Dead Past (17 page)

Diane explained briefly about the incident in the parking lot.

“So,” said Jin, “you can tell the car dealer that this was a separate incident from the one that damaged your car.”

“I do seem to attract maniacs,” said Diane.

“Are you all right? You said the police came in time?”

“Yes. It ended well and I hear the police caught both guys. I’m just hoping that it’s not something directed at the museum.”

“I see,” said David. “Just you.”

“What about the other person?” said Jin. “Could it have been about her?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe the police will have some news. I’ll call them a little later.”

The private crime lab elevator doors opened and Chief Garnett walked out. They watched him walk down the narrow hall past the glassed-in work areas of the crime lab to reach them on the other side. He sat down at the table, nodding at Diane’s staff.

“What brings you here?” asked Diane. She got up, poured a cup of coffee, and brought it to the table for Garnett. She passed the cup of black coffee over to him.

Garnett’s dark hair looked like it had more gray in it. His eyes had weary lines at the corners that she hadn’t noticed before. But maybe it was her imagination.

“Several things.” He picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Hot. That’s nice. It’s cold outside. First, I wanted to find out how the explosion analysis is going.”

“You’re joking, right?” said Diane. “You know we don’t have the evidence.”

“I mean the remains. That’s really the most important. That’s what everyone is interested in.”

“As the MEs have probably told you, all the intact bodies have been identified. On some of the remains we are waiting on the DNA. Some samples have been sent to the GBI lab. Jin is extracting samples from the last remains to be found. I haven’t finished analyzing all the bone fragments, but I’m working on it. I expect the DNA will be more important to the identification than my analysis.” Diane paused. “You know, don’t you, that much of the physical evidence is compromised? Any good defense attorney will ream whatever unlucky person gets on the stand to discuss the evidence. I can tell you this, it won’t be any of my people.”

“I agree. But McNair’s people are good. . . .”

“Garnett,” said Diane, “that doesn’t matter. Do you want a list of all the bags he broke the seal on and pawed through?”

Garnett sighed. “I know. The DA’s very upset. We are going to have to somehow work around what McNair did. I don’t have to tell you we don’t need to make it public knowledge.”

“No,” said Diane, “you don’t. But a lot of people know about it. Are you sure some of his own people won’t make it public? Are all of them satisfied with his stewardship of his position?”

“Look, I know this is a mess and I know the commissioner behaved like a . . .”

“Titty baby,” supplied Jin. “Wimp, weenie, chicken, sellout . . .”

Garnett looked over at him and grimaced. “I suppose that’s several ways to put it.” He took another sip of coffee. “However, I also had another reason for coming over. We managed to get those two guys with the baseball bats to talk.”

 

“You know who they are?” asked Diane. “Who? What was it about? Not the museum, I hope.”

“No. It was about you.”

“Me?” Diane received that news with mixed relief. She certainly didn’t want thugs targeting patrons of the museum, but neither did she like being a target herself. “Why?” she asked.

“The two work for the Stanton Construction Company. Patrice Stanton hired them.”

“The little carjacker’s mother?” said Jin. “She hired hit men? God, what a family.”

“I suppose I don’t need to ask why,” said Diane.

“No. She is really pissed at you for having her arrested and for accusing her son of trying to hijack your car. The men said she offered them a bonus if you had to have your jaw wired shut.”

Diane winced. So did her staff. David rubbed his jaw.

“She’s a mean woman,” said Garnett. Her jailers were about ready to pay her bail just so they wouldn’t be around her anymore before her husband came and got her. I just wanted to warn you. I don’t think you’ve heard the last of her. She’s the type of woman who won’t let go.”

“That’s comforting,” said Diane. “Any suggestions?”

“None legal,” said Garnett.

Diane gave him a rueful smile. She could ask security to walk her to her car every evening, but when she got home she’d just have to make a run for it. Damn those crazy people.

“How bad is this problem with the councilman . . . who did you say? Albin Adler? McNair’s uncle.” asked Diane. She probably ought to pay more attention to local politics but she found them petty and a waste of time and energy.

