Dead Guilty (26 page)

Garnett
rose from behind his desk as Diane entered
his
office.
‘‘Diane.
Please
sit
down.’’
He
motioned
toward his conference table as he pulled out a chair
and sat down. Diane pulled up one of his chairs and
sat down opposite. He formed his hands into a steeple
and looked very uncomfortable.

‘‘Diane,
I
don’t
want
you
to
take
this
the
wrong
way.’’
‘‘Douglas, I pride myself in always taking things the
right way.’’
He was taken aback for a moment. He looked at
Diane
as
if
there
might
be
some
coded
message
in
what she said. Or perhaps it was her uncustomary use
of his first name. But he was making this sound like
a trip to the principal’s office, and she was going to
stay on equal footing.
‘‘Yes,
of
course.
It’s
come
to
my
attention
.
.
.’’
He paused.
Come to his attention. Hadn’t she had this conversa
tion before . . . with the mayor? Perhaps that’s why
he looked so uncomfortable.
‘‘Appearances are very important.’’
Okay,
she
thought,
am
I
not
wearing
enough
makeup...too much?

‘‘Yes,
appearances
are
important,
among
many
things.’’
‘‘What I mean is, when you get on the witness stand,
you must not only be above reproach, but appear to
be above reproach.’’
‘‘Like Caesar’s wife.’’
‘‘Who?’’
‘‘Never
mind.
Is
there
something
you’re
trying
to
say?’’
‘‘Defense attorneys look for the least sign of impro
priety to impugn the character of a witness in order
to win a case.’’
‘‘Some
do.
Where
are
we
going
with
this
con
versation?’’
‘‘It
has
come
to
my
attention
that
you
are...’’
Garnett seemed to be searching for the right words.
‘‘. . . Dating men half your age.’’
Diane threw back her head and laughed—which did
bewilder Garnett. He looked at her with a frown. She
hardly knew where to begin her response to such an
asinine statement.
‘‘I
won’t
even
address
the
point
of
view
that
a
woman
dating
younger
men
somehow
impugns
her
character. I’ll simply cut to the truth of what has come
to
your
attention.
Frank
Duncan
is
two
years
older
than I am. Now, I realize that spending all that time
in the jungle sun put a few wrinkles on my face that
I wish I didn’t have, but really, Douglas, I don’t think
I look almost eighty.’’
Garnett
opened
his
mouth,
then
closed
it
and
opened it again. ‘‘I don’t mean Frank.’’
‘‘He’s the only man I’m dating.’’
‘‘You’ve been seen having a romantic dinner with
a much younger man who works for you.’’
Garnett settled back in his chair and from the look
on his face, he did realize how ridiculous it sounded
for him to call her into his office for such a nebulous
thing. She was sure when it was reported to him, prob
ably through Izzy’s boss, it came out something like
she was some slut robbing a cradle, putting moves on
her underlings.
‘‘Define romantic.’’
‘‘Well, romantic, candlelight...’’
‘‘I
think
I
see
where
this
originated.
I
ate
dinner
with one of the geologists who works in the museum.
We belong to the same caving club and we were dis
cussing caving business. The restaurant was the one at
the museum. It’s on the same floor as my office, and
I use it frequently. In the evening all the tables have
candles. It never occurred to me to blow it out, but
then I’d have been sitting in the dark.
‘‘If your informant had seen me a week earlier, he’d
have
seen
me
having
dinner
in
the
candlelight
with
my head conservator, who’s about the same age as the
geologist. However, he’s black and has dreadlocks, so
I
suppose
that
would
have
caused
quite
a
stir
with
your informant. A month ago, I had lunch with one
of the docent interns. He’s nineteen. One of the chil
dren in his party hid in the museum and he couldn’t
find him for an hour. It upset him greatly, and I had
to calm him down. We ate lunch on the terrace, so
that
could
have
been
construed
as
romantic.
About
once every two weeks I have lunch or dinner with my
archaeologist,
and
we
often
play
chess
together.
Of
course, he is much older than me and I suppose the
reversal of ages doesn’t impugn my character, so my
association with him doesn’t count.
‘‘Douglas, I have had dinner or lunch with over half
the people I work with. I’m head of the museum, and
it
is
not
a
nine-to-five
job
for
anyone.
We
often
work over dinner. I will not stop interacting with
my
employees because it offends some busybody’s
sense of propriety. If it comes up in court, I will
handle it.’’
