Dead Past

by Beverly Connor

  “You want my opinion?” said David. “It was the uncle—he’s got enough clout to dry up the investigation. And I’ll bet he’s behind the drug operation.”

  “Go home and get some rest. A fresh idea may occur to you in the morning. I’m leaving.”

  Diane left through the museum exit of the crime lab, crossed the dinosaur overlook, and took the elevator down to the first floor. She walked to the east-wing exit where yet another museum car was parked for her use. The museum store was closed and dark except for the floor lighting. She looked in at the row of Dora the Explorer dolls lined up on the shelf and was reminded of Juliet’s dream. What was it about dolls? Diane continued past the primate exhibits, feeling guilty for not putting enough time in the department for which she was curator. An idea of an exhibit had been forming in her mind for several days and she had done nothing about it. She walked through to the lobby and out the doors.

  She was home in bed when an idea hit her. She looked at the clock. One o’clock, shit. She picked up the phone anyway and called Andie.

  Andie answered, obviously wide awake.

  “I’m sorry to call you so late,” said Diane.

  “It’s not late,” said Andie. “What you need?”

  “You know that basket you made for Juliet Price?”

  “How could I forget it?” answered Andie.

  “The mermaid doll, was it in a box? I seem to recall that it wasn’t.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Is that why you called?”

  “Yes. Thanks for the information.”

  “Anytime,” said Andie.

  Interesting, Diane said to herself. I’ll wait until morning to call Laura.

  Chapter 31

  It was the first good night’s sleep Diane had since the explosion. She woke up feeling good—no midnight calls, no murders, no bad dreams. She made herself scrambled eggs, the kind of bacon that’s already fried and just needs to be microwaved, the kind of toast made in the broiler and not the toaster, and orange juice. She didn’t know exactly why she felt so good.

  Her mind had certainly been working overtime while she slept. Besides an epiphany she was experiencing about Juliet Price, her head was buzzing with questions about the cases that needed to be solved. Uppermost in her thoughts today was the question of how Blake Stanton had gained access to her museum holdings. How did he manage to get into every department in the museum and how did he know so much about what they had and what was valuable?

  She enjoyed her breakfast and then dashed outside where she found, to her relief, her car unmarked by the mad graffiti artist, Patrice Stanton. She drove to the museum and parked in her usual place. The weather had been warmer the past few days, but the temperature was dropping again and the wind was strong. She wrapped herself in her coat and hurried up the steps to the warmth of the museum.

  She met Juliet in the lobby. Juliet’s platinum hair was pulled back and out of her face. Diane thought that was a good sign—becoming visible.

  “Dr. Fallon,” said Juliet, “I want to thank you for everything you’re doing for me. You and Dr. Hillard are really being great.”

  “I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll try.” Diane didn’t mention the idea she was having—she wanted to talk it over with Laura first.

  “Whatever you do, I appreciate it.” She looked at her watch. “I’m waiting for visiting hours at the hospital,” she said. “Darcy is in her own room now and can have limited visitation. This is terrible for her.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Diane, “but it looks as if she is on the mend.”

  “Her parents can’t decide whether they should tell her that her boyfriend was killed,” said Juliet.

  “Oh, no,” said Diane. “Was he in the explosion, too?”

  “Yes, but he survived that.” Her voice went down to a whisper. “But later he was murdered.”

  Diane was so shocked it caught her breath.

  “Murdered?”

  Some of the museum staff came through the doors, bringing with them a gust of cold wind. Diane shivered.

  “Come to my office where we can talk,” she said.

  She hadn’t meant it to sound like such a command, but Juliet followed her back to her office. Diane took her into her lounge area and plied her with orange juice.

  “What was her boyfriend’s name?” asked Diane. Still trying hard not to sound like she was interrogating her.

  “Blake Stanton,” said Juliet.

