The Night Killer

by Beverly Connor

  “Well, yes,” he said.

  “We might be able to discover things on it not visible to the naked eye,” she said.

  “That’s right, you have a crime lab here. You think you might be able to bring out more of the writing?” he said.

  “Possibly. At the crime lab or the museum’s conservation laboratory. Take your pick,” she said. “We work a lot with restoring old documents.”

  He shifted to one side in his seat and pulled his billfold from his pocket. He opened it and pulled out a weathered piece of paper stored alongside his bills and handed it to Diane.

  She raised her brow. “You kept it in your wallet?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Diane took out an acid- free envelope from her desk, wrote on it, and slipped the paper inside.

  “What do you think happened to them?” she said.

  Liam breathed in and out deeply and was quiet a moment. “I think they’re most likely dead,” he said.

  “Why?” said Diane.

  “They haven’t been heard from in six weeks now. I know they went to the university library here in Rosewood and copied several geologic maps. I think it was to locate caves and abandoned mines in the area.”

  He glanced over at the picture of Diane hanging by a rope, descending into the vertical entrance to a cave.

  “Is that you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Andie said you are a world-class caver,” he said.

  “Andie exaggerates,” said Diane.

  He brought his gaze back to Diane.

  “Does she? But you are an experienced caver?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “My client’s daughter and her boyfriend were not. In fact, they weren’t cavers at all. What happens to inexperienced people who go exploring caves?” he said. “Or abandoned mines?”

  “They frequently need to be rescued, and they sometimes die,” said Diane. “Is that what you think happened to them?”

  “It makes sense,” he said.

  Diane had to agree. But the possibility also ran through her mind that, depending on when they became lost, they could still be alive—somewhere underground—in need of rescue.

  “What were you doing out in the woods in the dead of night?” she said. “I don’t believe you were photographing nocturnal animals.”

  “No. I was camping near where my client’s daughter had camped and, just as I said, I did see your light and hear the dogs and was curious. And I do have an uncle who raises Walker hounds.”

  “How did you find their campsite?” asked Diane. “The national park is a big place.”

  “Well, the first lead was a credit card charge where they gassed up the boyfriend’s motorcycle at a convenience store in Rendell County. I talked with the clerk there. She didn’t remember them, but I know from the girl’s credit card records that they were there.”

  “How do you know it was his motorcycle?” said Diane.

  “The tag number was on the charge receipt.”

  “What else?” asked Diane.

  “In accordance with my client’s wishes, I haven’t used his or his daughter’s name, but I did tell a few people up there I was looking for a young male relative of mine and wondered if they had seen him. Several had met him, or had seen him and the girl on the motorcycle, and remembered him asking questions about several specific areas by name, and how to get to them.

  “I copied the same maps the boyfriend had at the university. I have some experience reading maps of that kind. I knew from the maps and what the locals had told me the area he was looking in. I found their campsite after a methodical search. I was looking for caves shown on the maps near the campsite and radiating out. I thought if I could find the right cave or abandoned mine they last visited, there might be some signs of them. But I had pretty much hit a wall.”

  “Did you find the motorcycle?” asked Diane.

  “No,” he said, “and that is troubling too.”

  Diane was wondering if Liam’s story was true. He sounded convincing—at least, his part in it sounded convincing. The treasure story itself sounded far-fetched. But sometimes young people believed far-fetched things . . . and did far- fetched things. There were a lot of treasure hunters in the world, young and old. For Andie’s sake, Diane wanted Liam to be telling the truth.

  “What are you going to do now?” asked Diane.

  “Ask you for your help,” he said. “First, can I look at the diaries?”

  “I’m arranging for speed-readers to go through them,” said Diane. “You have no idea the volume we are talking about.”

  “Do they know what to look for?” he said.

  “Now that I have more information to give them, they will. Up until now, I only knew to instruct them to look for anything that might lead to murder. Vague, I know, but that’s where we were until your story. I also know now that the information will probably be in his early diaries. Of course, he may have revisited the topic in later entries,” said Diane.

  Diane looked over at the picture of herself in the cave. She wondered if this really was why the Barres were killed—over lost treasure. Could the murderers have been Liam’s client’s daughter and her boyfriend? Or could they simply be lying low all this time, looking for treasure? It was not uncommon that free spirits didn’t do what their kin expected—especially when it involved calling home. Or perhaps they did become frustrated with not finding anything and, if they thought Roy Barre had lied to them, they were frustrated enough to kill him and Ozella.

  “Do you play poker?” Liam asked.

  Diane looked at him. “No, I don’t play poker. I’ve been told I have so many tells that I ought not bother,” she said.

  He smiled at her. He had a nice smile that made his sad, vulnerable eyes look friendly and good-humored.

  “Good advice. I don’t think my client’s daughter killed the Barres. It wouldn’t be in her nature,” he said.

  “What about her boyfriend?” said Diane. “You said she made bad choices in men. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had gotten gold fever and killed over it,” she said.

  “True, but . . .” He sighed. “That would make my life complicated.”

