Dust to Dust

by Beverly Connor

  David, Neva, and Izzy were at the round debriefing table with Jin. David was pointing to evidence envelopes laid out in front of them. He was arguing with Jin, gesturing to a report he had in his hand. Neva stood by with a frown on her face. Izzy just looked puzzled.

  “What’s going on?” Diane asked. Her people rarely argued.

  “Jin has mixed up the evidence,” said David. “It’s all compromised. Marcella’s and the Dance case from Gainesville you are working on.”

  “What?” said Diane. She did not want to hear that, not with a crowd of law enforcement and forensic people on the way to examine the Stacy Dance evidence. “Jin?”

  “I didn’t, Boss. I don’t know what he’s talking about. You know I don’t mess up,” he said.

  Diane turned to David. He looked tired.

  “What’s this about, David?”

  “This evidence he’s about to give away to Gainesville. Some of it is the evidence we collected at Marcella’s. I don’t know how, but somehow when he was working on the Gainesville stuff, it got mixed up. I don’t see how we can use any of it now.”

  “No, Boss, I’ve been trying to tell him,” said Jin. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I worked on the Dance evidence in my lab. You know that.”

  Jin stood with his arms crossed, glaring at David, who glared back.

  “Let me see,” said Diane.

  She read the Stacy Dance evidence report, flipping through the pages, looking at the photographs Jin had taken of the evidence.

  “What’s the problem?” said Diane.

  David tapped the paper in her hand. “The evidence Neva and Izzy collected from Marcella’s is mixed in with the Dance evidence. Jin must have been working here when we were, and he grabbed the wrong evidence.”

  Diane had collected much of the evidence from the Stacy Dance crime scene, and she recognized it in Jin’s report and photos.

  “Are you saying this is the evidence collected at Marcella’s? Have you looked in Marcella’s container?” said Diane.

  “I was about to get it to see what kind of damage has been done,” said David.

  Diane looked at the jumble of shoe prints Jin had separated out using the computer software. “The shoe prints too?”

  “Yes,” said David, “especially the shoe prints.”

  “You’re saying this is the boot print collected at Marcella’s?” Diane asked David again, pointing to a photo.

  “I had to work on it to get it clear,” offered Jin. “There was a jumble of shoes on the electrostatic lifting film. I had the software separate out some of the prints from one another.”

  David pointed at the photograph. “This is the hiking boot print from Marcella’s. Yes.”

  “In that one, the heel was showing good,” said Jin. “I tried to filter out the other overlapping shoes from the rest of the print, but the heel is really clear.”

  “The heel is all you need for an identification,” said David. “That’s how I know it’s the same. See these two chips in the heel? . . . Wait. Are you saying this isn’t a mistake?”

  “I don’t see how it could be,” said Diane. “You think Jin took the evidence out of the bags and relabeled them?”

  “No,” said David, “but I thought he was here when we were processing Marcella’s, and—”

  “You had already processed Marcella’s evidence before we collected the Stacy Dance evidence,” said Diane. “I collected these shoe prints at the Stacy Dance scene. David, you owe Jin an apology. It’s the same print as the one from Marcella’s because the same boot was at both places.”

  “What?” at least three of them said in unison.

  All four of them looked at Diane as if she had said Kendel had just returned from her trip and had brought them a unicorn skeleton.

  “What are you saying?” said David.

  “She’s saying you need to apologize,” said Jin. “Hey, you mean it’s the same guy, don’t you? Jeez, Boss, that’s weird.”

  It had taken a few seconds for it to dawn on all of them.

  “But this would connect with the Lassiter crime scene too,” said David. “The same boot print was there. I don’t understand it. The MO is too different. They don’t look anything like crimes done by the same perp. Wasn’t there a lot of postmortem staging and cleanup in the Dance murder? Didn’t it have a definite sexual aspect to it?”

  “Yes,” said Diane. “So it appeared. That’s what drew the Gainesville detective to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Well, the attack on Marcella and the murder of the Lassiter woman had no sexual component. And not much evidence of planning at all. They look like crimes by an amateur looking for loot.”

