“We can do this,” said Jonas. “Have you rested at all since you were released from the hospital?”
“I’ll rest when this is over.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” said Jonas.
“Give it up,” said Diane. “By the way, I moved my bishop to queen three.”
“I thought you would. Can you remember a king-side castle when you get back to the museum?”
“Sure. Maybe we should just play this game with each other in our heads.”
“I couldn’t do that when I was young,” said Jonas. “I’m keeping track of the moves in my notebook.” He pointed to his back pocket.
Diane tried out her chess analogy on Jonas as the other excavators listened in. “I think getting Star convicted is the game. Frank was attacked because he was protecting her.”
“Like a king’s pawn.” Jonas nodded.
“With him gone, her position is very vulnerable.”
“I thought it was a robbery?” said Ellen.
Diane told them about little Tamika Stillwood, the fake dreadlocks and whatever suspicious thing she saw in his movement.
“I don’t know exactly what she meant, but she’s a very observant little girl.”
“Little kids are like that,” said Miriam. “They’re like dogs that way. Any change in their environment, they notice. I miss a line from my daughter’s favorite story and she gets indignant.”
“And they hear everything,” said Ellen.
“That certainly puts a different light on things,” said Jonas. “What do the police say?”
“They interviewed Korey because he has dreadlocks.”
Jonas dropped his trowel. “They didn’t?”
“As you can imagine, he was upset about it.”
“They aren’t going to hassle him, are they?”
“No. Fortunately, he was at the museum with half his staff, working, at the time. But the whole idea . . .” Diane stopped and scrutinized the wolf skeleton, running her fingers along a rib.
“He was found shot by a forest ranger,” she said.
Miriam, Ellen and Jonas looked back and forth from the bones to Diane to each other.
“Just how do you know that?” said Jonas.
“This is the wolf whose skin is stuffed and mounted in one of our faunal exhibits. A ranger friend of Milo’s found it and kept it frozen while he was looking for the poacher. At some point he gave it to Milo for the museum. We have the bullet with the display and a video about dangers to wild animals.”
“Whew,” exclaimed Ellen. “I was going to ask if you teach classes. I’d sure like to be able to read bones like that.”
Diane smiled at her. “It just occurred to me.”
“I think this guy ought to be reassembled and exhibited beside his stuffed self,” said Jonas. “Bullet hole and all.”
“I agree,” said Diane.
They lapsed into silence, and there was no sound but the clinking of tools against soil. Digging graves. Dreadful business. The Odells were right. She was a grave digger. A pain in Diane’s lower back reminded her that she needed to drink more water. She took a long sip and continued working, for just a foot away from the ribs of the wolf she had uncovered the human pelvis—besides the skull, one of the most important sets of bones to find.
She swept away the dirt from the large flat bones that had collapsed into the dirt. She ran her fingers along the bone looking at the details; no ventral arc, narrow sciatic notch, narrow subpubic angle—classic male. She took a brush and cleaned the pubic symphysis, studying the remodeling of the bone, looking for a sign of the age—when she caught sight of what looked like a healed lesion. She’d seen similar bone formations resulting from inflammation, but mostly in women who had just borne a child.
“Let’s photograph and take up the wolf,” she said. “I’d like to take the human skeleton with me.”
“I have a scapula over here,” said one of the male crew members. Diane tried to remember his name—something long or not easy on the tongue. Raedwald, that was it. The scapula was three grids away from the main part of the skeleton.
“This is in bad condition.”
“The scapula body’s broken, the coracoid process is missing, so is the acromion, the glenoid cavity is badly crushed,” she muttered almost to herself. “Have you found all the pieces?”
“No. This is pretty much it.”
“Have it photographed and take it up.” Her head was starting to ache. She rubbed her eyes.
“I’ve already sketched it. You want to see the arm you discovered yesterday?”
Diane nodded. She stood, almost too fast, and felt weak on her feet. Fortunately, Raedwald didn’t ask her if she was all right. As well-meaning as everyone was, and as right as they were, she wished they wouldn’t express it.
She stood for a moment, gathering her wits about her before walking over with him to have a look at the humerus. It was completely excavated and included the forearm bones—the radius and ulna—and the bones of the hand. All neatly sitting on top of the ground as if they had been laid there, but out of place. The radius and ulna were flipped around in their relationship to the humerus. The bones of the hand were off to the side.
“Good job.”
“It’s really like a work of art,” he said. “I mean the bones, not the excavation.”
“I’ve always thought bones are quite lovely. It produces some cognitive dissonance, though, to look at a pit of remains from a mass murder and also see the beauty of the bones.”
“I’ll bet.”
Diane sat down cross-legged to examine the bones as they lay there on the ground. The head of the humerus was crushed. This was the part that would have fit into the crushed glenoid cavity.
“Will you be able to tell the difference between animal activity and, say, an injury?” the excavator asked.
