Dead Guilty dffi-2

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘Flowers? Was I supposed to? Did I miss an anni versary, birthday—no, not birthday. Okay, what was it?’’

  Diane felt the laughter rising up through her body until it reached her face and made her smile. How that must sound—calling him at three o’clock in the morning all the way across the country, asking if he sent flowers. She scooted back into the pillows of her bed and crossed her legs.

  ‘‘No. You didn’t miss anything. Someone left flow ers in my car yesterday. I found them in the backseat. I assumed they were from you.’’

  ‘‘Was there a card with them?’’

  ‘‘All it said was ‘To Justice.’ ’’

  ‘‘To Justice? I’m not much of a romantic, but I could do better than that.’’ Diane laughed again. The whole thing was silly, and silly felt good.

  ‘‘Must be from a secret admirer. Do you have one?’’ he said.

  Secret admirer. ‘‘No . . .’’ She thought of Mike. Of course, Mike Seger must have left them.

  ‘‘You do, don’t you? I’ll bet it’s that guy—the one with the hair. What’s his name?’’

  ‘‘The one with the hair?’’

  ‘‘You know. That modern, just-got-out-of-bed, cool kind of style. I think he’s a geologist.’’

  ‘‘Mike? Why do you think it’s him?’’

  ‘‘That challenging-the-alpha-male look he gives me. Admittedly, I haven’t gotten the look for a while, now that I’ve been an adult for a number of years, but I remember that provoking stare with a touch of amuse ment behind it. You and he go caving, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘Well, yes.’’

  ‘‘Yes. It was him, though I figure he could also do better than ‘To Justice.’ Don’t you keep your car locked?’’

  ‘‘It was locked. Someone must have borrowed my key from my office, or opened the door with one of those things.... What do you call them?’’ ‘‘A slim jim?’’

  ‘‘Yeah, one of those. Oh, maybe I forgot to lock it. I’ve had a lot on my mind.’’

  ‘‘That’s interesting.’’

  ‘‘How are things in San Francisco?’’

  ‘‘Nice. Good weather. Looks like they’ll convict our guy, unless the jury’s just nuts. I’m looking forward to getting home. I hear you’ve been busy.’’

  ‘‘We’ve had a few murders.’’

  ‘‘Scuttlebutt says you have a serial killer.’’

  ‘‘Too early to tell, but it doesn’t feel like it. But I didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night to talk about murder.’’

  ‘‘Really. Phone sex?’’

  ‘‘Funny. So, you’re coming home tomorrow?’’

  ‘‘I hope. I like it by the ocean here, but it’ll be good to get back home.’’

  Diane didn’t talk long. Guilt for waking him up gnawed at her throughout the conversation, but he’d made her laugh and she liked to start the day laughing.

  Andie was already in the office when she arrived. She wore a tailored denim suit and had her abundant curls pulled up on top of her head, and they shook and jiggled as she zipped about in quick little movements.

  ‘‘Andie, do you know anything about a delivery of flowers to me yesterday?’’

  ‘‘Nope. Somebody send you flowers?’’

  ‘‘Yes. The card wasn’t signed. I thought maybe you were here when they came.’’

  ‘‘I was here, but I didn’t see them.’’

  ‘‘Doesn’t matter. Someone will ask about them sooner or later.’’

  ‘‘Wasn’t Frank, was it?’’

  ‘‘No, I talked to him this morning.’’

  ‘‘Wasn’t Mike, was it?’’ she said, with a wink and a teasing grin.

  ‘‘That’s what Frank said. Why does everyone think it was Mike?’’

  ‘‘Oh, nothing. You know, just the way he’s ga-ga around you.’’

  ‘‘That’s ridiculous. There is nothing there. He’s just a kid.’’

  ‘‘All right. I believe you,’’ said Andie. ‘‘He’s too young for you anyway.’’

  ‘‘Now, wait a minute.’’

  ‘‘Just teasing,’’ said Andie, laughing.

  She handed Diane a cup of coffee with chocolate, the way she liked it. Diane took a sip and sat down behind her desk.

  ‘‘I saw you approved the velociraptor casts. That’s exciting. I like those guys,’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘It’s a good price. The shopkeepers tell me the velo ciraptor is the best-selling model after T. Rex in the museum gift shop, so maybe having some on display will generate more visitors.’’ Diane turned on her computer. ‘‘Call Kendel and Jonas. I’d like them to go up with me to take a look at the X-rays of the mummy.’’

  ‘‘A lot of stuff is happening about the mummy. You’re getting a ton of mail. I’ve sorted it and put it on your desk.’’

  ‘‘How is that possible? We just got it.’’

  ‘‘I think there must be some kind of mummy grape vine out there.’’

  ‘‘What are they writing about?’’ Diane said, mainly to herself.

  While Andie called Jonas and Kendel, Diane began reading the E-mail. The first was a request for a piece of the mummy for DNA research. She had fifty-two messages. Several others were from researchers about the mummy. ‘‘I had no idea,’’ muttered Diane.

