Dead Secret (20 page)

Chapter 30

“Yes, it’s me. Who the hell do you think it is?”

Well, I didn’t know,
thought Diane.
There could be any number of people this pissed off at me.

“Alan, what’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter! How can you ask that? Dammit, are you trying to ruin me?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, even though she knew. He didn’t like being investigated.

“This guy from the Rosewood police called me and wanted to know my whereabouts when you were stabbed. God, how could you think I would do such a thing?”

“When you creep into my room at night and sniff my clothes, you make yourself a suspect.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. It stretched out so long, Diane was about to say something when he finally spoke.

“How did you . . . ” He didn’t finish.

“It doesn’t matter. What in God’s name were you doing?” she asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

What do we have to talk about?
she thought. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“I didn’t know if you were awake. I wanted to see first.”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Alan, do you know how lame that sounds?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“It was not appropriate. We aren’t married. My bedroom is private.”

“God, Diane, what’s the big deal? For that you turn me in to the police?”

“The act made you a suspect, and I had to check you out.”

“I told them you invited me and then got cold feet.” His voice sounded smug.

David hadn’t told her that. She smiled grimly. Alan didn’t know that the policeman who called was actually one of her employees. David probably introduced himself as a criminalist from the Rosewood Police Department. Alan probably didn’t know what a criminalist was.

“I doubt he believed you, Alan.”

He gave a derisive snort. “You don’t think so? I told him you’ve always had a hard time accepting our divorce. It’s your word against mine, and I am very convincing.” His voice had regained its confidence.

“Alan, let me clue you in. You are the one who moved to the town where my parents live and kept up a relationship with them. I’m the one who lives a state away and hardly ever visits. Who does it look like won’t let go?”

Alan was silent again for a long moment. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. Believe it or not, I wanted to rule you out as a suspect. I asked that they be discreet.”

“Well, when the police guy talked to my dentist he told him he thought I was witness to a car accident in Atlanta,” he admitted.

“See? That doesn’t make you look like a deranged killer.”

“The policeman wasn’t so nice when he talked to me.” Diane smiled and tried not to laugh. “Don’t take it personally. They talk that way to everyone.”

“How else should I take it?”

“Look, if Mother can get though Tombsberg, you can take a little questioning. Alan, what’s happening to you? You didn’t used to be . . . well, mean.”
Self-centered, maybe, but not deliberately mean.

“Mean? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you did to Gerald and Susan. They have always supported you.”

“They told you about that, did they? Gerald was trying to make me look bad to the partners in my firm.”

“As I understand it, he was just trying to tell the truth.”

“What would it have hurt to go along with me? They aren’t his employers.”

“I don’t know the details, but presumably you did something wrong with the firm’s accounts and he had to straighten them out. Gerald wouldn’t go along with your lie, so you tried to destroy his marriage. What kind of friend are you?”

“You don’t know it was a lie.”

“Alan, you just told me you lied to the police about me. What am I supposed to think about your veracity?”

“You always did like to play with words, twist them around in your favor.”

“Alan, I have to go.”

He was silent again. He never used to have so hard a time searching for a comeback. Diane wondered if she should just hang up, but she was starting to pity him.
God, where did that come from?
she thought.
Don’t start feeling sorry for him.

“Alan, please fix things with Susan and Gerald. I don’t know why you are separated from your wife, but it might be good to work on that. You have two kids. They should be a joy in your life. Nothing else should matter.”

“I was hoping we could start talking again,” he said.

“No. That’s not a good idea. You have so many things going for you. Don’t self-destruct.”

“It was good seeing you again. I . . . I wasn’t being a pervert. I was just smelling your perfume,” he said, then abruptly hung up the phone.

As if my life isn’t complicated enough,
Diane thought as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. God, the last thing she wanted to do was to feel sorry for Alan. She heard Andie’s office door open and close.