Diane
had
managed
to
keep
her
voice
calm
and
even
during
her
whole
diatribe.
When
she
finished,
Garnett sat for a long moment without speaking.
‘‘I think I was probably misinformed,’’ he said.
‘‘Is that the only reason you wanted to see me?’’
‘‘We’re under a lot of pressure to make our crime
lab work. I was just doing a little troubleshooting be
fore anything got out of hand.’’
‘‘Our crime lab is functioning superbly. I think what
is out of hand is gossipmongers and passive-aggressive
bullies. I think you had better turn your attention to
your stationhouse staff, who all appear to be preoccu
pied
with
pettiness
and
character
assassination,
and
ask yourself why they are failing in their surveillance
duties.’’ Diane paused a moment. ‘‘If you can’t tell,
this makes me very angry.’’
‘‘I can see.’’
‘‘No...I mean it makes me
really
angry.’’
‘‘I don’t doubt you.’’
‘‘The caller—on one of his calls when I was pushing
for
justifiable
reasons
for
murder—he
talked
about
gossip and bullying.’’
‘‘What are you getting at?’’
‘‘He used those as examples. It must have been for
a reason. What might a gossip do to someone who’s
on the edge? Whoever is calling me—if he’s the killer,
his motive was not the motive of a serial killer. I think
it was more specific and focused.
He wanted to get
even.
He
seems
obsessed
with
personal
justice.
If
that’s true, he probably knew the victim or victims—
provided he really is the killer.’’
‘‘So you’re saying, if he killed the victims in Cob
ber’s Wood, it had to do with revenge?’’
‘‘I suppose that’s what I’m saying. Look, Frank is
expecting
me
to
come
to
his
house
for
dinner
with
him and his daughter. I’d like to not be late. I’ve put
in very long hours, and I’d like to take this evening
off.’’
‘‘Of course. I’m sorry for holding you up. And . . .
I’m sorry for the other thing.’’
‘‘Douglas,
I
think
I
know
who’s
spreading
this
rumor. If it’s who I think it is, he’s a good friend of
Frank.
And
since
this
person
met
me
last
year
and
heard
those
first
unfounded
rumors
about
me,
he
hasn’t
wanted
to
let
go
of
the
notion
that
I’m
not
good enough for Frank. If you talk to him, advise him
of
how
appropriate
it
is
to
mind
his
own
business.
Pettiness has no place in what we’re trying to do here.
‘‘And speaking of what we’re trying to do here, I
got
another
E-mail
from
our
friend.
He
wants
to
meet.’’
Garnett
raised
his
eyebrows.
‘‘He
wants
to
meet
with you? How do you feel about that?’’
‘‘I’m
thinking it
might be
a good
idea, under
the
right controls.’’
‘‘Let me think about it.’’
‘‘It may be the only way we’re going to catch this
guy. Has Sheriff Braden made any headway?’’
‘‘We’ve sent the pictures out and searched missing
persons. No hits. Of course, it’s still early on getting
anything back
on the drawings. We’re
searching for
similar
murders
across
the
country.
Both
Braden’s
men and mine have been asking around at truck stops
for anyone suspicious, or anyone who may have talked
about
the
murders,
or
anyone
who
has
picked
up
hitchhikers
that
look
like
the
drawings.
We
have
a
photograph of a waggoner’s knot we’ve shown around
at the stops. Found several guys who know what it is
and use it, but so far no leads on our guy. We’ve tried
to
get
a
list
of
end
buyers
for
that
particular
type
of orange carpet, and that information, apparently, is
simply not available.’’
‘‘Strange. We have all that forensic evidence stack
ing up in my lab and absolutely no one to attach it to.’’
‘‘It’s frustrating, for sure. In the Chris Edwards and
the
Raymond
Waller
murders,
neighborhoods.
We’ve
talked
we’ve
canvassed
the
with
everyone
they
knew and worked with, including their families. We’re
doing
the
same
with
Kacie
Beck.
My
gut
still
tells
me it’s Steven Mayberry for the Edwards and Beck
murders. With what you told me about your talk with
the
journalism
student—what
was
her
name,
Madi
son something?’’
‘‘Madison Foster.’’
‘‘That’s
it.
I’m
convinced
wards
were
into
something.
Kacie
Beck
to
protect
himself.
He
might
feel
that
everyone
thinks
he’s
dead
and
he
likes
it
that
way.
