Dead Past

by Beverly Connor

  “I’m with you,” said Frank.

  “Someone besides Quinn knew about the hidden fortune—actually, a lot of people did—but this someone knew that Quinn had a line on where to find it,” said Diane.

  “Maybe Quinn told someone,” said David.

  “Not if Quinn’s the one hiding the code in the doll,” said Neva. “That sounds like secretive behavior to me.”

  “OK, maybe someone who was looking for the code tracked down Leo Parrish’s descendants—like Beth did,” said David.

  “That’s a good possibility,” said Diane.

  “Other relatives must have known about the treasure,” said Frank, “The ones who stayed in Glendale-Marsh. Even if they weren’t close to the sister, they knew Leo would confide in her—they were twins. And they could have passed down the story from one generation to the next just like Leo’s family did.”

  “Oh, I like that,” said David. “It’s very neat.”

  “Whoever it was,” continued Diane, “followed Quinn Sebestyen to Florida, tried to get the information from him, and ended up killing his entire family. Juliet came over to her new friend’s house and found them dead and wrapped up in plastic. She ran home to her grandmother, perhaps being chased by the killers.”

  “How did Juliet get the doll?” asked Jin.

  “Her grandmother thought she stole it. When she asked Juliet where she got it, Juliet said a friend gave it to her. Juliet doesn’t have much memory of that time,” said Diane. “We may never know. But the killers did not get Juliet or the doll in Glendale-Marsh, and she went home to Arizona. They followed her there to get the doll, not knowing that the grandmother back in Florida had kept it. They were probably afraid that Juliet recognized them. They kidnapped her and when they didn’t get the information they wanted from her, they left her for dead.”

  “Why did they suddenly resurface now?” asked Neva. “It’s been, what, twenty years?”

  Diane thought for a moment. She looked at Jin; then it dawned on her.

  “I think,” she said, “for the same reason that Juliet’s nightmares began again after all these years. The television program. I’m willing to bet that Juliet watched the program or at least caught some of the advertising for it and it triggered the nightmares.”

  “And you think the killer saw the same program and was afraid the cold case squad had a renewed interest in the disappearance of the Sebestyen family, and that Juliet might remember something?” said Neva.

  “Yes. And it also renewed the killers’ interest in getting the doll and the code they never found,” said Diane.

  “You keep saying they,” said Frank. “You think there was more than one?”

  “I think there were and are at least two,” said Diane. “A man and a woman. In the very moments before Juliet was discovered missing, a jogger was reported to have fallen in front of Juliet’s home. I think the woman was a decoy to attract the attention of the adults to the front of the house while the man kidnapped Juliet from her backyard. In the library when I heard the odd phrase about palimpsests, I believe it was a woman’s voice. It definitely wasn’t the voice of the man who took the doll from me.”

  “It’s a good story,” said David. “It might be true. I think the first thing we need to do is track down the other relatives of Leo Parrish. What were their names?”

  “Oralia Lee and Burke Rawson,” said Neva looking at the genealogy chart.

  “I’ll start with Juliet’s grandmother,” said Diane. “She may know them, or she may know someone I can call in Florida who knows them.”

  Just as Diane was about to get up to call Ruby Torkel, there was a knock at the door. They all looked over at it as if it might be the cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. No one ever knocked at that door.

  Chapter 50

  “Who could that be?” said Neva. She got up, walked over, and looked out the peephole.

  “Kendel,” she said and opened the door.

  Kendel, looking tall and sleek in her fur-trimmed chocolate brown cashmere sweater, matching wool slacks, and high-heeled brown leather boots, walked in carrying a package.

  “Hi. I wasn’t sure of the protocol for entering this place. I suppose people usually call first. I see Anna found a Darth Vader. She’s been looking for one for a month.”

  David brought a chair from one of the workstations and Kendel sat down at the table with them.

  “So, it’s Anna I need to thank for that,” said Diane.

  “The docents think it hilarious,” said Kendel. “They’re also hoping that the kids will pay more attention to Darth Vader than to the ordinary signs. From what I hear we need to put him in Security. How are you? How is your head?”

  “Sore scalp, but otherwise fine,” said Diane.

  Kendel winced when Diane touched the back of her head.

  “I found the book you were looking for,” said Kendel, smiling and opening the package.

  She pulled out a small, very old, blue clothbound volume no more than four by six inches in size. It was frayed around the edges, and the spine was so faded that Diane couldn’t read the lettering. Kendel opened it up.

  “It’s volume nine in a series,” she said. “Wonder Book of the World’s Progress, Art and Science.” She handed the slim volume to Diane. “Page fifteen. Second paragraph.”

  Diane’s face lit up as she turned to page fifteen. There it was. “The making of palimpsests was possible even with papyri.” Diane flipped through the pages, glancing at the black-and-white pictures of paintings. She looked at the copyright date in the front—1935.

  “How did you ever?” Diane asked.