Andie peeked her head in. “One BLT and cold iced tea, coming up.” She walked in and set the sandwich and glass on Diane’s desk.

Diane was hungry now. The sandwich looked good.

“Thanks, Andie. Anything going on that I should know about?”

“We have several more letters from researchers insisting on access to the mummy.”

“You send them the standard reply we crafted? No access, but we’ll share the data we’ve collected?”

“With some of them that isn’t working. They have research needs that we didn’t cover in our own research, apparently.”

“If it becomes a problem, take their number and I’ll call them and say no.”

“Aquatics and Insects want to change the curators’ meeting to next Friday.” Andie always referred to the curators by their subject names when she spoke to Diane about museum business. Diane didn’t know if it was to keep things organized in her mind or it tickled her sensibilities. “Avians, Mammals and Dinosaurs said they don’t care. Archaeology said it isn’t convenient, but he’ll go with the majority. As usual, Reptiles is afraid to voice an opinion, and I can’t get hold of Rocks.”

“You know we have a new geology curator,” said Diane.

“Yes,” Andie replied, nodding her head excitedly. “Is that immediate?”

Diane was glad to see that everyone she talked to was enthusiastic about Mike’s coming on board as curator. That would certainly make it an easy transition for him.

“For the purpose of museum business, yes. But while Mike is recovering, work around him.”

“There are some proposals and acquisition requests for you to look at in your in box, and the velociraptors are due to arrive next week. Paleontology wants to know if he can shut down the dinosaur room while they’re being assembled.”

Diane knew they wanted to work on the velociraptors without the constant clamor of visitors, but visitors to the museum loved seeing dinosaurs being put together. Besides that, she really couldn’t afford to close down the most popular attraction for as long as it took to put the raptors together.

Diane thought a moment. “We’ll temporarily reroute people to the overlooks. That way they can watch them being assembled, but not be too close.”

“That’s everything. I’m glad Mike’ll be curator. Lymon was always hard to reach and difficult to deal with.”

“So am I. Mike has a lot of interesting ideas for special exhibits.”

Diane had gone through a handful of papers from her in box by the time she finished her sandwich and tea. The rest she put in her briefcase to take home. She took the elevators to the third floor and walked to the exhibit-preparation room to check on the progress of the Journey to the Center of the Earth exhibit and on the text for the velociraptors. After getting an update, she walked to the west wing and the crime lab.

David was at the computer. Diane looked over his shoulder. He had the mystery photo from the quarry on the screen.

“Trying out different filters,” he said. “Jin’s back. He and Korey are working on the wood samples from the quarry. Neva will be back soon. She went to check on Mike.”

Jin and Korey were in one of the rooms making slices of wood. Korey’s back was to her, his dreadlocks tied together in a low ponytail. Away from machinery, she thought. Jin turned off the saw when she entered.

Korey shifted his safety glasses to the top of his head. “Hello, Dr. F. We were just making some thin sections, but I can tell you right now, the wood hasn’t been in the water long at all.”

“Months, weeks?” asked Diane.

“Days,” said Korey. “It’s hardly wet, really—no more than from several days of hard rain.”

“Thank you, Korey. Jin, photograph the sections, and, if you will, Korey, write up your findings. We need to show that they aren’t waterlogged.”

“Sure thing. Glad to help.”

Diane turned to Jin. “Did you find anything else at the quarry?” she asked.

“Went down the deer trail like you said and followed it for about a quarter of a mile. Just beyond where the trail ends is an old residential section. Neva and I drove by and had a look. Most of the houses are old, but they’re being fixed up by some real estate developer. Some of them look kind of nice now. Anyway, thought the sheriff might want to canvass the area. Sombody may have seen something. You never know. Other than the sample of branches, we didn’t find anything new.”

Just as well,
thought Diane. They had enough to process already.

Diane left Korey and Jin and went back out to where David was working with the photograph.

“That tangle of wood that was on top of Scuba Doe has only been in the water a few days at most,” she said.

