Dead Hunt Part 6

"Sure," said Jin. His dark eyes sparkled. "Now that I've had my coffee, I'll get back to the Dark Side."

"Ask Kendel to come to the conservation lab," said Diane. "She should be in my office or hers."

Neva nodded. "We'll check the photographs against the NSAF and see if anything turns up." She and Jin left, hauling David's camera equipment with them.

"You guys can take a break," Korey said to his staff of conservators. They took off their gloves and walked together out of the lab, leaving their work on the table. "Take a long break," Korey called after them.

"We'll order a pizza," said one of the guys.

"You know," said Korey, "Kendel would know better than this. She would have been nuts to try..." He put a hand on the back of his dreadlocks. "Actually I'm not sure what was done. What's the point of this? If Kendel was involved in an attempt at deception, she would have forged the doc.u.ments. She knows our procedures. She knows the items would be checked against the doc.u.ments."

"We know that," said Diane. "But I'm afraid the authorities might not stop to look at the finer points. They could just see Kendel's name on the purchase order and think she was trying to launder stolen antiquities with real doc.u.ments."

"I hear you there. They can be awfully dense sometimes."

Korey was still p.i.s.sed about the time he was interrogated by the police as a suspect for no other reason than that he was an African American male with dreadlocks.

"How did it go with the board?" he asked. "Scuttleb.u.t.t says you ripped them a new one. What's going on with the board, anyway? Is it the new guys?"

"One new member is unaccustomed to the way we do things," said Diane. "But I'm afraid my ripping them a new one is an exaggeration. They all got just a little nervous after reading the items in the paper and hearing the news broadcast."

"Well, I don't blame them there. It was kind of bad," said Korey. He shrugged and turned toward the artifacts. "Too bad we can't keep these. They're really nice pieces."

"They are. But now they don't have a pedigree. I wonder who's doing this? Who tipped the newspaper and who-" Diane stopped when she heard the door open.

Kendel came in. She looked better. She had reapplied her makeup and was wearing a smile. David was good at cheering people up when he tried. One wouldn't think he had that talent, as paranoid and pessimistic as his personality was.

"Neva said you wanted to see me," she said.

Diane nodded.

"I'll be in my office," said Korey. He walked up to Kendel and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hang in there."

She placed a hand over his. "Thanks, Korey. I really appreciate all of you guys."

"I just want to get on your good side for the next time I need to requisition something," he said, then smiled at her and walked on to his office beyond.

"David's a sweetheart," said Kendel. "He got me to remember more than I thought I could about my visits to Golden Antiquities."

"David's good at that," said Diane.

"I've been thinking about this," said Kendel. "There's simply no way I could have made a mistake. I know how to verify provenances. For heaven's sake, I've seen all these on display at the Pearle..."

As she spoke her gaze rested on the table of artifacts and her eyes grew wide.

Chapter 11.

Kendel stood for a long moment staring at the artifacts on the table, then at the sphinx in the crate. She shook her head, frowning.

"These aren't the artifacts I purchased."

She examined each piece. "There's a pa.s.sing similarity, but that's all. These are all different dynasties." She looked up at Diane. "I was so excited when I found out that the Pearle Museum had sold some of their pieces to Golden Antiquities-they were all twelfth dynasty. That's what we are building in the Egyptian room-Egyptian antiquities that match our mummy's twelfth-dynasty date." She looked over at Diane. "I've never seen these."

"Did you see anything like them at Golden Antiquities?" asked Diane.

"No, nothing." Kendel noticed the doc.u.mentation lying on the opposite table. She leafed through the pages and photographs. "These are the correct provenances for the items I bought. These are the doc.u.ments I verified. Do you think they just sent the wrong items?"

"Maybe," said Diane. "I suppose someone could have just ...what? Read only part of the tag on an object and decided that was the one. But all six?" She shook her head. "We'll certainly follow up with Golden Antiquities to verify that there was no accidental mix-up. But it looks like someone made an effort to subst.i.tute items similar to the doc.u.mentation."

