Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  The last things Frank did before going to bed were to play the piano—some beautiful piece—then, before turning out the light, he wrote in a journal. After their first several days living together, Diane mentioned that she hadn’t known he kept a journal.

  ‘‘It started when Kevin was younger. Cindy and I were in the middle of our divorce, and Kevin was having trouble dealing with it and with some problems at school,’’ Frank had told her. ‘‘I could see he was suffering. I started reading psychology books and searching the Internet. I was looking for some way to help us both through a rough time. There’s a mountain of junk psychology out there. You’d be surprised how little of it has any factual basis. But you know how we detectives are...’’

  ‘‘Handsome and sexy?’’ Diane had said.

  ‘‘Thorough. We leave nothing undone. I uncovered a couple of articles on new research into how people can make themselves happier.’’

  ‘‘I have some ideas on how I could make you hap pier,’’ Diane had said, smiling at him.

  ‘‘I’ll take you up on that.’’ He had kissed her.

  ‘‘Tell me about your journal first,’’ she had said.

  ‘‘Had I known you were such a tease,’’ he’d said. ‘‘The research involved a simple technique which I thought at first was too good to be true. But it turns out it works. Every night before I go to sleep, I think of three good things that happened that day and I write them in my journal. Then I spend a moment thinking about why they occurred. That’s all there is to it.’’

  ‘‘And this works?’’ Diane remembered being in credulous.

  ‘‘It does. It worked for Kevin, and it works for me. It helped Kevin realize that not everything was going wrong in his life. It’s very subtle, but it works. It im mediately improved my dreams, and I noticed that I had a happier outlook on life. It has a long-term calm ing effect on me. Hadn’t you noticed?’’

  ‘‘You’ve always been a calm, happy guy,’’ Diane had told him. ‘‘According to your brothers, you were born that way.’’

  ‘‘This still helps,’’ he’d said.

  ‘‘You write down things that go well in your job?’’ Diane had asked.

  ‘‘Sure. If I solve a case, or if I see something nice like a dog riding down the road with his head hanging out the window and a smile on his face, or you. I write a lot about you. Just a sentence or two, like the times you returned from a caving trip with no bruises or near-death experiences. Then I go to sleep having thought only about the good things during the day and not about the meanness I saw or the guy that got away.’’

  Diane adopted that habit. She didn’t write it down. She just went to sleep listing in her mind the good things that went well during the day. Frank was right. It was subtle, but it worked.

  Diane was wondering what three good things she could possibly think of from this stupid day. Being with Frank was definitely one of them. She started to kiss him when the telephone interrupted the moment and Frank went to answer it.

  ‘‘It’s for you,’’ he said, coming back with the phone in his hand. ‘‘There’s something going on at the mu seum that needs your attention.’’

  Chapter 11

  ‘‘What happened?’’

  Diane was in the sitting room off of her office with a docent, Andie, the night security supervisor, two par ents, and a seven-year-old boy with tears in his eyes. The father was pacing up and down, uncertain whom to be angry with. The furniture in Diane’s office suite was very comfortable—plush sofa, stuffed chairs—but everyone in the room looked as if they might be sitting on nails. It didn’t help that Diane’s face looked like the loser’s in a heavyweight boxing bout. The child kept glancing at her as if she were an ogre who might grab him and eat him at any moment.

  ‘‘Emily, what happened?’’ Diane asked the docent again.

  Emily was a tall athletic girl whom Diane under stood was quite successful in track at Bartram Univer sity. She said her athletic training served her well running after kids. Emily opened her mouth to speak, but the father beat her to it.

  ‘‘You were supposed to be watching him,’’ he said to his wife.

  Emily looked away as if wanting to give them pri vacy, or not wanting to be witness to anything unpleas ant or embarrassing. Andie slumped down in her chair. Diane said nothing, preferring to let them get out their frustrations for the moment.

  The wife glared at him. ‘‘You were supposed to babysit. You knew I had a class tonight. You just had to go out with your buddies when they called.’’

  They were both young, not yet out of their twenties, Diane guessed. The wife looked tired around the eyes; her dishwater blond hair was limp. The father kept running his fingers through his red-brown hair in what appeared to be a nervous habit. Both looked as if they were fighting feelings of guilt.

  ‘‘Well, you shouldn’t have brought him here,’’ said the father.

  ‘‘This is supposed to be a safe place,’’ she said. ‘‘The guards aren’t supposed to pull guns on you.’’

  Diane’s jaw dropped. She looked at the security su pervisor, Blake Cassey. He was shaking his head even before she spoke. He held out his hands, palms facing Diane as if that would ward off the accusation.

  ‘‘One of the guards drew a gun?’’ Diane said.

  ‘‘We’re going to sue,’’ said the father.

  ‘‘Museum security wasn’t involved in this,’’ Blake said quickly. ‘‘It was the dar...It was the west wing guard at the crime lab, and he didn’t actually pull a gun.’’

