Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  Bryce squirmed in his chair and looked angry, impa tient, and dismissive.

  ‘‘Frankly,’’ said Diane before he could speak, ‘‘I’m at a loss to understand what is going on. But it is clear that the actions of the director of the crime lab and members of his staff are interfering with and dis rupting the operations of the museum, putting its staff and visitors in danger, and soiling its reputation. It has to stop here and now. The museum is responding by removing the crime lab from its premises.’’

  ‘‘There is a matter of the taxes we have forgiven,’’ said the mayor.

  Ah, yes, the over-the-top taxes, thought Diane.

  ‘‘That is being addressed as well,’’ said Colin.

  They all turned and looked at him, as if they had forgotten he was there.

  ‘‘I’m not a potted plant either,’’ he said, giving them one of his charming grins.

  ‘‘Is there no room for negotiation?’’ asked the mayor. ‘‘Perhaps the museum security unit could take over all security.’’

  Diane shook her head. ‘‘That would not be accept able. As I have indicated, the actions of the security officer are only one complaint among a long list.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ said Mayor Jefferies. ‘‘Of course the city attorney will have to look over all this. We only have your word.’’

  ‘‘The contract provisions are clear,’’ said Colin. ‘‘And let’s not forget the videos and many indepen dent witnesses.’’

  ‘‘Look,’’ began Diane.

  ‘‘There is some question as to the ownership of the bone lab,’’ interrupted the mayor.

  Diane raised her eyebrows. ‘‘No,’’ she said, ‘‘there is not.’’

  ‘‘I think the bone lab was turned over to the city when the crime lab was installed,’’ Jefferies continued.

  Diane shook her head, as did Colin.

  ‘‘That dog isn’t going to hunt,’’ Colin said.

  ‘‘No,’’ insisted Jefferies, ‘‘I believe Garnett told us that when the crime lab was established, the bone lab went in with the arrangement. Isn’t that right, Garnett?’’

  Jefferies turned to Garnett, who looked at him, at Diane, and back at Jefferies. Bryce had a bit of a smirk on his face. Colin sat up straight, watching Garnett.

  ‘‘I don’t know where you got that idea,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘The forensic anthropology lab has always been part of the museum. The city has never had any stake in it. I have tried to brief Chief Peeks many times about this, but so far he hasn’t had the time, so I’m not surprised that things are a little confused.’’

  The silence that followed was uncomfortable. The mayor stared at Garnett for a long, hard moment. Diane couldn’t see his face straight on, but the view she did have didn’t look good. Garnett held his gaze and they were locked that way until Diane spoke.

  Gregory Lincoln had been Diane’s boss at World Accord International, where she was a human rights investigator. He was a career diplomat and a good friend. He would often give her little tidbits of his diplomatic wisdom—mainly because Diane had no skills herself in that direction. One of the things he told her was that sometimes it is useful to leave the opposition with something to save face.

  ‘‘You could move the lab to where ballistics is done. It’s next to the police station and the chief could keep an eye on it,’’ she said.

  Not much to save face with, but it was a bone. A bone that they ignored.

  ‘‘There is another item,’’ said Peeks. ‘‘This docu ment says you own several pieces of equipment in the crime lab.’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That is true. The museum does.’’

  The previous city administration often would not want to foot the bill for a piece of expensive equip ment, holding out for the museum to buy it. And Diane did buy several items and leased them to the crime lab, with the proviso that the museum had ac cess to them as needed. The largest piece of such equipment was the mass spectrometer—an item she was sure the current administration was going to hate to lose.

  The mayor turned to Diane and looked at her with his cold, dark eyes. It must have been the way he looked at Garnett a moment ago. Definitely shark eyes.

  ‘‘Are you sure you want to do this?’’ he said in such a way that Diane was sure it was a warning. ‘‘You realize that you may be arrested at any moment for the murder of Officer Delamore and we can deal with your replacement.’’

  Colin sat up straight again. He was starting to look as dangerous as the mayor. Good, thought Diane.

  ‘‘That has nothing to do with the danger to the mu seum the crime lab represents,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m sorry it has come to this, but there is no choice. I can’t have a tenant who deliberately and repeatedly violates the sanctity of the museum. And I certainly can’t have out-of-control people with guns on museum property.’’

  ‘‘This is out of the blue,’’ Peeks said. ‘‘Why didn’t you try to resolve it instead of broadsiding us?’’

  You’re a good one to talk about broadsiding people, she thought.

  ‘‘I did try to resolve it. Bryce told me to go to hell loud enough that everyone in the room heard him.’’

  Jefferies and Peeks turned their gazes on Bryce. He visibly cringed.

  ‘‘We aren’t going to take this lying down,’’ said Peeks.

  Diane kept her voice calm and reasonable. ‘‘I didn’t think you would. But I hope you see that I have to protect the museum. We can’t have our visitors or employees endangered and we can’t leave ourselves open for lawsuits when some gun-toting cowboy de cides he’s going to threaten a child.’’