"You're right," said Kendel. "This is very deliberate."

"And we have to account for the person who called the newspaper in the first place," said Diane. "How did they know something was amiss in the unopened crates?"

Kendel turned to face Diane. "What's this about? Why did someone go to this much trouble?"

"I don't know. But we'll find out," said Diane.

"Have you been contacted by the FBI?" Kendel asked. She fingered the pages, looking again at the photographs and back at the artifacts as if she could will them to change into the right thing.

"No, but I expect to be. I think you need to prepare yourself for that," said Diane.

Kendel nodded. "Talking to David helped a lot. He calmed me down considerably."

"He's good at that." Diane looked at her watch. Ross Kingsley had probably gotten tired of waiting and left. No, he wouldn't have left but probably was tired of waiting, she thought. "Kendel, I have to go talk with someone." She held out her hand, motioning Kendel to follow.

Kendel looked blank for a moment, lost in thought. "I suppose I need to go too."

"Just so you can say you were never alone with the artifacts after they arrived. It probably won't matter, but it might," said Diane.

Kendel looked at Diane with wide eyes, suddenly unsure again. "Surely they will believe that I didn't have anything to do with this. The provenances are always reverified after they arrive-verified by someone other than me," said Kendel.

"I will explain our procedures in detail," said Diane.

She walked with Kendel, stopping at Korey's office. The office was mostly gla.s.s. He saw them coming and came out to meet them.

"Korey, would you repack the artifacts?" Diane asked.

"Sure thing, Dr. F," he said. "I'll do it myself. Andie called up here looking for you. Something about some guy from the FBI."

Kendel sucked in her breath. "Oh, no. I'm not ready for this."

Diane put a hand on her arm. "There's another person from the FBI here for a different reason entirely. I imagine it was he, wondering if I'd gotten lost somewhere among the displays. Why don't you go to your office and relax. Or spend some time meditating among the collections. I find them calming."

"That's a good idea," said Korey. "Let Dr. F figure this out. That's what the Dark Side does."

Diane found Ross Kingsley on the terrace drinking coffee and watching the swans on the pond. The early spring weather was still cool. There were buds on the trees but none had blossomed yet. Diane saw a couple of runners in the distance on the nature trail just before they disappeared around a bend.

"I'm sorry," said Diane taking a seat. "There's a lot going on."

He rose as she sat down and smiled. "So I've been reading." He pointed to a newspaper lying on the table. He set his cup down and turned his chair around to face her. "I've enjoyed your museum. I don't get much time for things like this. It was very relaxing."

"It is-most of the time," said Diane. A waitress came out of the restaurant and Diane ordered a cup of hot tea.

"Mike Seeger gave me a most interesting tour," he said, a knowing glint in his eye. "He's obviously taken with you."

Diane shook her head. "He just gives that impression."

Kingsley laughed. "I won't even pretend to know what that means." He took a sip of coffee. "I've been dying to know what in the world Clymene wanted with you. You said she was afraid that one of her guards had married someone like her? Was that an admission of guilt on her part?"

Diane shook her head.

The waitress came out with a small teapot and a cup. She poured Diane's tea and left them.

"Clymene didn't actually admit to anything, but it was my impression that she didn't care if I thought she was guilty."

Diane gave Kingsley an account of the visit. When she finished, he sat back in his chair in amazement.

"Of all the things I imagined she might want to talk with you about, I confess, that didn't cross my mind. Do you think there is anything in it? She said what- you would think that she could recognize her own kind?"

"Yes. I think that is as close to an admission of her guilt as you are going to get," said Diane.

"Are you going to check on-what's her name?- Grace Noel, I suppose Grace Tully now?" he asked.

"No," said Diane. "You are."

"Oh?" he said, his cup halfway to his lips.

"Some things Grace Tully said made me think that maybe Clymene was right-like maybe her husband is trying to separate her from friends." Diane shrugged. "You are better equipped to determine if she has married a killer than I," said Diane.

