Dust to Dust

by Beverly Connor

  Diane finished her cereal and took the tray back to the kitchen. Frank was collecting his things and was about to head out the door.

  “I’m going to take the diary pages with me,” he said.

  “Sure. Thanks for doing this,” she said.

  “No problem. I’ll enjoy it. But I’ll have to work at it in free moments,” he said.

  Diane kissed him good-bye and changed out of her nightshirt into black slacks, a white shirt, and a dark red jacket. She drove to the museum, parked on the crime lab end of the building, and went up the private elevator to the lab. David was there alone. The others hadn’t arrived yet. He was at the round debriefing table reading the newspaper.

  “Isn’t this the case you are working on?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “And before you ask, I don’t know . . . well, yes, I do, but I don’t know why she chose such a forum.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked David.

  “Lynn Webber.” Diane explained about the history of Lynn Webber and Oran Doppelmeyer.

  “So, a little public humiliation for Dr. Doppelmeyer, then,” said David.

  “It would seem so. At least she didn’t mention my name.” Diane sat down at the table with David. “You know how you’ve been wanting to do a study of methods for finding buried human remains?”

  “Marcella’s yard?” said David. “I’ve been thinking about that very thing.”

  “I’m going over to the hospital to see whether Marcella’s daughter will give us permission,” said Diane.

  “I’ll ask Jin to let me borrow Heckle and Jeckle,” said David. “He should be glad for the opportunity to work alone for a while.”

  “They aren’t so bad,” said Diane. “They enjoy research, so I’m sure they will be glad to help with the project.” She stood up. “You clear it with Jin and I’ll get Marcella’s permission.”

  Diane drove to the hospital. As she parked, she toyed with the idea of going down to the morgue to speak with Lynn Webber, but decided against it. She wasn’t sure what she would say to her. No doubt Lynn was getting quite a few calls anyway. Diane went up to the ICU waiting room. She found Paloma and her husband sitting on one of the small sofas. Both were reading paperbacks.

  “Oh, hi,” said Paloma.

  Diane greeted them, pulled up a chair, and sat down. “How is your mother?” she asked.

  “Much better. She’s speaking more easily. We are waiting for the next visiting time,” Paloma said.

  “No more one-word sentences to decipher,” said Mark.

  “That’s good. Have you spoken with Jonas, by any chance?” asked Diane.

  “Yes, he visited with Mother late yesterday. She thinks someone may be buried in her yard. Maybe the woman who lived there—she wasn’t real clear,” said Paloma. “I was afraid she may be, well, you know.”

  “Frankly, we didn’t give it much credibility,” said Mark, “but Jonas seemed to agree with her.” He cocked an eyebrow at Diane. “Is it possible?”

  “Possible, yes,” said Diane. She explained to them about the research project she would like to do in Marcella’s yard.

  “Mother would love it,” said Paloma. “Look, why don’t you go in at the next visiting time?”

  “I don’t want to take away from your time,” said Diane.

  “That’s all right. She’ll enjoy your visit. Mark and I can go down for some breakfast,” she said.

  Diane agreed and went in at the next scheduled visiting period. Marcella looked considerably better than she had the last time Diane saw her. She had more color in her face and her eyes looked brighter. She was sitting up, sipping broth through a straw. She smiled when Diane entered the room.

  “I want to thank you for your kindness to Paloma and Mark,” she said. Her voice was weak, but Mark was right; her sentence structure was much better.

  “I’m glad to be able to help,” said Diane. “I came to ask your permission to carry out an experiment in your yard.”

  Marcella smiled. She clearly liked the idea of experiments.

  “That sounds delightful,” she said. She took a sip of broth. “Jonas told me you found the sherds I was concerned about,” she said.

  “We did. That is what spurred the desire for the experiment,” said Diane.

