“Mayor Walter Sutton,” Jonas said. “Yes, we’ve met, after a fashion. Crossed verbal swords in the city council meetings. Democracy is a wonderful thing, don’t you think, Mayor?”
The expression on the mayor’s face suggested that he didn’t think democracy was wonderful at all. “Yes, yes,” he muttered.
“Jonas, may I use your office?” she asked.
“Certainly. It’s unlocked. I was just going to the staff lounge. Introduce myself to some of the people in the museum here.”
Jonas Briggs looked like a man who had found a home.
“His office is on this floor,” Diane told the mayor. “We’ll use it, rather than going downstairs to mine.”
Jonas’ office was across from the archaeology exhibits, the smallest section in the museum. In the back of his office was a small workroom. Through its open doorway Diane could see pieces of broken pottery sitting on worktables.
In his outer office he had already moved in large bookcases and filled them to capacity with his books. On the wall were enlarged photographs of archaeological excavations. From their dress, the archaeology crew looked like they were from the thirties. In one corner of the room was a table flanked by two stuffed chairs. A Staunton sandalwood chessboard was set up on the table and a painting of bold, bright slashes of color hung on the wall.
Diane sat behind the desk and indicated one of the stuffed chairs for the mayor.
“What is it you want to talk about?” she said as he pulled the chair nearer the desk and sat down and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the arms of the chair. If Jonas was a wizard, the mayor was a toad.
“I’m going to be blunt, Ms. Fallon. I believe in speaking plainly and getting to the point. It saves time, and time is money.”
“Please do, Mr. Sutton.”
He twisted and sat half upright. His frown deepened and he stared hard at her. She kept a pleasant expression on her face and held his stare. She was tempted to ask him if this was a contest.
“There are two things I want to talk with you about. First, it has come to my attention that you are interfering in police business.”
Come to my attention was an unpleasant weasel phrase that annoyed Diane. She raised her brow and cocked her head. “I believe you’re misinformed.”
“Misinformed?” He leaned forward. “I have this from the police chief himself.”
“He is misinformed.”
“Let’s not dance around this, Ms. Fallon. You were seen by two policemen at a crime scene-the George Boone house.”
“Detective Janice Warrick had released the house before I was asked to take a look at it. As far as the detectives were concerned, it was no longer a crime scene.”
“You were asked there by an Atlanta detective who has absolutely no jurisdiction in the case.”
Diane was beginning to wonder just how good a friend Izzy Wallace was to Frank. “Again, you have been misinformed.”
“Frank Duncan is an Atlanta detective. He’s in the fraud division, not even homicide. He has absolutely no business interfering in a Rosewood matter.”
Walter Sutton leaned farther forward and placed a hand on the desk. For a moment, Diane thought he was going to pound it. She had never met the mayor and was becoming increasingly puzzled by his hostility. She’d learned from her friend Gregory that you only show anger in diplomacy when it gives you an advantage, and that most of the time, calm in the face of anger gives you the most advantage-so Diane remained outwardly calm.
“Mr. Sutton. Frank Duncan is executor of Louise and George Boone’s will. He is now, on their deaths, guardian of their minor daughter-who has been arrested for murder. It is most certainly his business to protect her interests and secure for her a defense. I’m shocked that you would think otherwise. A responsibility of that nature is a sacred trust.”
The mayor glared a moment before he settled back on the seat of the chair. “There’s another matter that’s of the utmost importance to this community.”
Diane knew what was coming and she almost laughed. Instead she picked up a pencil lying on the desk. Another of Gregory’s little bits of wisdom: Put a desk between you and the subject and trifle with a writing instrument. It works mainly in Western cultures, he had told her. There are so many authority figures that it’s subconsciously associated with-teachers, principals, doctors, psychiatrists, lawyers. . just one more little thing that can give you a psychological edge.
“And what would that matter be?” she asked, absently rolling the pencil between her palms.
The mayor shifted in his seat.
“We’ve been working hard to build a community with a strong economic base,” said the mayor, straightening up in the stuffed chair.
“I know,” said Diane. “We at the museum are proud to have contributed to that base by being able to hire more than a hundred employees, not to mention offering two business opportunities-the restaurant and the museum shop-to local entrepreneurs. And, of course, there are our liaisons with the local schools, technical colleges and university.”
“Yes, well, there’s an opportunity to enhance the museum’s contribution.” By getting us to fall on our sword, thought Diane. “I understand,” the mayor continued, “that you have refused to consider an opportunity that would not only be good for the museum, but bring much-needed jobs to the community.”
“Mr. Sutton. You have me completely bewildered. You came in here under the impression that I was interfering in police business. However mistaken that impression was, you were correct in condemning that as inappropriate behavior. So you can see why I’m now puzzled that you’re interfering in museum business, which is my business.”
Mayor Sutton’s face reddened slightly. Gregory always said she would make a terrible diplomat, because she took such a perverse pleasure in making the other person mad. She had to confess he was right.