  Kendel’s smile broadened into a grin. “I started with a linguist friend of mine. He parsed the sentence and analyzed the content. From him I found out it was probably in a book of the twenties, thirties, possibly forties, maybe earlier, but probably not later. He also suggested that it would be in a book that covered art, technology, and science because of the content and the syntax. From there I called on a few librarian friends. We found a list of authors who wrote in that domain in the right time frame and looked at some of their work. The style seemed most like the work of a man named Henry Smith Williams. We looked at a collection of his books. His main work was a history of science, but we didn’t find the sentence in those volumes. Then we found a series of Wonder Books. It was in the ninth volume, about art and science.”

  “I’m impressed,” said Neva. “You had to read all of those books?”

  “There were several of us and we are all fast readers—we mainly scanned the pages looking for the word palimpsests.”

  “The index didn’t help?” asked Jin.

  “Didn’t have one,” said Kendel.

  “Kendel, this is a great job,” said Diane. “I’m absolutely amazed. I thought it would be a long shot.”

  “I’m glad I can keep my reputation intact. Really, it was harder finding the crystal skull.”

  Kendel stood. “I just got back in, so I’m going home to rest on my laurels for a while before I come back to work. Oh, one of my librarian friends said that someone in the Bartram library was looking for books about palimpsests and became quite cross when the librarians couldn’t find the book she wanted. Interesting coincidence, I thought.”

  “It is, indeed,” said Diane. The voice she heard in the library, she thought.

  David escorted Kendel to the door.

  “I’m impressed with the people you have working for you,” said Frank.

  “So am I,” said Diane. “Kendel has headhunters after her all the time. One of these days they’re going to be able to lure her away. I hope that’s not for a long time.”

  David came back and sat down and sighed.

  “What?” asked Neva.

  “Nothing. I just wish I could get a woman like that to date me,” he said.

  “Have you asked her out?” said Neva.

  “No. I just told you, women like that don’t go out with guys like me,” he said.

  “
I’m not even going to go there,” said Neva. “She puts her panty hose on just like the rest of us. Ask her out. You may be pleasantly surprised. If she says no, then you get to complain to us for the rest of the year—it’s a win-win situation for you.”

  “May I look at the book?” said Frank.

  Diane handed it over to him. She had been flipping through the pages, looking for inspiration. The key was in the phrase, she was sure, but how eluded her.

  Frank took the book and turned to page fifteen. Diane watched him reading the entire page. While Jin and David were explaining to Neva how some women are just unapproachable, Frank took the book to the computer. From her vantage point it looked like he was trying out a couple of words—with no success. Then she saw the familiar twinkle in his eye. She watched for a moment before she spoke up.

  “You have it, don’t you?” she said.

  The others looked at her, then Frank.

  “What?” said Jin. “When we weren’t looking?”

  He jumped up and started to go over to the computer for a look, but Frank was already printing something out. He brought it to the table.

  “What was the word?” asked Diane.

  “Roman,” said Frank.

  “Roman? How did you come up with that?” said Jin. He took the book and looked at the page.

  “It was actually the simplest part of the cipher. The sentence has nine words. I went nine lines down from the key sentence and nine words over. The word was Roman, so I gave it a try and . . . here we are.

  With a flourish he tossed the printout on the table. It spun around and slid almost off before Jin caught it. He read it out loud.

  The private family cemetery of James Vann Llewellyn in the city of Glendale-Marsh Florida Three feet under the headstone of Leander Llewellyn

  A cheer went up from all of them and Jin patted Frank on the back.

  “It’s real, then?” said Neva.

  “The message is decipherable,” said Frank. “Whether or not there is a buried treasure there is anyone’s guess.”

  “Now what?” said Jin. “We go look for the treasure?”

  “No,” said Diane. “The treasure isn’t our concern. We need to find the murderers. Jin, you call the authorities in—where did the Sebestyens live?”

  “Indiana,” said Jin.

  “Call them and see if they’ll share information. I’m sure they’d like some new leads. I’m going to call Ruby Torkel and hope that she’s in the nice hotel room I put her in.”

  Frank caught her hand as she was about to get up. “Why don’t you go home for a while? Get some rest. Call her from there.”

  “Why don’t you?” said Neva. “We can handle things here. I know it’s hard to tell sometimes by our intelligent conversation, but we’re really pretty reliable and on top of things.”

  Diane smiled. She was feeling tired. She supposed she could call Mrs. Torkel from her house just as easily as she could from her office.

  “OK. But let me know if anything develops,” she said.

  “Of course,” agreed Neva and David together.

  Diane called Andie and told her that she was going home for a while and that, since Kendel was also at home, Andie was in charge of the museum.

  “Great,” said Andie. “I’ve got some really cool things I want to order for the Dino room.”

  Diane smiled as she hung up. “OK, I’m gone.”

  Frank drove her home. He pulled in just behind her car with its new paint job—her mechanic had delivered it while she was gone. She gave it a brush with her hand as she passed. Nice.

  On the way into her building she ran into her landlady. She was a kind and good-natured woman, but Diane hated running into her. She loved to talk.