  Diane’s computer played a five-note melody that meant the information coming in was from David.

  “Excuse me, I need to look at this,” she said.

  She set her expression in what she hoped was an inscrutable mask. It occurred to her that she needed to Botox her whole face so she could keep her thoughts to herself.

  Her monitor was facing her, so she didn’t have to ask Liam to step into another room. She read the message. It was information David had acquired about Liam’s military service. David had put a small note on the end: It’s not mentioned anywhere on his Web site. At least we know how he can afford to travel all over.

  Diane closed out the message and looked at Liam. He was studying the Escher prints on the other wall.

  “So, will you help me?” he asked.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “If your client’s daughter is guilty, I won’t protect her.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “What chance do I have with Andie now?”

  “Are you married?” asked Diane.

  “Used to be. Military life is hard on a marriage. I’ve been divorced for several years. No children,” he added.

  “It’s up to Andie,” said Diane. “How good are you at groveling?”

  “I can grovel with the best of them,” he said. “Does this mean you believe me?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Diane. “I don’t like it that you used my friend—even if it was some ‘happy accident.’ ”

  “You’ve never gotten information from someone in a covert manner?” he asked.

  “I’ve never romanced anyone for information. Andie’s hurt,” said Diane.

  Liam frowned. “I know, and I’m sorry. I like her,” he said.

  “It would have been a good idea to level with her from the start,�
� she said. “Nevertheless, I have no say in Andie’s private life. But you need to know, you have made yourself suspicious to all of us. Around here, that is not good, particularly since you had contact with the Barres.”

  He winced. “Does Andie like flowers?” he asked.

  “Most women like flowers,” Diane said.

  “What kind does Andie like?” he asked.

  “Red roses, violets, and daisies are her favorites,” said Diane.

  He nodded and stood up.

  “I didn’t kill the Barres or the Watsons,” he said.

  The Watsons. Could the Watsons fit into this lost-gold-mine scenario? Diane wondered.

  “Did the young treasure hunters have any contact with the Watsons?” asked Diane.

  “The Watsons’ name did not come up in any of my investigations,” he said.

  He stood up and pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and wrote a number on it.

  “This is my cell number. I would appreciate it if you would keep me somewhere in the loop. Whatever you think of me, my client’s daughter is missing,” he said.

  “Are you staying in Rosewood?” asked Diane.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “How long?”

  “Until I completely dead-end,” he said.

  “Have you spoken with Sheriff Conrad?” asked Diane. “He would be the logical person to talk with about a missing person.”

  “Yes, I went to see him. I got nowhere. He took my number and said he would call if he heard anything. I fully expected that he would throw it away when I walked out the door. He suggested I speak with the park rangers—which I had already done,” he said. “My girl and the boyfriend weren’t registered as being in the park.”

  He stood and started to leave, stopped, and turned back to Diane.

  “Have you discovered what the skeleton on the hood of your car was about?”

  Chapter 35

  Diane was going to be late meeting David and the others at the museum restaurant. After she explained to Liam Dugal what she thought the skeleton in the hollow tree was about and he had left, she made a quick call to Frank to ask him to join them. She started out the door and came face-to-face with Andie.

  She was wearing one of the museum’s sparkly T-shirts—a pink one with shells on it—and black jeans. She had changed clothes. Diane wondered if she felt her new look had been foolish.

  “I waited until he left,” she said.

  Obviously she meant Liam. Diane led her through the door to her private lounge, sat her on the couch, and gave her a soda from her refrigerator.

  “You doing okay?” Diane asked, sitting down beside her.

  “No,” Andie said. “I feel like such an idiot.”

  “Don’t,” said Diane. “You weren’t the one who behaved foolishly.”

  “I feel foolish,” she said.

  “He thinks you’re very clever. He said you outed him,” said Diane.

  “Like it was hard. He asked a lot of questions about you and about the new archaeology exhibit. That wouldn’t have been as strange if there wasn’t all this terrible stuff happening around those Indian arrowheads.”

  “He said he thought he was being cunning about the whole thing,” Diane said.

  “You know, I hate it that he’s not interested in the museum. I was so happy that I had found someone so drop-dead gorgeous who shared my interests. I hate being used. I hate everything about this.”

  Andie started to cry and leaned against Diane. Diane put an arm around her and let the tears flow. She was about to tear up herself. After a few minutes Andie straightened up and pulled a Kleenex out of the box on the coffee table and blew her nose.

  “I’ve never felt like this,” Andie said, and looked over at Diane. “The worst thing is, I’m not sure I could say no if he wants to come back. I’ve never wanted to be a woman like that. One who lets a man walk all over her. Am I terrible?”

  “No. I think all this is still fresh and you are very disappointed. I know he is sorry he hurt you.”

  “Really? What did he say?” Andie put her face in her hands. “Never mind,” she mumbled. “Just listen to me. Ready to jump back in and get hurt again.” She raised her head. “What did he say?”

  “He asked me if he still has a chance with you,” Diane said.

  “He did? What did you tell him?” asked Andie.

