Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  She started to rise.

  ‘‘You aren’t going anywhere,’’ said Peeks, ‘‘until we get some answers.’’

  ‘‘Then ask me questions,’’ she said. Diane put a hand on her throbbing head and closed her eyes for a second.

  Peeks looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected co operation, as if he would have preferred to hammer some kind of confession out of her instead.

  ‘‘You said he was on the cliff when he fell. Why was he there?’’ asked Peeks.

  ‘‘He was there because I was. He was chasing me.’’ I thought we covered this, she thought.

  ‘‘On the side of the cliff? Are you saying you were running from him on the side of the cliff in Chulagee Gorge? See, that doesn’t make sense.’’ Peeks looked back at Curtis and Pendleton, who were standing be hind him near the wall. ‘‘Does that make sense to you guys?’’

  ‘‘It doesn’t make sense to me,’’ said Pendleton.

  Diane was wondering if they thought she lured him out to the cliffs and threw him over the edge. Did they not remember how big he was compared to her?

  Curtis said nothing, just stood smiling, as if he was enjoying himself. Actually, of the three of them, he looked the most friendly.

  ‘‘Why would you go there? Do you know how steep that cliff is?’’ said Peeks.

  ‘‘It’s a five point seven,’’ said Diane.

  The three of them looked blank, startled, and clearly puzzled.

  ‘‘What?’’ Peeks said.

  ‘‘You asked me if I know how steep it is. I assume you were asking me about the degree of climbing dif ficulty. So, yes, I know.’’

  Diane realized why they didn’t believe her story. They didn’t think that she, in her nice azure pantsuit and Hush Puppies, would climb out onto the side of a steep cliff—or anybody would for that matter. They had a point.

  ‘‘I’ve climbed that cliff many times,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m a caver and I do a lot of rock climbing. I thought if I went out on the cliff, he wouldn’t follow. I was wrong. He thought that if I could do it, he could too, especially since he was an ex–football player. That’s what he was doing out there. He didn’t fall from the top. He wasn’t pushed. He was about fifty feet down on the face of the cliff, coming after me. He panicked and fell. I was twenty feet away from him at the time.’’

  ‘‘You said he panicked,’’ Pendleton said after a mo ment. ‘‘He just suddenly panicked? Why?’’

  ‘‘He looked down,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Rock climbing isn’t a sport he had experience in. We were almost five hundred feet up on the side of a cliff. He didn’t realize how frightening it would be when he looked down. It happens. I tried to talk him out of the panic.’’

  ‘‘You told Officer Wallace that he attacked you. Now, why would Officer Delamore do a thing like that?’’ asked Peeks.

  ‘‘I have no idea. He didn’t say. He just kept calling me a bitch,’’ said Diane.

  Peeks leaned forward, glaring at Diane. ‘‘You know, I’m having a hard time buying your story,’’ he said. ‘‘There’s a lot of holes in it. A lot of holes. And you’re going to stay here until you fill them.’’ He was al most shouting.

  ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ said Diane. She rose, and Peeks started to reach for her when the door to the interview room opened.

  ‘‘I don’t think so either.’’

  Chapter 7

  Colin Prehoda, the museum’s lawyer, came in and took a serious, considered look at Diane.

  ‘‘Have you seen a doctor?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘No. I’ve not been allowed to leave,’’ she said.

  Curtis and Pendleton stepped forward. Peeks jumped up. For a moment Diane thought the three of them were going to attack her lawyer.

  Prehoda was taller than all of them in the room, and heavier. He wasn’t overweight, or even slightly chubby; he was just a big man. Diane thought he was probably very imposing in court.

  ‘‘You’re leaving now,’’ he said.

  ‘‘I’ve got a dead officer,’’ said Peeks.

  ‘‘Who attacked my client,’’ said Prehoda. ‘‘Do you know why he did that?’’

  ‘‘She hasn’t told us,’’ said Peeks, staring at Diane with puzzling hatred.

  ‘‘I told them I don’t know why he attacked me,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘There you have it. She’s given you all the informa tion she has. Now she is going to the hospital. If you have any more questions, you can contact me.’’

  Prehoda helped Diane out of the chair and guided her toward the door. Peeks didn’t try to stop them, but his face was dark with anger.

  ‘‘This isn’t over,’’ he said to Diane. ‘‘Don’t think you are free of this, and don’t think any of us are going to let this go until we get to the bottom of it.’’

  ‘‘Good,’’ said Prehoda. ‘‘We expect to be fully in formed of your findings as to why an officer of this police department conducted unprovoked assaults with the use of deadly force upon my client, whom, I remind you, is an officer of the court in good standing. And I must warn you against harassing her. I won’t tolerate it, and I’m sure you have more pressing concerns than appearing in court. Don’t think that I’m bluffing. I think you know me better than that.’’

  Prehoda led Diane out of the room and out of the police building. Diane could feel the stares as she passed through the station. She also noticed that not all of them were hostile. Outside, Prehoda walked her to his car.

