‘‘You can look into it. I know they say they got the evidence, but they can’t have. They’ve made some mistake.’’
‘‘Why did you come to see me?’’ repeated Diane.
‘‘The crime lab here did the evidence,’’ she said.
‘‘I’m no longer director of the crime lab,’’ said Diane.
‘‘But you could talk to the person who is,’’ she said.
If you only knew. ‘‘I assure you, the current director won’t listen to me,’’ she said.
‘‘But you could look into it. Somebody has to. You can’t just lock somebody up and have no one look into their case,’’ she said.
‘‘People have looked into it. That’s why he’s been arrested. His lawyer will have to—’’
‘‘Haven’t you been listening? His lawyer won’t do anything. The prosecutor and the detectives won’t even talk to me—and now they’re dropping like flies themselves. I don’t know what the world is coming to. It’s just gone crazy.’’
She stopped and took a breath and moved her chair a bit closer to Diane’s desk.
‘‘That’s one good thing about my boys being locked up. They can’t be blamed for what’s going on now. All I’m asking is that you look at the evidence. Surely you can do that. Something is wrong.’’
Diane sat there wondering why in the world she agreed to talk with the woman. There was absolutely nothing she could do for her, and she wasn’t sure how to politely get her out of her office—short of agreeing to do something.
‘‘I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do. Don’t expect anything. As I said, I’m not in the loop anymore,’’ said Diane.
The woman relaxed back in the chair. ‘‘That’s all I ask.’’
‘‘Why are you so sure he didn’t do it?’’ said Diane.
She leaned forward. ‘‘Because he was at home with me. But who’s going to believe a mother?’’
‘‘Okay. Just remember, I can’t promise anything.’’
The woman nodded, apparently satisfied that she got a positive response from someone. Diane saw her out the door.
‘‘I’m sorry, Dr. Fallon. I couldn’t get her out,’’ said Andie after Mrs. Donovan had gone.
‘‘She’s a determined mother,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m going to do some paperwork.’’ Hopefully in peace.
Diane hated paperwork, but after a day like today, paperwork sounded like fun. She went back into her office and shut the door.
She had made her way through all her budget re ports when she heard someone in Andie’s office. Maybe I should think about soundproofing my walls— or moving my office and not telling anyone.
Andie knocked on the door and opened it. ‘‘Detec tive Warrick would like to see you.’’
‘‘Okay, thanks, Andie. Send her in.’’
Janice Warrick walked in carrying a folder. Her short brown hair was ruffled and she smoothed it over.
‘‘Why don’t we sit at the table,’’ Diane said, pulling out a chair.
Janice sat down and laid the folder on the table. A stack of photographs spilled out.
‘‘I got the photographs you asked for,’’ she said. ‘‘I had to take them with my camera phone. It’s a good one, but it’s still a camera phone. I printed them out for you.’’ She gathered them back into a neat stack.
Diane was surprised a phone could hold that many pictures. She took the first one off the stack and looked at it. It was of the kitchen where Jefferies had been found.
‘‘What is this on the floor?’’ Diane said. ‘‘They out lined the body?’’
‘‘Yeah, I didn’t think you guys did that anymore,’’ said Janice.
‘‘We don’t. It introduces an unnecessary contamina tion to the crime scene.’’ Diane frowned. It wouldn’t do to criticize Bryce’s methods; it would only make her look bad.
Diane went through the pictures. ‘‘Where were Garnett’s prints found?’’ she said.
‘‘In the hallway—the foyer, I guess you call it—on that chest of drawers next to that statue—you know, the head of some guy.’’
‘‘Alexander the Great,’’ said Diane absently. ‘‘Where else?’’
‘‘On the kitchen counter,’’ said Janice.
‘‘Nowhere else? Not on any door facings, tables, chairs?’’
‘‘No, just those two places. The kitchen print was a full handprint, and the one in the foyer was four fin gers on the right hand,’’ said Janice.
‘‘I need to speak with Garnett. Can you get me in?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Sure. That shouldn’t be a problem. You’ve found something?’’
Chapter 20
Garnett sat across from Diane at a table in the small room. He didn’t look good. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked pale and haggard. Diane imagined a sharp dresser like him hated the neon prison jumpsuit.
The room they were in was specifically for confer ences like the one she was having with him. It was also used for interrogations on occasion. The walls were painted a strange shade of pink. Rumor had it that someone thought the color sapped prisoners’ strength when they looked at it. Diane wondered why they had orange prison suits, since that color was sup posed to energize and excite. She thought they must have just gotten the paint cheap. At least the room wasn’t dull gray.
‘‘A witness says you were at the mayor’s house the night he was murdered. Tell me about it,’’ said Diane.
