Beverly Connor - Dead Secret

“Turn in your schedule to security and they will escort you to your lab. But you will have to do it yourself; you can’t send a student.”

“What? What’s really going on?” asked the botany curator. Diane could see it was not going to be easy leaving them in the dark.

“This would be a perfect time to work on the velociraptors,” interrupted the paleontology curator, before Diane could answer. “We’ve been wanting to close down the dinosaur exhibit so we can work.”

“This might seem like a good time, but it is not. Now, everyone enjoy your long weekend.”

“Wait a minute,” said Botany. “I can’t come every four hours throughout the night.”

“Why?”

“Well, I just can’t. I’ll be asleep.”

“Who does it for you at night?”

“My graduate student. That’s what they’re for.” There was a ripple of laughter throughout the room.

“We have a critical and difficult system failing, and I have worked out the protocol for repairing it. I’ve tried to accommodate ongoing experiments. However, it will have to be you who takes care of your experiment. I don’t want a student doing it. You don’t have to understand my reasoning, just my instructions,” Diane said.

The botanist looked at her, stunned. “I suppose I can set a clock.”

“Good, before you leave today, I want to see your schedule at the front information desk in the lobby. If it’s not there, you won’t be allowed in.”

“This is ridiculous. I’ve never been treated this way in my life.”

“I’m sorry, really. But I need cooperation. When I don’t get it, I have to enforce it. This is just one weekend. If we get repairs done earlier than expected, I’ll call you and you can arrange for your student to do the work.”

“Very well, since I have no choice.”

This was a different botanist than the one she started with. When she had made the arrangements with the university, the departments were unwilling to send faculty to what they considered basically an unpaid position, and ended up sending the newest-hired or their retired faculty. When it was discovered what kind of lab space she was offering, some departments pulled rank and gave the part-time job to tenured professors. This was one of them. If she was lucky, he’d change his mind about the appointment and she’d get back her original curator. Diane stepped down, even though she was flooded with questions from the curators.

When people left today, the museum would be virtually empty, and a search would be conducted for any devices that might be waiting to burn the museum. The possibility of those devices anywhere on the premises chilled her and made her face hot with anger.

“Look, if it’s the air-conditioning, I’ve worked in heat before,” said the paleontologist. “I’ve excavated in the desert, for heaven’s sake.”

“It’s something more she’s not telling us,” said Botany.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Jonas Briggs. “Let’s not start treating this like the university. If Diane says she has an environmental problem that needs fixing, then let’s take her word and not cause problems.”

“It’s just that I don’t understand why I have to be escorted to my own research lab.”

“Is it going to alter the outcome of your research if you are escorted to the lab to attend to it?” asked Diane.

“No, of course not.”

“Then I don’t see your problem. This is the way it’s going to be.” She paused a moment. “What do you need to do for the experiments? If it’s simply recording observations or readings, I can do it. If we’re lucky, your graduate student can take it up on Sunday.”

“Yes, that will work. Yes. I’ll go write out the instructions and leave them at the information desk.”

Diane left them calling after her and started for her crime lab office to call Garnett. For several days something had been nagging at the back of her mind, something she had forgotten. She rubbed her eyes. It’ll come to the surface eventually, she thought. She started up the stairs.

“Diane.” It was Jonas Briggs. “I think it’s obvious to everyone that something is going on. I won’t ask you what, but do you need help?”

“Thank you, Jonas. But I have help coming.”

“You look tired, and if I may say, that is just a terrible haircut.”

Diane laughed and ran her fingers through the sides of her hair where Jin had cut samples. She’d forgotten about that.

“Good, I made you laugh. For some women that would have made them cry,” said Jonas.

Diane laughed again at the thought of what she must have looked like up there talking to the curators.

“I have another suggestion,” said Jonas.

“Shoot,” said Diane.

“If it wouldn’t offend your sensibilities, I could hint that we may have a serious pest infestation that has gotten out of control and you’ll be using some highly toxic chemicals to rid the museum of them. If I can start some gossip in that direction, maybe that will keep their minds occupied. We all know when those pesky dermestids get out, they can reek havoc in a museum,” said Jonas.

Diane nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll tell you what’s really going on when it’s over,” she said. “Have a good vacation. I’ll see you next week.”

Diane left Jonas at the foot of the stairwell and climbed up to the third floor. She met David in the crime lab.

“Have you heard from Jin?”

“He’s in the GBI lab in Atlanta. They’re replicating, reproducing or whatever it is they do with DNA.”

“That’s a relief. You told him about the possible danger?”

“Yes. He’ll be careful. He’s going to be staying the night in Atlanta anyway.”

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I told Garnett about your suspicions of Emery. He was skeptical, but he’s bringing his men to search the building tonight.” David paused and put a hand on Diane’s shoulder. “We are going to figure all this out,” he said. “We know a lot. We’ve just got to put it together the right way.”

“I know.” Diane put her hand over his. “I just feel like I’ve forgotten something. You know that feeling?”

“Yeah, I have it too. Something’s nagging at me and I can’t remember what it was. It’s like an idea that passes through your head too quickly to grasp and aggravates your synapses.”

She heard the phone ringing, and Neva answered it. She’d sent the receptionists home and put the museum guards on the crime lab. She trusted her handpicked museum guards more than the crime lab guards that Rosewood hired. And she wanted the museum searched and empty by the time Lane Emery’s men arrived the following evening. She fully expected either Emory or the two kidnappers to try and steal evidence from the crime lab.

“Diane, it’s Sheriff Burns,” Neva called out. “He has some information on Flora Martin.”

Diane settled in her chair and picked up the phone.

“Sheriff Burns? What have you got?”

“First off, I’ve talked to all my people. Nobody’s given out any information, general or otherwise, about the cases. I went to see Deputy Singer. He’s covered in this rash. Your guy said it was urti something.”

“Urticaria,” said Diane.

“That’s it.” The sheriff laughed. “I shouldn’t laugh at the poor fellow, but it’s some kind of strange justice. Singer likes to scare the ladies by putting bugs on their desk and such. Anyhow, he knows nothing that’s been going on, and he can’t talk about anything but himself at the moment.”

“I’m sorry he’s so miserable,” said Diane. But she agreed with the sheriff: It looked like karmic justice had bitten him in the ass.

“But the reason I called,” said Sheriff Burns, “is that I’ve been investigating Flora Martin’s murder. Finding out her great-grandson was Donnie Martin, another victim, has been a big help. I talked to Donnie’s girlfriend. Up until about a week ago, he’d been in prison for the past three years. Been in some kind of trouble all his life-burglary, bar fights, you name it. His one virtue was that he loved his great-grandma. She visited him every visiting day, and when he got out, he was going to live with her.”