  ‘‘You know I’ll make calls and inform people that you aren’t the person we are using as forensic anthro pologist,’’ said Mayor Jefferies. ‘‘You won’t have any thing to do in that big lab of yours.’’

  Diane laughed. Jefferies first looked surprised, then angry. Diane could see he didn’t like being laughed at.

  ‘‘You think I’m joking?’’ he said, leaning forward.

  Colin started to stand, but Diane spoke before he got to his feet.

  ‘‘I think you have a big job ahead of you,’’ she said. ‘‘You will have to call every county and city in every state in the United States. Then you will have to start calling cities and countries around the world. I don’t think you know how this business is done.’’

  The mayor’s face flushed. He said nothing. But Diane could see he wanted to. He had forayed into an area he knew nothing about and he had made a mistake and an empty threat. He wasn’t going to do it again. Diane had no doubt he would look for behind-the scenes ways to sabotage her career.

  ‘‘I think,’’ said Colin, ‘‘we would consider that to be defamation and would act accordingly.’’

  Diane stood up. ‘‘I think we have said all there is to say.’’

  Jefferies, Peeks, and Bryce all looked as though they would like to climb over her desk and strangle her. Instead, they simply rose from their seats. They didn’t shake hands. Diane was glad. They would prob ably crush her fingers.

  Peeks stared hard at her. ‘‘As soon as the investiga tion into Delamore’s death is complete, expect to be arrested. Start getting your affairs in order.’’

  He turned and they all filed out of the room. Garnett glanced at her briefly, then turned and left with the others. The look in his eyes made her feel dou bly uneasy.

  ‘‘What was that about my osteology lab and Garnett?’’ she asked Colin after the delegation had gone.

  ‘‘I don’t know. That was strange and unexpected. They couldn’t hope to get away with claiming the fo rensic anthropology lab.’’ Colin shook his head. Some of his black hair fell in his face and he brushed it away with his hand. ‘‘The only thing I can figure is they were trying to tell you they are going to make it hard for you to get them out of here.’’

  ‘‘Do you think they will make a lot of trouble?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘The mayor was very angry.’’

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p; ‘‘They will make trouble, but I don’t know how much. If they take us to court, we’ll have to present proof and defend our position against their claims, warranted or not.’’ Colin stood up and stretched. ‘‘The idea of moving the crime lab next to the police station is a good one. Maybe they’ll take the suggestion and this will be over soon. I expect they won’t drag it out. We’ll see. I wouldn’t worry too much about Jefferies attacking you personally. That would put him in a world of trouble. And as for Peeks’ threat, I wouldn’t worry. He’s just trying to scare you.’’

  ‘‘Not if they own the crime lab,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Which they do. I have to tell you, I’m worried. What I don’t know is why they just didn’t go ahead and arrest me. I know they will.’’

  Colin didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘‘They want you to reconsider moving the crime lab. It’s black mail.’’

  ‘‘I can’t give in,’’ she said.

  ‘‘I know. It if comes to you being arrested, you have a lot of pull too. Vanessa and her family will have a fit. And you know Vanessa when she is pissed,’’ he said.

  Diane thought he was just trying to cheer her up, but she thought he was right about the blackmail part. Perhaps they saw that as leverage.

  Colin left and Diane sat in her office for a long while thinking. She hadn’t voted for Jefferies. She hadn’t liked the way he came out throwing mud from the beginning, and she was surprised he appealed to so many people. He had a shoot-first-and-ask-questions later attitude about suspects that reminded her of third-world dictators. So far, the only official action he had taken that she agreed with was to approve new bulletproof vests for the police officers.

  She wondered how much of her relish in going after Bryce, Peeks, and Jefferies came from her desire for payback. She realized she was not above wanting it for the way the whole crime lab directorship was han dled. The thought made her ashamed. She suddenly felt not so different from them.

  She went home early. It felt like a storm was coming. * * *

  Diane spent the time until Frank got home playing the piano. It was calming, and she needed calm. The mayor and his friends had disturbed her core more than she realized at the time. She had gone head-to head with the last mayor and it was no big deal. As a rule, authority didn’t scare her. These guys did. They seemed mean and she knew they were willing to lie. Lies are wicked weapons.

  After Frank got home they went to a movie and had a late dinner, and an even later evening. Diane awoke late the next

  dressed and drinking

  morning. Frank was already coffee when she got up and walked into the kitchen.

  ‘‘Ah, I knew the smell would get you in here.’’ He handed her a cup.

  ‘‘I’m going to be late to the museum,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Why didn’t you wake me?’’

  ‘‘You were sleeping so soundly, I thought you needed it. Besides, I haven’t been up that long myself. I’m late too. I’m going to have to run by McDonald’s for breakfast.’’

  He kissed her cheek. ‘‘I’ll see you tonight.’’

