Dead Secret dffi-3

by Beverly Connor

  “I didn’t know people could live that long,” said Caitlin. “Imagine.”

  “It is hard to imagine,” said Diane, rising to show them out the door.

  Vanessa was sitting on the couch in the sitting room that adjoined Diane’s office, sipping the tea that Andie had brought her. “That was very strange. I confess, Andie and I sort of eavesdropped.”

  “I’ll say,” said Andie. “I thought they were going to run over me. They’re witches?” She hesitated. “Sorry, couldn’t help but listen.”

  “Wiccan and Druid. As I understand it they’re not the same, and neither is necessarily a witch. Anyway, it was interesting. I don’t know if I can discover if the story goes with the skeleton, but it’ll be fun working on it. Andie, did we get a package from the Rose Museum in England while I was gone?”

  “Yes. The paperwork is in your in box. Mr. Rose said in the letter that he doesn’t want you to start until you speak to him. There were also some pretty cool photographs with the paperwork-this statue in a cave. I thought you’d like that. Do you really think you can get DNA from the skeleton? I had the idea from reading the paperwork that the skeleton is really old, like really old, like over a thousand years.”

  “I don’t know if I can get any usable DNA or not. It will certainly be interesting if I do.”

  Vanessa stood up. “I suppose it’s time. I have to tell you, I’m dreading this. People from all over are coming. Even the governor is sending someone. It is going to be a long funeral. Gram would hate it.”

  Chapter 9

  Diane gazed out the window of Vanessa’s limo as they pulled up in front of the First Presbyterian Church. It was a huge structure built with granite from Georgia. The rock, blue when it was freshly quarried, had weathered to a dark bluish gray after ninety-two years of exposure to the elements. Helen was twenty-two years older than the church. Her daughter was two years older than the ninety-two-year-old structure. Odd and somehow comforting, thought, Diane, that people could be older than this stone edifice.

  The central sanctuary had tall stained-glass windows in shades of blue and green and was flanked by two medieval-looking towers. The parking lot was to one side and was already filling up. Vanessa was right: A great many people were there-many more, Diane guessed, than her grandmother had known. But as Vanessa said, this was the price for being from a prominent family and for living way past a hundred.

  Vanessa asked Diane to sit with her and her family-five generations of them beyond Helen Egan. The family members smiled at Diane and patted Vanessa’s arm as they sat down.

  As Vanessa held on to her hand, Diane realized that her mentor was probably mourning the loss of her only grandmother, but also of Milo Lorenzo, the museum founder. Vanessa had said good-bye to him here also. It was Milo who had hired Diane. The museum was his life’s work, the centerpiece of all his creative endeavors, and he died much too young of a heart attack before it was finished. Diane was supposed to be the assistant director, but thanks to Vanessa and to Milo’s will, she became director with all the power that Milo had designed for himself. But more than the visionary of the museum, Milo was the love of Vanessa’s life, and Diane could feel the loss flowing from her like a current of electricity as she sat silently on the hard wooden pew.

  The church was filling up quickly now. Diane looked behind her at the people. She spotted Korey, her head conservator, Mike, Andie and Kendel sitting together. They must have come together from the museum. She saw most of the board members either seated or entering the church. Some who caught her eye nodded. The mayor was there; so were the chief of detectives and the police commissioner. She spotted several businessmen from Rosewood and Atlanta whom she knew because they were large contributors to the museum. Attendance was a who’s who of Rosewood and beyond. Diane put an arm around Vanessa’s granddaughter, eight-year-old Alexis Van Ross, who had come from the pew in front of her and slid in beside her.

  The service began. Diane hoped it would be a short one. The minister was a young man full of hope and awe that someone he knew had lived such a long life. It was not a sad service. It was filled with references to the great events, inventions and changes Helen had witnessed in her many years.

  As Diane listened to the minister’s words, she had the unexpected realization that she had not had a memorial service for her daughter, Ariel. Her thoughts brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked to try to keep them at bay. Why had she never done that? Because, she thought, answering her own question, she did everything she could to avoid dealing with the fact that Ariel was dead. Diane fingered the locket at her throat. She absently pulled Alexis to her, and the little girl leaned into Diane and put her arms around her waist.

