Dead Guilty (19 page)

Diane
spent the remainder of the day working at
her museum job, doing something she liked the least—
meeting with the board. She handed out budget and
income reports for them to review, including a report
on
the
initial
findings
on
the
mummy,
hoping
that
would keep them busy and off any discussion of the
crime lab. Board members also got some of the crank
E-mails whenever she appeared on television in con
nection with the work of the crime lab.

She
needn’t have worried. All they could talk about
was the mummy, as if having one made the place a
real museum, as if all museums worth their salt had
to have an Egyptology exhibit.

‘‘So,
do you know what he did for a living?’’ Laura
Hillard was one of Diane’s oldest friends. They first
met in kindergarten, and remained friends even after
Diane moved away with her parents when she was in
eighth grade.

‘‘I
know he spent a lot of time sitting slumped over.
There
are
a
handful
of
jobs
in
ancient
Egypt
that
would have kept him long hours in that position. Jonas
and Kendel will be giving us more information. I just
know about the bones at this point.’’

‘‘And
where is Miss Williams?’’ asked Madge Stew
art, another member of the board. ‘‘I haven’t met her
yet. I was really hoping she would be here.’’ Madge
looked around the room as if Kendel might be sitting
in a corner keeping quiet.

‘‘She
went to Virginia to try to acquire some arti
facts that belong with our mummy.’’
Diane
explained
that
mummies
of
a
certain
time
were wrapped with amulets that represented luck, pro
tection and help in getting into the underworld after
death.
‘‘Family members of the donor are reported to have
some
in
their
possession.
I’m
told
that
sometimes
there were as many as a hundred such amulets. They
would add a lot to the value of the mummy.’’
‘‘This
is
so
exciting,’’
said
Madge.
‘‘An
Egyptian
exhibit will be so good for the museum.’’
‘‘We have a CT scan scheduled next week for him.
That
may
give
us
more
information
about
who
he
was.’’
Thankfully, all the conversation was taken up with
the mummy and Diane was able to adjourn the meet
ing in a good mood. She counted herself lucky. Per
haps
in
time
the
board
members
who
were
queasy
about the location of the crime lab inside the museum
would become proud of the work that was done there.
Madge
took
Diane’s
arm
as
the
board
members
were dispersing. ‘‘When we open the Egyptian exhibit,
we must have another party. You know I missed the
one for the museum opening.’’
Madge
gave
Diane
that
I-wasn’t-told-about-the
party look that she adorned her face with on any occa
sion
she
could
bring
it
up.
Diane
had
stopped
ex
plaining to her that it was she who wrote the wrong
date on her calendar. Diane simply smiled and told
Madge a party would be a great idea.
Diane went back to her office to finish some more
paperwork—and to see if Garnett had left a message.
She hadn’t heard what happened with Lynn Webber.
Perhaps no news was good news.
Andie was getting ready to leave as Diane arrived.
She had changed from her more conservative museum
uniform to her clubbing costume, as she described her
various forms of dress.
‘‘Got a date?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Yes. In the middle of the week—can you believe
it? We’re going to a jazz concert on campus.’’
‘‘Sounds
like
fun.
Have
a
good
time.
Did
I
get
any messages?’’
‘‘They’re on your desk. Just routine stuff, nothing
out of the ordinary.’’
Diane laughed. She was sorry that life at the mu
seum was such that ‘‘ordinary’’ and ‘‘out of the ordi
nary’’ were frequent distinctions Andie had to make.
‘‘Perhaps
things
are
settling
down.’’
At
her
desk,
she called up to the crime lab. David answered. ‘‘Isn’t
it time for you to go home?’’ she asked.
‘‘Just seeing about my bugs.’’
‘‘Any messages from Garnett?’’
‘‘No,
it’s
actually
been
pretty
quiet
around
here.
Neva’s been working on some stuff you’ll be pleased
with. She’s already gone, but I think she works on the
artwork at home.’’
‘‘I think I’ve gotten Garnett off her back. Maybe
she can settle down and be comfortable around here.’’
Diane
told
David
how
her
meeting
with
Garnett
and the sheriff broke up.
‘‘Damn,’’
exclaimed
David.
‘‘Someone
went
after
Webber? What’s this about?’’
‘‘I don’t know. Go home and take care. I mean it.’’
When
she
hung
up,
Diane
dialed
Garnett’s
cell
phone.
‘‘This is Diane Fallon,’’ she said when he answered.
‘‘I was concerned about Dr. Webber.’’
‘‘She’s fine. It turned out to be a false alarm.’’
‘‘False alarm?’’
‘‘She was on the second floor of her condo and saw
some guy who looked like he was trying to break into
her back door. Turns out it was a new neighbor who
just moved in. He was trying to open her screen to
knock
on
the
door.
The
poor
guy
and
his
wife
are
probably
going
to
move
again
after
all
the
grilling
they got.’’
‘‘I’m relieved.’’
‘‘So were we. Lynn . . . Dr. Webber was still shaken.
We need to clear this up as quickly as we can.’’
‘‘I agree.’’
We
who?
thought
Diane
when
she
hung
up
the
phone. She leaned back in her chair and closed her
eyes. She had almost dozed off when the ringing of
her phone jerked her awake.
Frank,
she thought and
looked at the caller ID. It said Denver, Colorado.