For Raymond Waller, it was someone after his collec
tion. He didn’t know any of the other victims. It was
just a coincidence that he was Dr. Webber’s assistant
and worked on the hanging victims.’’
Everything Garnett said seemed plausible, and she
was actually impressed with what he and the sheriff
were doing.
‘‘Then maybe what I should do is take the guy up
on his offer to meet. I think maybe he wants to turn
that
Mayberry
and
Ed
Maybe
Mayberry
killed
himself in and he just needs a push, and he’s using
me to push him into it.’’
‘‘It will be very dangerous. You’d have to insist on
meeting him on your terms, not his.’’
‘‘I know. If he wants to come out in the open . . .’’
‘‘You really think he wants to get caught?’’
‘‘I don’t know. It’s possible, but ask the profiler.’’
Garnett looked at his watch. ‘‘I’ll go to Kingsley’s
hotel tonight and have a talk with him. Have you re
sponded to the guy yet?’’
‘‘No. I was waiting to talk with you first.’’
‘‘I’m going to have to really think about this. Let’s
talk tomorrow.’’
Diane left the station house wondering what their
faces would look like the next time she had to visit.
It
would
be
nice
to
have
succeeded
in
wiping
the
smirks off them. One thing she was convinced of—she
couldn’t expect their help if she was in trouble.

Star
met Diane at the door and hugged her. Her hair
was all one color—black—and was short. She had a
ring in one nostril.

‘‘Uncle
Frank’s
heating
up
dinner.
He
brought
home Chinese, which means we’ll have Chinese left
overs for the rest of the week.’’

Frank’s
house was an old Queen Anne set off the
road. It had polished hardwood floors, walls painted
a
light
sand
color,
and
oak
and
walnut
furniture
as
substantial as the house. It always smelled like furni
ture polish and always shined. It was a comfortable
house,
a
house
much
like
Frank—traditional,
reli
able, solid.

‘‘Yes,
we have a mummy and, yes, you can see it if
you would like.’’
‘‘Cool.’’
‘‘Hey.’’ Frank came in and gave her a peck on her
lips. ‘‘How you doing?’’
‘‘I’m glad to be having a break.’’
‘‘You look tired.’’
‘‘I’ve had a string of long days.’’
‘‘Sit down, relax. I’ll get you a drink of wine.’’
‘‘Can I have one?’’ Star was being mischievous.
‘‘No,’’ said Frank.
Star laughed.
Diane
kicked
off
her
shoes
and
curled
her
feet
under her on the stuffed sofa. Star lay sideways across
an overstuffed armchair.
‘‘You
can
stay
here
some
time,’’
Star
said.
‘‘You
and Uncle Frank don’t have to just get together when
I’m out of the house.’’
‘‘We’re together now.’’
‘‘You know what I mean.’’
‘‘We’re doing fine, Star.’’
‘‘The two of you are so old-fashioned.’’
‘‘Are we?’’
‘‘I’m almost grown, you know.’’
‘‘I think
almost
is the operative word.’’
Frank came in with a glass of red wine for Diane.
‘‘We’re
having
Chinese
tonight.
How
does
that
sound?’’
‘‘Great.
It’s
nice
just
to
relax.
How
has
your
day
been?’’
‘‘Slow. We’re working on some identity thefts, and
they are always tedious to track down. Unfortunately,
we often
don’t
track them down. Feel like eating?’’
As
Diane
suspected,
Frank
had
the
dining
room
table
spread
with
enough
food
to
feed
the
whole
neighborhood.
It
was
a
compulsive
habit
of
his—
always buying more food than anyone could possibly
eat.
He
always
said
he
liked
everyone
to
have
a
choice.
She
helped
herself
to
fried
rice,
Mongolian
chicken and steamed vegetables.
‘‘Want chopsticks?’’ asked Star.
‘‘Fork will be fine,’’ said Diane. ‘‘How’s school?’’
‘‘Boring. So, tell me about the mummy.’’
Diane
repeated
everything
they
knew
about
the
mummy so far. She included the Victorian pickle jar.
Star almost fell out of her seat laughing.
‘‘I’ve been talking to Star about going to college,’’
said Frank.
‘‘I really don’t want to. I mean, I’ll just have to take
a bunch of dumb courses and stay bored to death for
four years.’’
‘‘You could take something you like.’’
