Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (16 page)

Thank goodness my sudden lightheadedness resulted from his overdosing of musk and not my long-ago misplaced attraction to the man. One less issue I’d need to discuss with my therapist.

He grabbed the hot dog off the floor and followed me. “How are you holding up?”

“Why the concern? Suddenly grow a conscience?”

“Mari, you may not believe this, but I’ve thought a lot about you over the years.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

“I never thought things would end the way they did.” He pronounced his words with a Spanish accent thicker than the night before. “Part of me feels responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m not saying at the time I would have done things differently, but maybe a more seasoned cop would have anticipated the outcome. Maybe seen something I didn’t.”

I turned, his dark eyes, softening. “Detective Lopez, are you finally taking responsibility for your actions?”

He straightened. “I guess I am. Are you finally going to forgive me?”

I turned and trudged up the stairs, Lopez following. “Have you got a lead on C.S.?”

“The letters haven’t returned from the lab.”

The lab. I had forgotten to call Austin to check on the C-14 testing.

“It’s taking a while to cross reference all the students and faculty with the initials C.S. over the last twenty years.”

“You really think that’s necessary?”

“We want to be thorough and check things out from when Henderson first started at the university, in the small chance there’s a link between Henderson’s death and the letters.”

“The autopsy’s in? You have proof it was murder?”

Lopez held the Archaeology office door open. “Not exactly, but I’m treating it as one.”

“What do you mean? Do you or do you not know how to do your job?”

Lopez grimaced. I knew he didn’t deserve that uppercut to the ego, but my Sicilian temper didn’t care.

He eyed Candy at her desk. “Is there someplace else we can talk?”

Candy looked up, her face twisted with concern. I caught her gaze and shrugged, then led him to my office.

Lopez settled in the chair in front of my desk. “They finished the autopsy, but I can’t divulge the details. It might jeopardize the case.”

“What case? You said there’s no evidence of murder?”

“Still—”

“You owe me, Lopez.” I waited for him to respond. “If you want this little relationship to continue, you’re going to have to give me something.”

Lopez blew out his frustration. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” I grinned, watching a ten-year burden devour what resolve his sleep deprivation left behind. “Was Henderson murdered or not?”

He rubbed his beard stubble. “I normally don’t share details. I’m sticking my rear in front of the firing squad if this gets out.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. Candy’s the office gossip.”

Lopez squirmed. “They finished the autopsy an hour ago. There are no obvious signs of murder, but the blood work’s still at the lab. Don’t know when we’ll get the report. It’s been a slow week, so it could be in the next day or so.”

“What about the soil samples?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Detective Lopez opened his pad. “How long have you known Fletcher Murdock?”

“I thought this was about the soil?”

“It is.”

“Then why the personal questions about Fletcher?”

“Mari, you need to answer my questions.” Lopez’s advance surprised me.

“I’ve been forthcoming—”

“Until now.” A spark lit Lopez’s expression as he leaned into me. “Don’t make this personal. Just answer the question.”

“I think we’re done here.” I stood, countering his move. “If you want anything else out of me, call my lawyer.”

Lopez stood and started pacing, his pent-up frustration ready to explode. “You realize you’re not going to be privileged to everything? I still have a case to make if it’s murder.”

I sat, laced my fingers, and softened my expression. “I understand, Detective Lopez. I don’t want to impede your investigation, but before I answer any more questions, please tell me what Fletcher has to do with all of this?”

“The soil we found in the studio and in the green room were identical. We haven’t located the source, but you mentioned Mr. Murdock tracked soil into the studio, and we’ve confirmed he was in the green room.”

“How does that incriminate Flet—Mr. Murdock in Henderson’s murder?”

Lopez sat. “I didn’t say it did, but the same soil was found on Henderson’s clothes.”

“Henderson’s a geoarchaeologist. He studies dirt. He could have had it on him before he entered the green room.”

“Or the murderer could have left it on him.”

I soaked in the implications, my mind fighting the probability. “No, that’s impossible.”

“How can you be sure unless you knew who murdered Henderson?”

“I don’t know. But I’m positive Fletcher could never hurt another human being.” At least not on purpose. “He may give off a bad boy image, but underneath he’s really harmless.”

