Authors: Beverly Connor

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Suspense, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery, #Police Procedural, #detective, #Fiction - Mystery, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural, #Fallon, #Women forensic anthropologists, #Georgia, #Diane (Fictitious character)

One Grave Too Many (29 page)

BOOK: One Grave Too Many

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“Why, you damn bitch! What do you think you’re doing? Give those back.”

Diane darted past her and made it to Frank, avoiding both Crystal and Gil grabbing at her. “This isn’t just to sign over property, this second page is a confession.”

Star screeched. “You fucking sorry bitch. Take your boy toy and get the hell out of here.”

The guard, an older heavyset man, rushed into the room. “What’s going on in here? Who are all you people?”

“These two slipped in here and were trying to force Miss Boone to sign a confession,” said Frank, showing the new guard his badge. “I’m Miss Boone’s guardian.”

“We’re just visiting our granddaughter.”

“She’s not my grandmother. She’s just an old whore who can’t get anybody to fuck her except some no-butt moron.”

“Star,” said Frank. “That’s enough.”

“It’s true. Look at him. He’s so skinny he looks like somebody sliced off his butt. He can’t even fill out a pair of tight jeans.”

“That’s enough,” Frank said again.

“You’re going to fry, little girl, you’re going to fry, fry, fry. . . .” sang Gil McFarland, screwing up his face and bending his lanky frame in her direction.

“All right, you’re out of here.” Frank took Gil by the arm and propelled him out the door. “You too, Crystal.”

“You’ve not heard the last of this,” Crystal spat out, marching out of the room, joining her husband.

“We can hope,” Star yelled after her.

The guard stood for a moment as if waiting for someone to tell him what to do. “I just got here an hour ago,” he said. “They must have been watching for me to take a break.”

“I’m sure,” said Frank.

The guard took up his post at the door and Frank turned to Star. “What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“They started it. Crystal’s mouth’s worse than mine.”

“One of the nurses said something very wise to me about behaving according to your own principles and not someone else’s. Think about the kind of person you want to be when you open your mouth,” said Diane.

“You’re not my mother.”

“Star!” said Frank. “Diane’s gone to a lot of trouble on your behalf. You can treat her with some respect.”

The way Star sat back on her pillows, her lips in a pout, hair mussed, and tied to the bed, she looked like she should be expecting an exorcist to arrive any minute.

“Don’t you get it? Nothing’s going to do any good. Nothing. If I go to prison, at least I’ll have a place to live.”

“Star, you have a place to live.”

“Where? In that house by myself? I never want to set foot in it.”

“With me—and Kevin when he’s with me. You have a home. When this is over, you’re going back to school and graduate and you can decide if you’d like to go to college. I’m going to get your life back for you. I need your cooperation.”

Star stared at him for a long time. “You mean you’d let me live with you?”

“Of course. We’ve known each other for a long time. Your father was my best friend. You’re like my niece—my daughter. Now, can you calm down a little?”

“Did you see his face when I called him a no-butt moron?”

“Star.”

“Oka-ay.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’d feel better if I weren’t tied to the bed. I’d like to get up and walk around. I get dizzy every time I get up.”

“I’ve talked to the detectives in charge, and they consider you a flight risk. I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”

“Did you tell them my arms are much too tired to attempt flight?”

“Didn’t think of that. Star, when you’re feeling better, I want to talk to you about getting counseling, and getting off drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs.” Frank looked at her. “I don’t. I smoke marijuana sometimes, that’s all.”

“Marijuana’s a drug.”

“No, it’s not, not like cocaine or ecstasy. It’s just a smoke. Did you know they used to call marijuana Mary Jane? I learned that in school.”

“It destroys your brain cells. Did they teach you that?”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“We’ll just have to stop smoking.”

The nurse came in holding some papers. “They said you’d come down to visit Miss Boone,” she said to Diane. “I have your release papers. If you come with me, I’ll get a wheelchair and you can go home. Do you have someone to drive you?”

“I have my car here,” she said.

Both Frank and Star stared at Diane.

