DF02 - Dead Guilty

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘If your informant had seen me a week earlier, he’d have seen me having dinner in the candlelight with my head conservator, who’s about the same age as the geologist. However, he’s black and has dreadlocks, so I suppose that would have caused quite a stir with your informant. A month ago, I had lunch with one of the docent interns. He’s nineteen. One of the chil dren in his party hid in the museum and he couldn’t find him for an hour. It upset him greatly, and I had to calm him down. We ate lunch on the terrace, so that could have been construed as romantic. About once every two weeks I have lunch or dinner with my archaeologist, and we often play chess together. Of course, he is much older than me and I suppose the reversal of ages doesn’t impugn my character, so my association with him doesn’t count.

  ‘‘Douglas, I have had dinner or lunch with over half the people I work with. I’m head of the museum, and it is not a nine-to-five job for anyone. We often work over dinner. I will not stop interacting with my employees because it offends some busybody’s sense of propriety. If it comes up in court, I will handle it.’’

  Diane had managed to keep her voice calm and even during her whole diatribe. When she finished, Garnett sat for a long moment without speaking.

  ‘‘I think I was probably misinformed,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Is that the only reason you wanted to see me?’’

  ‘‘We’re under a lot of pressure to make our crime lab work. I was just doing a little troubleshooting be fore anything got out of hand.’’

  ‘‘Our crime lab is functioning superbly. I think what is out of hand is gossipmongers and passive-aggressive bullies. I think you had better turn your attention to your stationhouse staff, who all appear to be preoccu pied with pettiness and character assassination, and ask yourself why they are failing in their surveillance duties.’’ Diane paused a moment. ‘‘If you can’t tell, this makes me very angry.’’

  ‘‘I can see.’’

  ‘‘No...I mean it makes me really angry.’’

  ‘‘I don’t doubt you.’’

  ‘‘The caller—on one of his calls when I was pushing for justifiable reasons for murder—he talked about gossip and bullying.’’

  ‘‘What are you getting at?’’

  ‘‘He used those as examples. It must have been for a reason. What might a gossip do to someone who’s on the edge? Whoever is calling me—if he’s the killer, his motive was not the motive of a serial killer. I think it was more specific and focused. He wanted to get even. He seems obsessed with personal justice. If that’s true, he probably knew the victim or victims— provided he really is the killer.’’

  ‘‘So you’re saying, if he killed the victims in Cob ber’s Wood, it had to do with revenge?’’

  ‘‘I suppose that’s what I’m saying. Look, Frank is expecting me to come to his house for dinner with him and his daughter. I’d like to not be late. I’ve put in very long hours, and I’d like to take this evening off.’’

  ‘‘Of course. I’m sorry for holding you up. And . . . I’m sorry for the other thing.’’

  ‘‘Douglas, I think I know who’s spreading this rumor. If it’s who I think it is, he’s a good friend of Frank. And since this person met me last year and heard those first unfounded rumors about me, he hasn’t wanted to let go of the notion that I’m not good enough for Frank. If you talk to him, advise him of how appropriate it is to mind his own business. Pettiness has no place in what we’re trying to do here.

  ‘‘And speaking of what we’re trying to do here, I got another E-mail from our friend. He wants to meet.’’

  Garnett raised his eyebrows. ‘‘He wants to meet with you? How do you feel about that?’’

  ‘‘I’m thinking it might be a good idea, under the right controls.’’

  ‘‘Let me think about it.’’

  ‘‘It may be the only way we’re going to catch this guy. Has Sheriff Braden made any headway?’’

  ‘‘We’ve sent the pictures out and searched missing persons. No hits. Of course, it’s still early on getting anything back on the drawings. We’re searching for similar murders across the country. Both Braden’s men and mine have been asking around at truck stops for anyone suspicious, or anyone who may have talked about the murders, or anyone who has picked up hitchhikers that look like the drawings. We have a photograph of a waggoner’s knot we’ve shown around at the stops. Found several guys who know what it is and use it, but so far no leads on our guy. We’ve tried to get a list of end buyers for that particular type of orange carpet, and that information, apparently, is simply not available.’’