“The bodies had been in the water only a few days,” David responded. “So what are you thinking, the brush was used to hold him down?”

“Or stage the crime scene. Have you looked at the hose on the tanks yet? Do we know if it was really a twig that punctured it?”

“No. Jin checked the tanks, but I don’t think he’s looked at the hose yet. I’ve checked for trace evidence, but that’s all. Let’s go have a look. I need to take a break from this.”

The evidence for the quarry victims was laid out neatly on a table. The number of evidence bags had grown as David collected trace from the objects found at the scene. He put the air hose under a dissecting microscope and examined the hole in it.

“It’s a puncture,” he said, “but not from a stick.” He stepped aside and gave Diane a look.

She looked through the dual eyepieces at the compromised air hose, turned it over and examined the side opposite the puncture. The edge of the cut was smooth, probably made by a small knife that had gone through and pierced the other side of the hose.

“The air hose is small. A slice with any size knife at all would have cut the hose completely in two. This had to be done carefully. I think maybe he was already knocked out when they cut the hose.”

“It looks to me as if the scene was staged to look like an accident,” said Diane.

“I agree,” said David.

The elevator doors to the crime lab opened. Diane looked up through the several glass windows between the lab and the entrance. It was Sheriff Canfield. The sheriff of Rose County was a large man in his late fifties with a full head of brown hair and a warm smile. Diane buzzed him in. David went back to the photograph.

“Howdy,” he said in a friendly manner. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve had the tour. Sheriff Braden tells me you have a fine facility here, though he says you lack a DNA lab.”

Jin came out with Korey, and for a moment Diane thought he was going to tell the sheriff they were thinking about getting one. He had been pushing Diane for it, and she hadn’t decided.

“We use the GBI’s DNA lab. They have a good one,” said Diane. “What brings you here? A tour?”

“No. I wish. It’s about those bodies at the quarry lake. The ME’s not ready to call this an accident or natural causes. Although he said the scuba guy died of a heart attack, he has concerns about some bruises on his back, and something about his teeth being broken.”

He tapped an envelope he was holding. “I have his report here. The other dead guy also had some bruises that concerned the ME. On the back of his neck, like someone was holding him down. So I came to see what you people found. The scuba diver was Jake Stanley. Rankin was able to confirm his identity from his dental records when he had a name. Frankly, I thought Jake was kind of young for a heart attack—just twenty-two.”

“We haven’t analyzed all the trace evidence yet, but we don’t believe it was an accident either,” said Diane. She explained to him about the twigs and branches that had been in the water only as long as the two victims, and the air hose that was punctured with a knife.

“I was afraid of that. You know, Rankin is pretty good. When he says something is suspicious, he means it.”

“The teeth often get broken when the regulator’s forcibly pulled out,” said Korey. He looked suddenly embarrassed. “I mean, if you’re looking for foul play, that’s a clue.”

Diane looked at Korey a moment before she spoke. He was obviously enjoying being on the other side of the building—the dark side, as she had heard some of the museum staff call it. Korey knew something about scuba diving and wanted to share.

“This is Korey Jordan, my head conservator at the museum. Among other things he’s an expert on waterlogged wood, and we’re using that expertise on the quarry case.”

“Expert on waterlogged wood. They got an expert on everything nowadays, don’t they?” The sheriff held out his hand. “Glad to meet you, son.”

“Likewise.” Korey looked at Diane. “I’ve worked with divers. That’s how I know about the regulators.”

“Find much work in waterlogged wood?” the sheriff asked, grinning, showing an even row of tobacco-stained teeth.

“Between museums, archaeology and recovery of ancient logs, and the fact that there aren’t that many of us, I get a lot of consulting.”

“Ancient logs?”

“Like those hundred-year-plus old-growth logs discovered at the bottom of Lake Superior. When they’re dried out they’re some sweet wood.”

Canfield shook his head. “I’m always amazed at the things I don’t know about.”