  ‘‘I’d prefer to go to the museum,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘I’m sure you would, but we need to take you to the ER. Not just for your safety, but for legal issues,’’ he said.

  Diane got in and saw that her jacket was in the front seat along with her purse.

  ‘‘Who called you?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Garnett,’’ he said.

  Douglas Garnett was the chief of detectives. Diane knew he was having a difficult time with the new ad ministration. She hoped this didn’t put him further on their bad side. She assumed that either Janice or Izzy had alerted him.

  Colin took Diane to the hospital. She didn’t have to wait long to be seen. After a lot of examining, blood taking, prodding, and a head X-ray, the doctors pronounced her fine. She thought she was. She was sore but didn’t feel seriously injured.

  Diane didn’t know Chief of Police Peeks, and his hostility toward her was puzzling.

  ‘‘What’s going on?’’ she asked Colin as he drove her to the museum.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said. ‘‘The mayor and the people he’s picked are giving a lot of people trouble, particu larly in the police department. Garnett has asked me to handle appeals of several firings. He suspects that he himself is going to be replaced soon.’’

  ‘‘Mayor Jefferies does seem to be blitzkrieging his way through the government, doesn’t he?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That’s the word for it. Neither he nor Peeks gives notice. They just show up and fire,’’ he said.

  Diane told Colin about Curtis Crabtree appearing unannounced at the DNA lab and demanding a job.

  ‘‘I’ve noticed that Jefferies has an inordinate need for control,’’ said Colin. He grinned suddenly. ‘‘Did you know that he and Peeks both wear pinky rings embossed with the profile of Alexander the Great?’’

  Diane smiled and it hurt. ‘‘No, I didn’t know that.’’ She shook her head at the thought. ‘‘How sophomoric.’’

  Colin had arranged for her car to be brought to the museum. It sat in her parking space as they drove up. Diane looked at the people flowing in and out of the museum and asked Colin to take her around back.

  ‘‘I don’t want to scare away the visitors,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Do you have a change of clothes in your office?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Yes, and a shower. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the rescue,’’ she said.

  He drove around to the rear of the museum and Diane started to get out.

&nb
sp; ‘‘Can we get the crime lab out of the museum?’’ she asked. ‘‘I’d really like to reclaim the real estate.’’

  ‘‘I’ll look at the contract. Right now, I’d have to say no, not until the contract expires. But maybe I can get creative.’’

  Diane thanked him again and got out at the loading dock. From there it was a short distance to the private entrance to her office.

  Diane showered, washed her hair, dressed in clean clothes, and was about as refreshed as she was going to get. She took a couple of aspirin to dull the pain and walked to her assistant Andie’s office and waited for the reaction.

  ‘‘Oh, God. What happened?’’ Andie’s eyes were so wide, Diane could see the whites all around her irises. ‘‘Your face... What happened? Are you all right? You better sit down.’’

  Mike, the museum’s geology curator and Diane’s caving partner, was there. He and Andie stared openmouthed at her. She had tried makeup but washed it off. Maybe theatrical makeup, she thought.

  ‘‘I was passing the path to the gorge and I thought, what the heck, I’ll do a little solo climbing before I go to the museum,’’ she said.

  Mike took her hands and looked at the scraped fingers.

  ‘‘You did?’’ His voice was filled with such incredu lity that Diane almost laughed.

  He looked at her, amazed, obviously unable to make sense of why Diane would go climbing in her street clothes, alone—not sure if she was joking, and wondering how she’d gotten so beat up.

  ‘‘What did happen?’’ asked Andie.

  Diane explained the episode with Delamore, trying to keep it objective, but she suddenly felt more shaken than she’d realized. She sat down on the sofa and hoped they didn’t notice how suddenly weak on her feet she was.

  ‘‘I’ve been at the police station, then the hospital ever since,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Oh, my God,’’ said Andie. ‘‘I was a little worried when I couldn’t get you on your cell.’’

  ‘‘Delamore stomped it into the pavement,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘He tried to kill you?’’ said Mike. ‘‘He hit you?’’ Mike sat down on the stuffed chair next to the sofa. He reached over and touched her face with his finger tips, then let his hand drop.

  ‘‘I’m fine. I’ve looked worse after we’ve been cav ing,’’ she said.

  ‘‘No, you haven’t,’’ said Mike.

  Thanks, she thought.

  ‘‘Can I do anything to help?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘You’ve helped immeasurably already. Thanks for insisting that I learn more about rock climbing. It saved my life,’’ she said.

  His lips turned up into half a smile. ‘‘Every caver needs to learn rock climbing,’’ he said. ‘‘I guess so does every museum director–crime detector.’’

  As Diane started to stand, Mike reached out and helped her up.

  ‘‘You think you need to rest up a bit?’’ he said. ‘‘Seriously. I’ve seen you look better.’’