  “Do you think someone is buried in my backyard? The note . . . I wondered if whoever wrote it was, well, murdered. I think there was some deranged artist living in the house and he may have done away with someone. What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like to take a look in your yard. We are always looking for better ways to detect buried human remains. David has wanted for a long time to have a place to take soil samples to run a chemical analysis to see if he can pinpoint locations where remains have been buried. He wants to try other methods too—resistivity, seismic—and make comparisons. I wanted to ask your permission,” said Diane.

  “Yes, I think that is an intriguing idea. We can perhaps solve my little mystery and get some scientific information to boot. A good plan,” she said.

  “Tell me,” said Diane. “How old do you think the writing on the desk is?”

  “The desk was under a lot of junk that hadn’t been moved in a very long time. I had an antiques dealer look at it. He thinks it is a handmade desk from the 1930s. If it helps, it had a buffalo nickel dated 1920 in one of the drawers. It was worth two dollars.” She grinned and took a sip from a cup of coffee on her tray. “I hadn’t finished looking into the pedigree of the house. I went to the historical society and spoke with a few old-timers who worked there. They weren’t much help remembering, but they gave me a computer printout of a picture of the front of the house from about fifty years ago. It hasn’t changed much. I was going to the courthouse next.”

  “I have someone searching the courthouse records,” said Diane. “Tell me about the three paintings on the living room wall.”

  “That was the most fun thing. I was knocking out a wall upstairs, and there they were. Very nice, I thought. They seemed like they fit the house. I hung them in the living room,” she said.

  “Were they signed?” Diane asked.

  “In a way. There is a picture of a bird in the lower-right corner of each one. A black-and-white bird. I thought the artist might have a bird name, like Finch, Crow, Sparrow—there are any number of surnames that are birds. That’s a thought,” said Marcella. “Perhaps there is something in the paintings that we can date.”

  “The thieves took the paintings,” said Diane.

  “Why would anyone steal those old paintings?”

  “That’s one of the things we hope to find out. They also took your pottery that was in the living room hutch.”

  “I don’t know what the paintings were worth, but they are going to be sorely disappointed in the pots. They aren’t real artifacts,” said Marcella.

  Marcella pronounced each word with a short pause. Diane noticed her voice was fading quickly.

  “What did you make of the subjects in the paintings?” asked Diane.

  “One was a young woman, another was a young man—actually, they looked more like teenagers. The background of both was woods. Very wistful faces. The third was a woman, perhaps in her thirties, sitting in a chair.”

  Marcella stopped talking and her eyes suddenly grew wide. Diane was alarmed that she might be feeling ill.

  “Well, why didn’t I notice it before?” Marcella said. “She was sitting on a chair at a desk—the desk I found in the potter’s shed.”

  Chapter 28

  Marcella leaned back and put a hand to her head and took a deep breath.

  “I’m afraid I’m tiring you out,” said Diane.

  “It’s this damn headache that comes and goes that tires me out,” she said. “It’s good for me to think. I need to be able to think.”

  “Your thinking is just fine. Thank you for allowing us to experiment in your yard.”

  “My pleasure,” whispered Marcella. “Experimenting is good. I have always liked
the University of Georgia motto—do you know what it is?”

  “No, I confess I don’t.” Diane grinned. “I don’t even know the motto of Bartrum University.”

  “Georgia’s is Et docere et rerum exquirere causas,” Marcella said slowly.

  Diane’s Latin was terrible, unless it had something to do with anatomy. She merely raised her eyebrows.

  “To teach, to serve, and to inquire into the nature of things. I love inquiring into the nature of things.”

  “That is a nice motto,” said Diane. She squeezed Marcella’s hand and started to leave.

  “Bartrum’s,” whispered Marcella, “is Quaerite et invenietis: Seek and ye shall find.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Diane said.

  Paloma and Mark were gone when Diane came out of the ICU. Diane guessed they were in the cafeteria. She punched the elevator button and waited. The doors opened and Lynn Webber was standing in front of her, managing to look stylish in her bright white lab coat. Diane got on the elevator.

  “Were you looking for me?” asked Lynn.

  “No,” said Diane. “I have a friend in ICU.”

  Lynn looked very uncomfortable and it was all Diane could do not to smile.