“When it is something so important to the community, as a leader it’s my business as well. Look, Ms. Fallon, we’ve gotten off to a shaky start. It was not my intention to make you defensive, but to ask you to see reason. It’s not fair to the people that you use a position you fell into by the merest chance.”
“Chance?”
“I have no desire to embarrass you, but you know Milo Lorenzo hired you because he was a friend and had compassion for you. Losing your job, being out of work for a year. That’s hard on anyone, and I’m not condemning you for it. However, had Milo known he was going to die so soon, he would have changed the way the museum governance was set up. You shouldn’t use this accidental power you have to make bad decisions. You are in over your head.”
Diane laughed out loud. “Yes, we have gotten off to a bad start. Part of the reason is that from the first you have all these assumptions that aren’t true. However, to explain, I would have to go into a whole history that, quite frankly, is none of your concern. Be that as it may, what you and some members of my board have to learn to deal with is that I do have the power. And I will use it to benefit the museum.”
“There are other alternatives for the museum. Do you realize how many jobs are at stake?”
“No, and neither do you. Not only are the other alternatives for the museum inadequate, but they will take it out of the county. Many of the current employees won’t be able to move with it. The county will not benefit from any of the tourism the museum brings or the taxes generated. What jobs would come our way from the sale of the museum land is merely speculation. What we have is solid.”
“There are things about this you don’t know.”
Diane sighed-that old shoe. “Yes, there are, and it would be foolish of me to make decisions of the magnitude that you are suggesting until I have all the facts.”
“I have learned it’s impossible to reason with a person who thinks she has all the answers. Let me just say this-there’s a lot of money involved, a lot. Right now, sitting up in your ivory tower, you seem to think you’re invincible, but you aren’t. There are ways to unseat you, despite what yo
u believe, and when you fall, it will be hard.”
Diane set the pencil down and leaned forward. “If all else fails, try to scare me? Mr. Sutton, I have been threatened by men who will go to far greater lengths to obtain my cooperation than you are even willing to think about. You’re not scary.” She stood up. “I think it’s time this meeting ended.”
Mayor Sutton stood, looking for a moment as if he were searching for something that would be the last word. However, he turned on his heels and walked out the door. Diane watched him through the open office door as he headed for the elevators and punched the DOWN button over and over.
When Jonas Briggs came in, Diane was still standing behind the desk, scowling. She couldn’t shake the notion that had taken hold of her, that there was another, hidden piece to this. Despite the trite old excuse politicians and bureaucrats were wont to drag out about there being things unknown to mere plebes, this time she believed there were.
“I have to hand it to you,” said Jonas Briggs. “I thought I was good at making him red faced, but you’re so much better than me. I’ve never seen him quite so agitated.”
Diane turned her attention to Briggs and smiled. “Thanks for letting me use your office.”
“It’s only my office at your discretion.” He made an elaborate bow. “While you’re here, I’ve got an exhibit idea I’d like to talk to you about.” He sat down in the recently vacated chair. Diane sat back down behind his desk. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the archaeological excavations in West Africa at the chimp nut-cracking site.”
Chimp nut-cracking site? It sounded like a lampooning of a Christmas musical. “This is a joke, right?”
“No. Since Jane Goodall, we’ve known that chimpanzees use tools. Well, a primatologist and an archaeologist got the perfectly reasonable idea that an excavation of an area where they were seen carrying out that activity might yield some interesting information. So far they have excavated at least six wooden anvils and debitage-waste flakes-from pounding their hammers to crack nuts. There’s a remarkable resemblance to stone waste flakes found at some early human sites. It’s all quite fascinating.”
“And you want to do an exhibit on-what did Andie call it? — ape archaeology?”
“Not exactly. See that painting?” He pointed to the colorful painting hanging over the chessboard. “Do you know who did that?”
Diane shook her head. “I’m not very well versed in modern art.”
Briggs beamed at her. “But do you like it? You see it as art?”
“Yes, I do.”
“It was painted by Ruby.”
“I’m not familiar with modern painters, either.”
“Ruby was an elephant housed in the Phoenix zoo.”
“An elephant?” Diane stared at the painting for a moment. “I think I have heard of elephants that are trained to paint.”
“Ah, but are they trained? Some animal behaviorists say so, but Ruby’s handler gave her a brush and paint because she saw her doodling in the sand with her trunk. If we see a child doodling in the sand and give him crayons, is that training or nurturing a talent?”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Did you know that elephants play music? Have you heard of the Thai Elephant Orchestra?”
“Actually, I have their CD. However, I do have a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that it’s the elephants and not their handlers that are composing the music.”
“What I’m suggesting is an exhibit designed to look at animals in a little different way than a collection of instinctive behaviors. Making the familiar strange and the strange familiar, if I may paraphrase T. S. Eliot. That makes good poetry, good anthropology, and good museums.”
Diane’s face turned up in a grin. “I think I like that idea. Go ahead and start working on it. Discuss it with the exhibition planner and designer-she’s up on the third floor. Let me see what you come up with.”
