‘‘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.’’
Chapter 36
Diane didn’t realize she had shot out of bed until she was halfway out her bedroom door. She made it to the front door and grabbed at the safety latch. Too slow. He grabbed her from behind and held her in a tight grip. She got out half a scream before a hand clamped over her mouth.
‘‘I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you.’’
Diane kicked, but with bare feet she did little dam age. Dammit, I’m stronger than this. She wrenched her body around, throwing them both to the floor. She hit her head on the hard floor, stunning her for a second, but her body was on automatic. She scrambled to her feet and raced for the bedroom, intending to lock her self in and call 911. But he was too fast. Before she could close the door, he hit it with enough force to knock her backward. She fell to the floor and rolled under the bed.
She saw the shadow of him on his knees grabbing for her, sliding under the bed after her. She rolled out, got to her feet, grabbed the radio on her nightstand and brought it down on his head as he crawled out from under the bed.
His struggle to rise was hampered by still being half under the bed. She hit him again, harder, dropped the radio and ran. The safety was unlatched from her first attempt at escape so all she had to do was turn the locks and bolt from her apartment. As she ran down the stairs, she hoped the police hadn’t decided they had to go somewhere else. She ran down the walk and into the street, each step hurting her bare feet. Half way across the street the police saw her.
‘‘What is it?’’ they shouted.
‘‘He’s in my apartment.’’
‘‘Stay here.’’ They jumped from the car and Diane
climbed in the backseat, breathing hard. Bile rose up in her throat and she felt sick to her stomach.
Diane wore a fleece short-sleeved nightshirt that came halfway between her knees and thighs. The last place she wanted to be was in the back of an unmarked police car dressed in sleepwear. Damn him.
A gunshot echoed through the air. Oh, God. She put a hand on the door and started to open it, then stopped. She was still undecided on whether to get out. One of the policemen came running.
‘‘We got him. An ambulance is coming, but I’m not sure he’ll make it.’’
Diane felt sick all over again. ‘‘Can he talk?’’
‘‘He’s in and out.’’
‘‘I need to ask him some questions.’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘In case he dies, I need to ask him some questions.’’
‘‘Okay. I suppose it’s all right. You are a member of the department, after all.’’
Diane thought he’d like to add a rather troublesome member. She ran back up to her apartment, where the other policeman had a towel on the intruder’s chest. Diane knelt down by his side. ‘‘Can you hear me?’’
‘‘Just wanted talk. Not a murderer. Exec . . .’’ His breathing was labored and he started to cough. ‘‘Can’t trust the police.’’ He closed his eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness.
He was still alive but unconscious when the ambu lance came and took him to the hospital. Diane sat on her couch in a pair of jeans and the nightshirt, waiting for the police to ask her questions. When she came back to her apartment, she’d passed her landlady and several of her neighbors, including the Odells across the hall. She wondered if it was time to look for another place to live before she was asked to leave.
She was ministering to cuts on her feet when Garnett arrived. ‘‘You need medical?’’ he asked.
‘‘Just a few cuts on the soles of my feet. How’s the officer who shot . . .’’ She let the question trail off.
‘‘He’s all right. A shooting’s always hard. He thought the guy was drawing a gun. It turned out it was his cell phone. Can you tell me what happened?’’
Diane told him about going to bed and hearing the voice just as she was about to fall asleep. She told about the struggle as best she remembered and about hitting him in the head with the radio.
‘‘I talked to him after he was shot. He said he just wanted to talk, that he wasn’t a murderer.’’
Garnett shook his head. ‘‘Think he’s our guy?’’
‘‘I don’t know. He may be just a stalker.’’
‘‘You can’t come in here.’’ The voice was from a policeman outside her door.
‘‘Tell Dr. Fallon that Frank Duncan is here.’’
Diane recognized the calm voice even through the door.
‘‘Ask them to let him in,’’ she sai
d.
Garnett obliged, and Frank came in and sat down beside Diane, putting an arm around her shoulder.
‘‘What on earth happened?’’
Garnett explained while Diane put a couple more Band-Aids on her feet.
‘‘Is he the guy who attacked you last night?’’ asked Frank.
Dead Guilty dffi-2 Page 28