  If Juliet was disturbed by Diane’s questioning, she didn’t show it. Diane hoped she was successful at looking casual. She remembered how Blake had told his parents at the hospital that she was the director of the museum. She just assumed he had seen her in the newspaper or something. But it was clear now, he knew who she was because he had been to the museum, probably on more than one occasion.

  “Darcy’s crazy about him,” said Juliet, sipping on her orange juice. “She doesn’t like his parents much. She said his mother’s a real nut job.”

  “Was he at the museum often? I don’t recall seeing him here,” said Diane.

  “He was here with her a lot. He said he was thinking about going into a career in museum work, so Darcy showed him around all the departments and let him watch her plan some of the exhibits. Some people actually thought he worked here. He was really helpful to everyone.”

  I’ll bet he was, thought Diane. A little con artist in training—gain their trust and raid their pantry.

  “He was a student.” It was a statement, but Diane made it sound like a question.

  “He’s one of those students who never graduates.” Juliet sighed. “Darcy is going to be devastated. She was really in love with him.”

  “I get the feeling you didn’t think too much of him.”

  “I don’t—didn’t really,” she said. She put her juice on the table. “I got the impression he didn’t really like her as much as she liked him. You know when a guy likes you, he looks at you a lot, even when you aren’t looking at him. He never looked at her. He looked at other women, but rarely at her.”

  Interesting observation, thought Diane. “I appreciate you talking to me about Darcy,” said Diane. “We’re all hoping she recovers quickly. I met her parents. They’re nice people.”

  “Darcy’s crazy about her parents. She really cares what they think of her. A lot of people my age don’t. Myself, I have much lower expectations. I only care that they don’t think I’m crazy.” She smiled.

  Diane smiled with her. “They can put their minds at ease if they think that. There’s a big difference between coping strategies and crazy.”

  Juliet picked up her orange juice and stood up.

  “That’s what Dr. Hillard says.”

  She smiled again as she headed for the door.

  “Maybe she’ll give me a certificate of saneness that I can frame and hang on the wall.”

  “Say hello to Darcy for me,” said Diane. “By the way, how is Whitney Lester treating you?”

  “She sort of gives me the cold shoulder, which I accept gladly.”

  After Juliet left, Diane sat on the couch for several minutes thinking. The problem had been solved of how Blake managed to gain access to the back rooms of the museum, and she didn’t like the answer. It presented a new and more difficult problem. Did Darcy know what he was doing? Was she helping? Diane didn’t want to interrogate Darcy while she was recovering, but she wanted to get the museum’s property back. Damn.

  Of course Diane had known it had to be someone on the inside, but she’d been rejecting the idea. She got up from the couch and headed for Security.

  “Chanell,” she said as she knocked on her open door.

  “Dr. Fallon, I was just about to come and see you. We found Mrs. Van Ross’ diamond, along with several other stones from the geology exhibit.” Chanell’s black eyes glittered with triumph.

  Diane closed the door and sat down in the chair near her desk. “You found them? Where?”

  “Actually, it was a fourth grader on one of th
e tours late yesterday. He was digging in the potted palms near the entrance and came up with a bag of jewels. His teacher saw him pocket them and brought them to the information desk. It turned out to be the missing stones. And I’m sorry, I haven’t a clue as to how they got there.”

  Diane could only imagine. Had Blake gotten cold feet?

  “I found out who the thief is,” said Diane. “His name was Blake Stanton. He’s the young man who was murdered.”

  “That boy?” said Chanell. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fallon, I don’t know how he got access to the museum. But I’ll sure be looking into it.”

  “Unfortunately, I know that, too. He’s the boyfriend of Darcy Kincaid.”

  “Oh, no, not Darcy. That’s a shame. Is she in on it with him, do you know?”

  “I don’t know and I’m reluctant to ask right now,” said Diane.

  “I understand. Now that we know who’s behind it, we can get a line on the other stolen items. How did you find out it was him?”

  Diane explained about the shells being found in her car with his prints on them.

  “So, you’ve recovered the shells?”