  Before Diane realized it, the ushers were at the end of the pews to let the family file out of the church first. When Diane stood, it was a relief. She was glad the service was over. She held Alexis’s hand and walked out with the family.

  “Just the cemetery now and it will be over.” Vanessa patted Alexis’s blond curls. “You know, I’m going to put it in my will that I don’t want a funeral. I’m not sure I agree with this final good-bye ritual.”

  Right now Diane agreed with her. The limo drove up and the driver opened the door for Vanessa, Diane and Alexis. Alexis had bonded with Diane ever since she’d been given a private tour of the museum.

  “Can I spend the night at your house sometime?” she asked.

  “Alexis. . ” said Vanessa.

  I would like that, thought Diane. “Sometime,” she said. “I’ll talk to your mother in a few weeks; how will that be?”

  Alexis was the farthest generation from Helen Egan-her great-great-great-granddaughter. Diane wondered if the little girl understood just what an amazing thing that was.

  Rose Street Cemetery wasn’t far from the church. Diane could already see the tops of the larger monuments. It was an old cemetery, fifty years older than Helen Egan. It seemed fitting. Helen Egan would be buried beside her husband, who had died half a century earlier than she.

  The limo driver drove them to the plot, now covered with a tent under which were rows of chairs for the family. Diane didn’t want to sit through another service. She told Vanessa she was going to stand with her people from the museum.

  “Of course, dear.” Vanessa looked around at the cars pulling onto the shoulder of the small roadway. “I can’t believe this many people came to the cemetery. What could they be thinking?” Vanessa cocked her lips into a half smile. “Come, Alexis. It won’t be long now.”

  Diane walked to where Andie and the others were standing.

  “Hey, Dr. F.,” said Korey. “Want a ride back with us? We brought the minivan.”

  “Probably so. Let me talk to Vanessa when the graveside service is over.” She stood between Andie and Korey as people gathered around and listened to the final words.

  The ceremony was very short, to Diane’s relief. When it was over, they all stood in a line of people waiting to express their condolences to the family.

  Vanessa was speaking to the mayor and a tall man with dark salt-and-pepper hair as Diane approached. The mayor frowned when he saw Diane, but quickly recovered. She guessed he had just remembered that she was now a friend and not a foe. She hadn’t really spoken with him since an argument resulting from his urging that the museum be moved. She didn’t really want to speak with him now, but there he was.

  “I hear a lot of good things about the. . museum,” the mayor said.

  Diane knew he almost said “crime scene lab,” but realized at the last minute that this wasn’t the venue to talk about it.

  Diane nodded and muttered, “We do our best.”

  “Ah, you must be Diane Fallon.” It was the tall, distinguished-looking man beside the mayor. He looked like a politician too. “Vanessa has told me much about you.”

  “This is Steve Taggart,” said Vanessa. “His mother and father are old acquaintances of my parents.” She pointed to an elderly man with sparse white hair and a silver-hea
ded cane, and a slim silver-haired woman with him. They were talking to Vanessa’s mother and a friend of Diane’s.

  “We think Steve’s going to be one of Georgia’s next senators in Washington,” added the mayor.

  Steve Taggart extended his hand, and Diane shook it. “I’m thinking about running. Talking to my family about it. One doesn’t run alone; unfortunately, it’s a family affair.”

  “Indeed,” agreed the mayor.

  Diane smiled and nodded, wondering if they would notice if she turned and ran. Unfortunately, her way was blocked by a throng of people closing in on the family. Vanessa, apparently with the same idea, wandered away to speak to a young couple, leaving Diane with the mayor and the Taggarts.

  “My father’s been wanting to meet you,” he said. “He’s wild about your new Egyptian exhibit.” Steve Taggart stepped a few feet over to a small group of people and escorted an elderly gentleman to Diane. “Dad, this is the director of the museum. My dad’s Emmett Taggart. . ”

  “Of course,” said Diane. “Mr. Taggart is one of the museum’s supporters. . among many other things, I understand.” Diane shook his hand and he held on to it, placing his other hand on top.