“Probably.” She touched the bone lightly with her fingers. “Interesting bones.”
The sound of her telephone ringing came from the pocket of her shirt. She snatched it and pushed the answer button.
“Dr. Fallon, this is Serena Ellison, Star Boone’s attorney.”
Diane was disappointed. She wanted to hear news about Frank—good news.
“Yes?”
“I’ve made arrangements for us to see her in an hour. I know this is short notice, but . . .”
“Shall I meet you at the jail?”
“That would be fine. I’ll see you there.”
Yes, it would be fine, she thought. Then when she saw Frank she could tell him how Star was doing.
Diane stood up. “Can I have your attention?” Everyone stopped and looked over at her. “First, I want to thank you, both for the quality and the speed of work you are doing. I can see you’ve been putting in overtime to get this done, and I appreciate it. I have to go back into town, but I’d like you to get the human remains drawn, mapped and out today, if you can. Jonas, would you bring them to my office at the museum? And please don’t tell anyone what they are.”
The excavators looked at each other as if they were all members of a conspiracy.
“Sure thing,” said Jonas.
Jonas walked her back to the creek crossing. Diane eyed him as he wiped his neck with a bandana.
“You doing OK?” she asked.
“Me? I think I’m doing better than you are.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“I’m doing just fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Good. You guys are doing a terrific job.”
“We’re glad to do it. I’m glad to do it. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“That episode last night. Did you get any sense of danger from it?”
“No. I had the idea that whoever it was, was more frightened than we were. For us, it was no more than pot hunters. You think it was the murderer?”
Jonas said the word murderer as if he were incredulous over the possibility. She doubted archaeologists ever dealt with murderers.
Chapter 34
Diane crossed the creek and hiked back to her car. Inside she stopped and rested a moment before she put the key in the ignition. What she would have liked to do is go home and sleep. Instead, she drove to the Rosewood jail.
Rosewood’s jail was new. The interview room they were allowing the lawyer and Diane to use smelled of paint and disinfectant.
“It seems like it’s taking a long time,” said Diane, looking at her watch.
“Yes, it does,” said Serena Ellison. “I hate it when they have me cooling my heels.”
As if someone had been waiting outside listening for the time when Diane and the lawyer were the most impatient, the door suddenly swung open. Star, escorted by the guard, slouched into the room wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. She was pale and looked thin in the baggy, ill-fitting clothes.
“How’s Uncle Frank?” she said as she came through the door.
“He’s doing well,” said Diane. “I saw him this morning and he was much improved from yesterday.”
Star came to the table and sat down. The guard looked for a moment like she was going to stay until Star’s lawyer shot her a stern glare.
“How are you doing?” asked Diane.
She shrugged. “It’s boring and the guards are mean.”
“How are they mean?” asked Serena.
“They say stuff to me, like I’m going to hell.”
“Are they doing anything else mean? Hitting you, withholding your food?”
“Withholding the food would be a kindness around here. No, they don’t hit me or anything. They shove a little, that’s all.” She looked at her lawyer. “Can’t you get me out of here?”
“I’m going to try again today. But you have to have a place to go.”
Star looked like she would cry.
“She can stay with me,” said Diane. Probably too rashly, but the grateful look on Star’s face was worth it.
“That’ll be good. Now Star, don’t get your hopes up about getting out today or tomorrow. Most likely they won’t grant bail, but they might, and I’ll keep trying,” said Serena.
“The important thing,” said Diane, “is that you take care of yourself. I’ll come see you as often as I can, but I don’t know how often that’ll be. I’m making progress with the case, and Frank’s getting better. Hold on to that.”
Star nodded.
“And be polite,” said Serena. “It won’t kill you. If you act hard, they’ll think you’re hard and treat you that way.”
“When I get out of here, can we sue them?”
“We’ll see,” said Serena. “Let’s take care of one case at a time.”
It was hard to watch Star being led back to jail, and Diane was glad to be rid of the place when she left. She could only imagine what it must be like to not be able to leave. She thanked Serena Ellison and headed to the museum.
When Diane saw her office upon her first arrival at the museum, she thought her private bathroom was nice, but a little extravagant. Lately, she’d been using it as much as her apartment bathroom and was glad to have it. She showered, changed clothes and put on enough makeup to look presentable.
She told Andie to screen her calls, and she settled in to work on her backlog of paperwork. If she didn’t get caught up, her detractors wouldn’t have to resort to pranks to try and remove her; she’d sabotage herself. First, however, she called the hospital to check on Frank. “Critical” was all they would tell her.
Diane worked on museum business and found it to be a nice break from the past few days. That’s great, she thought, thinking of her main job as a break. . . . She shook her head as she signed a requisition form.
It was almost two o’clock when she heard raised voices in Andie’s office. Andie was trying to tell someone Diane couldn’t be disturbed. Diane rose as the door burst open. A woman stood in front of her desk. She was in her early thirties, Diane guessed. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a severe french twist. She wore a brown pantsuit, crisply pressed. Her brow was furrowed into an angry expression.