Diane
steadied her hand as she reached out to pick
up the phone.
‘‘Hello.’’ She hoped her voice was calm.
‘‘It’s me again. Are we alone?’’
‘‘What’s your name?’’
‘‘I can’t tell you that.’’
‘‘Okay. What do you want?’’
‘‘I
want
you
to
understand.
I
want
to
talk
about
what you said about killing being evil.’’
‘‘As I recall, I said something about it taking a dedi
cated community of criminal investigators to combat
the evil of murder...’’
‘‘Yes, but I saw your eyes when you said ‘the evil
of murder,’ and it bothered me.’’ The man’s voice was
both deep and soft and had a sincere quality to it that
was sad.
‘‘What bothered you?’’
‘‘The way you put all killings in the same load.’’
‘‘You say you want me to understand you, but you
seem to be talking around the main point. I want to
understand you. Can you be more direct?’’
‘‘Is there no one in your life that if you had them
in
your
crosshairs,
you
would
pull
the
trigger
and
feel justified?’’
Ivan Santos, the man who murdered her daughter,
came to mind.
He must know quite a lot about my life,
she thought.
‘‘There’s a difference between gut-wrenching emo
tion and becoming the law.’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Because there’s a difference in what you know and
what you believe. Everyone acts on what they believe,
few on what they really know. Taking the law into one’s
own hands can lead to ghastly mistakes. That’s why we
need an objective process to find the truth.’’ The man
wanted dialogue; she would give him dialogue.
‘‘
Objective.
That’s
just
another
word
for
richlawyer tricks.’’
‘‘I’ve tried to answer your questions. Will you an
swer a few for me?’’
‘‘Shoot.’’
‘‘Did you send the E-mail that said sometimes the
dead are guilty?’’
‘‘You know I did.’’
‘‘I believed you did.’’
He let out a soft chuckle. ‘‘Okay. You said you had
a few questions? Do you have another one?’’
‘‘Did you hang the people in Cobber’s Wood?’’
He hesitated only a beat. ‘‘This is just a conversa
tion. You shouldn’t read so much into it.’’
‘‘Is
that
a
yes
or
a
no?’’
But
she
was
talking
to
dead air.
She dialed Chief Garnett’s cell phone again. He had
told her he was going to tap her phones; she hoped
he had one in place.
‘‘I just got a call again,’’ she said when he answered.
‘‘If the phone is tapped, then you’ll have the complete
conversation.’’
Garnett
was silent
for
a moment.
‘‘You think
it’s
our guy?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘What does he want?’’
‘‘I’m not sure. He seems to want to confess, but he
never gets around to it.’’
‘‘So,
we
do
have
ourselves
a
nutcase.
Okay,
I’m
going
to
have
a
stakeout
put
on
your
apartment.
Maybe we’ll get lucky. I’ll call Braden.’’
Yes, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll come after me,
thought Diane. She hung up the phone and sat for a
moment, musing over the phone call. He didn’t sound
violent. He sounded calm. Many killers are calm. In
fact, it is often the killing that calms them.
She shook her head. Time to take a rest from crime.
She grabbed her purse and left her office. Maybe to
night she could get a good night’s sleep.
Halfway to the lobby she had an idea. Instead of
going out the door, she headed for the second floor
to
the
geology
section.
If
she
was
lucky,
someone
would still be working there.
She got out of the elevator and walked across the
overlook into the Pleistocene room. The visitor light
ing was still on in earth science, so someone was prob