  “Just the golden cowrie shells,” said Diane. “I don’t know where the others are.”

  “I’ve instituted a search of all the plants,” said Chanell. “In case that’s where the items were stashed for later pickup or something. Darcy Kincaid.” She shook her head. “I hope that child isn’t involved.”

  “Me too,” said Diane.

  Diane wasn’t feeling as perky as when she awakened this morning. Finding out about Darcy had depressed her. She didn’t believe there was any way Darcy couldn’t have known what Blake was doing. At least, some things were falling into place. She went back to her office and called to make an appointment with Laura Hillard.

  Chapter 32

  Before going to her appointment with Laura, Diane walked upstairs to the crime lab. It was early and she didn’t expect anyone to be there, but she would leave a note. To her surprise, all three of her crew were in the lab working.

  “Do you guys spend the night here?” asked Diane.

  “Just about,” said Neva. “You can get only so much warmth from a webcam, so I might as well work. By the way, Mike told me to go by and have a look at the crystal skull he got for you—do you have it yet?”

  “It’s in my museum office on my desk. It’s very nice. I like it a lot.”

  “Crystal skull? Like the Mayan skull, the Mitchell-Hedges skull?” asked David. “Really? Are you going to display it?”

  “It’s similar to the Mitchell-Hedges skull,” said Diane. “Jonas Briggs wants to put on an exhibit on archaeology and legend or false archaeology, something like that. The provenances are suspect on all the crystal skulls, but there’s a lot of myth and superstition surrounding them. Jonas said he’s been working up an exhibit. Apparently everyone but me knew I was getting one.”

  Before Mike began dating Neva, it was no secret he was interested in Diane, an interest she made it plain she could not accept or reciprocate. Even now he played at flirting on occasion but never seriously. Diane sometimes felt uncomfortable with his faux flirtations because of Neva, but Neva seemed to recognize it as no more than teasing. Mike appeared always to be up front with Neva in everything he did. Diane was relieved to know that. They were all caving partners, she, Neva and Mike—and Jin, too, now. Because of his skills in rock climbing and caving, Mike was the best caving partner she’d ever had. She was loath to lose that. In any other instance she would never accept such a gift from someone she was not involved with, but this was, after all, a crystal skull.

  “Enough about the skull,” said Diane. “I just found out something I need to talk with you about.”

  “What’s that, Boss?” said Jin.

  “I’d like to go see the skull,” said David. “You know they are all supposed to communicate with each other?”

  “Who?” asked Jin.

  “All the crystal skulls,” said David.

  “Are you serious?” said Jin, giving David a sidelong look. “You don’t believe that?”

  “Why not? Transmitters are made from quartz crystals,” said David. “And it makes more sense than that white noise you listened to trying to hear dead voices all last month—driving us all crazy. I still hear white noise in my sleep.”

  “Any dead voices?” asked Jin.

  “Seriously, the skulls are supposed to possess an aura,” said David.

  “Jonas Briggs is going to love talking with you,” said Diane. “The skull’s in my office. You can go ask Andie to let you in. In the meantime . . .” Diane jerked her thumb to the round table where they debriefed and discussed matters of crime. When they were seated she told them about Darcy Kincaid and Blake Stanton.

  “Well, that clears up one mystery,” said Neva. “How Blake got access to the museum.”

  “I think there are a lot of things we have to rethink,” said Diane. “Darcy was at the ill-fated party. So was Blake. I think we can assume it was a date. We’ll know more when we can talk to Darcy. But it’s possible he may have known no more about the meth lab than the other victims.”

  “His and McNair’s murders may not be related,” said David. “Is that what you are saying?”

  “I don’t know,” said Diane. “I just brought it to you guys to think about. Blake Stanton’s murder may have had to do with his thievery and not be related to McNair at all. Maybe someone was supposed to meet him to purchase something, but killed him and took the item instead—or something along those lines.”

