactions, when the inevitable dis agreement came about time of death, or whatever else that ticked off Lynn, they’d at least have established a good rapport.
Diane went from the hospital to Kacie Beck’s apart ment. Garnett was there, along with David and Neva. The body had been removed. We probably passed somewhere along the way, she thought.
Kacie had a small one-bedroom apartment close to campus. Diane had seen it from the outside, but hadn’t gone inside. Perhaps she should have. Was someone waiting for Kacie in the dark? The thought sickened her.
Diane shook her thoughts and looked around the room. Kacie’s decorating tastes included import shops. She had carved end tables with a scroll design, a carved wooden elephant coffee table with a glass top, several colorful silk throws of fuschia, lime green and blue tossed on the chairs and sofa along with a multi tude of ornate throw pillows. The apartment smelled of death and incense.
Kacie had been found in her bed—strangled, beaten and raped. This one didn’t look anything like the oth ers. Except someone had gone through her drawers. They had also taken her ring and had skinned her finger pulling it off.
Diane told Garnett about Madison Foster and re lated the information she had gained from her.
‘‘She was at the hospital reporting on your mummy?’’ He shook his head. ‘‘It’s about time some of the coincidences worked in our favor,’’ he said.
Diane was relieved. She feared that she was going to have to explain to him just why she was inter viewing witnesses.
‘‘So there was something the boys were into,’’ said Garnett, almost to himself.
‘‘It appears so. Have you any leads on Mayberry?’’
‘‘None. We still don’t know if he’s dead or alive.’’
‘‘Where’s Ross Kingsley?’’
‘‘He’s in his motel room working on his profile.’’
‘‘What’s his thinking?’’
‘‘Different from mine, especially with the new infor mation. I think our boys were into something with the three Cobber’s Wood victims. They had a falling-out, and Edwards and Mayberry hung them. Then Mayberry and Edwards had a falling-out, and Mayberry killed him. I’m thinking that Edwards tied the knots for the Cobber’s Wood victims and Mayberry tied the knots that strung up Edwards.’’
‘‘What about Kacie? Mayberry do her too?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Either that, or this really is a coincidence. She was raped. This could be a rapist who also steals.’’
‘‘That sounds reasonable,’’ said Diane, ‘‘but there’s one thing.’’
‘‘What’s that?’’
‘‘Who’s calling me? I spoke with Mayberry at the Cobber’s Wood crime scene, and it wasn’t him.’’
Garnett winced. ‘‘Maybe that’s someone else too. You said you get lots of E-mail every time they run that interview.’’
‘‘Yes. That’s true. I do.’’
‘‘Damn, all this is too complicated.’’ Garnett ran a hand through his thick hair.
‘‘What’s the profiler saying?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘That the Cobber’s Wood victims were done by a serial killer who’s probably done some people before. We’re looking for similar killings in other states now.’’
‘‘And the other murders?’’
‘‘Separate. He said something about Cobber’s Wood being an organized scene and Edwards’ scene being disorganized. He thinks Raymond Waller was killed for his collection. He talked to one of your curators or conservators, or whatever you call them, and it seems that the collection is real valuable. We ran a check on Waller’s finances, and all his spare money for as far back as we can check has gone into the collection.’’
‘‘That makes sense too,’’ said Diane.
But something she couldn’t put her finger on both ered her. Looking at all the crime scenes was like looking at an illusion and not being able to perceive the alternate point of view. If she could just see through the illusion.
‘‘You’re right,’’ she said. ‘‘This is too complicated. Perhaps we should quit looking for a connection and look at each scene as separate until we know better.’’
As she spoke, Jin showed up at the door. ‘‘Hey, Boss. I thought you’d like to know, I’ve connected two of the crime scenes.’’
Chapter 33
Jin gathered up his hair and doned a cap just before he stepped into the room. He picked up a pair of latex gloves and put them on. ‘‘I just finished with the Crown Vic, and I tell you one thing, we can find this guy by looking to see who’s walking around with a handheld vac. He’s cleaned that sucker up. Obviously been watching too many crime scene shows.’’
‘‘You said you’ve discovered a connection,’’ said Garnett. He sounded a little testy, but Jin ignored that.
‘‘Sure did. You know the bloody glove print with the tear we found at the Chris Edwards crime scene? Well, I found that same glove print on the left front fender and on the left front door of your car, Boss. He’s the guy who attacked you.’’
