Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (17 page)

“I don’t think it will come to that.” I touched Natasha’s arm. “Detective Lopez is still waiting on the blood work. If your father was murdered, something will turn up.”

“Thank you for sticking by me, Mari. I always did like you.” She surveyed the office. “Though I can’t understand why you waste your time at this rundown university in this tiny office. I never did understand Daddy’s affinity toward this place. He could have made something out of his life. He was a brilliant man.”

“I don’t doubt that. But he loved what he did.”

Her eyes returned to mine. “Don’t make the same mistake my father did. Look where it got him. You’re better than all this. Get out of this hole while you still can.” Natasha glanced at her gold Tiffany watch, the diamonds around the face worth more than the engagement ring Jack gave me. The one I refused to replace when he bought me a diamond three times the size for our eighth anniversary. If I’d have known he was going to leave me half a year later, I would’ve accepted the diamond and sold it for cash.

“Oh my, I need to run.” Natasha hurried toward the door. “I have to meet Daddy’s lawyer at the estate to discuss the will. If you find the missing bowl, please call me.”

“I will. I hope it turns up.” For everyone’s sake.

She stopped and turned around. “Don’t forget what I said. Give me a ring, and I’ll call someone on your behalf.”

After Natasha left, I retreated to the solitude of my office. Stacks of papers sat in the center of my desk, needing to be graded. But I couldn’t concentrate. Now that I had a moment to breathe, I could only think about the missing heart scarab. And Jack.

It’d been too long since I last spoke with him. I reached for Matt’s phone, but remembered I canceled his international calling plan after he racked up a $500 phone bill the month Jack left, by calling him overseas. I couldn’t make a long distance call on my office phone without breaking university rules. There had to be another way. I turned on my computer. Maybe Jack had access to email.

Shouts reverberated through the office walls. I flinched, then tiptoed to the wall and leaned close. What was Peter doing in there? Though muffled, his voice strained in anger. I pressed my ear to the wall, wondering if even Candy would stoop so low. I smiled, thankful for thin walls.

“Everything was working beautifully, why’d you have to ruin it? Don’t tell me to calm down …”

Who was Peter talking to?

“I know that’s what you said, but I’m in line for the promotion now.” His voice softened. “Just like we planned … I thought since Henderson was out of the picture things would return to normal …”

Chills spidered up my spine as I tried to interpret the one-sided conversation. No matter how I spun Peter’s words, I couldn’t help thinking maybe Cherilyn was innocent. And maybe I didn’t know my longtime colleague as well as I thought.

“It’s not supposed to end this way. I worked too hard … We need to talk. Meet me for coffee after your shift. At that little place on Mulberry, downtown, away from the university. Great … I’ll see you then. You won’t regret this.”

I moved away from the wall more confused than ever. Should I tell Detective Lopez what I overheard? What had I heard? Nothing implicating Peter as the murderer. Nothing except his remark about Henderson being out of the picture. I reached for a legal pad and jotted down everything I could remember. I didn’t have time to solve Henderson’s alleged murder, though I might have to if Lopez proved incompetent.

I pulled the copy of the lab sign-in log from my bag and scanned the signatures from Friday afternoon to Saturday morning. No, it couldn’t be. I reread the names two and three times.

Peter, Fletcher, even Candy had been to the Archaeology lab at the only time the real scarab could have been stolen. I peeked out of my office. “Candy?”

She looked up from her filing.

“I was wondering if you’ve been to the lab in the last week?”

“I was there Friday afternoon. Do you need me to get something for you? I know how you hate that place.”

“No, but do you mind me asking why you went there?” I walked to her desk.

“Professor Henderson sent me to collect a report he had queued in the printer before the power in the lab went out. I called the lab secretary about thirty minutes later. She assured me the power had returned so I went down, but the file got deleted from the printer. Do you think that report is related to Henderson’s murder?”

“I’m not sure.” My mind raced with possible explanations. “Did you know the FBI is in the lab right now and requested the sign-in book? I thought maybe you knew what it was all about.”