  Blake had almost said It was the dark side. That’s what the museum staff called the crime lab in the west wing.

  Diane turned to Emily, who, as nearly as she could figure at this point, had the most information. ‘‘Per haps you had better start from the beginning.’’

  Emily tucked a loose tendril of her dark hair back in its clasp and took a breath.

  ‘‘Mrs. McConnel was in the gemology class,’’ she began. ‘‘Ethan was coloring at a desk and decided to walk about. When they discovered he was missing, Andie—she was in the class too—called upstairs to us. Two of us docents were still in the office. We always have someone there when classes are being taught, for times like this.’’ She smiled, showing a row of perfect white teeth.

  ‘‘There are typical places kids like to go, and we know where they are. The dinosaurs are the most pop ular. I started with the third-floor overlook. Kids see it when they are on the first floor and want to go up there to look down. Sure enough, I saw him walking past the snack room onto the overlook. And I ran after him.’’

  ‘‘In the meantime,’’ said Andie. Her auburn curly hair was like a cloud around her face. Andie looked like Little Orphan Annie a lot of the time, a persona she often played up. ‘‘Mrs. McConnel called her hus band and I called museum security—and you.’’

  Diane noticed that both the docent and Andie were using what Andie called their happy-talk voices, obvi ously trying to play down the frightening aspect of the event, making like it was really a grand adventure that Ethan McConnel would remember fondly when he grew up. It seemed to Diane that the most likely thing Ethan would remember was her bruised and swollen face.

  ‘‘I had his hand,’’ continued Emily, ‘‘and we were looking at the pterodactyl when this guy, the night guard for the crime lab, came out of the hallway, the one leading to the... to the crime lab. He started telling us that we were trespassing and to get out. He patted his gun and told us if he caught us there again we’d be in serious trouble with him, and with Mr. Smith and Wesson. I would have argued with him about just who was trespassing, but Ethan was getting upset and I wanted to get him out of there.’’

  ‘‘You did right.’’ Diane turned to the McConnels. ‘‘I’m sorry this happened. Someone in the crime lab overstepped their authority and used bad judgment. I will make sure nothing like this happens again.’’

  ‘‘Isn’t the crime lab part of the museum?’’ said Mr. McConnel.


  ‘‘No,’’ said Diane. ‘‘They rent space. The crime lab belongs to the city of Rosewood.’’

  ‘‘But don’t you run it?’’ he persisted.

  ‘‘No,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘It’s that change in administration you and your buddies voted in,’’ said Mrs. McConnel.

  The husband let out an exasperated breath. Diane was glad she wasn’t riding home in their car tonight.

  ‘‘Say what you want, but the burglary rate is way down under the new get-tough policy,’’ he retorted.

  ‘‘Now, how would you know? Are any of your bud dies on the police force?’’ she said.

  Ethan put his hands over his ears. Diane guessed he did that a lot.

  The husband nodded his head up and down. ‘‘Barrel knows a cop or two,’’ he said.

  The wife turned to Diane. ‘‘Would you trust anyone whose mother named him Barrel?’’

  The father stood up. ‘‘Let’s go, Barb. I’m sure these folks don’t want to listen to us bicker.’’ He turned to Diane. ‘‘I expect you to do something about that guy. He can’t go around threatening little kids with guns. Come on, little buddy,’’ he said to Ethan. ‘‘Let’s go get some ice cream.’’

  ‘‘I’ll take care of it tonight,’’ Diane assured him. She turned to the security guard. ‘‘Take the McConnels by the museum shop on the way out. I believe it’s open late tonight. They got in some new kaleidoscopes. Ask the clerk to give Ethan one.’’

  Ethan’s face brightened at the mention of both ice cream and a gift, though Diane suspected he didn’t know what a kaleidoscope was. What was important was that his parents smiled too.

  When the McConnels were out of the office, Diane stood up. ‘‘Emily, let’s go see the guard.’’

  ‘‘Sure thing.’’ Emily stood, looking ready for a fight.

  Diane’s museum office was on the first floor in the east wing. The crime lab was on the third floor in the west wing. They walked to the elevators located in the lobby and rode up to the third floor.

  ‘‘The gemology class seems popular,’’ said Diane, making conversation.

  ‘‘Any class that Mike teaches is popular,’’ Emily said.

  Mike Seeger was curator of the geology collection. Diane could imagine he was popular with the women, with his winning, slightly crooked smile and lean good looks.

  ‘‘Lots of women sign up, then,’’ commented Diane.

  ‘‘Men too,’’ said Emily. ‘‘They love to hear about his adventures.’’

  Diane smiled. ‘‘I’ll bet they do.’’

  Mike was also employed by a pharmaceutical re search company to look for extremophiles—organisms that can live in the most severe environmental condi tions. The company paid Mike a good salary to go to some of the more dangerous places in the world to find them. It was like a paid adventure to him.