  “Dad believes in giving back to the community. Something he’s drilled into all of us since we were old enough to sit up and listen.” Steve Taggart was already making his political speeches.

  As Steve Taggart spoke about his father, Diane noticed that the elder Mr. Taggart seemed to have an unpleasant odor. She caught just a whiff, but her cheeks suddenly burned with embarrassment for him.

  “Wonderful exhibit.” The elder Taggart shook her hand as he spoke. “That mummy and all those trinkets that he was wrapped with-so interesting. This is my wife, Rosemary.” The older woman nodded at Diane. She seemed more curt and standoffish than the rest of her family. “And this is my grandson, Robert. He’s my daughter’s son.”

  Robert was shorter than his politician uncle, but a lot like him, except with auburn hair. He had the same black eyes and broad-toothed grin. As Diane made small talk with the Taggart family, she heard Kendel, Korey, Mike and Andie talking to Vanessa, who hugged each of them. Diane didn’t realize Vanessa knew Mike and Korey that well, then remembered that she was prone to making nighttime visits to the museum just to look around by herself, and both Mike and Korey often worked late.

  The only other time that Diane had seen Korey in a suit was at formal museum functions. He usually wore T-shirts and Dockers. Today, however, he had on a suit, and his long dreadlocks were gathered up and tied in a low ponytail down his back.

  “We’re real sorry, Mrs. V.,” said Korey. “Bekka’s mother’s in the hospital. She wanted you to know that she would’ve been here. . ”

  “Tell her that’s all right; we understand and hope her mother gets better soon.”

  Bekka was one of the anthropologists at the museum. She was making a record of Helen Egan’s 114-year history and had spent a lot of time with her. Diane was sure she hated missing her funeral.

  Diane herself was wishing she could escape as she listened to the voices expressing condolences and making light banter. Mr. Taggart kept going on about ancient Egypt and burning mummies for firewood, and did they really do that or was Mr. Twain pulling everyone’s leg.

  “He was pulling our leg. He was the only one who ever mentioned that practice, I believe.” Diane had to remind herself that Mr. Taggart, as well as being a prominent humanitarian and businessman, was a major contributor to the museum, and that his enthusiasm was a good thing.

  “And you, Mrs. Taggart, are you a fan of ancient Egypt?” asked Diane.

  “The trinkets were lovely.” Rosemary Taggart’s voice had not lost any of its strength; it was smooth and strong, like her skin. Mrs. Taggart had good genes. “I enjoy the shells and the gems in the museum. Some of the other things are not to my taste.”

  Diane smiled, wishing she hadn’t asked. She glanced at Vanessa, who was being approached by a man Diane suspected was from the governor’s office. Vanessa smiled and held out her hand, and the man took it in both of his. Vanessa turned her head slightly and looked toward Andie, Kendel and the other members of the museum group. Vanessa’s face froze.

  Diane followed Vanessa’s gaze to the museum employees. They were all staring at Mike, who had a look of confusion and pain on his face. He fell to his knees.

  Chapter 10

  Diane pushed through the crowd of people hurrying over to Mike. A middle-aged man was trying to help him to his feet, but Mike was resisting. The whole scene looked odd, but she couldn’t see what was wrong.

  “Mike, buddy,” she heard Korey say as he knelt beside him. “What’s the matter?”

  Pain arced through Diane’s foot when someone stepped on it as she attempted to push through a clump of people. When “excuse me” didn’t work, she tried gently pushing the person away. She apparently had pulled a tricep muscle at the gym this morning climbing the rock wall, for she felt a twinge in her muscle.

  “Move it, dammit,” she said, not meaning to say it as loud as she did, but it got the person’s attention. They muttered, “Sorry,” and moved.

  Mike was still on his knees, leaning forward with a hand on the grass. The man-Diane thought she recognized him as a local businessman-was still trying to help Mike up, and Korey was arguing with him.

