Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘Good work, guys,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Seriously. You’re doing very good work.’’ Diane had to admit it felt good to be back in charge of the crime lab again.

  ‘‘Hi, Andie,’’ said Diane as she entered her office. ‘‘How was your gemology class?’’

  Andie was changing the ink cartridge in her printer. Today she was dressed in a black jumper, white sweater, and patent leather Mary Janes. She looked up from her task and grinned broadly. Diane noticed that she was working on the museum’s newsletter.

  ‘‘Great. Barb McConnel was back. Ethan didn’t come. His father stayed home with him. She seemed to be having a good time. Did you know you can’t let opals dry out or freeze? It’s the water thing, which I still don’t understand. I mean, water’s wet. Anyway, Sheriff Canfield came by and left you a package. He said he didn’t want to take it to the crime lab, even though you are back in charge. Which he was real glad about. He knew Rikki was still working there and didn’t know if Bryce might pop back in. Is he really suing the city?’’

  Diane took the package from her. ‘‘Who, Bryce or Canfield?’’ asked Diane.

  Andie grinned. ‘‘Bryce,’’ she said.

  ‘‘I’ve heard that he is,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Well, he won’t win,’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘Probably not,’’ she said. ‘‘You doing the newsletter this time?’’

  ‘‘Yeah. I’ve been getting a lot of calls on what the dress code is for ‘white tie.’ So I’m putting it in the newsletter,’’ she said.

  Diane smiled. ‘‘Excellent idea, Andie. Good think ing.’’

  ‘‘I think there’s going to be a lot of tiaras and prom dresses at the event. But I don’t think tiaras are worn much anymore,’’ said Andie, ‘‘except to proms.’’ Diane agreed. ‘‘Though I’ve been looking at white-tie events on the Internet, and this woman is wearing a tiara that’s more like a crown.’’ Andie flipped views on her computer and pointed to a picture on the screen.

  ‘‘Andie, that’s the queen of England,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Oh.’’ Andie squinted at the picture. ‘‘I think I need glasses. I thought it was the president’s mother.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be in my office,’’ said Diane. She walked past Andie’s desk and opened the door that separated their offices. ‘‘I’ll be here for a while if you need me.’’

  ‘‘Frank’s here,’’ said Andie. ‘‘With a computer. He said you’d know what it is.’’

  ‘‘I do,’’ she said. ‘‘Thanks.’’

  She took the package in and sat down behind her desk. No one trusts the crime lab, she thought, not David or Frank. Not even me. David told Frank to work in Diane’s office. She told her crew to meet her here instead of at the lab. Establishing confidence again in the crime lab was going to be her top priority when this was over.

  The box was wrapped in brown paper and tied with jute. It had her name on it and the address of the museum. The return address was the Rose County Sheriff’s Office. She cut the jute and tore off the paper.

  There was a note taped to the top of a cardboard box about half the size of a shoe box. It was from the sheriff saying they hadn’t found anything more after a sweep of the area, except for a bullet, which was sent to the GBI ballistics lab. Canfield wasn’t even trusting Rosewood ballistics. She couldn’t blame him. Losing those bones was a major blunder. The note also had a PS: I’m glad to see you back at the crime lab.

  She took the lid off and pulled away cotton batting. Four pieces of bone lay on another layer of cotton batting. She donned a pair of gloves. One of the bones was a front portion of a maxilla with a tooth still im bedded in it—an incisor. The other bone fragments consisted of a broken piece from the spinous process of a vertebrae, a piece of coracoid bone from the scap ula, and the second cuneiform of the left foot. The most helpful was the incisor. The root of the tooth would be a good place to find usable DNA. She turned it over in her hand and saw that it was a shovel-tooth incisor—most common in Asian popula tions. The hunch she had at the Sutton house was looking stronger. There was nothing so far to rule it out. She repacked the bones, removed her gloves, and walked into her sitting room.

  Frank had the computer on her table and was ap parently taking it apart.

  ‘‘David told me you’d be working here,’’ she said. ‘‘Why are you dismantling the computer?’’

  ‘‘I’m not. I’ve just taken the case off the CPU,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Why?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Sometimes people write their encryption key in side the computer case, in the event they forget it. But I’ve been over every inch with a magnifying glass and I haven’t found one.’’

  ‘‘How about a black light?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That was going to be my next step. You wouldn’t happen to have a black light in your pocket, would you?’’ He winked at her and turned up one corner of his lips.

  She grinned. ‘‘We have lots of black lights all over the building.’’

  She called Andie and asked her to go up to the conservation lab and borrow a black light from Korey, her head conservator.

  ‘‘Andie will be down with one in just a minute,’’ said Diane.

  Diane sat down at a small writing desk in the cor ner. She had the box of bones with her. She punched the sheriff’s number into her cell and asked for him when the receptionist answered. It took a couple of minutes to get him on the line.