  “They would appear that way,” said Diane.

  “Do you think the Gainesville guy may have thrown away the boots by the side of the road or something and the Rosewood guy found them?” said Jin.

  “This makes no sense,” said David.

  “I agree,” said Diane. “It doesn’t seem to. We also collected evidence of rope and other fibers in the Stacy Dance murder. The rope is the same too?”

  “According to Jin’s report, it’s made of the same material,” said David.

  Diane again read through portions of Jin’s evidence report on the Stacy Dance crime scene.

  “I’ve read Marcella’s evidence report,” said Diane. “I’ve seen the blowup photographs of the fibers and read the chemical analysis of them. These fibers from the Stacy Dance scene are the same—the same dyed black wool and Manila hemp fibers. Granted, there are lots of ski masks like that and lots of rope. But you said, David, it was as if the masks and the rope were stored together. Could it be that . . .” She threw up her hands. “I can’t explain it. But this evidence described in Jin’s report is the evidence I collected at the Stacy Dance crime scene. He did not make a mistake.”

  “You going to apologize?” said Jin.

  “Sure,” said David. “Jin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped all over you like that.”

  “I understand. I would have thought the same thing,” said Jin.

  Neva rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not sure I’m getting this,” said Izzy. “Did the same guy do all three crimes? Or are we looking for somebody who fished clothes out of the trash in Gainesville and used them in two more crimes down here? Or are we looking at some bang-up-big coincidence?”

  “I don’t know,” said Diane. “But if we can find Marcella’s attacker, or the Lassiter murderer, we can ask them where they shop. In the meantime, I guess I need to ask Hanks to come to the meeting too.”

  Diane set up the meeting in the basement conference room near the DNA lab. She was holding it away from the crime lab to distance her involvement in Kingsley’s case as far as possible from the jurisdiction of Rosewood. The conference room had a large round table with a white quartz top and comfortable chairs. Jin had picked out the furniture for the room. She wasn’t sure why he wanted white, but it was a pretty table—one that King Arthur would have liked.

  Diane asked her policemen bodyguards to be present. She didn’t quite trust Oran Doppelmeyer to remain civilized. There must be more to their history than Lynn Webber had told her. The policemen seemed pleased to actually be involved in what was going on, rather than just sitting on the sidelines in case something should happen. They were also pleased with the food Diane had sent them. The way to a policeman’s heart.

  She called Hanks and told him about the boot print. He was as mystified as she and her crew were. He seemed to like the scenario that the boots were thrown away and retrieved by someone else—the ski masks too. That was how the rope fiber got on them. The masks were near the rope, picked up the transfer, and when Marcella’s attacker used them, the fiber was transferred again. It was the only scenario that made sense.

  Diane put the Stacy Dance evidence in the DNA lab. Her bodyguards were in comfortable chairs near the door, and now she waited for the others to arrive. She was not looking forward to this evening. She�
��d rather be at home with Frank.

  Chapter 46

  Diane asked museum security to post someone at the information desk to greet her guests and bring them downstairs to the DNA lab. Ross Kingsley arrived first, looking, as usual, professorial. Lynn Webber came shortly after, looking rather stunning in a black gabardine suit with an olive silk taffeta blouse. She was dressed to be a presence in the room. Her black hair had a lustrous sheen and her makeup was perfectly applied.

  Diane wondered whether she had remembered to run a comb though her own hair.

  Sheriff Braden, who was in charge of the Mary Phyllis Lassiter investigation in the neighboring county, arrived shortly after Webber. He hadn’t changed from his sheriff’s uniform. Jin was already there, working in the DNA lab. Detective Hanks arrived after Braden. Now it was only the Gainesville contingent who had yet to arrive—Detective Ralph Fisher, Chief of Detectives Nancy Stark, and Medical Examiner Oran Doppelmeyer.

