Dust to Dust

by Beverly Connor

  “I agree,” said David. “Too many questions and not enough information for answers.”

  “Besides,” said Izzy, “it’s Hanks’ job to figure this stuff out.”

  Izzy had told Diane that some of the Rosewood detectives thought she insinuated herself too many times in their cases. Diane thought it was an unfair accusation. She never interfered in cases unless she was brought in by the detectives themselves. Or in some cases, the perpetrators made sure she was involved.

  Since Izzy joined her team, he had become her conscience in that regard—trying to make sure the Rosewood detectives had a good impression of Diane and the crime lab. She started to tell him that the county sheriff didn’t have any problems with how she did her job, but her cell rang. She looked at the display. It was Garnett, Rosewood’s chief of detectives. Diane answered.

  “Hey, Diane. Just giving you a heads-up. Hanks is bringing Jonas Briggs down here for questioning. Thought you might want to observe.”

  Chapter 7

  Diane, still in the change of clothes she kept in her car for emergencies and still with Styrofoam packing peanuts clinging to her, stood in the observation room looking with some apprehension at Jonas Briggs on the other side of the glass in the police interrogation room. Douglas Garnett was standing next to her.

  Garnett was his usual well-dressed self: dark charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and light blue silk tie. He was a tall man, fiftyish with thick, graying, well-styled hair and dark eyes. He hadn’t called Diane because he was personally concerned for Jonas Briggs; his concern fell more under the heading of protecting the museum from bad publicity and political repercussions. The crime lab, a really big jewel in Rosewood’s somewhat thorny crown, was housed in the museum building. Garnett and the mayor knew if anything bad happened to the museum because of the crime lab, Diane would move the crime lab out. And having the museum house the lab worked out so well for the city that it was worth the little extra political trouble to watch out for the museum’s welfare. Plus, Garnett owed Diane for pulling him out of hot water. And Diane did have a personal interest in the welfare of Jonas Briggs.

  Jonas was sitting there alone, his forearms resting on the table. He was dressed in a light denim jacket, white shirt, and Dockers. He looked worried, but Diane guessed he was worried about his friend Marcella, not the circumstances he found himself in at the moment. Garnett told her that Jonas had waived his right to council. She didn’t think it was a good idea, but Garnett’s help stopped at allowing Diane to talk to Jonas before Hanks did.

  Diane’s fears had been correct. Jonas had discovered Marcella Payden, which made him an automatic person of interest.

  Diane heard the rattle of the door and Detective Hanks walked into the interrogation room. He didn’t look particularly threatening, with his arm immobilized and his neck in a brace because of his broken collarbone.

  Jonas raised his eyebrows at Hanks but didn’t mention Hanks’ condition. He waited for Detective Hanks to speak.

  “How well do you know Marcella Payden?” asked Hanks.

  “Very well. She is a fellow archaeologist and a friend. I know her family,” replied Jonas.

  “Did the two of you get along?” Hanks asked.

  “Of course,” Jonas said.

  “Were the two of you dating?” asked Hanks.

  “Dating? That sounds like such a young term. We went places together and had a good time. Is that what the young do on dates these days? There is an element of romance that goes along with dating, so I guess you could say we were dating,” said Jonas.

  “Were you intimate?” asked Hanks.

  “Now, young man, that’s a very private question. However, I will answer. No.”

  “Did that make you frustrated?” asked Hanks.

  Diane felt uncomfortable for Jonas. She wanted to bang on the window and tell Hanks to be more respectful.

  Garnett must have felt her frustration. He leaned toward her and said, “He has to ask these questions.”

  Diane nodded. But she didn’t have to like it.

  Jonas chuckled. “Do I look like I’m nineteen? What kind of question is that?”

  “You may have wanted to go faster in the relationship than Dr. Payden,” said Hanks. “Take it to the next level.”