  The telephone rang and Frank grabbed it. Diane rarely answered the phone when he was home.

  She could hear from the conversation that the call was from Ben Florian, Frank’s partner. She watched Frank’s face change from a grin to a look of utter surprise and shock.

  ‘‘Thanks for calling, Ben.’’

  He hung up the phone and looked at Diane for a moment.

  ‘‘That was Ben. He was on his way to work and heard the news.’’

  ‘‘What news?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Mayor Spence Jefferies was murdered last night.’’

  Chapter 15

  Diane and Frank stood staring at each other for sev eral long moments, astonishment and disbelief re flected on both their faces.

  ‘‘Murdered?’’ Diane said finally. ‘‘The mayor? I just saw him yesterday.’’

  She always thought it strange that people would say that, as if having just seen someone should have af forded them protection against death. But there she was, saying it with the same surprise in her voice. She wanted to say Are you sure? but that was just as silly.

  Murdered—a dreadful word, even applied to some one she didn’t like.

  ‘‘Who?’’ she asked. ‘‘How?’’

  ‘‘He was apparently killed at home, shot in the back of the head. They don’t have a suspect yet.’’

  ‘‘When did it happen?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Late last night,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Ben didn’t have a lot of information. He just heard it on the news.’’

  ‘‘Well,’’ said Diane, ‘‘this is certainly unexpected.’’

  There was a time when she would have been one of the first on the scene. She would have known last night that there had been a murder and by now would have collected a truckload of evidence. But now she was like everyone else in Rosewood—one of the last to find out. That was good, she told herself. Nothing like getting called out late at night to look at someone with the back of his head shot out. Now she could go to work and, like most everyone else, simply speculate about what had happened.

  ‘‘The detective in charge will probably want to talk to you,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Just because you talked with him yesterday.’’

  Diane nodded. ‘‘Probably so. The chief of police was there too.’’ Diane smiled halfheartedly. ‘‘He’ll probably say I did it then and there and moved the body.’’ She kissed Frank again. ‘‘You’re going to be late.’’

  ‘‘Have a good day,’’ he said. ‘‘I may be late tonight. These identity thefts are becoming a real bear.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be here playing the piano,’’ she said.

  ‘‘I laid out a finger exercise book for you.’’ Frank gestured toward the room with the piano.

  ‘‘I saw it. The cover said The Virtuoso Pianist. The words virtuoso and Diane Fallon will never be heard in the same sentence.’’

  ‘‘Forget the word. Do the exercises. They’ll strengthen your fourth and fifth fingers.’’

  ‘‘My fingers are very strong,’’ protested Diane, look ing at her hands.

  Frank took a hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘‘Strong enough for rock climbing, but not for the piano. Trust me. You’ll find those seventh cords you have trouble with a little easier. See you sometime tonight.’’ Frank kissed her again and left, carrying his cup of coffee.

  Diane stood at the door, sipped her coffee, and watched him get into his car. She smiled and waved as he pulled out of the driveway. It felt so domestic. She closed the door. I don’t have to think about murder any more, she thought as she got ready for work. I have to think about Neanderthals—and maybe getting arrested.

  ‘‘Have you heard?’’ said Andie when Diane walked into her office. She had a newspaper spread out on her desk.

  ‘‘About the mayor? Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That’s a shocker.’’

  ‘‘And he was just here. Do you think someone will come talk to us about him?’’ said Andie, excitement danc ing in her eyes. Diane thought Andie would have had her fill of murder when Diane was director of the crime lab.

  ‘‘Probably,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Strange, isn’t it? So far the police don’t know any thing,’’ said Andie. ‘‘Or at least they aren’t telling the news what they know. You don’t think you’ll be a suspect, do you? I mean, you were suing him.’’

  Diane noticed Andie didn’t seem at all disturbed by the prospect of her boss being a murder suspect. Maybe Diane’s being a suspect was starting to be old hat to her.

  ‘‘I doubt it,’’ said Diane.

  Diane went to her office and sat down at her desk. It was unsettling having the mayor gunned down. It was too much like third-world-style politics, a break down of the rule of law. The thought gave her an urge to want to stop it. She got on her computer and looked up the story on the Web. The online media didn’t have much more than Andie had told her.

  Mayor Spen
ce Jefferies was found in his kitchen, shot in the back of his head. He was found early this morning by an aide who came around to the house when he couldn’t get in touch with the mayor about a meeting scheduled for this morning. Diane reached for the phone, then stopped. Who did she think she was going to call? Why was she calling anyone about this anyway? She didn’t do murder anymore. She stood up and left her office.

  ‘‘I’m going to work on the Neanderthal exhibit,’’ she told Andie.

  ‘‘Sure thing, Dr. F,’’ said Andie, not looking up from the newspaper.

  ‘‘I wish we could use a fountain,’’ said one of the exhibit planners, standing back, looking at the di orama of the Neanderthals. ‘‘Real water falling from the rocks would be so cool.’’