  ‘‘I don’t see how Neva stands it,’’ said Emily. ‘‘If my boyfriend had such a dangerous job, I’m not sure I could. I don’t even like to think about it. He just got back from exploring an ice cave. Isn’t that danger ous enough?’’

  ‘‘Very,’’ said Diane. She didn’t like to think about Mike’s other job either.

  They got out at the Pleistocene Room overlook and walked through Exhibit Preparations, where several people were working, then down the hall, past the break room, and onto the dinosaur overlook. The guard was coming out of the break room and spot ted them.

  ‘‘That’s off-limits,’’ he said, coming after them with a soda in one hand. ‘‘Nobody is allowed beyond this point.’’ He pointed to the entrance to the overlook.

  Diane didn’t stop until she was standing with her back to the security camera so that the guard had to face it.

  ‘‘Do you know who I am?’’ she said calmly.

  ‘‘It doesn’t matter. Nobody goes beyond the break room,’’ he said.

  Diane noticed he was caressing his holstered gun. She honestly couldn’t tell if it was a nervous habit or a threat.

  ‘‘You’re wrong. The only thing that should matter to you is who I am,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m the director of this museum, and this overlook is museum property. For that matter, the crime lab is on museum property.’’

  He grinned. ‘‘But you aren’t in charge of the crime lab anymore.’’

  ‘‘I am in charge of the museum, and I’m telling you, you cannot keep any of my staff or museum visitors out of this area. Are we clear about that?’’

  ‘‘I have my orders,’’ he said, putting his hands on his hips in such a way that it looked like he could grab his gun at a moment’s notice.

  First Curtis, and now this one, thought Diane. Where does Bryce get them: Thugs Are Us?

  ‘‘I don’t care what Bryce has told you,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You are not to be here threatening my staff or my visitors. Do you understand?’’

  ‘‘I understand the man who signs my check,’’ he said. ‘‘Now, I think it’s you ladies who should leave.’’

  He stepped toward them. Diane held her ground.

  ‘‘You were warned,’’ said Diane when they were almost nose to nose. ‘‘Come on, Emily.’’

  Diane walked over to the elevator that was on the back side of the overlook and punched the button. The doors opened almost immediately, and the two of them stepped in. Diane could see the smirk on the guard’s face in the elevator mirror.

  Just before the door closed, he said, ‘‘I heard about your close call today. You never get enough, do you?’’

  Diane held her tongue, but her blood was boiling.

  ‘‘That didn’t go real well,’’ said Emily as the door closed.

  ‘‘On the contrary,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It couldn’t have gone better.’’

  Emily looked puzzled.

  They got out at the first floor and walked across the museum, back to Diane’s office. Mike was there talk ing with Andie and Blake, the security supervisor.

  ‘‘I want the videos to the overlook,’’ Diane said to Blake.

  ‘‘I have the one that shows Emily and the little kid,’’ he said handing it to her.

  ‘‘Get the one that was taped just now with the two of us,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Is everything okay?’’ asked Mike. ‘‘I just let my class out.’’

  ‘‘Everything’s great,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Did you rip him up?’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘He wouldn’t budge,’’ said Emily. ‘‘I can’t believe the nerve.’’

  Diane smiled, walked behind her desk, and reached for the phone. She called Lloyd Bryce’s home.

  ‘‘Yes.’’ His voice sounded irritated. Probably saw the museum name on caller ID, thought Diane.

  ‘‘You have another out-of-control employee, the night guard at the museum entrance to the crime lab. He’s at the dinosaur overlook and is threatening my visitors and employees. You rein him in now,’’ said Diane in her most undiplomatic tone of voice.

  ‘‘Go to hell,’’ he said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. ‘‘You never knew how to keep the crime lab safe. That’s why you had so many people breaking into it. Well, I do.’’ He slammed down the phone.

  ‘‘Wow,’’ said Mike. ‘‘The guy has anger issues.’’

  Emily and Andie were wide-eyed.

  Blake shook his head. ‘‘You want me to take some security up there?’’ he said.

  Diane smiled. ‘‘I don’t want to risk a shoot-out at the dino overlook. What I want is for you to call and tell me what the monitors show he is doing.’’

  Blake called security and talked to the person watching the monitors. ‘‘He is? Thanks, Leeanne.’’

  ‘‘He put a chair on the overlook and sat down fac ing the museum approach. What’s the guy think he’s doing?’’ Blake asked.

  ‘‘He’s doing what he was told to do. Thumbing his nose at me,’’ said Diane, smiling.

  ‘‘You seem awfully happy about this,’’ said Mike.

&nb
sp; ‘‘I am,’’ said Diane. She picked up the phone and made another call.

  Chapter 12

  ‘‘Colin, this is Diane Fallon. I’m sorry to call you at home so late.’’

  Colin was a workaholic. Diane wasn’t completely sure he ever slept. He was well-known for staying all night in his office. Diane imagined his office furniture to be as comfortable as hers. She had been known to stay all night at the museum a time or two herself.