He smiled slightly. ‘‘Strange being on the other end. I never realized you sounded so harsh.’’ He folded his arms on the table and sighed. ‘‘I wasn’t there long. I didn’t get past the entryway at the front door. The mayor said he didn’t have anything else to say and that he was busy. I left. That was it. Apparently some one saw me drive away. It was dark, but I suppose they recognized the car. No, wait. After I went out the gate I pulled over and turned on the light to make a call. A car went by. They could have seen me. Doesn’t matter. As I understand it I was also on the security camera, and I admit I was there.’’
‘‘How did your prints get in the house?’’ asked Diane.
Garnett’s shoulders went up an inch and fell. ‘‘I was also there the evening before. But I wasn’t there long then either.’’
‘‘Tell me about it,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That morning Peeks told me he wanted to replace Neva and Izzy. He said Izzy wasn’t pulling his weight. It wasn’t true. I could have told him Izzy was still grieving and to cut him some slack, but I didn’t. The man had no compassion.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I don’t know what he had against Neva. She’s very compe tent.’’ He smiled. ‘‘Much more than I thought she would ever be. She really blossomed at the crime lab.’’
‘‘So you went to talk to the mayor about it that same night?’’ prompted Diane.
‘‘I got there around eight o’clock that evening. It was dark, of course.’’
‘‘Was anyone else there besides the mayor?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Peeks was there; that’s all. He arrived the same time as I did.’’
‘‘What did you touch?’’ asked Diane.
Garnett wrinkled his brow. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘The fingerprints. What did you touch?’’ she asked.
Garnett sat back and thought a moment.
‘‘I knocked on the door. Didn’t use the knocker. Just my knuckles on the wood. The mayor opened it. Peeks came up just as I got inside and brushed past me, almost knocking me over. He likes doing that. I touched that table by the wall—chest or whatever it is—to steady myself. Peeks patted me on the back and said something like ‘Sorry, fella.’ We all went into the kitchen, where Spence was making nachos in the microwave. I told the mayor I didn’t think letting Izzy or Neva go was a good idea.’’
Garnett shook his head, put his hands flat on the table, and looked at them. His wedding ring was gone, and his watch, taken and put in a labeled envelope until he got out of jail. Diane wondered
if sitting in a cell was giving him a new perspective on things.
‘‘What happened?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘He started off by telling me how Izzy wasn’t pull ing his weight. Same words Peeks used. I told him Izzy worked the desk and was good at it. Peeks said I had low standards, that Izzy was lazy. I told them Neva was a fine officer. They said she spent too much time working at the museum for you, but they might hold off on both of them if I would consider searching my memory about the disposition of the bone lab. That I should remember that you turned over the lab to the city.’’
‘‘Surely they didn’t think that would work,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Apparently my testimony was part of some plan they were concocting. I don’t know. I told them the whole thing was ridiculous; they didn’t have a hope in hell of getting your lab. Evidently they thought it was theirs to begin with. I never briefed them on who owned the bone lab. They knew you had just put in the DNA lab, and I think they wanted to put one of their own people in it to eventually replace Jin. But they thought the bone lab was part of the crime lab. It was a blow to find out it wasn’t, and they just didn’t want to let go. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what they had in mind to do about it. Except maybe force you to change your mind by threatening to arrest you for Delamore’s murder.’’
‘‘What else did you touch?’’ asked Diane.
Garnett thought a moment.
‘‘I remember leaning on the kitchen counter, you know, that island in the middle of the kitchen. I put my hand on it and leaned over to talk to the mayor. I told him what they were doing was unfair and if he hoped to get elected again, he should tone it down. He got really pissed. Then suddenly he calmed down and asked me about you.’’
‘‘About me?’’ said Diane.
‘‘He wanted to know how to unseat you as director of the museum.’’
‘‘That is so strange,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Isn’t it? I told him better men have tried and failed. He really didn’t know much about the museum. He mentioned something about going to the board of direc tors. I didn’t say anything. I thought I’d just let him see how that worked out for him.’’ Garnett laughed.
Diane couldn’t imagine what the mayor was think ing. Of course, the mayor who preceded Jefferies had tried to do the same thing, but for different reasons. He had wanted the land the museum was on—or thought he did.
‘‘So there are just two things you remember touching— the kitchen counter and the hall chest,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That’s it, I’m pretty sure. I left soon after. It wasn’t like he was going to invite me to share his nachos.’’ He looked at her quizzically for a moment. ‘‘I know that look on your face. What are you thinking?’’
‘‘It appears that the hall chest and kitchen counter were the only two places they dusted for prints,’’ said Diane.
It took a moment for a look of surprise to cross Garnett’s face.
‘‘They were only looking for my prints—Peeks must have told them where to look,’’ he said. ‘‘Who worked the crime scene? Not Neva?’’ His eyes clouded over.
‘‘No, it was Rikki and Bryce,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And probably Curtis Crabtree.’’
Diane stood up. ‘‘Don’t worry. I think we’ll get to the bottom of this soon.’’ Now that all your enemies are dead. The thought came unbidden into her head. She shook it off. ‘‘I need to speak to Colin. You don’t happen to know what other evidence they have against you?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘No, I don’t....Not really,’’ he added.