  Jonas shook his head. “Next level? Where do you young people come up with these phrases? And go faster? Son, at my age, I’m happy just to go at all. You know, you haven’t analyzed your target audience in forming your assumptions and questions. You’re targeting a different age group from mine.”

  “Did you and Dr. Payden have a lot of arguments?” Hanks asked.

  Diane had a desire to pound on the window again. These are trick questions, she wanted to shout.

  “A lot of arguments? As in getting mad at each other? No.”

  “What if I told you I had witnesses who heard you and Dr. Payden arguing heatedly just two days ago?”

  Diane watched Jonas raise his bushy eyebrows and frown. “Then I would say you had a witness who couldn’t tell the difference between spirited scholarly discourse and arguing,” said Jonas.

  “Is that what you call it, ‘spirited scholarly discourse’?” asked Hanks.

  “Yes,” said Jonas.

  “What did Dr. Payden call it?”

  “Marcella called it spirited scholarly intercourse,” said Jonas.

  Diane smiled.

  “Intercourse?” said Hanks.

  “Yes. Communication between individuals, organizations, or nations,” said Jonas. “You’ll find it’s the first definition in the dictionary. It’s kind of overshadowed by the second definition. Marcella likes the surprise aspect of using the first definition.”

  “I see,” said Hanks. “What was the argument about?”

  “Let’s see. I believe the topic of discourse was the definition of archaeology and how it relates to the proper subject matter of archaeology,” said Jonas.

  “That seems pretty basic. Are you telling me you couldn’t even agree on a definition of your own subject matter?” said Hanks.

  “It’s an academic thing,” said Jonas.

  Diane could see he was getting annoyed with Hanks.

  “It’s a common issue with all us archaeologists, one that will never be resolved because we will never completely agree. However, if you think this or any discussion I’ve had with Dr. Payden in any way would drive me to attack her, you’re just being plain silly. Marcella loves academic discussions of all kinds.” Jonas looked at his watch. “I’ll have to leave soon to pick up her daughter at the airport. She and her husband are flying in from Arizona today.”

  “Do you know who might have done this to her?” asked Hanks.

  “No. Marcella is a nice person whom everyone likes. I can’t imagine anyone doing this to her.”

  “There is a large hutch in her living room. Do you know what was in it?” asked Hanks.

  “Several pieces of pottery,” said Jonas.

  “Indian pottery?” asked Hanks.

  “Hanks didn’t go into the house,” said Diane. “How does he know about the hutch?”

  “He said he was going to call David Goldstein to see what kind of things your crew found,” said Garnett. “I’m sure he called before he began the interview.”

  Diane wondered why Hanks hadn’t called her, but she didn’t say anything.

  “. . . pottery she made herself,” Jonas was saying. “It does look very much like pottery from archaeological digs. She experimented with various clays and tempering material. She always signed it to be sure no one ever acquired one of her pots and tried to pawn it off as an authentic prehistoric artifact.”

  “Did she have any valuable artifacts in the house?” asked Hanks.

  “Valuable to archaeologists as objects of study. She had a few vessels, but as to monetary value . . . to tell you the truth, I really don’t know what the market is for stolen artifacts.”

  “There’s a desk in the living room that had been emptied. Do you know wh
at was in it?”

  “Nothing. She found the desk in one of the sheds out back of her house and was going to refinish it,” said Jonas.

  “You said that when you found her she spoke,” said Hanks. He looked down at his notes. “I believe you said she said, ‘Tiger after all loose moment.’ Is that right?”

  “Yes,” said Jonas. “That’s what it sounded like she said.”

  “Do you know what that means?” asked Hanks.

  Jonas shook his head. “I don’t have any idea.”

  “When you drove up, did you see anyone else there or anything out of the ordinary?” asked Hanks.