  “Something’s wrong, man. Let him go.”

  “He just fell, needs a little help up.”

  “Mike?” Diane knelt beside him opposite Korey.

  She put a hand on his back and immediately pulled it away. Her palm and fingers were bright red.

  “He’s hurt,” said Diane. “Korey, help me get his coat off.”

  The man let go of his arm. “Is that blood?”

  Diane ignored him as she and Korey pulled off Mike’s dark suit coat. She heard several people gasp at the large wet red stain on his white shirt.

  Korey looked wide-eyed. “Jesus, buddy, what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel funny,” whispered Mike.

  The blood was near the right side of his waist and was seeping down into his pants. Diane carefully pulled up his shirt and looked at his wound.

  “Someone call nine-one-one. Mike, I want you to lie down on the grass here and stay calm,” Diane said. What the hell happened?

  Diane heard Kendel giving directions. She must have already been calling.

  “What is it?” asked Mike, as Diane helped him lie on his side.

  “You’ve been stabbed.” Diane tried to keep her voice calm. All the organs and vessels in his lower back that could have been cut ran through her mind, and it frightened her.

  “Stabbed? Jesus. How?”

  “Just lie down. Help is coming.”

  There was no blood on the front of his shirt, but she pulled it up just the same and checked him for any more wounds.

  “Korey, stay with him.” She pulled a handkerchief from Mike’s suit coat and put it over the wound. “Put some pressure here. If the blood soaks through. .”

  “Got it covered, Dr. F. I took the first-aid training for our department.”

  Diane had sent all the docents and a staff member from each department to take courses in first aid. She was glad Korey was the one who had gone from the conservation lab.

  “I’m going to talk to the chief of detectives,” she said, and Korey nodded.

  “Take it easy, buddy; we have help coming,” said Korey.

  Diane stood up. Andie and Kendel knelt beside Mike, covering him with his coat. Diane headed for the chief of detectives, stopping first next to Vanessa’s son when she saw little Alexis standing with her parents, looking scared. Vanessa’s son looked at her hand and gave her a handkerchief to wipe off the blood. Her hand shook as she took it. Who would do this-and why? The fear that settled in the pit of her stomach made her nauseated. Dammit, get yourself under control.

  “What happened to him?” he asked.

  “He was stabbed.”

  Vanessa su
cked in her breath.

  “Take Alexis and your family home,” continued Diane. “Don’t talk about this with one another. The police will want to ask you individually what you remember. But for now, get your family home.”

  He nodded and began to collect his family.

  Diane took a deep breath and tried to find the objectivity she had at any other crime scene. She took her cell from her pocket and dialed her crime scene lab as she scanned the crowd and the cemetery. David Goldstein, one of her crime scene specialists, answered, and Diane briefly explained what had happened.

  “What? At the cemetery?” said David.

  “I want you and Jin to come and take a look around. There’ve been a lot of people here, so I doubt you’ll find anything right around where Mike was standing, but look behind the trees and large monuments in the area. Someone may have been standing, waiting for an opportunity.”

  “How is Mike?”

  “I don’t know. He’s conscious.”

  “What about Neva?”

  “She’s not at the funeral. I think she’s at home. Would you call her?”

  “Sure. You all right?”

  “I’m trying to hold on. Come as quickly as you can.” Diane folded her phone and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket.

  Douglas Garnett, the Rosewood chief of detectives, was asking all the people to go sit in their cars until someone could come talk to them. But news of what had happened was running through the crowd like an electric current, and people were already hurrying to leave. Andie and Kendel were making sure the exiting crowd gave Mike a wide berth.

  “What can we do to help?” Diane heard Steve Taggart ask Garnett.

  “Take your family to your car and wait for the police. Encourage others to do the same. Someone will come and interview you just as soon as we can get them there.” Garnett was looking out over the crowd of people leaving.

  “Most of their names will be in the guest book,” said Diane. “But I doubt our perp signed it.”

  “What kind of nut comes to a funeral and stabs someone?” said Garnett. “Does this guy-Mike-have enemies?”