  ‘‘Strange. We have all that forensic evidence stack ing up in my lab and absolutely no one to attach it to.’’

  ‘‘It’s frustrating, for sure. In the Chris Edwards and the Raymond Waller murders,

  neighborhoods. We’ve talked

  we’ve canvassed the with everyone they knew and worked with, including their families. We’re doing the same with Kacie Beck. My gut still tells me it’s Steven Mayberry for the Edwards and Beck murders. With what you told me about your talk with the journalism student—what was her name, Madi son something?’’

  ‘‘Madison Foster.’’

  ‘‘That’s it. I’m convinced wards were into something. Kacie Beck to protect himself. He might feel that everyone thinks he’s dead and he likes it that way. For Raymond Waller, it was someone after his collec tion. He didn’t know any of the other victims. It was just a coincidence that he was Dr. Webber’s assistant and worked on the hanging victims.’’

  Everything Garnett said seemed plausible, and she was actually impressed with what he and the sheriff were doing.

  ‘‘Then maybe what I should do is take the guy up on his offer to meet. I think maybe he wants to turn that Mayberry and Ed Maybe Mayberry killed himself in and he just needs a push, and he’s using me to push him into it.’’

  ‘‘It will be very dangerous. You’d have to insist on meeting him on your terms, not his.’’

  ‘‘I know. If he wants to come out in the open . . .’’

  ‘‘You really think he wants to get caught?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. It’s possible, but ask the profiler.’’

  Garnett looked at his watch. ‘‘I’ll go to Kingsley’s hotel tonight and have a talk with him. Have you re sponded to the guy yet?’’

  ‘‘No. I was waiting to talk with you first.’’

  ‘‘I’m going to have to really think about this. Let’s talk tomorrow.’’

  Diane left the station house wondering what their faces would look like the next time she had to visit. It would be nice to have succeeded in wiping the smirks off them. One thing she was convinced of—she couldn’t expect their help if she was in trouble.

  Chapter 35

  Star met Diane at the door and hugged her. Her hair was all one color—black—and was short. She had a ring in one nostril.

  ‘‘Uncle Frank’s heating up dinner. He brought home Chinese, which means we’ll have Chinese left overs for the rest of the week.’’

  ‘‘Probably.’’

  Frank’s house was an old Queen Anne set off the road. It had polished hardwood floors, walls painted a light sand color, and oak and walnut furniture as substantial as the house. It always smelled like furni ture polish and always shined. It was a comfortable house, a house much like Frank—traditional, reli able, solid.

  ‘‘So, I hear you have a mummy. Can I see it?’’

  ‘‘Yes, we have a mummy and, yes, you can see it if you would like.’’

  ‘‘Cool.’’

  ‘‘Hey.’’ Frank came in and gave her a peck on her lips. ‘‘How you doing?’’

  ‘‘I’m glad to be having a break.’’

  ‘‘You look tired.’’

  ‘‘I’ve had a string of long days.’’

  ‘‘Sit down, relax. I’ll get you a drink of wine.’’ ‘‘Can I have one?’’ Star was being mischievous. ‘‘No,’’ said Frank.

  Star laug
hed.

  Diane kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her on the stuffed sofa. Star lay sideways across an overstuffed armchair.

  ‘‘You can stay here some time,’’ Star said. ‘‘You and Uncle Frank don’t have to just get together when I’m out of the house.’’

  ‘‘We’re together now.’’

  ‘‘You know what I mean.’’

  ‘‘We’re doing fine, Star.’’

  ‘‘The two of you are so old-fashioned.’’

  ‘‘Are we?’’

  ‘‘I’m almost grown, you know.’’

  ‘‘I think almost is the operative word.’’

  Frank came in with a glass of red wine for Diane. ‘‘We’re having Chinese tonight. How does that sound?’’

  ‘‘Great. It’s nice just to relax. How has your day been?’’

  ‘‘Slow. We’re working on some identity thefts, and they are always tedious to track down. Unfortunately, we often don’t track them down. Feel like eating?’’