“What’s she talking about?” asked Frank.

“I stayed in the hospital last night. Someone mugged me outside my apartment. I’m fine, just a few bruises.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m going home right now. I’ve got to call Jonas and tell him I’ll be late.”

“You’ll be staying home and resting,” said the nurse. “That’s what the doctor ordered.”

“I’ll drive you home,” said Frank.

“No. I’m fine, really. Stay here with Star. I’ll talk to you later.” Diane started to follow the nurse out.

“I’ll come by your apartment in a few minutes,” said Frank.

When she was almost out the door, Diane thought she heard Star say she was sorry.

Diane managed to get home, but the steps up to her apartment were uncomfortable and she longed for an elevator. Inside, she locked and chained the door, took a pain pill, changed clothes and made herself comfortable on the sofa. She looked up Jonas’ home phone number and dialed. After several rings, the answering machine picked up. She hung up without leaving a message. Next she dialed his cell phone.

“Briggs, here.”

“Jonas, this is Diane. I’m going to be late getting to the site today, so you’re in charge.”

“That’s fine. We’re getting started now. You sound a little weak. Are you feeling all right?”

Diane went into the explanation of what happened to her last evening, trying her best to downplay the event.

“Are you sure you need to come out at all? Shouldn’t you just stay home and rest?”

“I’m OK, really. A few bruises here and there.”

“If they kept you all night at the hospital, you got more than a few bruises.”

“The bruises were on a kidney. But it’s fine.”

“Oh, is that all? A major organ. I think that calls for bed rest. We can manage. We have your excavation plan and we’re all experienced.”

“I know you are. How did things go last night at the Abercrombies’? No one came after you with a knife in your sleep, I hope.”

“What? No. Were they supposed to?” Diane laughed and it hurt. “They were great. Hospitable folk. Mrs. Abercrombie makes a great pot roast and pecan pie. Luther’s pretty indignant that someone’s dumped a body on his land, but his wife enjoys the excitement.”

“I’ll be by my phone if you need anything,” she said.

“Does that mean you’re going to stay home and rest?”

“For the morning, anyway. Then I’ll see.”

After talking to Jonas, Diane called Andie at the museum and had to tell the whole story over again.

“You’re kidding? Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come down to the hospital. I’ll bet you didn’t have any pajamas and had to wear that awful gown with the back out.”

“That’s true, I could have used a nightgown, but I slept all night and was released this morning, so I didn’t need much in the way of clothes.”

“Everything’s running smoothly here. The herpetologist is installing his friends today.”

“I hope I didn’t make a mistake by telling him he could exhibit a few live snakes and lizards.”

“He did say they would all be small, and nothing poisonous.” Andie seemed to be asking as well as repeating what the herpetologist said.

“He gave me a list and I approved it,” said Diane. “We’ll have to make sure he didn’t include anything we can’t live with.”

“I can handle anything that comes up, so you stay home and rest today.”

Diane was beginning to think her presence wasn’t needed anywhere. “I may drop in later on today. I’ll see how I feel.”

“If anything comes up, I can call or E-mail you. Stay home. You’ll thank me tomorrow. Oh, you did get a letter from Dr. Ranjan Patel—same guy that sent the fax. It’s another copy of the same document—much more readable.”

“Thanks. Put it on my desk. Anything else?”

“Yeah, Jonas called with a message. ‘Bishop to queen three.’ He made me write it down and read it back to him. Is that some kind of code?”

“No. We’re playing a game of chess.”

“Oh. I wondered.”

“That’s it, then?”

“Just the usual stuff. Nothing earthshaking. We’re getting a lot of people calling about the museum opening. A reporter called wanting to know if we’re going to move the museum after we just renovated it.”

“What did you tell him?”

“No.”

“Good girl. Keep in touch.”

When Diane hung up the phone she stretched out on the couch and pulled a throw over her. As she drifted off to sleep, she remembered she hadn’t told Frank about food allergies—another long shot, but sometimes they pay off.