  “You do? I’m so sorry. I hope they are doing well,” Lynn said.

  “She is improving,” said Diane.

  “I read an archaeologist was attacked in her home. Is that your friend?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is. Marcella Payden,” Diane said.

  Lynn was standing in front of the elevator buttons. She made no move to push them.

  “I’m going to the lobby,” said Diane. She pointed to the elevator buttons in front of Lynn.

  “Well, hell,” said Lynn. “Have you read the newspaper or not?”

  Diane smiled. “Yes, I have.”

  “I suppose you’re mad?” said Lynn.

  “No, not particularly. I’m rather concerned about the political fallout for you.”

  “That reporter went way beyond what I wrote,” Lynn said.

  “I thought I recognized a shift in writing style,” said Diane.

  “I called her and asked why in the world she said the things she did about the two crimes being similar. She said it’s her style to write what seems reasonable and let the facts shake out. If they are wrong, people will correct her.” Lynn threw up her hands. “That’s how she gets at the truth? Can you imagine that logic? What kind of epistemology is that?”

  “Have you had many calls?” asked Diane.

  “I probably have. My assistant is answering the phone. I’ve been out of the office,” she said.

  I don’t blame you, thought Diane.

  Lynn punched the button for the lobby and the elevator moved with a lurch. “Are you parked in the parking garage?” asked Lynn.

  “Yes,” Diane said.

  “Me too. Have you heard from Ross?” asked Lynn.

  “No. I expect to,” said Diane.

  “I hope this won’t make his job more difficult,” Lynn said.

  The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. They stepped out as several people brushed past them to get in. Diane and Lynn headed for the exit to the parking garage.

  “I take it from the article that Stacy was murdered,” said Diane.

  “Yes. A first-year student could have made the call. Hell, anyone who watches forensic crime dramas could have seen it was murder,” she said.

  A great many people were going to be unhappy with the findings, especially the way in which they were announced. Probably the only satisfied person at the moment was Harmon Dance. And quite possibly, the reporter.

  The exit to the parking garage was just off a small hallway. Diane pushed on the large gray door. Just as they were outside, a man approached. Lynn started to speak, but stopped.

  “You vindictive bitch. You stupid, vindictive bitch.” The man was taller than either of them, but wasn’t quite six feet. He was slim, but pudgy, had a round face and a head of thick, wavy, reddish brown hair. His eyes were close together and he had a cruel twist to his mouth. He held a newspaper in his right hand and was hitting the palm of his left hand with it.

  “Oran Doppelmeyer,” said Lynn. “I see you hate having your incompetence revealed. And after you have made such efforts to hide it.”

  “You think you can get away with this pathetic stunt? It’s only going to show you up for the pissy little amateur you are.” He stopped in front of Lynn and reached for her arm. “Don’t think . . .”

  Lynn’s jaw clinched. “Get your hand off my arm,” she said.

  Diane could almost hear Lynn’s teeth grinding.

  “You need to go somewhere and calm down,” Diane said to him.

  He turned toward Diane without letting go of Lynn. “Who the hell are—Ow!”

  Lynn had karate-chopped the arm that held her. Before he could react, Diane shoved her Rosewood identification in his face.

  “Stop, or I’ll place you under arrest. You think the newspaper makes you look bad now, wait until it gets the story that you attacked Dr. Webber. You won’t be able to spin yourself out of it. Back off now and calm down.” Before Lynn beats you up, she felt like adding.

  He stared at Diane’s identification for a long moment.

  “What’s this?” he said. “Crime lab?”

  “Yes, and I can arrest if the need arises. Lynn, why don’t you go on to your car?”

  “And leave you alone with this maniac? No.” Lynn was in a fighting mode.

  Jeez, thought Diane. They’re both maniacs.

  Diane started to tell Lynn she needed to go first and let him save some face, but she could see Lynn wasn’t in the mood to allow any face-saving measures for Doppelmeyer. The door opened and several men filed out, heading to their cars. They eyed the three of them as they passed. The heavyset men wore beards and overalls and clearly made Doppelmeyer uncomfortable.