  ‘‘Hey, Diane. I guess you got the package I sent you,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Yes, I did, and I have a name and address for you to check.’’ She fished the paper from her pocket. ‘‘Malcolm Chen,’’ she said, and gave the sheriff the Atlanta address. There was silence on the other end of the phone for several long moments.

  ‘‘Hello? Are we still connected?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘You know, I’ve been telling people you’re good, but I had no idea. How in the world did you identify him from that paltry handful of bones?’’ he said.

  Diane laughed. ‘‘I’d love to say my skills are—’’ She paused as she caught sight of Frank looking at her strangely. ‘‘Just a moment,’’ she said and put a hand over the phone.

  ‘‘What?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Malcolm Chen is a hacker,’’ he said.

  Chapter 33

  ‘‘You know him?’’ said Diane. ‘‘You know Malcolm Chen?’’

  ‘‘I know the name,’’ said Frank. ‘‘He’s on a list of hackers I have. He’s also known as Shogun.’’

  ‘‘Interesting,’’ said Diane.

  Diane got back on the phone with the sheriff.

  ‘‘Sheriff Canfield, Frank is here and he recognized the name. He says he may be a hacker called Shogun. Chen is Asian, he has a nose ring, and he is young. He fits the description of the kid in the field, and I have to tell you, this may not be him, but it’s a lead. I’ve found nothing yet that would rule him out, but that’s not the same as a positive ID, by any means. And you know what little I’ve had to work with. I’m hoping Jin will be able to extract DNA from the tooth. He’s come up empty on the earlier samples.’’

  ‘‘I’m going to call the Atlanta police right now and ask them to go to Chen’s apartment. I tell you, Diane, I’m real impressed.’’

  ‘‘Don’t be too impressed. I was lucky to stumble onto something,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ll tell you about it later. Let me know what the Atlanta police say.’’

  ‘‘I will,’’ said the sheriff.

  ‘‘Ask them to collect samples for DNA compari son,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Toothbrush and hairbrush would be real good,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘I’ll do that,’’ said the sheriff.

  Diane hung up the phone and looked over at Frank. ‘‘A hacker?’’ she said.

  ‘‘I’ve been looking at the usual suspects following this rash of identity thefts, and the names were on my mind,’’ he said. ‘‘How did you come by his name?’’

  Diane wen
t over to the couch and sat down. There was a stack of crime scene photos David had printed for her to examine, photographs that Rikki took be fore she dismantled the mayor’s house in her search.

  She didn’t answer Frank. An idea was flitting through her mind and she wanted to follow through first. She picked up the stack of photographs. He watched her curiously, not pushing for an answer.

  Andie came in with a black light.

  ‘‘Okay, who gets it?’’ she said.

  ‘‘Frank,’’ said Diane without looking up from the photographs.

  Andie handed the black light to Frank and left.

  Diane flipped through the photographs, pulling out the ones from the library and laying them faceup, side by side on the table, looking closely at each one.

  ‘‘Well, hell,’’ said Frank.

  ‘‘What?’’ said Diane, looking up.

  ‘‘Look at this,’’ he said.

  Diane rose, went over to the table, and peered into the computer case. Under the black light, in neat block letters were the words You won’t find what you are looking for here.

  ‘‘What the—?’’ began Diane. ‘‘What does that mean?’’

  ‘‘It means this is going to be harder to decipher than I thought.’’

  The door opened and Izzy walked in with his note book under his arm.

  ‘‘Hi, Diane, Frank. I can tell you right here and now that there is no list in that library. Not even a grocery list.’’

  ‘‘It’s probably in the machine, then,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Mind if I have a drink?’’ said Izzy.

  ‘‘Sure,’’ said Diane. ‘‘In the little fridge.’’

  ‘‘Can I get anyone else one?’’ he asked. ‘‘The others will be here shortly. They’re checking things into your evidence locker.’’

  ‘‘You can bring me a green tea,’’ said Diane.

  Izzy got a Coke and gave Diane a bottle of green tea.

  ‘‘Those any good?’’ he asked. He sat down on one of the couches, still clutching his notebook.

  ‘‘I like them,’’ said Diane.

  She looked up at him. She had been wondering about Izzy. It had even crossed her mind briefly that he might be hanging around to find the list himself, in case it led to a lot of money. She wondered why he didn’t go back to his job at the police station. It wasn’t because he was guarding her, obviously.

  ‘‘Izzy, don’t get me wrong—you are doing a great job—but just why are you here? Did the chief of po lice send you?’’

  Izzy and Frank briefly exchanged glances as Frank sat down next to the computer.