  “Did you hear what happened to poor Dr. Shawn Keith?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “The police arrested him. Can you beat that? A nice man like Dr. Keith—so good to the ducks in the park. I help him feed them, you know. The police wouldn’t tell me why, but I can’t imagine what a man like that would do to get arrested. I don’t know where I’m going to find another tenant like him; he always paid on time, he was never noisy, and he didn’t smoke. You know, a lot of people say they don’t smoke when I tell them it’s a nonsmoking building, but then they try to sneak and smoke with the window open, but I can always tell—the smell you know, it permeates everything, and that poor Marvin Odell, he hates cigarette smoke and he always complains if he thinks someone is smoking. Between you and me, I don’t know why he can’t be arrested, but they are good tenants, too; they always pay on time and they don’t smoke, though Veda Odell burned a turkey one time and we had smoke all over the place; that was before you got here. . . .”

  Diane was wondering if the woman ever took a breath. She started to tell her she had to go in. Frank grasped her arm and started moving her toward the staircase.

  “Of course, some guests think they can smoke, and I have to tell them they can’t. I don’t like to, but I do . . . like that policeman who came to see you today, he was smoking and I told him he had to stop or go someplace else. I’m sorry, but I can’t have . . .”

  Diane put a hand on her arm. “Who came to see me today?”

  “A policeman. I didn’t think they were allowed to smoke on duty. . . .”

  “Did he give a name?” asked Diane.

  “No. He just said he wanted to see you. He waited for a while; then he left when I told him he couldn’t smoke. I don’t know why he didn’t go to the museum; everyone knows that’s where you are in the day. . . .”

  “Can you describe the policeman?”

  Interspersed with more monologue about how smoke permeates the draperies, carpets, and upholstery, and how the policeman smelled of cigarette smoke, the description she gave Diane of a middle-aged police officer in uniform fit Archie Donahue perfectly, down to his bloodhound face.

  “Thank you. I believe I know who it was. I need to go up to my apartment now and give him a call to find out what he wanted.”

  Archie, she thought. He came to see me. Why? Diane started up the stairs. Frank followed.

  “It’s just awful the things that go on,” said her landlady. “I just don’t know what the world is coming to. That business with the explosion and the fire and all those poor students, and now that councilman’s gone missing. . . . Of course he wasn’t no good no way.”

  Chapter 51

  Diane stopped on the staircase and turned back to look at her landlady—the kindly elderly lady who wore her gray hair in a bun, dressed in running clothes, and who made sure that no one smoked in her building. She was smiling up at them.

  “What councilman?” said Diane.

  “That moron Adler. He’s gone missing. It was on the news. I hope he’s gone far from here.” She turned around and went back into her apartment.

  Diane and Frank exchanged glances and walked the rest of the way to her apartment. Inside, Frank told Diane to get comfortable on the couch and he would heat her some soup. Warm soup sounded good. Soup was about all she felt like eating. She curled up on the couch, pulled a zebra throw that Star had given her for Christmas over her lap, and reached for the phone. She dialed Garnett’s cell.

  Several rings went by and she thought it was going to roll over to voice mail when Garnett picked up.

  “I know you’re busy, but my landlady just told me a policeman was here to see me. From her description, there’s little doubt it was Archie Donahue,” she said.

  “Archie was there? When?”

  “This morning. He must have known I was in the hospital last night and thought I would come straight home, but I went from the hospital to the museum.”

  “I could have told him that,” commented Garnett. “How are you feeling?”

  “A little sore in the back of the head.”

  “I’m sorry not to have sent a detective over to interview you at the hospital, but . . . we’re stretched a little thin here—ironic for Councilman Adler at the moment, considering his cutbacks in the depar
tment’s budget.”

  “The landlady told me the news about Adler. You think Archie is connected with his disappearance?”

  “I don’t know, but if you see anything of Archie, call me,” said Garnett.

  “I will. My landlady said you arrested Shawn Keith. Is that true?”

  “We took him in for questioning and he became a regular magpie. Couldn’t shut him up if we wanted to. Obviously eager to get everything off his chest. He was helping the Stanton kid steal from the university library’s rare book room. Did find out something interesting. That night, when the kid tried to jack your car, he was having an argument with Keith. Keith thought he was high—didn’t realize he was hurt. Keith was trying to get himself and his mother out of the blast area and he saw you behind him. He told the kid you had found out he was stealing from the museum and you were going to turn him in. That’s why Blake came to your car. I don’t like to think about what he might have done if you had driven off with him in the car.”

  “That wouldn’t have happened. I know better than to go to a second location with someone holding a gun,” said Diane.

  When she got off the phone, Frank came from the kitchen with chicken noodle soup and crackers.

  “Your landlady’s a talker, isn’t she?” said Frank.

  “She is. She doesn’t even stop for periods. But she is observant. The policeman she described had to be Archie Donahue. I wonder why he came to see me.”

  “Forget about that whole business for a while. Eat your soup before it gets cold,” said Frank.

  “Did you fix yourself something?” she said.

  “I did. I’m heating leftover pizza,” he said, disappearing back into the kitchen.

  The hot soup felt good going down. There is something about chicken noodle soup that is soothing—good comfort food. It made her relax.

  Diane was surprised to hear what a rat Dr. Keith was. No wonder he was feeling so guilty when he approached her the other day. He should have been feeling guilty. The little pissant Blake Stanton could have had it in his mind to shoot her.