  When Diane called Sheriff Braden, she had asked him to sit on one side of Lynn Webber. Diane was going to put Detective Hanks on the other side. Diane told Braden about her encounter with Doppelmeyer in the parking garage at the hospital and that she didn’t want him to get aggressive. Sheriff Braden, of course, was outraged. He was known to be fond of Dr. Webber ever since she arrived in the Rosewood area. Putting her between Hanks and Braden was to protect Webber from herself as much as from Doppelmeyer. Diane had a gut feeling that Lynn wasn’t ready to turn loose of him yet.

  Diane mentally went over her ducks and calculated whether or not they were in a row. Close enough. The only problem she had with the meeting was any fallout for the Rosewood PD. Gainesville PD assumed that Rosewood had butted into their jurisdiction. She could see how that would piss them off. She hoped refusing to have Garnett there would reinforce her message that Rosewood wasn’t involved.

  Diane served coffee, and as they waited she told Kingsley about the diary.

  “He translated it?” Kingsley seemed surprised.

  “He said it was pretty easy,” said Diane. “I don’t have it with me, but you could come over tomorrow, or this evening, and Frank can go over it with you.”

  “Anything of interest?” asked Kingsley.

  “There were a few entries about people she described as creepy. It’s hard to say who they were because proper names were harder to decipher. Frank can tell you about it.”

  The people from Gainesville arrived. They didn’t look happy. Chief of Detectives Nancy Stark wore a plain brown suit and white blouse. It was wrinkled, as if she’d had it on all day and then had to drive here in it. Stark’s short dark brown hair was just beginning to gray. Her dark blue eyes looked suspicious as Diane made introductions. The detective, the one who closed Stacy Dance’s case as an accident, was in his mid-fifties. He had a thick shock of white hair and black eyebrows. He frowned at all of them. From the way Doppelmeyer glowered at Lynn, he was as angry now as during their run-in at the hospital. This was going to be a fun meeting. Diane ran her fingers through her hair.

  They all did shake hands. That was a start. She and Lynn managed to avoid Doppelmeyer’s handshake. Not hard, since there were so many people. Diane directed them to the table and offered coffee. They declined. Perhaps later, she thought. Right now they probably felt that Rosewood was telling them they did a piss-poor job of investigating one of their own crimes. Diane understood their anger.

  Chief Stark turned to Hanks. “You are Ms. Fallon’s supervisor?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. I don’t think she has one.” He laughed.

  If he was hoping to relieve the tension, he hadn’t. Rosewood’s inside jokes didn’t play to a Gainesville audience. However, Kingsley smiled, as did Lynn.

  “Your counterpart, Chief Garnett, is my supervisor when I work for the City of Rosewood,” said Diane. “In the Stacy Dance death, I am not working for Rosewood. I am a consultant to the private firm of Darley, Dunn, and Upshaw, represented here by Ross Kingsley.”

  “What are they doing here, then?” Stark asked of Detective Hanks and Sheriff Braden.

  “They are working on cases that have a certain overlap of evidence. I thought it would benefit everyone for them to be here,” said Diane.

  “You shared our evidence with them?” Fisher said. It was more of an accusation than a question.

  “It’s my understanding that the Stacy Dance case is closed. This is evidence we collected at the behest of her father. As yet, it isn’t your evidence,” said Diane.

  “What are the patrolmen doing here?” said Chief Stark. “Why are we in Rosewood’s lab?”

  “This is the museum’s DNA lab,” said Diane. “As for the patrolmen, they are bodyguards assigned to me by Chief Garnett.”

  “That’s an insult,” said Fisher, in a voice louder than he meant. The acoustics of the room were quite good. His white hair highlighted his reddened ears and face. “I know there’ve been some accusations thrown around. I believe Dr. Doppelmeyer here, that he’s behaved with the utmost propriety. However, if you need calming down, you have my guarantee you are safe from him.”

  “Detective Fisher,” said Diane. She kept her voice calm and even and maintained eye contact with him. “Here in the museum, the DNA lab, and crime lab, we place a particular importance on the difference between what we believe and what we know. I know that Dr. Doppelmeyer accosted Dr. Webber in the parking garage. I know, because I was there. I understand that you believe he did not. I hope you understand that, logically, I can’t accept your guarantee.”