  Her phone rang as she was scrolling through the E-mail.

  ‘‘Dr. Fallon, Dr. Fallon?’’ The voice was highpitched and nervous sounding. ‘‘I’ve been trying to reach you. Did you get my letter?’’

  ‘‘Who are you?’’

  ‘‘Dr. Earl Holloway, Indiana University.’’

  ‘‘Indiana?’’ Not Colorado or Nebraska.

  ‘‘Yes. Yes. It’s important that I have access to your mummy. It’s so hard to find mummies these days, de spite the fact that there are millions of Egyptian mum mies. They are so jealously guarded. People have such parochial ideas about dead bodies. It’s almost like the days when medical schools had to resort to resurrec tion men.’’

  ‘‘Exactly what do you want?’’

  ‘‘Haven’t I said? Haven’t you read my letter?’’

  Diane rummaged through the letters until she came to one from Dr. Holloway.

  ‘‘Your letter just arrived on my desk. I haven’t even had a chance to open it.’’

  ‘‘Yes. Well, you would see, Dr. Fallon, if you had read my letter, I’m a paleoparasitologist. I’m doing postgraduate research here. A groundbreaking pilot study analyzing mummy tissue for drugs and diseases. It’s a prelude to a proposal to the mummy tissue bank.’’

  ‘‘The mummy tissue bank?’’

  ‘‘Yes. Most researchers are looking into the courses of diseases in ancient mummies. But I’m looking spe cifically at Egyptian mummies, since they came from a culture which had a more sophisticated practice of medicine. I’m hoping I can discover what they used to treat ailments we now know were caused by para sites, such as schistosomiasis, and evaluate the efficacy of their treatments.’’

  ‘‘Have you thought about looking at the practices among the native peoples of South America? Though not technologically advanced, they have a tradition handed down from ancient times and have made pretty sophisticated use of the native plant life for medicinal purposes.’’

  Diane wasn’t sure why she said that. She didn’t usu ally question researchers on their methodology, cer tainly not on something that wasn’t her field. She supposed it was some gut reaction to defend the skills of the South American Indians, with whom she was very familiar.

  ‘‘Yes, well, I don’t really want to argue the point. My research design requires Egyptian samples, so you can see why I’m interested in your mummy.’’

  ‘‘Yes. You and many others. We just acquired the mummy. How did you find out about him?’’

  ‘‘A few months ago, a friend told me about him. I couldn’t get access, but I kept in touch with its disposi tion. I assure you, my research isn’t frivolous.’’

  ‘‘No. I
’m sure it’s not. I’m just surprised at the inter est in him so soon. I’ll read your proposal.’’

  Andie led in Mike Seger who was carrying a large three-paneled poster board. They began setting it up on the desk in Diane’s office. Andie stepped back to look at it.

  ‘‘Look, Dr. Fallon,’’ Holloway continued, ‘‘I sent you my list of publications. You don’t propose to eval uate my research. . . . You are a small museum. . . .’’ ‘‘I assure you, size doesn’t matter.’’

  This assertion caught the attention of both Andie and Mike. They looked at each other, then at Diane, eyebrows raised, amusement written on their faces. Diane rolled her eyes.

  ‘‘I didn’t mean to suggest,’’ said Dr. Holloway. ‘‘Of course, I recognize your competence, but...’’

  ‘‘Dr. Holloway, if you know about the mummy, then you know he is without provenance. We don’t even know if he is actually an ancient mummy or of more modern origin.’’

  ‘‘I understand that, but there are tests...’’

  ‘‘Yes, and we are in the process of running them. Right now, I’m not prepared to address your request one way or the other.’’

  ‘‘You aren’t saying no, then. That’s good. We’ll keep the lines open, then.’’

  ‘‘Kendel said we’d be getting requests from re searchers,’’ said Andie when Diane had hung up the phone.

  ‘‘Apparently, they’re calling my cell phone and my home.’’ The calls had nagged Diane, but she felt better knowing they were probably from researchers. ‘‘Just a moment,’’ she told Andie and Mike.

  Diane decided to return the calls while she was think ing about it and refer them to Kendel and Jonas. She di aled the Colorado number and got a recorded message:

  ‘‘You are returning a call to a prepaid calling service system, and the party cannot be reached at this number.’’

  The Omaha number gave her the same message.

  ‘‘That’s odd.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ asked Andie.

  ‘‘These calls . . .’’ Diane explained the calls and the recorded message she just reached.

  ‘‘Calling card,’’ said Mike. ‘‘It’s a standard birthday and Christmas gift my parents give me, hoping I’ll call more often.’’

  Andie nodded. ‘‘One of a handful of cities comes up on the caller ID every time you use it.’’

  ‘‘Oh.’’

  She’d just have to wait until they called her again. She rose and walked from behind her desk.

  ‘‘What do you have here?’’ she asked Mike.

