Dead Hunt Part 12

said Frank.

"That's where we purchased our casts of the Jura.s.sic dinosaurs," said Diane. "They sent staff from their museum to help us put them together."

"Ah, yes. I remember now," he said. "Go on. You were telling me why artifacts can't be laundered in your museum."

"In large museums like the Bickford it might be easier to integrate looted artifacts into the stored ones-especially with turnovers in directorship. In fact, their current director is leaving. Here at RiverTrail what you see is basically what we have. I know all of our holdings, and everything comes through me.

For Kendel to be laundering artifacts, she'd have to enlist the staff who work at the loading dock, the provenance researchers . . . or me. It doesn't make sense that she is involved in this."

"Could the loading dock staff or the researchers be in it with her?"

"Obviously not. They are the ones who discovered the discrepancies."

"But someone thinks you are involved?" said Frank.

"It looks that way. And whatever is going on is worth killing me for," said Diane.

Frank set down his cup, leaned over, and kissed Diane. Diane liked the taste of his lips and the smell of his aftershave. "He didn't kill you," he whispered close to her lips, "and he won't." He kissed her again before he sat back and reclaimed his coffee. "Whoever tipped off the press knew what was in the crates before they were opened," said Frank. "So the items were switched at... what's the name of the seller?"

"Golden Antiquities," said Diane.

"Either they were switched at Golden Antiquities before they left, or the crates were intercepted somewhere between Golden Antiquities and your museum." "I'm sure it was no coincidence that Golden Antiquities burned," said Diane.

"I agree," said Frank. "They are implicated in some way." He appeared to mull over Diane's answers for a moment; then he changed the subject. "RiverTrail doesn't seem like a small museum," he said. "One thing, the building is large. Another is we try to make the best use of what we have. Like with our Egyptian exhibit. All we really have is the mummy, its case, and a collection of amulets that were probably wrapped with him. It looks like a bigger exhibit because of the things we added to it, like the life-size reconstruction Neva did of the mummy sitting crosslegged in the middle of the room, the dioramas with models of Egyptian houses and pyramids, the computer three-D graphics of tombs and temples, the cubicles with computer tutorials on ancient Egypt. There's a lot to look at, but not a huge collection of antiquities."

"Curious," said Frank. "Neither problem makes sense-the antiquities or your apartment."

"No, and that's why I need to get back to the museum and the crime lab. I need to know what my crew found," she said.

Frank stood and pulled Diane up with him. "It won't hurt you to wait a couple of hours. Take a nap.

You'll think better after you've rested-and eaten something. I'll bet you haven't eaten anything all day."

She hadn't, and until he mentioned it she didn't realize she was hungry. They went into the kitchen and Frank made bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. No one made BLTs like Frank-the bacon was always crisp, the lettuce always fresh, and the tomatoes always vine ripened.

"Don't you have to go to work?" asked Diane after her last bite.

"I'm looking through computer files on a fraud case.

I can do it here. Neva brought some of your clothes and girl stuff and put them in the guest room. Not that you have to stay in the guest room," he said, smiling. "But that's where I had closet s.p.a.ce. Go take a nap. Who knows, this thing may have resolved itself by the time you wake up."

Diane took a shower, the second within just a few hours. The guest bathroom had a large showerhead that made the water feel like rain. She stood under the warm water for a long time. When she was clean and dry she slipped on a nightshirt and lay on the down-filled mattress. Frank was right-what she needed was food and sleep. Things would be better when she awoke.

As Diane stirred awake, she heard the m.u.f.fled sound of Frank's telephone ringing in another part of the house. She got out of bed, dressed, and put on a minimal amount of makeup. Neva definitely deserved a bonus, she thought, looking in the mirror.

Frank was in the living room standing by the fireplace when she emerged. He kissed her cheek and took her hand-but didn't smile.

"Neva called," he said. "The marshals want to talk with you again. It was Clymene O'Riley's blood in your apartment."

Chapter 20.

Diane stood staring at Frank in disbelief, barely aware of how tightly he was holding her hands.

"It was Clymene's blood in my apartment?...

How?" she said.

"I don't know. But Garnett arranged for the mar shals to speak with you at the crime lab and not downtown," said Frank. "They're waiting for you." "Why the marshals? If Clymene died in Rosewood, jurisdiction now falls to Garnett," said Diane. "Garnett will be there. So will the district attorney.

I imagine the marshals are just tying up loose ends before they leave," said Frank. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

Tying up loose ends-like finding the body, she thought. She could just see the headline now: CRIME LAB DIRECTOR BROUGHT IN FOR QUESTIONING IN MYSTE.

RIOUS b.l.o.o.d.y DEATH. She shuddered at the thought and silently thanked Garnett for scheduling the meeting at the crime lab.