“No one thing he’s done is too bad. It’s just that he keeps coming up with new jabs. He’ll accuse you of beating your wife, then announce to the newspapers that he’s going to question you about allegations that you beat your wife. He’s a dirty fighter. He knows that rumor and gossip are more powerful than the truth.”

“You have friends in the media,” said Diane.

“That’s no help,” said David. “You know the media these days. They don’t do their own work, and for them it’s the sensational story they want, not the truth.”

Jin grinned at him. “Spoken like a true paranoid skeptic.”

“He’s not far from right,” said Garnett.

“See,” said David.

“So, McNair found out you beat your wife. What else has he dug up?” said Diane, smiling at Garnett.

“That’s not funny. McNair’s dug up dirt on who has marks on their record, who’s ever been investigated by internal affairs, who owes money—that kind of thing. Rachel and I recently bought a tiny cabin on Lake Lanier and suddenly I’m hearing whispers about where I got the money for a second house. McNair should talk. He just bought a boat, and someone said he’s putting in a pool in his backyard. Councilman Adler hasn’t said anything about that.”

“I’m sorry all that is going on,” said Diane. “I’m particular sorry it’s threatened the evidence in the meth lab explosion case.”

“Where
does
McNair get the money?” asked David.

“His wife comes from money,” said Garnett. He rose to leave. “I just wanted to warn you to watch your back,” said Garnett. “Mrs. Stanton’s gunning for you. We picked her up on this latest, but she’s made bail again.”

“It sounds like her two hired hands are the ones who need to worry,” said Diane.

“I’m sure they are worried. By the way, the judge who allowed bail for Mrs. Stanton both times for attacking you is a friend of McNair and Adler.”

“So, not much hope of getting a restraining order against Mrs. Stanton from him. I guess I need to hire a bodyguard,” said Diane.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” said Garnett.

Diane was kidding, but he sounded serious. She watched him as he walked out of the crime lab. He left through the museum entrance. He was probably going to look at some of the exhibits on the way out, she thought. He often did that. Perhaps, like her, he’d discovered peace in looking at beautiful and interesting things.

“So, Diane, do you need to hole up in your vault so no one can get at you?” said David.

“I am beginning to feel under siege.” She stood. “I’ll be in the osteology lab with the meth lab bones. Jin, we need all the DNA samples collected and sent to the GBI lab as soon as possible.”

“Sure.” He jumped out of his chair, ready to follow her to her lab.

“David, just don’t let anyone kill anybody until all this about the explosion is over,” said Diane.

“I’ll take out an ad.”

“Neva, you said you processed my car? Put a copy of the report on my desk, please.”

“Your lab office desk?”

Diane nodded. She doubted that there would be anything of use other than Blake’s blood, but there might be some bit of trace evidence that would help. She and Jin went back to her lab. He gathered up the bones that were ready to sample and took them back to his glassed-in lab to process.

Diane opened several boxes of bones that were collected in adjacent grid units and laid them out on the table to see if she could make any matches. Most were skull fragments, probably belonging to the bodies that had already been processed by the MEs. She moved her sandbox to the table and began piecing bones together, wondering if any of the bones she touched belonged to Izzy Wallace’s son.

By the end of the day, she had parts of three skulls glued together and had matched several long bones that articulated together. In two of the partial skulls she had enough of the maxilla to compare with dental x-rays. She boxed them up and took them down one floor and over to the east wing to use the x-ray machine in the conservation lab. The x-rays didn’t take long.

Back in her lab she compared the film she took with the dental x-rays of possible victims. The first one she looked at was Daniel Wallace. It was a match. She felt heartsick. Even though she was fairly sure, based on the broken wrist bones, that Daniel Wallace was among the victims, she realized she had been holding a glimmer of hope that he had just run off and didn’t tell his parents. It’s a horrible thing when the best hope for your child is that he ran away. Diane wrote her reports and faxed them to the police unit in charge of coordinating the identifications.