Diane must have looked dumfounded. Garnett certainly did. He stood there in his suit that he’d worn to Raymond’s funeral, his mouth hanging slightly open.
‘‘I thought you’d be surprised,’’ said Jin.
‘‘Are you serious?’’ said Garnett.
‘‘As a heart attack,’’ said Jin. ‘‘It’s the same glove.
Still had traces of blood on it.’’
‘‘Well, now we’ve got something,’’ Garnett said.
‘‘Okay, where does that leave us?’’
‘‘The person who attacked Dr. Fallon is the same
person who killed Chris Edwards,’’ said Jin. ‘‘He is
also the same person who stole the Crown Victoria.’’ ‘‘That means, if you’re right on the voice recogni
tion, Diane, that it was not Mayberry who killed Ed
wards. This is beginning to get as complicated as one
of those logic problems that my daughter likes to work
in her game magazines,’’ said Garnett.
‘‘I love those,’’ said Jin. ‘‘Can’t get enough of them.
I’ve even had a few of my own published in those
mags.’’ Garnett looked at Jin as if affronted by his
intelligence. Jin, obviously enjoying the moment,
pressed on. ‘‘If he’s the same person who’s been call
ing you, Boss, then that makes for a very interesting
problem.’’
‘‘How’s that?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Because,’’ said Diane, ‘‘the person who’s been call
ing me said he was inspired by the television
interview—that was shown before Chris Edwards
died.’’
Garnett looked surprised again and fell silent.
‘‘Okay,’’ he said. ‘‘He was contemplating killing some
one, picked out Edwards from the interview to kill,
and you to call and chat about it.’’
Diane was tempted to laugh, but she could see Garnett was serious.
‘‘You need to give this information to the profiler,’’
she said. ‘‘He’ll need it before he gets too far into his
analysis. And I have an idea. See if the university has
someone in the linguistics department who specializes
in recognizing accents and dialects. We have the caller
on tape. Maybe we can place where he grew up.’’ ‘‘That’s an idea. What department would I call?’’ ‘‘Anthropology and English. They both teach lin
guistics. I’ll ask my archaeologist if he knows anyone.
You also might try someone in speech. Sometimes
they have someone with that skill.’’
‘‘That’s a good idea.’’
‘‘It’s about time for some of the chemical analysis
on the bones and the toxicology reports from the au
topsies to come back. That could give us a lot of
information.’’
‘‘We’ve finished here.’’ David and Neva came from
the bedroom, carrying an armload of evidence bags. ‘‘Find anything useful?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Won’t know until we get back to the lab,’’ said
David. ‘‘By the way, I’m sending you and Sheriff Braden a copy of my report on the insects. Diane was
dead-on about the time of death for Cobber’s Wood.
Twenty-one days before they were found. My insects
don’t lie.’’
Garnett nodded. ‘‘Well, Dr. Webber will be sorry
to hear that. I guess you know she pitched a fit when
you disagreed with her.’’ Apparently, Garnett didn’t
like women who pitched fits.
‘‘I got a call from her myself,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I need to go talk to Ross Kingsley,’’ said Garnett.
‘‘When you have time, come by my office. I need to
talk to you about something.’’
Diane looked at her watch. ‘‘How late will you be
there?’’
‘‘Late. Just call my cell.’’ He went out the door and
to his car.
‘‘How’d the mummy thing go?’’ asked Jin, removing
his cap and gloves outside the door with Diane, David
and Neva.
‘‘I’m going to keep the crime scene seal on,’’ said
David. ‘‘I’ll release it when the parents get to town.’’ ‘‘All right,’’ said Diane. ‘‘The mummy thing went
well. Found a tumor on one of his kidneys.’’ ‘‘Poor fellow,’’ said Jin. ‘‘Suffered all those ab
scesses, a tumor, lower back pain, and the indignity
of a Victorian unwrapping party.’’
‘‘Kendel did find the amulets that were inside his
wrappings and acquired them for the museum.’’ ‘‘Cool,’’ said Jin.
‘‘When I was little,’’ said Neva, ‘‘my grandma used
to have these party favors she called surprise balls. It
was a crepe paper streamer wrapped into a ball. As
she wrapped the crepe paper, she’d put little trinkets
&
nbsp; in the wrapping, so that we’d find things as we un
wrapped the ball. It sounds like the idea came from
the Egyptians.’’
‘‘I’ve heard of those,’’ said David. ‘‘Be interesting
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