‘‘I like to listen to music and go to the movies. Do
they have courses in that?’’
‘‘They have music, and I think they have a course
or two in film.’’
‘‘Don’t
you
have
to
take a
bunch
of
English
and
math?’’
‘‘Yes. You could learn to enjoy English and math.’’
Star looked at Diane like she’d grown a horn out
of her forehead. ‘‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’’
‘‘No. Just think about what the courses do for you.
What you’ll learn.’’
‘‘Yeah, like when am I ever going to use math?’’
‘‘I use it all the time, analyzing skeletons, exercising,
cooking, working on the museum budget, hiring staff,
balancing
my
checkbook.
Most
jobs
require
some
math.’’
‘‘Not all—hardly any.’’
Frank sat back eating his Chinese food, listening to
Diane and Star have their conversation. Diane guessed
that he and Star had repeated this same conversation
many times.
‘‘Why
don’t
you
give
college
a
try
for
a
year?’’
said Diane.
Star
made
a
face
like
she’d
suddenly
bitten
into
something rotten.
‘‘I’ll
tell you
what.
Try
it for
a
year
and keep
at
least a two point seven grade point average, and with
Frank’s permission, I’ll take you to Paris and buy you
new clothes.’’
Star’s eyes grew wide. ‘‘Are you kidding? I mean,
you’re not just saying that just to keep the conversa
tion going?’’
‘‘No. I’m not just saying it. I mean it.’’
‘‘Like a whole new wardrobe?’’
‘‘Yes. I’ll have get used to life without an arm and a
leg, but yeah, I’m talking about a lot of new clothes.’’
‘‘Oh, wow. What do you say, Uncle Frank?’’
Frank’s eyes had grown as large and round as Star’s
on
hearing
Diane’s
offer.
‘‘Think
you
can
meet
the
conditions?’’ he said.
‘‘I’ll need help with the math.’’
‘‘You’re in luck, then,’’ said Frank. ‘‘I’m pretty good
in math.’’
‘‘And the museum is a good place to get help in a
lot of subjects. Think about it.’’
‘‘Wow. Just a year?’’
‘‘Just a year.’’
‘‘Wow.’’
She
stood
up.
‘‘I
need
to
go
use
the
phone.’’
When
she
left
the
table,
Frank
turned
to
Diane.
‘‘You know what you’re doing?’’
‘‘I
hope
so.
I
thought
some
incentive
might
help.
Who knows? She may like college.’’
Frank reached over and held on to her hand. ‘‘That
was really nice. More than nice.’’
Diane helped Frank put the food in the refrigerator,
and they retired to the living room sofa. Diane curled
up against Frank and rested her head on his shoulder.
‘‘Hard day?’’ Frank asked again.
‘‘The mummy was fun. But I guess you heard, we
had another murder.’’
‘‘What!’’
‘‘This time it was the girlfriend of Chris Edwards,
one of the guys who found the bodies in the woods.’’
Frank
pulled
back
and
looked
Diane
in
the
face.
‘‘My God. What
is
this about?’’
‘‘I
don’t
know.
The
profiler
thinks
the
murders
aren’t related.’’
‘‘Three
people
dead,
one
missing,
and
another
attacked—all of whom had something to do with three
more bodies in the woods. Maybe he ought to take math.’’
‘‘But what’s the connection?’’
They
heard
laughter
filtering
down
from
Star’s
room.
‘‘You’ve really made her happy. That’s not an easy
thing to do.’’
‘‘Everyone needs something to look forward to.’’
‘‘Can I go with you to Paris?’’
Diane chuckled. ‘‘Sure.’’
They sat in silence for a long time. Diane was glad
for the rest. Frank was comfortable and safe.
‘‘I
have
a
great-looking
red
SUV
I’m
driving,’’
Diane said.
‘‘I
saw
that
out
the
window
when
you
drove
up.
That the loaner?’’
‘‘Yes. Nice. I rather like it. I might get one. Maybe
not
that
color.’’
She
paused
a
moment,
not
sure
whether
to
bring
up
the
subject
of
Izzy.
‘‘Garnett
called
me
in
today
to
talk
about
my
inappropriate
behavior.’’
‘‘Jesus. Now what?’’
‘‘Dating
men
half
my
age.
I
told
him
you
are
at
least a couple of years older than me.’’
Frank didn’t say anything for a minute. He pulled
Diane
closer.