Diane went into her office and sat down behind her desk. On it lay the report Neva had made after processing her car. She picked it up and started to thumb through it, then set it back down. She was tired of forensics for the day. She turned out the light and went home.

She sat in her car and looked at the front of her apartment building for several minutes. She scanned the street for cars she didn’t recognize. None. She walked down the sidewalk and up the steps. They were clean of snow and ice, but all the ground around was covered in about a foot of the white stuff. It was still sparkling white and pretty. She was almost to the door when someone stepped out and put a hand on her arm. She jumped back, ready to fight.

“Dr. Fallon, I’m sorry.”

It was Shawn Keith, her neighbor in the basement apartment. He was wrapped up in a brown sweater and muffler and was shivering.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw you drive up and I was waiting for you to come in. I wanted to apologize. I . . . you see . . . I had my mother with me.”

Diane stared at him a moment. What is he talking about? Then she realized—the carjacking, Blake Stanton.

“You mean that kid trying to take your car?”

He nodded. “I saw him walking to your car when I took off.”

“It’s all right, Professor Keith. You did the right thing. You called the police. They came and everything was fine.”

“I’ve been worried about it ever since it happened. I should have . . .”

“Done just what you did,” said Diane. “Really, you did the right thing.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” he said.

“It’s true. It looks like you need to get inside. You’re turning blue.”

“It is freezing out here. Thanks, Dr. Fallon.” He nodded his head up and down. “Thanks.”

Diane climbed the stairs to her apartment and unlocked the door, glad to be home. Just as she walked in, her telephone rang.

“Don’t let it be a murder,” she said to herself as she grabbed the phone and dropped to the couch.

“Diane, it’s Frank.”

Diane grinned to herself. She’d take Frank over a murder any day.

“Hello, Frank. It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”

“I’m OK. I heard about Izzy Wallace’s son. I know Daniel. Is it true?”

“Yes. I’m afraid it is. I matched his dental records this evening. That, with the x-ray of his wrist, cinches it. But the family hasn’t been officially notified.”

Frank was silent a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been so grateful for finding Star. . . .”

“I know. I’ve had those same emotions. How is Star? How did her test go?”

“She said she thought she did well. She thinks she’s going to make above a three-point this semester.”

“Wow, good for her. When can I see you?” Diane hadn’t meant to say that. She was just feeling very lonely.

“How about tomorrow night?”

“I’d like that.”

“You sound beat.”

“It’s just all the bodies from the explosion and everything that goes along with it. I’m having problems at the museum. Someone is stealing some of our rare items.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Any leads?”

“No. We’re just now discovering what’s missing. Many of the items weren’t from the exhibits, but from the vaults.”

“So it’s someone who knows the museum.”

“It looks like it.”

“That narrows it down considerably.”

“I don’t want it to be someone from the museum.”

“I know.”

“Frank . . .” The call waiting signal beeped. “Just a moment. Let me get this call.”

She switched to the other call. “Diane, it’s Garnett. We’re at a crime scene in the Briarwood Apartments. Better get your crew over here.”

 

Briarwood Apartments were upscale dwellings catering more to the professional crowd than to students of Bartram University. Diane met David, Neva, and Jin in the parking lot in front of section C, four duplexes clustered together.

“I looked at these when I moved here,” said David. “Nice apartments. I liked them. Very quiet, good neighborhood. A little expensive for my budget.”

They got their crime scene kits out of their vehicles and followed the sidewalk to apartment 131. Garnett met them at the door, frowning when they saw him. Diane knew what he was thinking—Councilman Adler was going to make hay out of this. Murders in good neighborhoods scare people.

Diane sent Jin and Neva to search outside the apartment—under the windows, any nooks and crannies where someone could lie in wait or leave evidence. She and David slipped covers over their shoes and hair and walked into the room. The body was in the living room, lying face up, blood pooled under her head. She was a young woman. Long blond hair partially covered her battered face. Her blue eyes were open.