“Which brings me full circle to my original question. How long have you known Mr. Murdock?”

I ticked off the years. “I went to high school with his sister. I was a naïve, attention-starved sophomore. He was handsome, in college, and had a car. He made it easy to escape my life for days at a time when my father was on an extended drunken rampage. He protected me, kept me safe.” When you couldn’t. “Do you need me to go on or can you fill in the blanks?”

“It’s safe to say you knew him
very
well?”

Heat flushed my cheeks as I nodded. “That’s why I know he could never’ve murdered Professor Henderson.”

“I’m not saying he did. I’m simply following leads, trying to keep Henderson’s daughter off my back.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, the dark circles danced under the pressure. “I’m covering all the angles. Following where the leads take me.”

“Fair enough. Anything else?”

“Do you know where the soil came from?”

“No, but I bet you’ll find some answers in the soil lab. I’m sure the dirt on Henderson came from one of his soil bins. He spent a lot of time down there running one test or another. Henderson and the lab secretary are the only ones with a key, but the Archaeology lab is also covered with soil.” I straightened in my chair. “I’m sure Mr. Murdock was in the Archaeology lab choosing artifacts for the show that morning. He could’ve gotten soil on him then. That doesn’t mean he killed Henderson.”

“Then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Except having you discover Jack’s under investigation by the FBI.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

3:01 p.m.

BEFORE THE DOOR TO the Archaeology offices latched, Candy flew out of her seat and stood next to me, eyes hungry for gossip.

“Oh, Mari, bless your heart.” A familiar hot-and-spicy odor radiated from her mouth. A Styrofoam carton on her desk. Kung Pao Chicken. I should have known. It was Tuesday.

Candy ushered me to the seats lining the wall opposite her desk. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m fine.”

“I just thought … he might stir up … well, never mind.” She fanned the air with her right hand. “He was in here before, in Professor Henderson’s office, spitting mad at that young officer for clearing the room before he had a chance to look things over. He took more fingerprints, especially around the desk. Even confiscated the trash. Can’t imagine what he’s gonna find in there that could help catch a killer.” She shook her head. “You sure you’re okay? I never did like the looks of him, not then, not now.”

“Stop worrying about me. He asked some questions, that’s all. Thinks he has a lead on Henderson’s murderer.”

Candy clutched her chest. “Goodness gracious, sakes alive. Does he think someone in these offices killed our Professor Henderson? Should I go and get me more mace?”

“No, I’m sure we’re fine. I think he’s chasing a rabbit trail.”

“Who’s he after? Professor Kipling? Me?”

“None of the above.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Fletcher?”

I nodded.

Candy whooped up a laugh and slapped her knee. “That detective. He’s not the brightest Crayola in the box, now, is he? The only hearts Mr. Murdock’s stopping are of the female persuasion. Which reminds me, how’d things go last night?”

How did she know? “It was hard enough sharing the same office with Jack after he left, but now Fletcher? I wish he’d stayed in Egypt with Jack.”

Candy cupped my hands. “Oh, honey, I know it’s hard. Believe me I know, but you’re stronger than you think. The good Lord lets us go through these trials for a reason.”

“Yeah? What for?”

“To bring us closer to him.” She stood, pulling me into a bear hug. “I best be gettin’ back to work.”

“So you think Fletcher’s innocent?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe him, but if I told you what I really thought of Mr. Murdock, would that change how you feel about him?”

My spine stiffened. “I have no feelings for him anymore.”

“Mari, you can fool yourself and you may even be able to fool your old beau, but this ain’t my first rodeo. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve ridden this same horse before.”

“You’re wrong.” A long time ago I buried the memories—the thought of me and Fletcher together. It was locked away in a safe deposit box, beneath the sea next to Davy Jones’ locker with no chance of surfacing, ever. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.” I crossed my arms.

She took my hands and gazed into my eyes. “I know what’s going on underneath.” Her stare went deeper and deeper to that place I convinced myself was gone forever. “I’ve lived my life in a glass house, clutching stones, ready to hurl them out the window to hide my own shame.”

