They all ordered steak, salad, and baked potato, with Paloma ordering a baked sweet potato with her meal.
While they waited for their food, Diane talked about the museum and its holdings, inviting them to take a look around when they had the time. Mark commented that he wasn’t used to so much green and it would be fun to bring his students there on a field trip if the school ever got a windfall for traveling.
“We won’t hold our breath,” said Paloma, smiling.
The waitress brought their food and the four of them were well into their lunch before anyone brought up Marcella. Diane told Paloma about the beautiful work her mother did and described the reconstructed mask-pitcher in Marcella’s workroom.
“That was one of the pieces she dug up in the backyard,” said Paloma.
“I’m not that well versed on pottery,” said Diane, “but to me it didn’t look Native American.”
“It isn’t,” said Paloma. “It’s modern, but Mother didn’t know how old. One of the things that excited Mother about the house is all the stuff she found. One of the previous owners must have been an artist and a potter. Best of all, whoever it was used a bonfire kiln, like Mother uses. Mother found a pit in the backyard where the pots were fired. She excavated hundreds of broken sherds from the fire pit. For my mother, that was like finding a yard full of gold. Whoever the potter was, he used natural clays and tempers like she uses.”
“I wonder if the artist could have been someone from the university?” said Diane.
“Mother thought they might have been an archaeologist,” said Paloma. “But she knows practically every archaeologist who’s ever worked with pottery and she said there isn’t anyone from Bartrum in the literature. Mother told me a lot more about all the pottery finds, but I have to confess, at a certain point I kind of glaze over.” Paloma smiled. “I didn’t get bit by the archaeology bug the way she did.”
“The mask she was reconstructing in her workroom is so beautiful. Did she have any clue who the artist might be?” said Diane.
Paloma shook her head. “She’s been trying to find out. The house was empty for several years. You may have noticed it got a little run-down. The guy she bought it from had inherited it from an uncle. He didn’t know any owners before that. She talked to some of her neighbors. They didn’t know anything either. Evidently there is a large turnover in the area because of all the students from Bartrum.”
When they had finished eating, Diane talked them into dessert. Paloma and her husband ordered pecan pie. Diane and Jonas had chocolate cake. Both were specialties of the restaurant. Mark asked Diane how they pronounced pecan here. Diane told him it was like puh-CON. That a pee-can is a receptacle. He laughed. It took Jonas and Paloma a second for the joke to register. It was good to see Paloma laugh.
“I saw a lot of pieces of broken garden ornaments when I was at the house,” said Diane.
Paloma and Jonas both nodded.
“Mother found a lot of modern artifacts in the yard,” said Paloma. “All kinds of pieces of statues, birdbaths, gargoyles. Someone at some point liked to decorate the garden in all manner of statuary. Mother said it was impossible to tell if they were in the same time frame as the pottery, but she was having a great time.”
Paloma’s eyes were suddenly moist. She blinked and took a drink of water. “Why would anyone hurt her so cruelly?” she asked.
Diane didn’t think she expected an answer. There was never a good enough answer to satisfy that question.
“She had some paintings on the living room wall that were stolen the night of the attack,” said Diane. “Three portraits. Do you know anything about them?”
“She didn’t have them when I was over at her house a couple of weeks ago,” offered Jonas.
Paloma nodded. “She called me last week, so excited. They were hidden inside a wall in one of the upstairs rooms. She found them when she tore out the wall for a doorway. She thought they might have been done by the same artist who did the pottery.”
“Inside a wall? Interesting. Were the paintings signed?” asked Diane.
“I don’t know,” said Paloma. “I couldn’t talk to her very long that evening; I was late to a meeting.” She started to cry and her husband pulled her over to him and hugged her.
Diane wished she had something comforting to say.
After a minute Paloma straightened up and took another drink of water. “Sorry. It’s just so unfair.”
“Yes, it is,” said Diane.