  As Diane suspected, Frank had the dining room table spread with enough food to feed the whole neighborhood. It was a compulsive habit of his— always buying more food than anyone could possibly eat. He always said he liked everyone to have a choice. She helped herself to fried rice, Mongolian chicken and steamed vegetables.

  ‘‘Want chopsticks?’’ asked Star.

  ‘‘Fork will be fine,’’ said Diane. ‘‘How’s school?’’

  ‘‘Boring. So, tell me about the mummy.’’

  Diane repeated everything they knew about the mummy so far. She included the Victorian pickle jar. Star almost fell out of her seat laughing.

  ‘‘I’ve been talking to Star about going to college,’’ said Frank.

  ‘‘I really don’t want to. I mean, I’ll just have to take a bunch of dumb courses and stay bored to death for four years.’’

  ‘‘You could take something you like.’’

  ‘‘I like to listen to music and go to the movies. Do they have courses in that?’’

  ‘‘They have music, and I think they have a course or two in film.’’

  ‘‘Don’t you have to take a bunch of English and math?’’

  ‘‘Yes. You could learn to enjoy English and math.’’

  Star looked at Diane like she’d grown a horn out of her forehead. ‘‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’’

  ‘‘No. Just think about what the courses do for you. What you’ll learn.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, like when am I ever going to use math?’’

  ‘‘I use it all the time, analyzing skeletons, exercising, cooking, working on the museum budget, hiring staff, balancing my checkbook. Most jobs require some math.’’

  ‘‘Not all—hardly any.’’

  Frank sat back eating his Chinese food, listening to Diane and Star have their conversation. Diane guessed that he and Star had repeated this same conversation many times.

  ‘‘Why don’t you give college a try for a year?’’ said Diane.

  Star made a face like she’d suddenly bitten into something rotten.

  ‘‘I’ll tell you what. Try it for a year and keep at least a two point seven grade point average, and with Frank’s permission, I’ll take you to Paris and buy you new clothes.’’

  Star’s eyes grew wide. ‘‘Are you kidding? I mean, you’re not just saying that just to keep the conversa tion going?’’

  ‘‘No. I’m not just saying it. I mean it.’’

  ‘‘Like a whole new wardrobe?’’

  ‘‘Yes. I’ll have get used to life without an arm and a leg, but yeah, I’m talking about a lot of new clothes.’’

  ‘‘Oh, wow. What do you say, Uncle Frank?’’

  Frank’s eyes had grown as large and round as Star’s on hearing Diane’s offer. ‘‘Think you can meet the conditions?’’ he said.

  ‘‘I’ll need help with the math.’’

  ‘‘You’re in luck, then,’’ said Frank. ‘‘I’m pretty good in math.’’

  ‘‘And the museum is a good place to get help in a lot of subjects. Think about it.’’

  ‘‘Wow. Just a year?’’

  ‘‘Just a year.’’

  ‘‘Wow.’’ She stood up. ‘‘I need to go use the phone.’’

  When she left the table, Frank turned to Diane. ‘‘You know what you’re doing?’’

  ‘‘I hope so. I thought some incentive might help. Who knows? She may like college.’’

  Frank reached over and held on to her hand. ‘‘That was really nice. More than nice.’’

  Diane helped Frank put the food in the refrigerator, and they retired to the living room sofa. Diane curled up against Frank and rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘‘Hard day?’’ Frank asked again.

  ‘‘The mummy was fun. But I guess you heard, we had another murder.’’

  ‘‘What!’’

  ‘‘This time it was the girlfriend of Chris Edwards, one of the guys who found the bodies in the woods.’’

  Frank pulled back and looked Diane in the face. ‘‘My God. What is this about?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. The profiler thinks the murders aren’t related.’’

  ‘‘Three people dead, one missing, and another attacked—all of whom had something to do with three more bodies in the woods. Maybe he ought to take math.’’

  ‘‘But what’s the connection?’’

  They heard laughter filtering down from Star’s room.

  ‘‘You’ve really made her happy. That’s not an easy thing to do.’’

  ‘‘Everyone needs something to look forward to.’’

