She was right. First, the dean and counsel distanced themselves from Einer's remarks to Kaufman about her. Then they defended his actions, saying it was reasonable for him to look for someone in a position to know about artifacts, who also appeared to be living beyond her means, but they regretted the inconvenience it had caused.
Cut to the chase, Lindsay wanted to shout at them. Instead, she listened quietly, vowing that if they said anything else in defense of Einer, she would walk out and turn the whole thing over to Mary Catherine. If they were aware of the accusations she had made to the police about Einer and the police telling her that, in the absence of corroborating evidence of his duplicity, it was her word against his, the dean and the university's lawyer didn't say so. They did, however, offer her her job with tenure. Lindsay read the contract in their presence.
"This appears to be satisfactory. I'll let Mary Catherine read it, and if she also finds it satisfactory, I'll sign." She stood, they shook hands, and she left. On the way out of the building she met Ellis Einer. He walked by as if he had no idea who she was.
"We're all really glad you got your job back," said Sally, "but I think you should have stuck it to them."
"I got what I wanted." Lindsay sat leaning back in her chair with her feet up on her desk.
"But Einer got away with it," Sally said. "That's not fair."
"More or less, he got away with it. But his reputation's damaged. I'm sure many of the people he works with believe he's behind the thefts. Sometimes, all you get is the satisfaction of being right."
"But what about Gerri Chapman and Francisco Lewis?"
"I assume Lewis is still coming. He can't fire me, but there's nothing to prevent him from assigning me a janitor's closet for office space. We'll just have to see what happens when he gets here."
"Are you worried?" asked Sally.
Lindsay smiled. "No. I'll deal with problems if they arise. This political stuff is just part of university life."
Sally still frowned. "Isn't anything secure?"
"Just family, friendship, and personal integrity," Lindsay said.
Sally went to her desk, shaking her head. But the smile still played around Lindsay's lips. All in all, things were pretty good. So what if she had learned some things about her grandfather she would have preferred not to know. The new relationship with her brother was something she had yearned for for a long time. And Derrick-yes, things looked pretty there good.
Her telephone rang and Lindsay looked at it, wondering if she should pick up the receiver.
"Chamberlain, this is Trey. Can you come up to my office? There's something I want you to see. Bring Sally if she's there."
"Sure. We'll be right there."
Brandon and Bobbie were in Trey's office when Lindsay and Sally arrived. The three of them were grinning like Cheshire cats.
"What's up?" asked Lindsay.
"You remember that paper I've been working on about the Southern Cult hand-eye motif?" Brandon asked.
"Yes," said Lindsay, wondering why they were all grinning at her.
"You remember how we took pictures of the Kentucky artifacts, and I took a lot of pictures of the mica cutout of the hand-eye?"
"Yes, as long as I live, I'll never forget them."
They all laughed.
"Well," said Brandon-apparently this was his show, and Lindsay felt a pang of guilt for suspecting him of having anything to do with the thefts-"Dr. Marcus has been helping me and Bobbie scan the photographs. We were going through them and we found this one."
They watched as Lindsay and Sally took the eight-byten photograph and examined it. The date and time in digital lettering, entered automatically by the camera, were in the left-hand corner. The photo was so clear she could see the texture of Sally's hand as she held the shiny mica cutout. Brandon was a good photographer.
She looked at Brandon, Bobbie, and Trey. They were still watching her closely, waiting. She looked back at the picture-the mirror-smooth mica, the hand, the etching of the eye in the center of the palm. Like an illusion that at first you can't see but then becomes clear, Lindsay saw it and grinned. There, on the day the artifacts were unpacked and their value discussed, the day before Ellis Einer came to Lindsay's office, the glossy mica hand with the allseeing eye showed the reflection of Ellis Einer's face as he stood in the doorway leading to the archaeology lab, his eyes aglow at the sight of the Indian treasure.
More praise for
DRESSED TO DIE
Beverly Connor knows how to mix anthropology with a mystery that ultimately educates the reader while keeping them on an exciting edge.
-Harriet Klausner, Painted Rock Reviews
From the very first page of Dressed to Die, Chamberlain's cool head and rational hypotheses about the densely packed plot keep the reader in suspense amid the rising tension. Her stability and potent feminine intuition give suspicion a good name.
-Daily Press/Banner Herald, Athens, Ga.
"Delightful."
-Northwest Arkansas Times, Fayetteville
"A highly charged, tightly plotted, and well-paced mystery.... The forensic techniques are as fascinating as the political dynamics of the University of Georgia.
-I Love a Mystery
Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel Page 34