Diane sat down again. ‘‘Tell me what you know,’’ she said.
‘‘The gun used in the killings was one that was used several years ago in a robbery. It should have been in the evidence room. Not many people have access to that room. Only the police.’’
She didn’t like where this was going. It wasn’t a good thing when all the suspects were policemen.
‘‘Did they find the gun itself?’’ she asked.
‘‘No,’’ said Garnett.
‘‘Was it the same gun that killed Edgar Peeks?’’ she asked.
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘Anything else you need to tell me?’’ she asked.
‘‘I can’t think of anything . . . except that I usually need more evidence than what they have on me to lock someone up. You think Prehoda can get me out of here?’’
‘‘I don’t know. If he can overcome the drama of you being found standing over Peeks’ body,’’ she said.
‘‘I don’t know how many times I’ve heard perps say they’ve been set up. I’ve never believed them; not once,’’ Garnett said.
‘‘It does happen,’’ said Diane.
She knocked on the door and the guard came to take Garnett back to his cell.
Diane walked up to the squad room to speak with Janice. She needed to get Janice to take point on Garnett’s case. They somehow had to give Curtis Crabtree something else to do, and she wasn’t sure how to ac complish that.
Chapter 21
When Diane got to the squad room, Buford Monroe, the chief of police under the previous administration, was standing with Edward Van Ross, who was the presi dent of the city council of Rosewood—and Vanessa’s son. That’s why the city council hadn’t done anything yet, thought Diane. Edward was out of town and they were waiting for his return.
Behind Van Ross stood the former police commis sioner, who had also lost his job with the change in administrations. Jefferies said it was redundant to have a police chief and a police commissioner in a city the size of Rosewood and getting rid of the commissioner would save a huge salary. Diane had agreed with him about that. She still did. The commissioner had run for city council and won a seat. Standing there in front of the squad room with Edward Van Ross, he and Monroe both looked vindicated—like they wanted to say, I told you so.
‘‘The council met today,’’ Edward Van Ross was saying when Diane arrived, ‘‘and appointed me acting mayor until we have a special election. As one of my first acts I have reinstated Buford Monroe as chief of police.’’
Diane looked around the room at the faces. Most were smiling, but there were a few who looked sullen—hired by Peeks, no doubt, they had pooled their fortunes with his; and now it looked like they had picked the wrong side. She wondered if Harve Delamore had been a Jefferies supporter. As she looked over the gathering, she noticed that Pendleton was smiling. Interesting. Maybe he would be willing to talk with her about how Bryce and company han dled the crime scenes.
‘‘I’m sure all of you will welcome Chief Monroe back and do all you can to help during this crisis,’’ continued Van Ross.
Diane hoped he wouldn’t talk long. She wanted to have a word with Monroe. She spotted Colin Prehoda standing with his back to the wall. He nodded when she made eye contact and pointed to a bulky enve lope he had in his hand. She worked her way over to him.
‘‘I finally got the security tape,’’ he whispered to her. ‘‘It was found in Peeks’ apartment, of all places. Janice discovered it, thankfully.’’
‘‘Have you looked at it yet?’’ Diane whispered.
‘‘No, I thought we’d go to your office or mine and have a look,’’ he said.
‘‘I came with Janice and I need a ride back, so let’s go to mine,’’ she said.
Van Ross was ending his speech. He made merci fully short ones. He joked that that was why he was elected president of the city council. Diane, followed by Colin, walked up to the front. Edward Van Ross gave her a hug and mentioned how much his mother was looking forward to the Neanderthal bones. He also offered his sympathies for her injuries.
She shook Buford Monroe’s hand and said softly that she was glad to have him back and that she needed to speak with him. Having just been hugged by Edward Van Ross gave her some political credits, she imagined. They stepped away from the crowd.
‘‘I think it would be a good idea to replace Curtis Crabtree as the
primary on the murders. Janice Warrick would be a good replacement,’’ she said, coming right out with what she wanted, hoping frankness was the best way.
‘‘Why?’’ he asked.
‘‘Crabtree isn’t objective, and he seems divided be tween the crime lab and being a detective. I think Janice would be better.
‘‘I can’t be seen to favor Garnett. Even though I believe he is innocent,’’ he added. ‘‘I don’t want to load the deck in his favor by eliminating any detective who isn’t on his side.’’
Diane let the bad metaphor go, even though she hated bad metaphors. ‘‘I understand, and you are cor rect in that position. Janice was reprimanded by Garnett—actually demoted by him—but she has worked her way back up to detective and clearly sees this objectively, the way a good detective should. Put ting her in charge wouldn’t be seen as making a judg ment in his favor; it would be seen as making sure everything is evenhanded and not based on grudges.’’ It wasn’t a good argument. But she didn’t think it had to be. Buford Monroe didn’t like any of Peeks’ cro nies, and he knew that Curtis was one of them.
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