I withdrew my hands from hers. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

“I’m not judging you. I want to help.”

“There’s nothing to help. I’m fine.” I turned to leave, but Candy grabbed my hand.

“I know having Fletcher here has knocked your feelings off kilter, you’re not sure which way is up, but I’m telling you not to fight it. Let the tide take you where it wants to go so you can deal with your feelings and be done with them once and for all.”

Candy had it all wrong. I had let them go. Despite the desires Fletcher awakened within me, I knew we didn’t have a future together. The only feelings I needed to face was my confusion about Jack. How could I still love a man who abandoned me and my children, but how could I not love the man who shared my life and bed all those years? “Thank you for being so concerned. But don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Mari—”

The door opened, banging against the wall. Candy and I flinched at the person standing in the doorway. Nothing good accompanied that glare.

“One of Daddy’s artifacts is missing.” Natasha Whetherby, Henderson’s only daughter, glanced at Candy, then at me. Her surgically-enhanced chest heaved beneath a politically-incorrect fur jacket. “Do you have any idea where it is?”

I looked at Candy, then at Natasha, whose auburn hair smelled of chemicals, as if she’d just come from the salon. “I’m sure the police will return them when they’re finished with the investigation.”

“I just left the police station. They’re holding the Egyptian artifacts and cross-referencing them for stolen ones. I brought the printout of my father’s office inventory to make sure they recorded and logged everything properly, but the Egyptian bowl he got the year I was born is missing.” She wrapped her arms around her petite waist, the size of my calf. Undigested remnants of lunch rumbled along with the guilt of already exceeding my daily calories.

“What year was that?” I asked.

“Why does it matter?” Natasha’s controlled tone sharpened. As if keeping her age a secret could hide the fact her plastic surgeon husband hadn’t already worked on her flawless face and figure.

I stood tall in my heels, but my nose barely met her chin. “If the artifact was acquired before 1983 Egypt has no right to confiscate the bowl, but after 1983, if it is proven that the antiquity is among those illegally taken, then it rightfully belongs to Egypt.”

“It’s my bowl. Daddy has the papers to prove it.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. Just show the police your documentation.”

“Have you not heard a thing I’ve been saying? The bowl is missing. The police claim they never took it. Who cleaned out the office?” Natasha’s eyes pierced Candy.

I stepped toward Natasha. “I did. With Fletcher Murdock.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but I knew underneath her brass façade was a porcelain doll ready to shatter. “What’s he doing here?” Her antagonism vibrated through me.

“Mr. Murdock just about saved the day.” Candy dropped her head diverting Natasha’s scowl, then retreated to her desk and busied herself with some papers. “As soon as he’s approved he’ll be working full time at the university.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Keep him away from me and my daddy’s stuff.” Without warning, the dam to her emotions collapsed, spilling tears down her rosy cheeks. I hurried to the cooler near the door and handed her a cone full of water. Her lips curled in a subtle thank you, and she took a drink. “I’m so sorry for acting like a spoiled brat.” She lowered herself into a chair. I sat next to her and fought the urge to pet her coat.

“They won’t tell me what’s going on and won’t release my father to me when the autopsy is finished. I want to give him a proper burial before Gregory and I fly to Hawaii. I’d postpone the trip if I could, but he has a surgery convention right after Christmas. I can’t bear to be alone at a time like this. You understand, don’t you?”

I nodded.

Candy hurried to Natasha and handed her a tissue, then blew her own nose on the way to her desk.

“They should release the bod—him soon. Detective Lopez said the autopsy is finished,” I said.

“Why didn’t he tell me? When did you talk with him?”

“Before you walked in. You should be happy to know there was no evidence of murder.”

“Why would I be happy? Daddy is still dead, isn’t he? And I’m not convinced it was natural causes.” Natasha jumped to her feet, surprisingly steady in her stilettos. “Detective Lopez better not think about dropping this investigation.” She pulled a compact from her purse and powdered her face. “I know Daddy was murdered. I’ve already given that sorry police department a piece of my mind.” She snapped the compact shut. “Daddy was very influential in this town. I can go all the way to the Mayor’s office if I have to.”