ably still working.
The
earth
science
room
was
a
warren
of
display
alcoves and partitions. She passed an alcove designed
to look like a cave. Facsimiles of stalagmites guarded
the
entrance.
Inside
were
pieces
of
real
stalagmites
and stalactites, gypsum crystal formations that looked
like snowflakes, a display on the anatomy of cave fill
showing the geological history of the area, a lesson on
cave mapping, giant photographs of the major caves
in the United States, a virtual tour of Lechuguilla and
Carlsbad
caverns.
Diane
liked
the
exhibit,
but
it
needed more work. It didn’t quite capture the beauty
and mystery that she saw in caves. She continued past
the exhibits on volcanoes and plate tectonics and one
on the water cycle before she entered the rock room.
The
rocks
and
minerals
room
never
grew
old.
It
dazzled
her
every
time
she
entered.
In
the
center
stood a deep purple amethyst geode so enormous she
could fit into it. Off to the side stood an equally large
agate geode sliced and polished, highlighting a rain
bow
of
silica
bands.
All
the
rocks
and
minerals
on
display were equally stunning—every color of quartz
crystals, golden pyrite in its varied crystal habits, tour
maline, feldspar, olivine, spinel—minerals with names
as
beautiful as
their
appearance. It
was
a room
de
signed to make visitors catch their breath. She looked
over the labels of each as she worked her way to the
gem section.
‘‘Boss. What brings you here?’’
Diane looked up from the display case. ‘‘Mike, hi.
Working late?’’
‘‘I’m making some thin sections for Dr. Lymon.’’
‘‘You
wouldn’t
happen
to
know
anything
about
gemstones, would you?’’
‘‘My
speciality
is
mainly
sedimentary
stratigraphy
and
crystallography.
However,
as
it
happens,
I
do
know quite a bit about gemstones. What stone are you
interested in?’’
‘‘Diamonds.’’
‘‘Nice
choice.
What
about
them
do
you
want
to
know?’’
Diane was glad he didn’t make that girl’s-best-friend
joke. She would have been disappointed in him. ‘‘Ex
pensive, aren’t they?’’
‘‘Can
be
very
expensive.
Depends
on
the
quality.
Diamonds are graded for their cut, clarity, color and
carat
weight.
In
diamonds,
size
does
matter.’’
He
grinned. ‘‘You in the market for a diamond?’’
‘‘This information is for the crime lab.’’
‘‘Great. Does this mean I can put forensic gemology
on my resume?’’
‘‘Depends on how helpful you are.’’
‘‘I’m here for you, Boss. What you need to know?’’
‘‘I suppose I want to know if the person who pur
chased it could afford it, however, at the time, I didn’t
think to ask the woman how much it cost.’’
‘‘Okay, we’ll start with the easy stuff. What color
was it?’’
‘‘Diamond colored.’’
‘‘You don’t know about diamonds, do you? Never
had an engagement ring?’’
‘‘Yes, I have. It belonged to my ex-husband’s grand
mother and was a ruby with two diamonds on either
side.’’
‘‘I didn’t know you were married, Boss.’’
‘‘When I was very young—still a university student.
It didn’t last long.’’
‘‘One
of
those
quick,
passionate
affairs
that
fizzled?’’
‘‘No. He
was a lawyer
selected by my
parents. It
turned out I didn’t like him very much.’’
‘‘Your
parents
selected
your
husband?
What
cen
tury are you from?’’
‘‘It was the last time I tried to please my parents.
It was a lost cause. I was simply the black sheep of
the family, and I learned to accept it. Now that you
know my history, can we get back to the diamonds?’’
‘‘Your history? That was just the teaser.’’