  ‘‘An illustration of the earth science exhibit,’’ said Mike. ‘‘The entrance starts here.’’ He pointed to the upper-left part of the poster. ‘‘The crust is divided into the horizons. We’re working on mechanical devices— kind of like Disney World stuff—that look like insect and parasitic life found in the soil. It will be large— the visitors will seem like they’ve shrunk.’’

  ‘‘I like that,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Next we have the mantel, the convection currents, then the core. It’s all pretty straightforward. The ex hibit designer and I are trying figure out the best way to display all of this. One option is to have it on video as they descend the exhibit. But we also had the idea of building a mechanical device that will move a vis cous substance around in a tank to illustrate the man tel, its convection currents and how the crust floats on top. We plan to reference everything with the current exhibits in the geology hall.’’

  ‘‘Cool,’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘I’m thinking something like the tunnel in an aquar ium,’’ said Mike. ‘‘A place where the visitor can de scend into the exhibit and have the earth all around him.’’

  ‘‘You need to make it wheelchair accessible,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘We know. We’ve discussed a winding ramp, an ele vator sort of thing. We have a lot to work out.’’

  Diane looked at the depiction of the soil layers, fossils, the molten mantel, the dense core. Mike had made notes on the display indicating what would hap pen to you if you were able to actually journey to the center of the earth—becoming very hot and finally turning into something the size of a marble under the enormous pressure of the core.

  ‘‘This is coming along nicely. I don’t suppose you have a cost?’’

  Mike winced. ‘‘No. Not yet.’’

  ‘‘Okay. Tell the designer that I like the plans. Just remember the budget as you work.’’

  ‘‘Sure.’’

  The phone rang, and Andie ran to her office to answer it.

  ‘‘I’m looking forward to seeing the model when it’s built. By the way, did you leave anything in my car?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘Your car? Like what?’’ Mike was a head taller than Diane and stood just at the edge of her comfort zone. He smelled of aftershave.

  Diane backed up a step. ‘‘Like anything.’’

  ‘‘No. Was I supposed to?’’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled. He actually had dimples. She didn’t re member noticing them before.

  ‘‘No. I was just asking.’’

  ‘‘Was something left in your car?’’

  ‘‘Have you talked with the guy about the cave?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I’m meeting him tomorrow for lunch. I think it’s a go. Would you like to come to lunch with us?’’

  ‘‘I’ll probably still be analyzing skeletal remains.’’ ‘‘How are two full-time careers working for you?’’ ‘‘Keeping me busy.’’

  ‘‘Too busy for a social life?’’

  ‘‘I have a social life.’’

  ‘‘Can’t be much of one.’’ He gave her that look that Frank might have described as challenging.

  ‘‘Kendel and Jonas are going to meet us in the con servation lab,’’ Andie called from her office, saving Diane from answering the challenge.

  Chapter 16

  They all met in the conservation lab on the third floor. Jonas Briggs, his blue eyes twinkling, entered carrying a folder. Kendel came in soon after. She was, as usual, impeccably dressed, today in a pearl gray suit with pearls at her throat and clipped onto her ears. Whereas Andie had several body piercings, Kendel didn’t even have her ears pierced. She was carrying a package, an amused expression apparent on her face.

  Korey emerged from his office. ‘‘You’re going to like this, Dr. F.’’ He led the four of them into his newly refitted X-ray lab. Highlighted by the view boxes that lined one wall, four X-rays of a skull stood out, as in relief.

  ‘‘I have some good pictures here.’’ He dimmed the lights.

  Diane looked at the first X-ray of the front view of the face of a man who was possibly four thousand years old. He had distinct cheekbones, square jaw, rounded forehead. She examined each X-ray in turn before she said anything.

  ‘‘Is that what I think it is?’’ said Jonas, pointing at a dark area surrounding tooth roots in the maxilla.

  ‘‘If you think it’s evidence of an acute periapical abscess, it is,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That doesn’t sound good,’’ said Andie.

  ‘‘It wasn’t,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m sure it caused him a tremendous amount of pain. Look here at the fistulas above the left first and second premolars and first molar.’’

  ‘‘Fistula?’’ asked Andie.

  ‘‘It’s a pathway the body creates to drain bacteria from an infected area, in this case, the roots of at least three teeth.’’

  ‘‘Oh, gross.’’

  ‘‘Do you think it was bad enough to have caused his death?’’ asked Jonas.

  ‘‘Yes, this could very well have been what killed him.’’

  ‘‘Well, we made quick work of that,’’ said Andie. ‘‘Now, can you tell how old he was?’’

  Diane traced the tooth line with her fingernail. ‘‘He has his third molars—his wisdom teeth—so that’s at least past twenty-one. His other teeth are worn pretty badly, which pushes his age upward. The sutures on his skull’’—Diane p
ointed to the X-ray showing the side view and ran a finger along a faint line—‘‘these irregular lines here, are almost fused. That pushes the age up considerably—say, at least past forty. I’ll need to examine the entire set of X-rays, but our mummy was well into middle age.’’

  ‘‘I want to know what’s in that package you brought with you, Kendel,’’ said Jonas. ‘‘You’ve had this little smile on your face since you got here.’’