“She told me one of the sheds out back was a potter’s shed,” said Paloma. “It was mostly filled with a lot of junk, but she found some pieces of furniture there that she wanted to refinish. She was like a kid in a candy store with all the stuff she was finding.” Paloma smiled. “Most people would have thought it all junk and trash. Archaeologists have a different view about old things.”
“Yes, we do,” said Jonas.
Diane almost mentioned the odd note on the bottom of the desk drawer, but decided not to say anything. It seemed, at this particular moment, a little too disturbing. Instead, she changed the subject to the mummy the museum inherited a year ago and all the surprises that came with it. By the end of dessert, Paloma seemed to be feeling better.
Mark glanced around the restaurant. “I don’t see our waitress,” he said.
“Would you like something else?” asked Diane.
He grinned. “Oh, no, this will last me well into next week. I was just looking for the check.”
“She won’t be coming with a check,” said Jonas. “It’s a little-known secret that when Diane brings a guest to the restaurant, the waitstaff don’t bring the check to the table. See, in the museum, Diane is queen. Really, it’s true.” Jonas chuckled. “We have a herpetologist who is terrified of Diane and hides when he sees her coming. Afraid he might be banished or something.”
“He lost a snake in the museum,” said Diane. “It turns up at odd times and scares the staff. He can’t seem to catch it or tell me why it’s still in the building. It should have made its way outside by now.”
Paloma and Mark both laughed. “We appreciate all this,” said Mark. “It’s comforting to get to town and not be strangers.”
“I’m just sorry your visit is for this reason,” said Diane. She paused. “I really think Marcella will come out of it.” I’m hoping, she thought.
“She has a very hard head,” said Jonas.
“She does that,” said Paloma.
When they got up to leave, Diane spotted Ross Kingsley at another table. She took her leave of Jonas, Paloma, and Mark and walked over to his table.
“Diane,” he said when she sat down, “I’ll be ready to go to Mr. Dance’s house when I finish. Couldn’t resist the cake here.”
“I had a piece too. I’ll go up to the crime lab and get a kit. You want to pick me up outside the lab?” asked Diane.
“Sure. Look, I really do appreciate your help in this. I don’t know where else I’d get free forensic expertise.” He grinned at her.
Diane laughed. “I don’t know where you’d find a sucker as big as me. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. Enjoy your cake.”
Chapter 14
The crime lab, all shiny glass and chrome, was an agency of the City of Rosewood, which didn’t pay the museum any rent for the space. In exchange for housing the crime lab, the city forgave the museum all its city taxes—taxes they had raised in order to entice Diane into housing the lab. Despite the city’s less than scrupulous way of getting the space, Diane liked the idea of having the crime lab in the museum, and so did the museum board. Otherwise, she would have resisted Rosewood’s little blackmail scheme.
The city’s great deal was compounded for them when they discovered that if they dragged their feet on approving the funds for the purchase of new pieces of expensive forensic equipment requested for the crime lab, Diane would have the museum purchase the equipment and lease it back to the lab, thus avoiding the need for large cash outlays by the city. At least they thought
it was a great deal until they realized Diane could indeed pull the plug on the arrangement, boot the lab out of the museum, and keep the sexiest and most expensive pieces of state-of-the-art equipment. It was a sometimes-uneasy alliance, but it worked, and Diane and the city had a great crime lab.
David was in deep conversation with Deven Jin when Diane entered the crime lab. Jin came to the Rosewood Crime Lab from New York where he was a criminalist. He had persuaded Diane to establish a DNA lab in the museum and she had put him in charge. Jin was the youngest member of Diane’s forensic team and the most energetic. He was half Asian, adventurous, and loved his job. It turned out that the DNA lab was one of the more lucrative departments in the museum.
“How are the investigations coming?” said Diane. She pulled out a chair at the round debriefing table and sat down with the two of them.
David ran down the current cases, which were fortunately few. Fewer cases meant less mayhem and murder was going on.