  “Maybe McNair was involved with him in his stealing,” said Neva. “Maybe he had nothing to do with the meth lab, either. Maybe the thefts are the connection and why they were killed in a similar manner.”

  “I know,” Diane said, “This raises more questions than answers.”

  She told them about Vanessa Van Ross’ diamond being found in the dirt of the potted palm.

  “Maybe buyers were expecting Blake to have the stones, and when he didn’t deliver, they killed him. I don’t know. Think about it.” She looked at her watch. “I have an appointment. You guys come up with something.”

  Diane left them sitting at the table reworking their theories. On her way to Laura’s she stopped and bought a vanilla milk shake. Nothing like gluttony to make you feel better, she thought. The frozen drink made her shiver. She wondered how many shakes they sold in the dead of winter.

  Laura’s office was a small cottage with a picket fence and a flower garden. Right now the picket fence was capped with snow and the flower beds were covered over and glistened white. But in the spring and summer it was awash with colors and butterflies. It didn’t look like you were heading to a psychiatrist’s office when you came through the gate and up the walk to the door.

  Inside, the cottage was as cozy as the outside. There was even a fire in the grate. The receptionist told Diane to go on into Laura’s office. It also had a fireplace with a warm and gentle fire. The room looked more like a snug den than a doctor’s office. Diane imagined that the atmosphere must put everyone at ease.

  Laura’s blue eyes twinkled as she greeted Diane. “I knew you would find something,” she said.

  She was dressed in a lime green silk suit. Her blond hair was shoulder length and turned under. Laura always looked so well groomed, thought Diane. She and Kendel would make a pair.

  “I’m not sure I have,” said Diane. “I wanted to bounce it off you first.”

  “Bounce away. Can I get you some coffee first? Tea?”

  Diane shook her head. “Just had a milk shake.”

  “How do you do that and stay so slim? I have to watch everything I eat,” said Laura.

  “I burn it, I suppose. Nervous energy.”

  Diane sat down on a small sofa next to the warm fire. Laura sat opposite her in a comfortable looking wingback chair.

  “I looked over the information you sent. Only two things caught my attention in the reports. One was the jogger who fell, and the othe
r was the kid next door who heard Juliet say something suggestive to someone.”

  “I agree about the child next door, but what about the jogger?”

  “I think the jogger’s fall was a ruse to divert attention while the kidnapper grabbed Juliet. I’ll call the authorities in Arizona where she was kidnapped and find out if a composite sketch was ever drawn of her. But the main thing I wanted to talk with you about is this: Listening to the tape of her talking about her memories of that time, I had an epiphany.”

  “What’s that?” Laura leaned forward, her elbows on the arms of her chair.

  “I don’t think her memories are of one crime, but are of two separate crimes,” said Diane.

  Laura sat back in her chair, shocked.

  “How in the world?” said Laura. “Two crimes? Tell me.”

  “Remember, it’s a tenuous thread I’m working with here,” warned Diane.

  “It would have to be. If it were obvious, I’d have seen it. This is why I asked you to look at it. Please, go on. I’m all ears.”

  “In what Juliet was saying on the tape, she is having a hard time separating her dreams and her fears from her memories.”

  Laura nodded. “That’s common, especially in early memories.”

  “Sometimes those memories are in code,” said Diane.

  “OK . . .” Laura was more tentative in her affirmation this time.

  “When you asked Juliet what she meant by new dolls, she said “dolls in boxes.” I don’t think she meant that. I think her brain has combined memories.”

  “Combining memories is common even when a person is an adult,” agreed Laura.

  Diane was trying to explain her reasoning in a linear fashion to Laura, but the idea had come to her all at once and she wasn’t sure where to begin.

  “Juliet said her grandmother accused her of stealing a doll. I think this was real and occurred near the time of Event One—Event Two being her kidnapping. And because the grandmother’s accusation was close in time to the two major traumas and held some visual similarities, the doll became the code for the rest of it.