  ‘‘Can I go with you to Paris?’’

  Diane chuckled. ‘‘Sure.’’

  They sat in silence for a long time. Diane was glad for the rest. Frank was comfortable and safe.

  ‘‘I have a great-looking red SUV I’m driving,’’ Diane said.

  ‘‘I saw that out the window when you drove up. That the loaner?’’

  ‘‘Yes. Nice. I rather like it. I might get one. Maybe not that color.’’ She paused a moment, not sure whether to bring up the subject of Izzy. ‘‘Garnett called me in today to talk about my inappropriate behavior.’’

  ‘‘Jesus. Now what?’’

  ‘‘Dating men half my age. I told him you are at least a couple of years older than me.’’

  Frank didn’t say anything for a minute. He pulled Diane closer. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he whispered. ‘‘I know where that came from.’’

  ‘‘So Izzy talked to you too.’’

  ‘‘Yes. I told him he was being an ass. I see I should have used stronger words. I’ll talk to him.’’

  ‘‘No. I’ve dealt with it.’’

  ‘‘Did Garnett give you much trouble?’’

  ‘‘Not really. I suspect when the story was told to him it was amplified with colorful derogatory words. When he cleaned up the language to explain to me why he called me in, the whole thing ended up sound ing a little ridiculous.’’

  ‘‘Diane, maybe we should talk about us.’’

  ‘‘Us?’’

  ‘‘That’s shorthand for you and me. I can’t tell you how frightened I was the other night. It made me realize how much you mean to me.’’

  ‘‘You mean a lot to me too, and I find that a lit tle scary.’’

  ‘‘Scary? How?’’

  ‘‘Ariel meant the world to me. She was my heart. Losing her was more than devastating. Caring about people is a risky business.’’ Diane hesitated for a mo ment, searching for the right words, but no right words came. ‘‘The two of us are doing fine. You work in Atlanta, I work here, we see each other when we can. Life is good.’’

  ‘‘True, but permanence is something to think about.’’

  ‘‘Okay. We’ll think about it.’’

  Frank laughed. ‘‘I’m glad we got that settled.’’

  Diane was about to kiss him when Star bounced into the room. ‘‘Jennifer wants me to go out to WalMart and maybe
a movie. Her mother says it’s okay.’’

  ‘‘Who else is going?’’

  ‘‘Maybe Jessica and Stephanie.’’

  ‘‘Who’s driving?’’

  ‘‘Jennifer. She’s kind of on her way to pick me up.’’

  ‘‘She kind of is, is she? Go ahead, but be back by ten forty-five, and no controlled substances.’’

  ‘‘Uncle Frank, you know, that was funny the first thirty times you said it. I’ve never done drugs.’’

  ‘‘No smoking of anything that I call a drug and you don’t.’’

  ‘‘I told you I gave that up. You know, I could just give you a glass of pee every time I come home.’’

  ‘‘That’s an idea. Have a good time, and don’t be late.’’

  Star already had a purse in hand, a small black cro chet fringed thing she hung over her shoulder and across her chest. She’d changed from jeans and black tee-shirt into a short black skirt and black blouse. She kissed Frank on the cheek.

  ‘‘I’ll be here if you need me,’’ he told her.

  Star turned to Diane. ‘‘You really meant it, didn’t you, about Paris and the clothes?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  She almost broke into giggles again. ‘‘Wow. Thanks. I mean it.’’ She bounded out the door at the sound of a car horn.

  ‘‘Star seems to be doing well.’’

  ‘‘Most of the time she is. She cries at night some times. She doesn’t want me to know.’’

  Diane understood Star’s grief. That was one reason she made the offer. Trying to deal with grief and get your life back is one of the hardest things to do. Star had lost both her parents and her brother to a mur derer and had been accused of committing the crime herself. It was going to take her a long time before she stopped crying into her pillow.

  * * *

  It was after midnight before Diane returned home. Star had come home on time, and Diane had to con fess, it was a relief to see her walk through the door. Diane tried to imagine what it would have been like waiting up for Ariel to come home from a date, and her eyes misted over. She sometimes still cried into her pillow too.