  “Jesus save us,” he mumbled, turning his face away.

  “I understand that sometimes in a darkened garage, perceptions might not be as accurate as we like,” said Chief Stark. “I agree with Detective Fisher. Bodyguards are an overreaction to the situation, one that insults us and our integrity.”

  “They were assigned to me because last night a man was sent to my home to kill me. He shot his way into the house. I fled to the attic where he followed and shot his way through that door also. He was about a second away from shooting me, point-blank, with a shotgun blast. Fortunately, I shot him first. We don’t know who sent him. The guards will be with me until we find out and the situation is resolved.”

  Kingsley looked at her openmouthed. “Are you all right? How’s Frank?”

  “He wasn’t home. I was alone,” Diane said, still looking at Stark.

  “I heard something about a home invasion in Rosewood,” said Stark. “That was you?”

  “Yes,” said Diane. “You will forgive me if, today, I am a little cranky.”

  “You think it was me?” said Doppelmeyer. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I don’t think you did. I really don’t. I think it had something to do with another case I’m working on. But that’s what I believe. I don’t know.” She turned back to Chief Stark. “I understand that some people are panicked when confronted, even in a mild way, in the dark confines of a parking garage. That’s not true of me or Dr. Webber,” said Diane. “We viewed the situation accurately.”

  “So did the security cameras,” said Lynn Webber. “Hospital security can make them available if you want to see them.”

  Doppelmeyer looked at Lynn and snarled. “You vindictive freaking bitch.”

  Both Fisher and Stark jerked their attention to him. She could see they were surprised by his vehemence—and his inability to keep his temper in check.

  Sheriff Braden stood up and faced him. “I don’t know where you were raised, but here we don’t talk to a lady that way.”

  Diane was suspecting that there was something more to Doppelmeyer and Lynn’s enmity than what Lynn had described. She was willing to bet that Lynn had rebuffed his attentions and that was a large part of what led to him getting her fired.

  “You know,” said Ross Kingsley, “normally in these kinds of meetings, we try to break the ice with small talk and jokes. And I’m ashamed to say that I find this more entertaining, but we have some evidence we would like to show you.
”

  “That’s why we’re here,” said Stark.

  Jin had been standing by a credenza with the box of evidence on top of it. He came over with the box and set it between Diane and Ross.

  “This is Deven Jin,” said Diane. “He’s the director of the DNA lab. He was formerly on my crime scene team. He helped gather the evidence and he processed it.”

  “Hi.” Jin grinned, as if they were all good friends.

  “Dr. Webber has her autopsy report that she will go over with you,” said Diane.

  “Let’s get it over with, then,” said Detective Fisher.

  Chapter 47

  Diane put a diagram of Stacy Dance’s room on the table. She had marked where all the evidence was found. She turned the map to face toward Fisher, Stark, and Doppelmeyer. She also placed their own photograph of Stacy next to the map.

  Kingsley explained his firm’s involvement first. Diane noticed he tried to keep all words out of his narration that might in any way suggest that their guests had bungled the case. He used a lot of passive voice and weasel words. He was far more tactful than Diane would have been.

  “Her father, Harmon Dance, left her room intact,” Kingsley said. “That’s why I was able to have Diane examine it.” He nodded to Diane and they gave her their strained attention.

  “When someone is strangled, they often evacuate their bladder and bowels,” began Diane.

  “Oh, here we go, Pathology 101,” said Doppelmeyer.

  “Oran, let’s listen,” said Chief Stark. Her voice was quiet, but it held her authority.

  Doppelmeyer sat back in his chair, his ears turning red. “We know this,” he said.

  “I was just introducing the evidence,” said Diane. “I meant no disrespect.” She pointed to a marked place on the diagram that was in the living room area of Stacy Dance’s apartment.

  “This is where she was strangled. We found her urine and feces here and it covered a wide area. It had been cleaned up, but there was enough left for Jin to positively identify it as belonging to Stacy Dance,” said Diane.