“Can I help you?” said Diane, sitting back down.
“You can help by minding your own damn business.”
Diane’s gaze shifted from her desk, filled with piles of paperwork, and back up to the stranger. “I am.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Detective Janice Warrick.”
“All right, Detective Warrick, what is your complaint?”
“Who are you to mess around with my cases? I doubt you’d appreciate it if I came here and started setting up my own exhibits.”
“What cases are you referring to?”
She leaned forward. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The Boone murders.”
“As I explained to the mayor, I’ve been engaged to help the defense. I didn’t go into your crime scene until it was released. And I did so with permission of the owner. So what are you referring to?”
“The reports in the media about me botching the case and arresting the wrong person—that’s what I’m referring to.”
“I haven’t been watching the media, but surely you aren’t denying the defense the right to have its theory of the crime?”
“No. It’s the character assassination, the lies. Do you know how hard it was for me to rise to detective in this town? We have the killer behind bars, and she’s going to stay there—despite your efforts to free her. In case you haven’t heard, the judge denied her bail again. At least some people aren’t buying your hokum.” Her lips thinned into a grim smile. “I heard you offered to take her home with you. I guess you can’t help taking in strays.”
Diane’s face hardened. She locked her gaze with Warrick’s as she rose to her feet. The image of the mayor came into her mind, as did his mean-spirited insinuations. This woman was like him, even though separated by two levels of bureaucracy—the commissioner and the chief of detectives.
People in leadership gather like-minded people around them—not simply like-minded, but people of similar morality. With good leaders, it can be a good thing. With ill-intentioned ones, it is a nest of vipers. She’d seen it in petty dictators, petty bureaucrats and now here in her hometown’s government. She resolved right at that moment to defeat it—to defeat them, to humiliate them, to rub their noses in their own incompetence.
“Andie,” Diane called without taking her gaze from Warrick’s. Andie hurried into the room, and from the look on her face, she had clearly been listening. “Show this woman out, and she is never to set foot in this private area of the museum again. If she does, call security.”
“Ms. Fallon . . .” Warrick began. Her face looked suddenly less angry. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Anything else you have to say to me is irrelevant. We’re finished.”
“I can see my way out.” She turned on her heels and walked out of the office.
“You all right?” asked Andie. “I heard what she said.”
“I’m fine. But I’d sure like to arrange for one of the dinosaurs to fall on her.”
A knock on the door brought both their heads around. It was Jonas, looking like he just came in from the field.
“We brought the bones in,” he said. “I just left them with Korey, and he locked them in the storage vault.”
“Were you able to find the skull?”
Jonas shook his head. “Not yet. But we’ve got a ways to go to get to the bottom of the pit.”
“I really can’t thank you enough,” said Diane.
“No, it’s me who’s grateful. My old department wasn’t mine anymore. When you retire, they seem to think all your knowledge retires with you. I got hints every day about how they needed office space. This is heaven-sent for me. It’s like starting a new career.”
“Why don’t you spend the night at your house tonight?” said Diane.
&nbs
p; “I’m going to do just that. Have a long soak in the tub and then listen to some Bach with a bottle of beer.”
“Sounds like something I’d like to do.”
After Jonas left, Diane headed for the conservation lab. Korey was still working on separating the papers found in the basement. He had several single sheets laid out on a table.
“You working alone tonight?”
“Yep. Hope I don’t need an alibi later on.”
Diane smiled at him, as though it was a joke, but she could see he was only half joking. “Anything interesting in the papers from the basement?”
“I haven’t read any of them thoroughly yet. A lot are written in this spidery handwriting that’s hard to read. But yeah, there’s some requisition forms to a veterinary college for a series of calf fetuses, and one to a guy in Utah about some fossil dinosaur eggs. I wonder where those ended up. I guess in someone’s private collection. There was a cool 1849 map of the United States. I sent that and an interesting collection of drawings off to be processed at another lab. The drawings looked like they were the original plans for the dinosaur murals in the big rooms.” Korey grinned.
“That is interesting. Go ahead and let the exhibit planner—” Diane had gotten into the bad habit of referring to her staff by their titles rather than their names. She needed to break herself of that. “Let Audra know the kind of things you’re finding so she can start on some ideas.”
“I talked with her this morning.”
“Good. Korey, I hope you don’t mind if I use the lab here to look at these bones. I was going to set up a separate one on the third floor, but the storage vault in this room is one of the safest places. The last intruders couldn’t open the vault.”
“You think maybe the break-in was about your bones?”
“Yes, I do. I think they were looking for the clavicle that started all this.”
“There’s a table in the vault. I can clear it off and you can use it. That way you won’t have to keep packing it up and taking it out. It’s kind of cool in there, though.”
One Grave Too Many Page 26