“I had no idea. I swear I didn’t touch anything. I sure hope Mr. Duggins’ artifacts are safe. Maybe Mr. Murdock knows. He was coming in while I was leaving.”

Fletcher? Why didn’t he mention it? I scratched Candy off my list. Why would she take the scarab? Though it was small enough to hide in her purse, I couldn’t picture Candy as an antiquities smuggler. “Do you know where I can find Fletcher?”

“He’s set up camp in Jack’s office.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

3:37 p.m.

HEAT WARMED MY CHEST as I hurried through the hall, but I refused to psychoanalyze the reason for my rapid heart rate. I breathed deep trying to calm my rising emotions. Why was Fletcher in Jack’s office when Henderson’s was empty? Why did he decide to hang up his field fedora just when a position opened at the university?

Why did he kiss me last night?

I didn’t want to read into the subliminal messages I was getting from Fletcher, but they were screaming in my face. I barged into the room. When the door slammed into the wall, Fletcher looked up. He held my gaze for a moment, then returned to the file he was reading. I stomped to where he lounged in Jack’s chair with boots propped on the desk. How could I ever have been attracted to such an oaf?

“Respect what is
not
yours.” I stood before him, hands on my hips.

“Are you still holding last night against me? It was the wine. I said I was sorry.”

“I’m not talking about that. And don’t ever mention it again. It was a big mistake.”

He tossed the file on the desk and rested his hands behind his head. “Be honest, Mari. We connected in that kiss. Like before Jack, when it was just you and me.”

I shook my head.

“I know what I felt.”

“You felt what you wanted to feel. I didn’t see it coming, but at least I learned a valuable lesson.”

“That I still make your heart flutter?”

“That I lose all sense when I drink.” I knocked his boots off. “Keep your feet off Jack’s desk!”

“Lighten up. The guy hasn’t used it in two years. Besides, I’m just playing with you.” He sat up, elbows on the desk. “I’m not here to take over Jack’s office.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “No, you’re here to steal his wife.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t his wife anymore.”

“I meant his life.”

“Is that what’s got your panties in a wad? You think I came back for you?”

“Admit it. You always wanted what Jack took from you.”

“Get over yourself. You weren’t the first woman I was with and you definitely weren’t the last.”

Heat climbed my neck threatening to blow my composure. I threw the sign-in copies in his lap. “Explain yourself.”

He read the papers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the lab on Friday?”

“It slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind or you conveniently forgot?”

“I wasn’t sure of the exact time, and I didn’t know I had to report my every move to you. Why is it so important?”

I confessed to the illegal hacking Danny and I did, and the confirmation of the two different lab reports from Henderson.

“So little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You strut around like you’re better than everyone. Why do you put on a mask and hide?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” I crossed my arms, fists clenched.

“You’ve changed over the years.”

“Unfortunately, you haven’t.” I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. I pretended I was perfect when deep inside I knew I was fatally flawed. Helplessly hopeless. If I couldn’t fool Fletcher, the King of Fools, who was I to think I could fool the FBI, Ms. Bomani. KTXL.

“Why be someone you’re not?”

I slumped into the chair in front of the desk. “I don’t know.”

Fletcher moved to the front of the desk and took my hands. “When we first met, you were shy, but inside your shell I saw strength. That’s what attracted me to you—and your legs, but I’m getting off the point. We became friends and slowly I saw your confidence emerge. For a brief time you walked in that confidence, then you started to retreat, then after … I couldn’t get you back so I pulled away. No, I ran away. I didn’t know how to deal with your pain or my failure, and Jack was there. I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. I thought Jack could.”

Tears crowded my eyes. The strain in my head grew as I refused to let them fall. “I only pretended to be confident. To forget. I couldn’t bear to think about how I left my mom at home with him every morning when I went to school. If I did, the guilt would have eaten what was left of me.” I swiped a stray tear. “But this isn’t about me right now. It’s about Jack. And you didn’t answer my question. Why were you in the lab on Friday?”