  Jonas shook his head and looked as if he were trying to remember. “I stopped at the gate—or that arch thing. My headlights shined in the house and I could see the paintings on the wall over the sofa, but I didn’t see her, or anyone. I went up to the door and knocked. She didn’t answer. I waited and knocked again. She didn’t come to the door. I knew she was expecting me. The door was locked, but she’d given me a key to look in on her place when she was away. I opened the door, called her name, and went in.”

  He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “She was there on the floor and there was blood. I thought she had fallen and hit her head. I called 911 and stayed with her. I talked to her and she came to briefly. That’s when she spoke. It was hard to hear. I may have gotten it wrong.” Jonas hesitated a moment. “Later when I found out someone had attacked her, I tried to remember if I saw or heard anything. I just don’t remember. Everything was fine until I found her on the floor.”

  “Thank you for coming down. Please don’t leave town,” said Hanks.

  “I have to go to the Atlanta airport to pick up her daughter, Paloma, and her husband,” said Jonas.

  “Just make sure you come back,” said Hanks.

  Hanks ended the interrogation. It wasn’t as bad as Diane had feared. And it was informative. She found out what was in the empty hutch. If the thieves thought they were valuable artifacts, then they were bound to be disappointed. It was interesting to discover where the desk came from too. Apparently, Hanks didn’t find the note on the back of the drawer important, for he didn’t ask about it. It was also interesting that Marcella had spoken. Diane couldn’t imagine what the words meant either.

  Jonas stood up, then sat down again. “I just remembered, Marcella told me earlier she found something she wanted to talk to Dr. Fallon about. She didn’t say what it was. I don’t know whether it is related to what happened to her. What with Diane being the museum director and the crime lab director, it could be something about museum business or something from the dark side.”

  “The dark side?” asked Hanks.

  “It’s what we in the museum call the crime lab,” he said.

  Hanks’ back was to Diane, but she could see the round of his cheek change. Apparently he had smiled.

  “Would she have mentioned it in a note or diary?” asked Hanks.

  “Most of Marcella’s notes were about her work. I don’t know if she kept a diary,” said Jonas.

  “Tell the daughter I would like to speak with her when she is up to it,” said Hanks.

  “I will,” said Jonas. He rose again and walked out the door.

  Hanks turned around and stared at the two-way mirror for a moment. Diane thanked Garnett for allowing her to watch and hurried out to catch up with Jonas. On the way to the police station she had called her museum assistant, Andie, and asked her to make hotel reservations for Paloma and her husband. She needed to tell him.

  “Jonas,” said Diane when she caught up with him at the door.

  “Diane. I’m glad you’re here,” he said. They walked out together. “Were you behind the mirror? Do they really do that? It’s not just a TV thing?”

  “Yes. I was there,” she said.

  “Then you heard the questions he asked. Does he really think I had anything to do with this beastly thing?”

  “If I had been the one to find her, I would be the one answering questions,” said Diane. “It’s not uncommon that whoever finds a victim becomes a person of interest. It’s just procedure.”

  “It’s not pleasant,” said Jonas.

  “It’s not supposed to be. It’s just the way it is. I wanted to tell you that I made Paloma reservations at the Latimeer.”

  “That’s pretty expensive. Paloma and her husband aren’t rich,” said Jonas.

  “The museum is picking it up. I spoke with her today. She called the house. She wanted to stay there, but I thought with the blood on the floor and all the fingerprint powder, it would be easier if they stayed closer to town. It’s also near the hospital.”

  “That’s good of you,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I’m sure Marcella will appreciate it,” he said.

  “Drive safely,” said Diane.

  Jonas nodded and got in his car. It wasn’t until he drove away that she realized what he had said in the interrogation room about seeing the paintings over the sofa. When she and her crew were in the house, there weren’t any paintings over the sofa.

  Chapter 8

  Diane walked back into the police station, past the reception area, past the detectives’ desks, to Garnett’s office. She could see through the window in the door that he was meeting with Detective Hanks. She knocked and entered when Hanks opened the door.