The waitress came out and refilled Kingsley's coffee and gave Diane a fresh pot of tea.

"Can I get the two of you anything? Chocolate cake? Apple cobbler?"

"None for me, thanks," said Diane. Kingsley shook his head and the waitress left. "Sure. I'll be happy to speak with Mrs. Tully," said Kingsley.

"That was easy," said Diane.

"What you have told me is sufficiently disturbing to warrant a look. Maybe he simply wants a traditional household with a stay-at-home wife; he may be just a controlling guy-or a killer." He gave a short laugh before he took another sip of his coffee. "Amazing how much credibility we are giving to Clymene's judgment. Tell me what you think about her," said Kingsley, his eyes glittering. "I would like to know your impression. Did you find that you liked her?"

Diane squinted at Kingsley. Like her Like her. "I think she is very good at what she does," she said. "I didn't dislike her. I believe she's a killer. She knows I believe that, but..."

"But what?" Kingsley leaned forward, smiling.

"But that's it. I didn't dislike her. She won over Rev. Rivers, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't. You spoke with him?" Kingsley said.

"It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but an interesting conversation. He didn't seem to know he had been drawn in by her until we talked."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"He wanted to know the evidence presented in court against Clymene and I went over it with him. His general comments and att.i.tude were very subtly in defense of Clymene."

Kingsley's brow knitted together in a frown. "Did he believe the evidence?"

"Oh, yes. And he was visibly disappointed. I think he himself was surprised at how disappointed. The thing that is interesting to me is I think she knows not only what to say, but what not to say. That's-"

"Explain that." Kingsley leaned forward again. Diane had the impression that he wished he was taking notes or recording the conversation.

"I've spoken before with felons I've helped put in prison. Almost all of them have complained about what an injustice I've done them. And if they know anything about my background, they make some kind of jab about the death of my daughter. They've enjoyed twisting that knife.

"As you said," Diane continued, "Clymene is very low-key about proclaiming her innocence. With me, she made a joke of it. She let me know early in the conversation that her lawyer had researched my background. But she never once even alluded to my tragedy-subconsciously I noticed that.

"According to Rev. Rivers, she didn't proclaim her innocence to him either. With him she was simply helpful. She helped other prisoners in his cla.s.ses. She didn't proclaim that she had found religion, which, as you know, is common. She listened to what Rivers had to say. That won him over and that is her special gift. Her methods are subtle and their effect is often subconscious. And that is why I think she's dangerous and why I think she has killed other husbands-she is so very accomplished."

Kingsley sat nodding as she spoke. When Diane stopped he was quiet for a long while.

"Interesting a.n.a.lysis," he said. "And I agree with it. It's hard to explain those subtleties to a jury. It's lucky you found that cotton ball filled with all that evidence." He relaxed, sitting back in his chair. "You know, I had to study hard to become a profiler-I still have to take workshops to keep up on the latest information. But Clymene is a natural."

"I believe you're right," said Diane. "I'm still just a little unsettled about what she wanted to speak with me about. You know, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"You want me to give the DA a report on your visit with Clymene?" said Kingsley.

Diane eyed him suspiciously. "That would be good. I really don't have the time," said Diane. "Thank you. Talking to Grace, profiling her husband, talking to the DA. I don't know what to think. What should I think?" Diane stared at him.

Kingsley blushed under her steady gaze and grinned. "Actually I have a favor to ask."

"Favor? Does it have anywhere near the value of speaking to the DA and Grace for me?" asked Diane.

"No. I definitely will have to sweeten the pot," he said.

Chapter 12.

"This sounds like something I would want to say no to," said Diane. She had pushed her teacup away and sat with her forearms resting on the table, scrutinizing Kingsley. She was envious of Clymene's ability to size people up so quickly that it seemed as if she was reading their minds.

"You will say no at first. I know that because I'm a profiler." He grinned.