Fletcher’s shoulders slumped as he handed me the sign-in copies. His sparkling blue eyes dimmed. “I was checking the artifacts for Monday’s show. Deciding which ones to use. And for your information, I wasn’t the only one there. What’s her name, the bird lady, the secretary … she was there with me.”

“Candy Finch?”

“She was on the computer. Professor Henderson came in a little later. So if you’re accusing me of what I think you’re accusing me of, you’re flying up the wrong tree.”

Fletcher’s words cut deep. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. Quit thinking and start living. Stop beating yourself up for what happened a lifetime ago. You can’t go back and create a new beginning, but you can start to create a happy ending. If only you could let go.” He collected his things and stomped out of the office, leaving me alone.

***

3:55 p.m.

THE EMPTINESS IN JACK’S office smothered me. The silence, deafening. Part of me wanted him to return, at least to distract me from Fletcher. But if Jack returned, would the FBI be waiting at the airport with handcuffs and shackles? Not if I could help it.

I sat at his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed the Radio Carbon Lab in Austin. Several transfers and endless explanations later, they confirmed they’d received Jack’s organic sample, but it was still being processed.

After opening the server on Jack’s computer, I began composing an email when his inbox caught my eye. Seven hundred seventy-three messages he hadn’t checked. I logged in with his King Tut password he had yet to change. Scanning the senders, I searched for obvious spam and noticed several emails from Pharo294 dated before Jack left. All of them were marked as READ except the last email sent on Monday at 10:30 a.m. Yesterday. That would have been 5:30 p.m. in Luxor. An hour before Jack called the first time.

I opened the email. It was full of letters mixed with unfamiliar symbols in some kind of code. Why the secrecy? I scrolled the list, clicking each one from Pharo294. Same symbols. My dull headache intensified. Could Jack be involved in the artifact’s disappearance after all? I pushed the idea away. Not Jack, but hadn’t I misjudged Danny? What about Cherilyn? Even Peter seemed to keep secrets. Maybe my judgment was tainted. Could Jack somehow be involved?

I shook the thought from my mind. No, Jack was innocent. But if Ms. Bomani got hold of these emails Jack might look even more suspicious. Or they could hold the answer to his innocence. After forwarding each email to my inbox, I inhaled and clicked the boxes next to the sender of every email sent by Pharo294. My finger hovered above the delete key, trembling in the midst of choosing right or wrong. There was no other way. I tapped the button and the emails vanished, yet my anxiety lingered. I fired off an email to Jack telling him to contact me at my personal email and exhaled, shutting down the computer.

I peeked into the main office area. It was empty except for Candy who flipped through a large book, dabbing her eyes. Stepping into the office lobby, I cleared my throat. Candy scooped up the black book, shoved it in her bottom drawer, and busied herself at her desk.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure no one will mind if you left early.”

“Thank you, Mari. Sometimes the grief sneaks up.”

“I know.”

She patted my hand. “I’ll go home right after I finish here.”

“Candy, you mentioned earlier you saw Fletcher walk into the lab as you left. He says he saw you on the computer.”

Candy’s eyes darted around her desk as she shuffled stacks of paper. “Oh. I know I shouldn’t have, but Professor Henderson … he doesn’t, I mean, didn’t like me sending personal emails from the office computer.”

“As interim head, I don’t see any harm in using the computer for quick emails.”

Her eyes brightened like Little Orphan Annie at Daddy Warbucks’. “I’m so glad you said that because I’ve been dying to check my email.” She clicked her inbox.

“I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“Can you stay a minute? I’ve been busting at the seams to tell someone about this.”

“Sure. I’m all ears.” I leaned against Candy’s desk.

“A couple of months ago I got an email from someone. From my past. He won’t tell me who he is, but he’s been asking lots of questions.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve answered them? You haven’t given out any personal information?”

“No, nothing like that. Just trivial things about my past. Every time I answer, he leaves me a clue to who he is. So far I know he’s male, we were close at one time, and we’re connected through a mutual person.” She clicked the keyboard. “Isn’t this exciting? Like one of those television talk shows where a secret admirer wants to meet after years of separation.”