  Douglas Garnett had a no-nonsense, no-frills office. The chairs were faux leather and chrome; his desk was gray metal. A long, wood conference table surrounded with wooden chairs sat off to the side. The tan walls were decorated with an array of diplomas, awards, framed newspaper clippings, and photographs of Garnett shaking hands with many politicians from around Georgia.

  He rose when she entered and waved her to a chair opposite Hanks. The two of them sat back down when she did. Hanks stared at her. It wasn’t exactly daggers coming out of his eyes, but his gaze wasn’t particularly friendly either. Despite what he may have felt, he was having a hard time looking aggressive in his neck brace and with his arm in a sling.

  “I was just telling Chief Garnett I don’t want you interfering in my case,” said Hanks.

  “Have I interfered?” asked Diane.

  “You’re here. What’s the purpose of that?” he asked.

  “Just observing,” said Diane. “Comparing witness testimony with evidence gathered from the crime scene. I came back in because of something Jonas said during your interview that may be of importance.”

  Hanks sat up straight and leaned forward. “What was that?” he asked.

  At least he was eager for any information he could get from her. Diane was glad of that.

  “Jonas said that when he arrived at the house, his headlights shined in the window and he could see paintings over the sofa. When my team and I were in the house, there were no paintings over the sofa. I only just a moment ago realized what I’d heard or I’d have mentioned it before he left for the airport.”

  Hanks’ expression changed to one less suspicious of her intentions. “Were the paintings stolen? When? I wonder if Briggs remembers if they were there when he was in the house. Can you call him? Do you have his cell number?” asked Hanks.

  Diane fished her cell from her pocket and called Jonas.

  “Diane, what’s up? Nothing else happened did it, this soon?” Jonas asked.

  “No. Just a question. When you were in the house with Marcella, did you notice anything about the paintings over the sofa, the ones you saw in your headlights a few minutes before?”

  “Not that I remember. Let me think.” Jonas was quiet for a long moment.

  Diane thought he might have entered a dead zone in cell service; then she heard him whispering to himself, going over the evening’s events, refreshing his memory.

  “I remember my headlights shining through her front window, lighting up the back wall. The pictures stood out for me because I had not seen them before. I got out and walked across the yard and up on the porch. I knocked on the door, but there was
no answer. I looked in the window, but didn’t see her. I knocked again, then unlocked the door and went in, started to call out for Marcella, but there she was on the floor. I stayed with her there on the floor. I didn’t know what to do for her.”

  There was another long pause. She heard him breathing.

  “Yes, I can see it now as I stood on the porch and looked in the window.The paintings were not there! I’ll be damned! The paintings were gone. You mean her attacker was there in the house stealing the paintings as I was walking from my car to the house? The absence of the paintings hadn’t registered until you mentioned it. Damn.”

  “What kind of paintings were they?” asked Diane.

  “Portraits. Three of them. But I didn’t see them clearly from my car—too far away.”

  “You’d not seen them before?” asked Diane.

  “No, I’m sure of it. Marcella had a tapestry hanging over the sofa the last time I was there. The paintings were a new addition.”

  “What about the hutch?” asked Diane. “Was the pottery in it when you were with Marcella?”

  “Yes, it was there. I remember looking at the pottery and thinking how it looked just like authentic artifacts . . . and what a good potter she is. Are you saying the pottery is gone too? That young fellow, Hanks, asked me about it. I didn’t think about the implication until now. Was her attacker hiding in the house while I was there—waiting for me to leave so he could rob the place? You know, Marcella had a lot of work on her computer. If it’s gone . . .”

  “No, we have her computer. We’ll talk when you get back,” said Diane. “Thanks for the information. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “I’ll call you when I get Paloma and her husband settled. I’m sure she’ll want to get to the hospital right away,” he said.

  Diane had the phone’s speaker turned on as she spoke with Jonas so that Garnett and Hanks could hear. When she hung up, Garnett spoke first.