  “I asked how he is at groveling, and he said he can grovel with the best of them,” said Diane.

  “Oh, hell,” said Andie. “That makes me happy. I hate being that kind of woman—looking for crumbs.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?” said Diane.

  “I don’t know. I just feel so confused.” Andie ran her hands through her hair. “Can I ask you a question? Did you know? I couldn’t help noticing the eye contact when he came in. You seemed to know something,” said Andie.

  “Earlier today I heard his voice in the restaurant and recognized it. I had David look him up. I was concerned about the coincidence,” said Diane.

  Andie wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean, coincidence? And how did you recognize his voice? Why would that matter?” asked Andie.

  “What did he confess to you?” asked Diane.

  “That he is a detective looking for missing persons and thought information the Barres had might shed some light on their disappearance. So he wanted a look at the diary. Is there more? Did he leave out something? Please tell me he didn’t,” said Andie.

  “He was the man in the woods that night who helped me,” Diane said.

  Andie’s eyes grew large. “You’re kidding! He was the mystery guy in the woods? Why didn’t he tell me that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think it was as important an admission as really being a detective and not a prospective museology student,” said Diane.

  “He did help you, though,” said Andie. “That was good.”

  “Yes, and I really needed help,” said Diane. “And I’m very grateful. If it weren’t for the fact that he was in proximity to the Barres at the time of their deaths, my mind would be at ease.”

  “Do you think he could . . . I mean, it would be hard to believe . . .” said Andie. She paused, staring off at nothing . . . at something inside her head. “What do you think of him?” asked Andie. “Should I forgive him? Could he have killed those people?”

  “I can’t tell you what you should do. But I can tell you what I think of him. He answered all the questions I put to him in a straightforward manner. He appeared to be honest in his answers. I was also near the Barres when they were being killed. Being in the vicinity doesn’t point to guilt. And I have reason to believe he is, when it comes down to it, an honorable man,” said Diane.

  Andie looked over at her sharply. “Are you serious? You trust him?”

  “Most indicators are favorable,” said Diane.

  “Now, what does that mean?” asked Andie.

  Diane smiled. “It means, for now, I don’t mistrust him any more than I do any other person I don’t know.”

  “Do you have any idea how unhelpful that is?” said Andie.

  “You want to go to dinner?” asked Diane.

  “I think I’d rather go home, soak in my tub, eat chocolate, and listen to Lesley Gore’s ‘It’s My Party.’ ”

  Diane laughed. “Walk me to the restaurant then.” Diane stood up and pulled Andie up with her. “You going to be all right?”

  “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder. And thanks for listening. It helped a lot,” said Andie.

  “You’re welcome,” said Diane.

  On the way to the door Andie stopped. “You know something, don’t you? If you had David look up Liam, then he found out a lot. I know how talented David is about finding out stuff. What is it you know?”

  “Something private. Just because I have access to it doesn’t mean I have the right to tell it. I’d prefer to let him tell you,” said Diane.

  “It can’t be bad,” said Andie, more to
herself than to Diane.

  “It’s not bad, just private,” she said.

  Andie nodded.

  They walked together out of the east office wing and through the lobby. The night lighting had already come on in the museum and the visitors were gone. Only staff remained. Diane spoke to the guard on duty in the lobby as they passed through. They walked through the Primate Room and through the door to the large central hallway that led to the restaurant. Diane locked the door behind her. The restaurant was open after the museum’s regular hours. It had its own entrance to the outside at the end of the hallway. Diane walked Andie out to the parking lot and watched her drive off in her car.

  She was about to go back inside when Frank drove up and parked. He got out, walked over to her, and kissed her cheek.

  “Was that Andie I saw leaving?” he asked. “How is she doing?”

  Diane nodded. “Very hurt. But I think she’ll be fine.”

  “You’re very sparkly tonight,” said Frank, looking at Diane’s ice blue silk blouse, rubbing a hand on her shoulder.

  Diane laughed. “Andie’s T-shirt. It turns out the new museum T-shirts shed just a little of their glitter. Everyone’s starting to look like they got in a fight with Tinker Bell.”

  “It looks lovely on you,” he said.

  Diane linked her arm in his and they walked back into the building.

  “I spoke with Reverend Springhaven,” said Frank. “He got us an invitation to visit Rendell First Baptist Church this Sunday. You still determined to go?”

  “Yes,” Diane said. “I particularly want to speak with the Watson family members. Every time I find a motive that makes some sense for the Barre murders, there are also the Watson murders to consider, and it never works with them.”

  The museum restaurant was a maze of brick archways that looked as if they belonged in a medieval library. The connecting archways created five chamberlike spaces, each containing five tables made from rough- hewn wood. The restaurant also had booths in arched brick alcoves lining the walls.

  There was the subtle sound of low murmurs of patrons talking with one another in the flicker of candlelight.

  Diane and Frank made their way to the back of the restaurant to where David and the others had put a couple of the tables together. In addition to David, Jin was there, as were Neva and Mike. Diane and Frank sat down in front of the iced tea David had already ordered for them.