  “You need to go get in your car and go somewhere and chill,” Diane said to Doppelmeyer. “No good can come of your staying here.”

  He glared at Lynn and pointed a finger. “We aren’t finished.”

  Lynn pointed a finger back, punctuating her words. “Yes, we are.”

  He backed away, not breaking eye contact with Lynn. Unfortunately, Lynn wouldn’t break eye contact either. She stood with her arms folded, staring. Doppelmeyer was at his car. He either had to break contact first, or stand there looking as stupid as Diane felt for standing there with the two of them.

  His solution to his dilemma was to give Lynn the finger. There were some things Lynn wouldn’t do and, happily for Diane, returning the gesture was one of them. He got in his car and left.

  “Okay,” said Diane. “Just what high school do you two go to?”

  Lynn looked over at her sharply, then shrugged. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. He just brings out the worst in me.”

  “I can see that,” said Diane. “He’s acting dangerous. I think you ought to ask security to walk you to and from your car.”

  “He’s all talk. He doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” she said.

  “Grabbing your arm wasn’t all talk. I’m serious. He looks like he’s not finished. It won’t hurt to get security to escort you to and from your car,” she said. “They’ll like the idea.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Lynn. “That lie he told about me those years ago still follows me. Whenever I go to a professional conference, invariably, someone brings it up. I needed something big to finally blow the ugly thing out of the water.”

  Diane wasn’t sure whether the ugly thing Lynn referred to was Doppelmeyer or the lie. Lynn was still watching where he had left, as if he might return, backing up, to give her another piece of his mind.

  “Besides,” Lynn said, turning back to Diane, “everything I said in the article was true and it is a terrible miscarriage of justice.”

  “Just be careful,” said Diane as she went to her vehicle.

  She started up her SUV and waited until Lynn drove out of t
he parking garage to be sure she didn’t have Doppelmeyer following her.

  Diane drove back to the museum. She went to Andie’s office first. Kingsley was there waiting for her. It was getting to be a habit of his, dropping by without calling first. He probably figured it was the most reliable way of getting to see her. Perhaps it was. She couldn’t help but notice he had a copy of the newspaper with him.

  “Hello, Ross,” she said, smiling. “Andie, anything urgent?”

  “Nothing urgent. Kendel got away okay. I drove her to the airport this morning early. I asked her to bring me back an Australian. I love their accents. I put the mail on your desk. Jin called for an appointment.”

  “Jin called for an appointment?” said Diane.“Since when does Jin call for appointments? Did he say what for?”

  “No, but I know what it is. You want me to tell you?” said Andie.

  “No, I want to stand here and guess. What does he want?” said Diane.

  “He wants to go to a conference in the Netherlands. They’re teaching some cool stuff in DNA analysis. But that’s just a guess. I think he’s going to present it all formal-like so you’ll say yes.”

  Diane called Jin on her cell. “Jin,” she said when he answered, “if you are comfortable with leaving Hector and Scott in charge, you can go to the conference.”

  There was silence for a moment before Jin spoke. “How did you know?” he said.

  “It’s my job,” she said. “How is the analysis coming of the evidence we collected in Gainesville? I have a feeling we are going to need it soon.”

  “I’m working on it. I’ll be done today. Thanks, Boss,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  She turned to Ross. “You’re here about Lynn Webber,” she said.

  Chapter 29

  “I thought you said Lynn Webber wasn’t a loose cannon,” said Kingsley as he sat down in the leather chair across from Diane’s desk.

  Diane was glad to see him grinning broadly. She realized just how much she had dreaded trying to explain how a person whom she vouched for had screwed up his new job.

  “Normally, she’s not a loose cannon,” said Diane. “I didn’t know the impact their history had on Lynn’s psyche. She’s apparently been waiting a long time for a chance to pay Doppelmeyer back. And I’m afraid she’s unrepentant, especially after the reaction she got from him.”