She was awakened out of a dream she didn’t want to end by a knocking on the door. She was running through the jungle, Ariel in her arms.

Frank,
she thought, stumbling to the door. She released the chain and opened it.

Chapter 29

Melissa stood in the doorway, the scowl on her face made darker by the shadows cast from the dim hallway lights.

“You’ve ruined my life. Who are you to interfere in my life? No one asked you. I hardly know you.”

“Melissa? What . . . ?” Diane thought of the visit from Lacy and Emily. “Come in.”

Melissa marched in, sweeping past Diane so abruptly she almost knocked her over.

“Where do you get off telling people that Alix is beating me up?”

“I didn’t tell people that.”

“You did. Laura’s a busybody, but she’s not a liar.”

“No, she isn’t, and I doubt she told you that I said Alix was beating you up, because what I told her was that it had been reported to me that she was hitting you and making the bruises. I told her I didn’t know if it was true.”

“It isn’t true. Alix and I are friends. Who are you to interfere in my life anyway? What business is it of yours?”

“I was ready to consider firing Mike Seger because I thought he was abusing you and bringing it to the museum. That made it my business.”

“Nobody’s abusing me. You’ve got my parents all worked up over nothing. I’m very active and I get bruises.”

“Fine. That’s all you have to say to Laura. I have to wonder at the level of your anger and why you came to my house. That belies your protest that the story isn’t true.” Diane felt unsteady on her feet, so she went back to the sofa and sat down.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk?” asked Melissa.

Diane looked at Melissa for a moment, her angry flushed face, her clenched fists. “No, I was mugged last night in front of the apartment. I just got home from the hospital.”

“Oh. Well, I want you to stay out of my business.”

No
Oh, I’m sorry. How are you?
Diane was seeing a new Melissa, a very self-centered one.

“Don’t bring your personal business to the museum,” Diane said.

“I won’t. Alix is really hurt. I wish we’d just let whatever was going on happen to you.”

“What does that mean?”

But Melissa turned and left, almost running into Frank on her way out.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“It’s too odd and convoluted to explain. How’s Star?”

“Feeling a little contrite, which is unusual for her. She really is sorry she snapped at you.”

“She’s right, I’m not her mother.” But it had stung, Diane had to admit. Shakespeare knew what he was talking about—“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth, it is to have a thankless child.”

“You were someone being kind. She needs to respect that. How are you? Tell me about last night. Why didn’t you call?”

“You’ve had enough to worry about. And I can take care of myself.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Just what I said—and I don’t want to be dependent.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Diane gave him a blow-by-blow of the event, along with what she remembered of the attacker’s description. “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t believe it was a random mugging. When he ran, it was down the street and up another street. I think he didn’t want his car to be seen on this street, and he wasn’t looking for just anyone to mug—I think he was looking for me.”

“Because of the bones?”

“That would be my guess. It’s been on TV. I think whoever it is, is in a panic.”

“Hurting you won’t stop the bones from being found—they’re already found.”

“No. But what if the person thinks that I’m the impetus for connecting the bones with the Boone murders? What if he thinks that if I’m put out of commission, no one else will follow through? The police aren’t interested. They want it to be Star. Perhaps he thinks with me out of the way, the digging will stop.”

“There’s me,” said Frank.

“Yes. There’s you. I don’t know. Maybe they had plans for you too. Maybe I’m wrong and it was a random mugging. Or maybe it was someone who wants me to just leave so the museum can be sold.”

“Would Grayson go that far?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t want to go to jail. I think he’s a shark, not a maniac.” Diane looked at her watch. “I’m going to go to the site and to the museum.”

“You’re going to do no such thing. If I heard right, you require bed rest.”

“That’s what people keep saying, but I’m just fine and I’ve been resting all morning.” She looked over at the bags sitting on her coffee table. “What have you got there?”

“I figured you’d need some lunch and you probably wouldn’t fix any yourself, so I stopped by a restaurant. How does potato soup and a salad sound?”

“Actually, it sounds good. You brought yourself something, didn’t you?”

BOOK: One Grave Too Many

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