“We have a collection of fibers from Marcella Payden’s place. Mostly collected outside from the second event, the one you were involved in. The fibers are dyed black wool, which we suspect came from the ski masks. There are also several Manila hemp fibers in association with the wool, which may have come from a rope. That may mean the masks and rope were stored together, since there was no report of a rope in connection with the fracas.” David smiled at Diane. “We also have quite a collection of maroon-colored sequins.”
“I’ll bet you do,” said Diane.
“We have several boot prints that are noteworthy,” said David. “A soft-toe work boot from Cherokee, size eleven—about thirty dollars and available at discount stores; Garmont men’s hiking boot, size ten—about two hundred dollars; and an Oliver steel toe safety boot, size ten and a half—about a hundred and fifty dollars. All have wear patterns that will allow us to identify them if we find the boots themselves. Notice the differences in price.”
“I did,” said Diane.
“Ray-Ray Dildy had the cheap boots,” said David. “It looks like his partners had a little more money to spend on footwear.”
“Good evidence,” said Diane. “I imagine Hanks was pleased.”
“He was . . . with the boot prints,” said David.
Diane raised her eyebrows. “Oh?” she said.
“The description Daughtry and Hanks gave of the events doesn’t fit with the findings on the dead guy.”
Diane closed her eyes a moment. “I don’t like this,” she said. “What doesn’t match?”
“Well, first of all, it was Officer Daughtry’s gun that killed Ray-Ray Dildy,” said David. “I don’t know if you knew that.”
“I feared it might be, but—is there a problem?” asked Diane.
“Daughtry and Hanks both stated that Daughtry had just stepped, or rather, limped off the porch when Daughtry fired his gun,” said David.
“And?” said Diane.
David steepled his hands in front of his face, a gesture he sometimes made when he was trying to explain a point.
“Dildy was found almost at the edge of the woods, a good forty feet from the porch, and there was gunpowder residue around the entry wound on Dildy’s clothing,” said David.
“I see,” said Diane.
“There are two explanations at the moment. Dildy was closer to Officer Daughtry when he was shot than Daughtry and Hanks remembered. And Dildy survived long enough to walk or stumble forty feet across the yard.”
“Did Lynn think that was possible?” asked Diane.
Lynn Webber was the medical examiner for Rosewood and a couple of the surrounding counties. Budget shortfalls had led to a consolidation of medical examiners’ offices in the area. With Diane’s recommendation, Lynn Webber had been brought in from the neighboring county to serve as the multicounty ME. In the process, she had dislodged Rosewood’s ME, who had been tainted by association with the corrupt leadership of the City of Rosewood’s previous administration. It was one small win for the good guys. Diane and Lynn worked well in collaboration when death and crime brought them together.
“She said he could have lived long enough to get a few feet ,” said David. “She wasn’t sure about forty feet.”
“You think Daughtry ran him down and shot him?” said Diane. “His leg was injured, but he was pumped full of adrenaline.”
David shook his head. “No blood trail to the body, and Daughtry was bleeding freely from his wound. We do have a trail that more or less matches his and Hanks’ tale, but with a small detour into one of the little rock gardens, or whatever those rock-bordered spaces are that are all around the yard,” said David. “What I think is, Daughtry lost his gun for a time, most likely when he fell through the floor of the porch. One of the other perps picked it up, shot Dildy, and threw the gun down. I think Daughtry then retrieved it, and isn’t admitting that he ever lost it. The chief of police is pretty strict about knowing a gun’s whereabouts at all times. He doesn’t like it when an officer loses track of his gun, even for a few minutes.”
“What does Daughtry say?” asked Diane.
“Don’t know. Don’t want to know. I just deliver evidence, sometimes along with scenarios when appropriate. I explained things to Hanks. He tried to argue with me about what the evidence says and didn’t like it when I stuck to my analysis. But it’s his problem now.”
“Naturally, he’s going to try and protect his own,” said Diane.