  ‘‘Well, it’s like this. Evie’s got her antidrug thing going and it’s helping her through losing Daniel. She’s making a difference, and that means something. Me, I work at a desk job. I’m just marking time. And my retirement ain’t for many years yet. The stuff you do here catches people—like the people responsible for killing Daniel. I need to do something that makes a difference. And you guys laugh. I ain’t laughed in a long time. I was thinking that since Jin is now mostly in the DNA lab, and I don’t think you’re going to keep li’l Gollum on after this is over, maybe you could ask the chief to assign me here. They have lots of guys approaching retirement who can work the desk.’’

  Diane was shocked. She had no idea that was what was on Izzy’s mind. When she didn’t say anything, he continued.

  ‘‘I’ll never make detective in the department. I’ve known that for years. But I have a lot to offer as an investigator here. I have a lot of experience and I can learn the forensics.’’

  ‘‘We don’t do investigations; we collect crime scene evidence,’’ said Diane.

  Izzy smiled. ‘‘The hell you don’t. The biggest com plaint the detectives in the squad have with you is you tend sometimes to take over an investigation,’’ he said.

  Diane’s jaw dropped. She hardly knew what to say. She looked over at Frank, but he was busy studying his shoes. She looked back at Izzy.

  ‘‘Is that true?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘Yeah. This time we asked you to, but we don’t always do that,’’ he said, laughing.

  Diane stared at him a moment, thinking about the proposition. There would be an advantage to having one of the old boys on her crew. And Izzy was doing a good job. Of course he wasn’t doing any collection of fingerprints or blood spatters, any trace evidence. But he had come up with good ideas.

  She looked at Frank again. Apparently he’d found out all he could about his shoes because he looked at her and smiled.

  ‘‘I’m not against the idea,’’ she said. ‘‘Let me think about it. There would be a lot of benefits to both of us. I can see that.’’

  ‘‘That’s great,’’ Izzy said, grinning. ‘‘Thanks.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t say yes,’’ she said.

  ‘‘But you didn’t say no. Now, it’s clear to me that no means no, but you didn’t say that.’’

  ‘‘I said maybe,’’ she said. ‘‘I said I’ll think about it.’’

  ‘‘That’s closer to a yes than to a no,’’ he said. ‘‘So, Frankie, buddy. Did you find anything on the machine?’’

  Frank laughed and showed him the message under the black light.

  ‘‘Well, I’ll be damned. What do you make of that?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Looks like the work of another hacker on my list,’’ said Frank. ‘‘I don’t know his real name; we haven’t found out his identity yet. But he goes by the nick name Black Light.’’

  ‘‘Really?’’ said Diane looking up from the photo graphs she was examining. She went to the table and picked up the magnifying glass that Frank was using and inspected one of the pictures from the mayor’s library with it. ‘‘You don’t think it was this Shogun fellow who encrypted the computer, then?’’

  ‘‘Shogun? Now I’ve missed something,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘Jefferies had a book in his library called that. There was a bunch of them by Clavell.’’

  ‘‘Not that Shogun,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘I missed something too,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Why do you think Malcolm Chen is connected to this case? By the way, you never did tell me how you came by the name.’’

  Diane used the magnifying glass and looked at a photograph of the library bookcase.

  ‘‘Jefferies had all the works of Dickens on one shelf in alphabetical order by title. But one is missing.’’

  ‘‘Izzy, would you hand me your list of books?’’ she said.

  He handed her the notebook containing the list in Jefferies’ library. He had abbreviated the titles, but she thought she could decipher it easily enough.

  ‘‘Are you going to withhold the information?’’ said Frank.

  ‘‘Do you want to discuss withholding information?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘No, I suppose not,’’ he said.

  ‘‘It’s not on here,’’ said Diane, tapping her finger on the list.

  ‘‘I got the names of all the books. I’m sure of it,’’ said Izzy.

  ‘‘I’m counting on it,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘What’s not there?’’ said Frank and Izzy together.

  She handed them the photograph and magnifying glass. ‘‘This picture was taken before Rikki took the books out of the shelves. Look at the Dickens shelf. There’s a book missing between Nicholas Nickleby and Our Mutual Friend,’’ she said.

  ‘‘And that would be...,’’ said Frank.

  Diane saw him going over the titles and repeating them to himself.

  ‘‘Oliver Twist,’’ said Frank. ‘‘It’s not on the shelf.’’ ‘‘It’s not in Izzy’s notes either.’’

  Izzy took the notebook from her and ran his finger down the list. ‘‘Not here,’’ he said.

  ‘‘The book was taken by someone—assuming the crew brought you all the books they found in the house,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘They did,’’ he said.

  ‘‘If there really was a list, I think that’s where Jeffer ies
would have put it. He was into books—actually, he was into a fantasy life. He had sculptures and paint ings of Alexander the Great all over the house.’’

  ‘‘He had four biographies of him,’’ said Izzy.

  ‘‘Jefferies liked to see himself as bigger than life, like characters in his books. If he had a hard copy of a list with some connection to his real business, I think it makes sense that he would hide it in Oliver Twist.’’