Beverly Connor - Dead Past

Garnett pulled up a chair and sat down. Several seconds ticked by before he said anything. Diane noted that he looked more rested than she felt.

“The GBI’s going to be investigating Councilman Adler and the meth lab business,” said Garnett. “He’s in a frenzy, hollering about scurrilous politically motivated accusations. But at least he has something to keep him busy for a while.”

“Have you identified the face from the first basement victim?” asked Diane.

Garnett nodded. “One of our former drug unit detectives recognized him as Albert Collier. He was collared many times for drug possession, dealing, using. He was also a former student at Bartram. We’re talking to his associates, trying to discover who the second person in the basement might have been. I’m hoping we can tie the whole thing to Adler and get rid of the son of a bitch once and for all.”

“How is the commissioner taking all this?” asked Diane. She thought of him in his long black fur-trimmed overcoat, standing out in the snow, trying to make decisions that would appease everyone.

“I told him that if he visits the museum, he should wear sackcloth and ashes and crawl up the steps. Right now he’s worried about the fallout affecting his chances of reelection.

It certainly affected my vote, thought Diane. “About the murders,” she said-lest the human cost of all this get lost in the politics. “I think the motive may be revenge for the student deaths.”

“Murders? You including Blake Stanton?” asked Garnett. “We’re thinking now that he wasn’t involved in the meth lab. Just an innocent bystander like the rest of the students. The university has had some rare books taken from the library, and several departments have reported money missing from petty cash amounting to quite a bit. What they all had in common was Stanton. That’s what he was involved in. Why do you still think the same person that killed McNair killed him?”

“We all assumed that because he tried to hijack my car while fleeing from the fire, he was involved with the meth lab. His killer may have made the same assumption. At the time of Stanton’s murder, we weren’t aware of his role in the museum thefts. Perhaps neither was the killer. By the time we discovered what were perhaps his true crimes, the deed was done, he was already dead.”

“How have you come to the conclusion that it was revenge-motivated?”

“By seeing how profoundly everyone who was touched by this tragedy has been affected. One mother tried to commit suicide, all are devastated. It’s easy to see how someone could hold a great desire-perhaps an overwhelming desire-to make the guilty pay. Among many there is a great need for justice. And among a few there may be a righteous outrage growing from the perception that justice may not be served and the guilty could go unpunished for a horrendous crime.”

Garnett sighed and bent his head, staring at the slate floor between his feet. “You’re talking about a vigilante. I can’t say I haven’t had the same suspicions. I don’t like it. I would hate having to arrest someone for doing something that in the right circumstances I might do myself,” said Garnett.

“I know,” said Diane. “I have similar feelings. That’s why I’ve decided to simply collect evidence and turn it over to you. But there’s one thing to remember. If I’m right and someone’s desire to bring vengeance on the guilty was the motive, they were wrong with Blake Stanton. He was probably innocent of those deaths. He was simply a thief.”

“Yeah, I’d thought of that, too,” said Garnett.

“I’m reconstructing the skull of the second basement victim with the bones we got from the warehouse. I’ll let you know when I have a face.”

Garnett nodded. “I’ve been so caught up in sticking it to Adler, that I’ve”-he stood up and shrugged-“I need to get back to work. I’ll keep you informed.”

Diane started to ask him not to, but she didn’t. After he left, she went to the crime lab to check on things there. Only David was in.

“How did things go last night? Did any of you get any sleep?” asked Diane. From the bags under his eyes, she thought not.

“No,” he answered. “Neva followed Jin home this morning. She said she was going to make him get some rest.”

“How was he last night?”

“Good. He seems OK. He’s pissed that someone stole his cigarette butts. He’s convinced they would have broken the case,” said David.

“I think the perp was convinced also.”

David nodded and yawned.

“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?” said Diane.

“You didn’t get any sleep. I saw the reconstruction you were doing in your lab last night.”

“Actually, I did get a few hours. I stayed the night in my museum office. Nice and comfy. Why don’t I take you down to the restaurant for breakfast and send you home?”

“That sounds great. Yeah, I can get behind that idea. By the way, I put some more bones in your lab. We concentrated on retrieving bones last night because we thought that would yield the best results,” said David. “Early this morning Garnett told us that the GBI will be handling the evidence from here on out. So, our plan worked out well. I’m glad to hand it over to them. I wasn’t looking forward to going through all the junk.”

“I’m glad they are involved, too,” she agreed. “I’ll work on the skull today. I have a feeling that Jin is going to get his DNA lab.”

“There’s something he wants to know but is afraid to ask,” said David.

“What’s that?” asked Diane.

“Does he still get the lab if the police are the ones to break the case?”

“They’ll probably break it on our evidence, so yes,” said Diane.

“You’ve already decided on a lab haven’t you?” said David.

“If you tell Jin, I’ll transfer you to taking care of the dermestid beetle colony for the rest of your life.”

“He won’t hear anything from me,” said David.

Diane treated herself and David to a big breakfast in the restaurant. She wished her personal choices weren’t always centered between either food or sleep lately. And she hadn’t even had a run in the past week and a half. Maybe this evening.

After breakfast she sent David home, and she went back to the museum office to call Juliet’s grandmother.

Diane dialed the number that Laura had given her. After seven rings, an older woman answered.

“Who is this? I don’t know anyone at a museum.”

Mrs. Torkel obviously had caller ID. Diane started to speak, but Ruby Torkel started again before she could get a word out.

“Unless it’s Juliet. Is that you, Juliet? What are you doing calling me from work? Does your boss know you’re calling me from there?”

Diane smiled. “Mrs. Torkel, I’m Diane Fallon, the director of the RiverTrail Museum of Natural History.”

“Well, what are you doing calling me?”

Good question, thought Diane. How am I going to approach this?

“I’m also the director of the crime lab in Rosewood… ”

“Crime lab? Juliet’s not in trouble is she? She’s not a bad girl,” Mrs. Torkel said, concern evident in her voice.

“No, Mrs. Torkel, Juliet is not in trouble,” said Diane. “I’m helping to find out what happened to her in 1987.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment.

“She got snatched, that’s what happened.”

“She was a child and it was a great trauma for her. She is very frightened by what little she remembers.”

“It’s best not to remember,” said Mrs. Torkel.

“Her fears are very real. She wants to know what happened so she can get rid of those fears once and for all. What she does remember is blurred and fragmented.”