Briggs’s head bobbed up and down happily. “I’ll do that. I haven’t been up to the third floor yet. Thanks for listening to an old man. I’m happy to have a home here.”
“I had a hard time getting the archaeology department to send anyone,” said Diane.
Jonas Briggs studied the subtle leaf pattern woven into his bronze-colored carpet. “A little bit of snobbery, I’m afraid.”
“Snobbery?”
“I probably shouldn’t say anything, but hell, it’s never stopped me before. The physical anthropologist has some issues with your appointment here.”
“I don’t even know him. What issues could he possibly have?”
“My dear, I see you are unfamiliar with the subtle workings of the academic mind. You’re a forensic specialist. You don’t do research, you apply research, which means you are a mere technician of the art of studying bones. And thereby have no real qualifications for a position of this kind.”
“I see.”
“Willard quite put everyone off, then Julie decided she liked the idea of an extra office. Of course, later, she got a job out of state. They weren’t going to replace her until I said I would like to come. They jumped at that, so here I am. They were glad to get rid of an emeritus faculty member. For all their love of old things, they aren’t much fond of old faculty.”
“I rather think the geology department had the same feelings.” Diane’s eyes sparkled in amusement.
“Well, we’ll just have fun without them.”
Diane rose and headed for the door. “You play chess, I see.” She nodded in the direction of the chessboard.
“A little. I’m not very good, but I was hoping I could con somebody into a game with me now and then.”
She walked over to the board and moved the white pawn to king four square before she went out the door.
Chapter 18
By the time Diane got to the lab, the police were ready to leave. From the frowns on everyone’s faces, they hadn’t given the conservation team much satisfaction.
Izzy Wallace turned to Diane. “Not a lot we can do, really. Sort of a nonstarter. Got in with a key, didn’t take anything, not much messed up, really.” He glanced over at one of the assistants and back to Diane. “No use in taking any prints. There’s not a lot we can do with them. It was probably someone who works here, and their prints would be here anyway.”
Diane folded her arms and looked at him a moment, wondering if he had anything to do with the mayor’s misinformation. “That’s all right, Officer Wallace. We didn’t expect a lot, but we did want it on record in case it happens again and they do take something.”
“We’re real sorry, ma’am,” said the other policeman, “but there’s nothing to be gained by pursuing this. The DA would just drop it.”
“I appreciate your coming.”
It was a second or two before Izzy’s eyes left Diane’s. “Is the mayor downstairs?” he finally asked.
“Presumably.”
He nodded. “We’ll be going, then.”
As soon as they were out the door, the staff began complaining.
“They hardly did anything. They even so much as implied that we left the lab in a mess.”
“I’ll alert the night guards to keep a lookout. Don’t worry too much about it.” Diane left them grumbling and took the stairs back down to her office.
On her desk was a note from Andie to call Frank. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“Diane, I have the autopsy report. It will be a while before I can have the blood samples you collected analyzed. Would it be all right if I come over around quitting time and discuss it? I’ll bring Italian.”
“Sounds good. If the restaurant were open, I’d treat you to a meal at the museum.”
“You guys have a restaurant?”
“We will have one in a couple of weeks. I’ll see you around six-thirty.”
Diane took out her laptop and memory stick from her digital camera. After she printed out the photos she took of the crime scene, she called up a program she hadn’t used
in a while. One that computed directional trajectory and gave a three-dimensional animated image of the scene when the information was plugged into it. If she hurried, she could have a rough set done by the time Frank arrived.
“What’s this you have here?” Frank pointed to a corkboard on the table leaning against the wall. Pinned to it were two rows of computerized 3-D images of the crime scene.
“It’s a storyboard depicting the events at the crime scene. I find it helps me see the sequence of events and what’s missing from the sequence.” She looked at the bags in his hand. “You think we can eat all that food?”
“You never know who might drop in-like a murder suspect on the lam. Besides, it’s just a few appetizers to go with the main meal.”
“I thought we might eat out on the terrace, then come back here.”
“Suits me.” He glanced again at her storyboard before following her out the door.
The terrace was an open patio in the rear of the museum looking out onto the nature trail. She spread their meal on a wrought iron table. It was hotter outside than she’d realized, but the sun was going down and the table was in the shade. The air had a sweet, hot fragrance of some shrub. She made a mental note to find out its name. Here in the rear of the museum it was quiet. Road noise sounded so distant they could have been deep in a glade.
Neither spoke about murder or autopsy reports. Diane didn’t tell Frank about the break-in or her talk with the mayor or her uncertainties about his friend Izzy Wallace. Instead, they looked out at the nature trail, and she told him about the various plants located on the trail and the pond with a family of swans. He laughed as she told him about Jonas Briggs, ape archaeology and elephant fine arts.
“Elephants actually make music?”
“Apparently. Jonas is going to look into it. Speaking of music, what’s this karaoke thing you and Andie have going? You’re a crooner?”
“Was last time. I might be Elvis next time. It’s just a fun thing I do occasionally. Turns out Andie’s a big karaoke fan, too. You’ll have to come sometime. Do you sing?”
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