Beverly Connor - Dust to Dust

“Is her article a problem for you?” she asked.

“No, not really. But I don’t understand why she said some of the things she did,” he said.

“The reporter added a lot of her own thoughts about comparison of the two murders,” said Diane.

“That explains a lot.” Kingsley steepled his hands. “Actually, it might shake up things enough to cause the killer to react,” he said.

“Shaking things up is what the reporter said she was trying to do. I’m not sure I approve of the shaker method of finding the truth,” said Diane.

Kingsley gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “You’re probably right. But you never know.”

“The article made the Gainesville police look bad. That’s not a good thing,” said Diane. “Maybe they did miss the boat, but they were kind of broadsided on this.”

“Not really,” said Kingsley. “Dance has been calling them every other day trying to get the case reopened.They should have known something might be coming their way.”

“I’ve noticed you have a lot less sympathy with the authorities now that you’ve made a career change,” she said.

“I guess I’ve been seeing a little more of the other side,” he said. He put the tips of his fingers in the fountain on her desk. “Nice. I like the way you did the rocks.” He took his fingers out and patted them on his jacket. “Did Frank say he could decipher the diary?” he asked.

Diane nodded. “Frank said it should be fairly straightforward. He may have even used the word fun .”

“I’ve never quite understood how deciphering works,” said Kingsley.

“It helps that there’s always a pattern,” said Diane. “Seriously, what did your employers say when they saw the newspaper?” she asked.

“They were sorry they weren’t mentioned by name,” he said, and gave her a rather lame smile. “What can I say? It’s about business. However bad the article looked to the police, to my bosses it showed the effectiveness of their firm-and the speed with which we can determine the truth.”

“Is that what we did, determine the truth?” said Diane.

“Part of it. Didn’t we? The rest is up to the Gainesville police now. They will be wanting the evidence you collected. I’m going to suggest they send someone over here to sign for it. My bosses wanted to personally deliver it to the Gainesville PD, but I told them we need to have a simpler chain of custody from one official agency to another, and they agreed.”

“All right. Jin is working on the analysis. I’ll find out when he expects to finish. We’ll hand over the evidence and the analysis. I suppose Mr. Dance is satisfied. Have you spoken with him?”

“Yes. He’s very pleased that we have cleared his daughter’s name. He’s not happy that we have to turn the evidence over to the Gainesville police. He doesn’t trust them. I told him the news media will be keeping an eye on them. He said it shouldn’t have come to that; they should have done the job right the first time.”

“I agree,” said Diane. “However, things are how they are.” She stood up. “I need to give some instructions to David and meet with a few of my curators, so I’m going to run you off.”

Kingsley stood up. “I understand. If I stay much longer, I don’t think you could get me out of that chair. You have a very comfortable office. Though I find the photograph of you hanging over that chasm a little disturbing every time I look at it.”

Diane smiled. “A lot of people do.” She said it as if it were a strange thought. Diane loved caving and she particularly liked vertical-entry caves. There was something quite exciting about repelling down an open chasm.

She walked out with him on her way to the crime lab. “Are you going to just let the police reinterview Stacy’s band members?” asked Diane as they walked down the hall to the lobby.

“I think they’ll do a better job. I’m sure they’re scarier than I am,” he said.

Diane started to leave him to go to her appointments, when she spotted three women at the information booth. She knew them. So did Kingsley.

“Well, hell,” they both whispered together.

Diane stood looking at Kathy Nicholson, Wendy Walters, and Marsha Carruthers as they turned in her direction. It was obvious they were being directed to Diane’s office. The three of them spotted her and Kingsley. For a moment, Diane had the urge to run and hide behind the mammoth in the Pleistocene room.

Their faces ranged from grim to angry. As the three women approached, Diane wondered which office would be better for whatever was about to happen: her osteology office in her forensic anthropology lab with its cold, spartan decor, or her more comfortable museum office with its Zen-like qualities. She opted for Zen-like. That office was closer.

Marsha Carruthers looked much as she had when they interviewed her. She wore another dark dress. This one was gray with black buttons and a white collar and cuffs.

“I’m glad both of you are here,” Marsha said. “We intend to speak with you.”

Diane supposed it was only fair, since she and Kingsley went to their homes intending to speak with them, and did.

“Very well. We can talk in my office,” said Diane.

She retraced her steps to her office, opening the doors to the administrative wing of the museum for her guests. She led them down the hall into Andie’s office, where she found Jonas Briggs waiting for her.

“I thought I would escort you to the staff meeting,” said Jonas. He smiled cheerfully, probably relieved that Marcella was doing so much better than the doctors had expected.

As Diane attended to Jonas, the three women waited impatiently. Kathy Nicholson spent the time scrutinizing Andie’s seating area, a room Diane thought would be good for entertaining Peter Rabbit’s mother, with its cottage-style overstuffed chairs and sofa. The room’s colors of pink, blue, and green, and the floral design, were repeated in a porcelain grandfather clock. A rag rug in matching colors sat underneath a dark cherry pie-crust coffee table. Kathy Nicholson’s gaze shifted from one item to the next, lingering on a crackled figure of a rabbit sitting on the coffee table beside magazines about museums.

The other two women simply stood, frowning and waiting. Diane didn’t introduce anyone. It didn’t seem appropriate and she didn’t think the three women would appreciate it.

“Change of plan,” said Diane. “Andie, you are taking my place at the meeting.”

Andie’s eyes grew wide. “What? Me?”

“You know the curators and the issues. You have the budgets. And you’ve been wanting to be more involved at a higher level,” said Diane.

“Yes, but, I mean, they are all college professors, and I’m, well, me,” she said.

“Ah,” said Jonas, putting an arm around her shoulder, “but you sit on the right hand of the queen herself. Just remember that. And also that underneath their clothes, those college professors all wear Underoos.”

Andie laughed.

“You’ll do fine,” said Diane. “They are all excited about the webcam project. If anyone gives you trouble, you can send them to me.”

“See there?” said Jonas. “That’ll put the fear of God into them.”

After Jonas and Andie left, Diane ushered her three visitors into her office. Kingsley helped Diane pull up enough chairs to her desk. Diane thought about taking them into her sitting room but decided she wanted her desk between herself and the women. Kingsley was on his own.

“I’m sorry, but I have to make a call first,” said Diane before anyone spoke. She walked behind her desk, sat down, and dialed David’s number. “We have permission for the research project,” she told him.