"Why is the DA going to be there, I wonder." said Diane.

Frank shook his head. "I have no idea. I wouldn't worry about it. However anyone wants to spin this, it still gets down to the fact that Clymene O'Riley was an escaped murderer who somehow got into your apartment in the middle of the night."

"Just as long as they don't think I invited her and we had a falling out," said Diane.

Frank shook his head. "That's a long stretch." He looked at his watch. "I'll drive you over. Neva said I should let you off at the loading dock at the side entrance to the museum. You are to go to Mike's office in geology first," said Frank. "And I would imagine avoid being seen if you can, though she didn't say."

"What? Did she say why I'm to be so mysterious?" Diane asked.

"No, but apparently it's important," said Frank. He grinned. "I have a pretty exciting job, but around you it pales by comparison."

He let her off at the museum side-door loading dock and extracted a promise for her to call as soon as she could. Diane thought there was just a little too much cloak-and-dagger about the whole thing. However, she slipped into the building, taking back staircases and service hallways to Mike Seeger's office in the geology lab.

Mike was the head curator for geology, one of Diane's caving partners, and a good friend. He also worked part-time for a company that searched for and collected extremophiles, organisms that live in the most extreme environments on earth. It wasn't just his knowledge of geology that made Mike valuable to the company, but his skill as a rock climber and a caver. He had recently returned from one of his expeditions. Mike was also Neva's boyfriend. He, Diane, Neva, Jin, and another friend frequently went caving together. Diane knocked on his door. He opened it immediately and Diane slipped in. He closed the door behind her.

"G.o.d, I love working here," he said with a broad grin. "There's always something adventurous going on." He gave her a quick hug and stepped back to look at her. "You okay, Doc? I haven't had a chance to talk with you since I got back."

"I'm muddling through business as usual," she said. Mike's office was crowded with crates of rocks- probably volcanic. Each trip, he brought back geologic samples for the museum. These were from his latest. Along the walls he'd hung huge posters of rock formations and caves from around the world. On a bookcase stuffed with geology books was a photograph of all of them at the entrance to a cave.

Mike had the body of a rock climber-lean, no fat between his skin and hard muscle. His boyish face was getting a slight weathered look from all his outdoor activity. He wore jeans and bright white Richard III Tshirt. He pulled up a chair for her and one for himself.

"What's this about, Mike?" asked Diane. He reached for some papers on his desk. "Neva said the DA told her and the others not to talk to you or show you the crime scene report." He grinned. "Of course he didn't tell her not to talk to me, nor did they tell me not to show you their notes."

That was Diane's team all right. On occasions like this you had to explain exactly all the things you didn't want them to do, or they would find a loophole in the instructions. She reached for the pages.

"My team can be very sneaky," she said.

"I'll say. They made the notes and gave them to me with instructions before they spoke with the district attorney. David said they would be warned off from talking to you once the DA had been informed. He was right."

A small laugh escaped Diane's lips. "David should write a book-a practical guide to paranoia."

"Jin wanted you to know that he hated calling Garnett," said Mike.

"He had to," said Diane. "He didn't have a choice once he identified the blood."

"Well, he's real b.u.mmed out about it," said Mike. "He kept muttering about how he gets this brand-new DNA lab and the first person he gets in trouble from it is you."

Diane shook her head and smiled. "He did the right thing."

She scanned the first page. The information was written in David's neat hand, listing what was found in her apartment. First was the blood. It was Clymene's. Jin had mapped the entire pool and took samples from Diane's clothes. All of it was Clymene's and it was all fresh blood, not stored blood. The blood trail led down the back stairs of Diane's apartment and out to Diane's car, where Clymene's blood was found in the trunk along with one of Diane's serrated kitchen knives. The knife had been washed clean with kerosene.

They had so far found no trace evidence that was helpful. The police were alerted by a call from a man using a cell phone who identified himself as a neighbor. However, all the neighbors said they heard nothing until the police arrived. And last: Diane's tox screen came back positive for a barbiturate-not a high dose, but enough to make her sleep well. No container was found with any barbiturate residue and there were no pills in her house.

She looked at the next page and sucked in her breath. It was the report on the crime scene in White County that Neva and Jin had worked the day before-the body was that of the Reverend William Rivers.

"Oh, no," Diane said aloud. "She killed him."

Diane read Neva's notes. Rivers was found in his garage next to his car. Blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. One blow. Nothing found at the scene. No unaccounted-for trace on his body. No sign that Clymene had killed him, but Diane believed she had- what kind of coincidence would it be for him to be murdered by someone else on the day Clymene escaped? One interesting item: Neva noted that his car had been vacuumed. The bag from his vacuum cleaner was missing.