‘‘I’m
sorry,’’
he
whispered.
‘‘I
know
where that came from.’’
‘‘So Izzy talked to you too.’’
‘‘Yes. I told him he was being an ass. I see I should
have used stronger words. I’ll talk to him.’’
‘‘No. I’ve dealt with it.’’
‘‘Did Garnett give you much trouble?’’
‘‘Not really. I suspect when the story was told to
him it was amplified with colorful derogatory words.
When he cleaned up the language to explain to me
why he called me in, the whole thing ended up sound
ing a little ridiculous.’’
‘‘Diane, maybe we should talk about us.’’
‘‘Us?’’
‘‘That’s shorthand for you and me. I can’t tell you
how
frightened
I
was
the
other
night.
It
made
me
realize how much you mean to me.’’
‘‘You mean a lot to me too, and I find that a lit
tle scary.’’
‘‘Scary? How?’’
‘‘Ariel meant the world to me. She was my heart.
Losing her was more than devastating. Caring about
people is a risky business.’’ Diane hesitated for a mo
ment, searching for the right words, but no right words
came.
‘‘The
two
of
us
are
doing
fine.
You
work
in
Atlanta, I work here, we see each other when we can.
Life is good.’’
‘‘True,
but
permanence
is
something
to
think
about.’’
‘‘Okay. We’ll think about it.’’
Frank laughed. ‘‘I’m glad we got that settled.’’
Diane
was
about
to
kiss
him
when
Star
bounced
into the room. ‘‘Jennifer wants me to go out to WalMart and maybe a movie. Her mother says it’s okay.’’
‘‘Who else is going?’’
‘‘Maybe Jessica and Stephanie.’’
‘‘Who’s driving?’’
‘‘Jennifer. She’s kind of on her way to pick me up.’’
‘‘She kind of is, is she? Go ahead, but be back by
ten forty-five, and no controlled substances.’’
‘‘Uncle Frank, you know, that was funny the first
thirty times you said it. I’ve never done drugs.’’
‘‘No
smoking
of
anything
that
I
call
a
drug
and
you don’t.’’
‘‘I told you I gave that up. You know, I could just
give you a glass of pee every time I come home.’’
‘‘That’s an idea. Have a good
time, and don’t be
late.’’
Star already had a purse in hand, a small black cro
chet
fringed
thing
she
hung
over
her
shoulder
and
across her chest. She’d changed from jeans and black
tee-shirt into a short black skirt and black blouse. She
kissed Frank on the cheek.
‘‘I’ll be here if you need me,’’ he told her.
Star turned to Diane. ‘‘You really meant it, didn’t
you, about Paris and the clothes?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
She almost broke into giggles again. ‘‘Wow. Thanks.
I mean it.’’ She bounded out the door at the sound
of a car horn.
‘‘Star seems to be doing well.’’
‘‘Most of the time she is. She cries at night some
times. She doesn’t want me to know.’’
Diane understood Star’s grief. That was one reason
she made the offer. Trying to deal with grief and get
your life back is one of the hardest things to do. Star
had lost both her parents and her brother to a mur
derer and had been accused of committing the crime
herself. It was going to take her a long time before
she stopped crying into her pillow.
*
*
*
It was after midnight before Diane returned home.
Star had come home on time, and Diane had to con
fess, it was a relief to see her walk through the door.
Diane tried to imagine what it would have been like
waiting up for Ariel to come home from a date, and
her eyes misted over. She sometimes still cried into
her pillow too.
The policemen were on duty, parked in front of her
house.
She
parked
and
got
out
with
the
coffee
and
doughnuts she’d gotten for them on the way back and
handed them through the window.
‘‘Thanks. We appreciate this.’’
One of the policeman walked her to her apartment,
apologizing along the way. ‘‘Jim and I are just really
sorry about the mix-up last night.’’
‘‘This
whole
business
has
all
of
us
baffled,’’
said
Diane. ‘‘I appreciate your being here.’’
He walked with her inside and to the stairs before
going back to his car. Diane decided that there may
be something to the theory about getting to a man’s
heart through his stomach.
She walked up to her apartment and went in. It was
stuffy.
She
hated
running
the
air-conditioning
when
she
wasn’t
there,
but
this
wasn’t
good
either.
She
turned on the air and went to the bedroom, changed
and settled into bed.
She was almost asleep when a voice out of the dark
ness said, ‘‘I really want to talk to you.’’