  ‘‘I’ve got a lot to do,’’ she said. ‘‘I need to keep busy.’’ I just saw a man die, she thought. He may have been trying to kill her, but it was still disturbing to see someone die. Her heart ached with the thought of it. Focus, she thought. ‘‘Andie, would you mind going downtown and buying me another cell phone?’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ said Andie. ‘‘Any particular kind?’’

  ‘‘Something useful,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Sure. I’ll do it right now.’’ Andie jumped up and grabbed her purse and coat from the closet. ‘‘You’ve had several reporters call about the wood-chipper murder. Was someone really murdered by being put in a wood chipper? That’s awful.’’

  Diane was afraid of this.

  ‘‘No,’’ she said simply, not wanting to discuss a case, but wanting to dispel any rumors. ‘‘I imagine you’ll be getting more calls when the news outlets find out about Delamore. I’m not in for any reporters.’’ Diane wondered whether Harve Delamore had anything to do with the bones found in the field. She knew he didn’t like her, but why did he attack her now? Maybe he’d heard the news report.

  Andie was about to leave when the door to her office opened and Jonas Briggs, the museum’s archae ologist, came in along with Henry Miller, the young boy who’d discovered the bones, and another young man.

  ‘‘Found these young men looking for you . . .’’ Jonas stopped. ‘‘What happened to you? You look like you lost a wrestling match with a grizzly.’’ His white tooth brush mustache bobbed up and down as he spoke. Jonas had snow-white hair and equally white bushy eyebrows over bright blue eyes. He looked like a kindly grandfather—or a wizard.

  ‘‘You’re half right. Just a little mishap on the way to work. Henry, how are you?’’ she said before Jonas could question her further.

  ‘‘I’m fine, Miss . . . I mean, Dr. Fallon,’’ he said. ‘‘This is my brother, Caleb.’’

  ‘‘I remember the sheriff mentioning Caleb.’’ She held out her hand and he shook it.

  Henry and Caleb didn’t favor each other. Henry was going to be much bigger than his older brother.

  Caleb nudged his brother and smiled warmly at him. ‘‘Go ahead,’’ he said.

  Diane could see how fond Caleb was of his younger sibling. The thought of it made her smile.

  ‘‘So, what brings you here?’’ she asked.

  Henry looked at his brother, who nodded at him.

  ‘‘When I was here yesterday,’’ he said, looking back at Diane, ‘‘I . . . well, I really like it here, and I was wondering if there are ever any jobs for someone my age. I’m in eighth grade.’’

  ‘‘So, that makes you, what, thirteen, fourteen?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m fourteen—almost—in a week.’’

  ‘‘Well, we have a student after-school intern pro gram you can apply to,’’ she said.

  ‘‘See,’’ said Caleb, gently poking his brother on the arm. ‘‘I told you it wouldn’t hurt to ask.’’ He turned to Diane. ‘‘He was real shy about asking, figured you’d say no, but I told him it never hurts to ask and that he should always let the other person be the one to say no—don’t do it for them.’’ Caleb looked very self-satisfied.

  ‘‘Good advice,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Andie, can you get him the papers to fill out and some information to take back to his grandparents?’’

  ‘‘Sure thing.’’ Andie went to a filing cabinet.

  Mike and Jonas left, waving good-bye. Jonas looked back at Diane one last time and shook his head.

  ‘‘You go to Bartram, I understand,’’ Diane said to Caleb as Andie looked for the forms. ‘‘What do you take?’’

  ‘‘History and computer science,’’ Caleb said. ‘‘I’d like to go to graduate school in advanced computa tional methods.’’

  ‘‘So, you have one foot in the past and the other in the future,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That must be interesting.’’

  Caleb grinned. ‘‘Yeah, a little cognitive tug-of-war sometimes, but I like them both.’’

  Andie handed Diane the application form and sev eral brochures.

  ‘‘Show the brochures to your grandparents and fill out the form and bring it back. You’ll be called in for an interview, but that will be mainly to make sure you are really interested. I’ll put in a good word with our education director,’’ Diane added.

  Henry grinned. ‘‘I like the dinosaurs. Do you think I could work with them?’’

  ‘‘It will probably be with a variety of things— everything from dinosaurs to rocks to conservation. You still interested?’’

  ‘‘Oh, yes, ma’am,’’ he said.

  Diane liked Henry and his brother Caleb. They were polite and smart. She would like to clone them.

  ‘‘Can I take your picture with Henry?’’ asked Caleb, pulling out a digital camera.

  Diane unconsciously touched her face. Andie looked distressed. For a moment, Diane thought she was going to forbid it.

  ‘�
�I’ll Photoshop the bruises out, I promise,’’ said Caleb.

  What the heck. ‘‘Sure,’’ she said and let him take a picture of her with Henry.

  Diane saw them to the door and told Andie she was going upstairs to her osteology lab. On the third-floor overlook, she glanced down and saw Henry and Caleb looking at the dinosaur bones. She smiled, walked down the hall to her lab, and went in.