Diane had forgotten about the White County crime scene in all the commotion. She just realized that Jin and Neva couldn't have gotten any sleep.

"Well," said Diane when she finished reading. "I suppose I'd better go face the music." She stood and handed Mike the pages. "Better burn these."

Mike laughed. "I'll eat them right after you leave." He stopped smiling. The perpetual crease between his eyebrows deepened. "Can I do anything?"

"What do you have in mind?" asked Diane, smiling at him.

"We could run away together. I know some wonderful exotic places." He grinned again.

Mike made a running joke about having a thing for Diane. She didn't believe it, or rather, she didn't believe it much. It was more of a friendly flirtation on his part. She never returned it and he never took it beyond talk, which she was glad of. She didn't want Neva hurt, nor did she want to lose Mike as a caving partner.

"The marshals would hunt us down-not to mention Neva and Frank," she said.

"Guess you're right, Doc." He walked with her the short distance to the door. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Mike. I know intrigue isn't in your job description," said Diane.

"Isn't it? I think it is." He opened the door.

"It should be, with everything that's going on," said Diane.

"I read today's paper," he said. "How is Kendel taking it?"

"Today's paper? There's something in it about the museum? d.a.m.n. Do you have one here?" she asked.

He retrieved a newspaper from the recycling bin and handed it to her. "I'm sorry, Doc. I shouldn't have mentioned it, with everything else on your shoulders."

"That's okay, Mike. I need to know."

She took the newspaper. It was the Atlanta JournalConst.i.tution Atlanta JournalConst.i.tution and she had made the headlines. and she had made the headlines.

LOOTED ARTIFACTS AT RIVERTRAIL MUSEUM: IS DIRECTOR BACKPEDALING?.

Diane scanned the article. It wasn't as bad as the one in the Rosewood paper, but it wasn't good either. Well, for now she'd settle for not as bad.

"Everything is going to be all right," said Diane as she went out the door. "I'll make it all right."

Chapter 21.

District Attorney Curtis Riddmann, Deputy Marshals Chad Merrick and Dylan Drew, and Chief of Detectives Douglas Garnett were sitting at the round table in the crime lab when Diane arrived. Her staff was nowhere to be seen. They were probably in the DNA lab in the bas.e.m.e.nt waiting, thought Diane. David was probably kicking himself for not thinking to bug the crime lab so they could hear what was going on. She smiled inwardly at the thought.

The crime lab wasn't cozy. With all the gla.s.sed-in rooms, white walls, and metal doors, it had a cold, icy look. Diane pulled out a chair across from them and sat down. She wore an off-white linen pantsuit with an ice blue blouse. She saw a blurred reflection of herself in the gla.s.s of a cubicle and thought she looked as cold and sterile as her lab-a thought that pleased her at the moment.

The four law enforcement officials sat looking somber. They were seated at the table close together so Diane would be across from all of them. None appeared to be speaking to the others.

The marshals were in jeans, navy T-shirts, and jackets today. DA Riddmann and Garnett were in suits- Garnett looking dapper as usual, and the DA trying hard to. DA Riddmann was not a man who wore suits well. His shoulders and chest were too thin, his hips too wide, and his legs too skinny. Riddmann did have a nice head of brown hair, but it tended to overwhelm his lean face.

I should probably have an attorney, she thought. But lawyering up is tricky when you have to consider publicity-it wouldn't be good for the crime lab or the museum. Right now headlines and potential headlines were running everything in her life. She had to figure out how to change that. she thought. But lawyering up is tricky when you have to consider publicity-it wouldn't be good for the crime lab or the museum. Right now headlines and potential headlines were running everything in her life. She had to figure out how to change that.

Diane had called David before she got to the museum and put him in charge of the crime lab while she was under suspicion. She hadn't liked the sound of those words coming out of her mouth-under suspicion. d.a.m.n. Well, that's what happens when you have a ton of someone else's blood all over your living room floor.

"Gentlemen," said Diane, "how can I help you?" Deputy Marshal Chad Merrick spoke first. "We were wondering if there is anything more you can tell us about your meeting with Clymene O'Riley." His smile actually did look friendly.

"No. I told you everything we talked about. It was a short meeting," said Diane. "I got no indication that she was planning an escape."

"Did you leave the prison immediately?" asked Deputy Marshal Dylan Drew.

"No. I went by to speak with the prison counselor, Reverend William Rivers," said Diane. Of course they knew that already.

"Why?" asked Drew.

"I wanted to hear what his opinion was on Clymene O'Riley. It was a strange story she was telling me," said Diane. "He's had more contact with her than anyone since she went to prison."

The marshals didn't even blink. But Diane noticed that the DA looked down at the table. Garnett's expression didn't change either.

"And what did he think?" asked Drew.