“We’re in the same tribe,” said David. He rubbed his balding crown down to the dark fringe around his head where his hair was making its last stand.
“We are on the same side, but that’s a little different from being family,” said Diane. “Your obligation is over now that you’ve told Hanks, so don’t worry about it. My sense is, he may not like it, but he won’t ignore it. Besides, that’s better than having shot a fleeing perp in the back at forty feet. So, anything else I should know about?”
“That covers it as far as the evidence goes. We didn’t get any fingerprints other than exemplars, and Jin tells me that all the blood belongs to Dr. Payden.”
“How did you get Marcella’s fingerprints? Did you take them at the hospital?” asked Diane.
“Didn’t have to,” said David. “She’s on file.” He grinned. “Dr. Payden has a record.”
“What?” said Diane. “For what?”
“Seems that when she was a student many years ago, she protested a construction project that was about to start building on top of a Native American prehistoric site. Archaeologists were trying to get an injunction so they could excavate the site and save the remains from destruction, but the construction contractor was hell-bent on leveling the place before the court order could be issued. She sneaked into the construction site in the dead of night, revved up one of their heavy front-end loaders, and ran over all their smaller equipment, shed and all,” said David, still grinning from ear to ear. “She got community service and a fine.”
Diane shook her head and smiled. “Who knew? She seems so harmless. We all did things in our youth. Where are Izzy and Neva?” she asked.
“Izzy’s out on his own, working a break-in. I’m sending him out by himself on some of the smaller things. He’s doing well, by the way,” said David. “Neva is in the museum at Document Analysis. She’s curious about the handwriting on the desk.”
Diane looked over at Jin. “What are you doing up here?” she asked.
“Visiting. You know, you always say that when I visit you guys up here. Like I’m never supposed to take a break.”
Diane looked at Jin a moment. “Touchy today?”
“His two new employees—the ones he went through such a long process of finding—are driving him crazy,” said David. “They’re as obsessive-compulsive as he is.”
“Being detail oriented is not OC,” said Jin. “It’s simply doing a good job. There’s a reason that, as young as we are, we are one of the most reliable labs in the country. You have to admit, the DNA lab pays for itself many times over.”
“I admit all of that,” said Diane. She stood up. “I’m taking a kit out to do some private work. Call if you need anything.”
“I can go with you,” said Jin. “You might need help.”
“It’s a freebie,” said Diane.
“I do pro bono,” said Jin.
“Why would you want to go?” asked Diane.
“My new employees are driving me nuts,” he said.
Chapter 15
They rode toward Gainesville with Ross Kingsley driving, Diane in the passenger seat, and Jin in the backseat talking a blue streak about his new lab technicians.
“I thought you liked Elvis,” said Diane.
“I do,” said Jin, “but I don’t come to work dressed like him, and I can’t recite all of his songs in chronological order.”
“But your technicians are doing a good job?” asked Kingsley.
“Oh yes,” said Jin, “they are great. I wouldn’t trade them in or anything. I just need a little break from them once in a while.”
“Both are quirky?” asked Kingsley.
“Well, they are twins,” said Jin. “And I have to say, they work well together. Very efficient. Very low error rate—amazingly low.”
They drove into the working-class neighborhood Stacy Dance had lived and died in. Many of the houses were empty, with foreclosure signs in the yards. It was a neighborhood that had seen better days. At the same time, many of the occupied homes were neatly kept, if a little worn around the edges. The neighborhood spoke of hard times and pride.
Harmon Dance’s house, the home of Stacy and Ryan, was backed up against a small copse of trees on a corner lot. The yard of the empty house next door was overgrown and the curtainless windows reminded Diane of dead eyes. She felt a chill.
Diane saw the second-story garage apartment right away. The garage sat a few feet away from the main house, with a dogtrot between the structures. A steep stairway on the side away from the house led up to the apartment. It was a short distance, maybe thirty feet, from the stairs to the road.
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