‘‘Mike.’’
‘‘Okay, Boss. Come this way.’’ He led her into the
geology lab adjoining the rock room.
‘‘This
is
part
of
our
reference
collection
of
gems.
Have a seat and I’ll give you a lesson in Diamonds
one-oh-one.’’ He went into the storeroom and came
out with a large flat drawer and set it on the table.
‘‘With some exceptions, white diamonds in general
are the most valuable, and they’re graded on a color
scale
from
white—colorless—to
yellow,’’
said
Mike.
‘‘They do come in other colors, but for the most part
they aren’t as valued, unless the color is quite brilliant.
For example, the pink diamonds from Australia, and
some
of
the
high-carat
famous
diamonds
like
the
Hope diamond are very rare and very valuable. A red
diamond can be a million dollars a carat. But here, I
take it, we’re dealing with the white diamond.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Did it have a yellow cast that you noticed?’’
Diane shook her head. ‘‘No. It was really a beautiful
stone. It had a traditional round cut.’’
He shook his head. ‘‘Cut doesn’t refer to shape, but
the
quality
of
the
cut.
Not
all
diamonds
are
cut
kindly.’’
‘‘You are enjoying this, aren’t you?’’
‘‘I am.’’
‘‘Doesn’t
the
rock
room
have
a
computer
exhibit
on diamonds?’’
‘‘Yes, it does, but it’s not nearly as interactive as
I am.’’
Diane shook her head and laughed.
‘‘I
made
you
laugh.
I’m
making
progress.’’
Mike
took a clear plastic container from the tray, removed
a
stone and
held it
in
his hand.
‘‘Diamonds have
a
high refractive index. You want a cut that reflects the
light out of the top of the stone and doesn’t let light
leak out the bottom.’’
‘‘Leak out the bottom?’’
‘‘It
has
to
do
with
the
angle
each
facet
is
to
the
others.
In
an
ideal
cut,
the
arrangement
maximizes
the light’s ability to disperse throughout the stone and
reflect back out the top. A good-quality diamond can
be ruined by a bad cut. When you said the diamond
looked like a really good diamond, you were probably
referring to how it glittered.’’
Diane thought a moment and met his gaze. ‘‘You’re
right. It sparkled.’’
‘‘How large was it?’’
Diane looked at her hand, visualizing Kacie’s ring.
She was fairly good at estimating measurements, hav
ing measured so many skeletons.
‘‘About seven or eight millimeters in diameter.’’
‘‘That’s
about
a
carat.
That
is
a
respectable
dia
mond.’’ He lay the stone in his hand out on a piece
of cotton batting he took from the drawer.
‘‘This is a carat diamond.’’
‘‘It was about that same size. Do you have some
thing black you could put it on?’’
Mike shook his head. ‘‘You don’t want to view dia
monds
against a
black background.
Black
makes all
diamonds look white, and you’ll miss the light yellow
tinge of a lesser diamond.’’
‘‘I’m getting all kinds of useful information.’’
‘‘That’s what the museum’s here for.’’
Diane
caught
a
twinkle
in
his
light
brown
eyes.
‘‘You’re right about that,’’ she said, smiling in spite of
herself.
Diane
picked
up
the
diamond
and
put
it
against her skin. ‘‘That’s about the size of the one I
saw. How much is this diamond worth?’’
‘‘This
is
a
particularly
good
diamond.
It’s
one
carat—carat refers to weight, by the way. It’s actually
weight that matters and not size.
This one is pretty
much clear of flaws. It has what’s called an ideal cut
and is rated a D on the color scale, which is at the
top of the colorless range. On the market, this would
cost around ten thousand dollars.’’