Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  Monroe was nodding the whole time. That was a good sign.

  ‘‘There’s merit to what you’ve said,’’ he mused.

  ‘‘I want all this put behind us and not have it reflect on those who were part of the past administration. I want it done well.’’

  Monroe seemed to be considering, but Diane knew he had already made up his mind. He was a political animal, and the idea of clearing the names of those under the last mayor—namely, him—appealed to him. Diane waited patiently.

  ‘‘Okay, I see your point and I agree. I’ll make the change right away.’’ He looked around at the people still in the squad room. ‘‘I’m afraid there is a lot of housecleaning I’m going to be doing before this is over.’’ He looked like he relished the idea.

  ‘‘I don’t envy your task,’’ said Diane, still sucking up to him.

  He shook his head. ‘‘I don’t either.’’

  ‘‘Thanks for speaking with me,’’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘‘Glad to be working with you again,’’ he said.

  Colin was talking with Edward Van Ross, so she sought out Pendleton. He was still hostile, but he agreed to speak with her when she said she was work ing to clear Garnett.

  ‘‘Can you tell me anything that you thought was out of the ordinary going on at either crime scene?’’ she asked. ‘‘You’ve been to crime scenes before and know how they are done.’’

  He shrugged. ‘‘They are all different. I wasn’t at the Jefferies crime scene, but at Peeks’. Bryce and that Rikki chick were looking for something. Some kind of list, I heard them mention.’’

  ‘‘Do you know what kind of list? Names? Num bers?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘No. They didn’t say,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Anything else?’’ she asked. ‘‘Did they check for fingerprints?’’

  He had been slouching but stood up straight. ‘‘Now that you mention it, they didn’t dust for prints at all. Now, that’s strange. Another thing. That Rikki chick pocketed something she found on the floor near the body. I thought it was a silver pen, but I don’t really know what it was. Something shiny. I thought it was something she dropped maybe. That’s all I know.’’

  ‘‘Thank you for talking to me,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘The GBI said that Harve wasn’t pushed. Some thing about the math and something about his foot injuries being consistent with your description. But I don’t know why he would have gone after you. I know he didn’t like you, but . . . this is just strange.’’ He shrugged and left before Diane could comment.

  When she and Colin left, Diane was glad to get out of the police station. She never found it to be a comfortable place even before the Jefferies adminis tration. On the way to the museum she told Colin that Monroe would be putting Janice Warrick in as lead detective.

  ‘‘How did you pull that off?’’ said Colin, looking over at her, then back at the road.

  ‘‘By trying to be both logical and political. Not easy,’’ she said.

  ‘‘That will make our job easier. Maybe the worm is finally turning,’’ he said.

  ‘‘I had Janice take pictures inside the mayor’s house,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I noticed when we were there earlier that there was fingerprint powder only on one corner of the hall chest—no place else. When I saw the pictures of the kitchen, I saw the same thing. There was fingerprint dust only where Garnett had touched the countertop.’’ Diane related her discussion with Garnett to Colin.

  ‘‘So, Bryce or what’s her name—Rikki—didn’t try to find any other prints, just Garnett’s.’’ Colin whis tled. ‘‘Wow.’’

  ‘‘I assume they acted on orders from Peeks, but I don’t know,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That’s both good and bad. Good in that it looks like they were trying to frame Garnett. But the prose cutor could see it as a motivation for Garnett to kill Peeks.’’

  ‘‘Janice will interview Bryce,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’ll be interested to see his explanation. Her pictures also showed that the house appeared to have been searched after the mayor’s body was discovered and the police had turned the crime scene over to Bryce. Janice said the original crime scene photos taken by the police didn’t show the disarray that her photo graphs did. I can’t be sure, but it looks like Bryce may have been looking for something—or he has a very messy style of working a crime scene. Officer Pendle ton said that Bryce and Rikki were looking for some kind of list and that Rikki may have taken something from the crime scene.’’

  ‘‘What do you think it could be?’’ asked Colin. He pulled into the museum parking lot and into Kendel’s space.

  ‘‘I have no idea. Janice also said the mayor’s com puter was heavily encrypted and no one has been able to see what is on his hard drive,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That’s interesting. I think. But even I have a pass word on my computer,’’ said Colin.

  ‘‘I got the idea that this is a little more heavy-duty encryption. I’ll ask Frank about it,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Frank Duncan?’’ said Colin. ‘‘He’s Atlanta, isn’t he?’’

  ‘‘Yes. The Metro-Atlanta Fraud and Computer Fo rensics Unit,’’ she said.

  ‘‘We’ve met. Not a guy a defense attorney likes to have on the stand,’’ said Colin. ‘‘Nice guy, I’ve heard.’’

  ‘‘I’ve heard that before,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Yes, he is a very nice guy.’’

  ‘‘You dating him?’’ asked Colin.

  ‘‘Yes. I’m staying at his home while I’m house hunt ing. My neighbors kicked me out of my apartment.’’

  ‘‘What? Neighbors can’t do that. Why?’’ said Colin.

  Diane explained about the various times she had to have the police come to her apartment when someone went after her—the attacks, the blood. ‘‘They got scared.’’

  ‘‘You want to fight it?’’ he said.

  ‘‘No. My neighbors across the hall attend funerals for fun and once broke into my apartment looking for a cat they thought I was keeping against building pol icy. I had a downstairs neighbor whose ancestors were members of the Donner party. I was sort of ready to move.’’

  Colin laughed out loud.

  They put the security tape from the mayor’s house into Diane’s machine. The images were dark and fuzzy. She thought the mayor would have had better equipment. The video surveillance cameras were mo tion activated. Something had caused the tape to start recording. They watched for more than a minute be fore they saw anything. It was a deer going into the woods.

  The next sequence showed Garnett’s car pull up and park. He got out and walked up to the door and was let in. They watched the view of the car for another few minutes. Finally Garnett came out. He wasn’t in the house long, but it would have been long enough to shoot the mayor. Garnett got in his car and drove off. After another several minutes of nothing happen ing, the tape ended.

  ‘‘That wasn’t helpful,’’ Colin said. ‘‘Why do you think they didn’t want us to see it?’’

  ‘‘I have no idea. Maybe because Garnett wasn’t in the house long. Let’s watch it again,’’ she said.

  Diane rewound the tape and they started it again. Colin got closer to the monitor. The second time was equally unhelpful.

  ‘‘I think you’re right,’’ said Colin. ‘‘It was the timing they were worried about.’’

  As he spoke, Diane rewound the tape and watched it again. This time she put the machine on slow motion.

  ‘‘This has to be one of the more boring jobs,’’ said Colin.

  There it was, three minutes after Garnett left. Right where the deer had gone into the woods earlier—a figure. It had been just a blink at regular playback speed. The figure came from behind a large tree at the edge of the woods. Was he, or she, there the whole time? The figure moved quickly into the cover of the trees.

  ‘‘I’ll be damned,’’ said Colin. ‘‘That’s what they didn’t want us to see. Someone else was there that night.’’

&nbs
p; Diane’s VCR fed the image through a computer. She used it for the very thing they were employing it for now, watching and analyzing museum surveillance tapes. She rewound the tape and started the playback again. She stopped the motion on the figure.

  ‘‘You can’t make anything out,’’ Colin said. ‘‘Can this be enhanced?’’

  ‘‘Probably some,’’ said Diane staring at the image.

  The running figure wore a hoodie with his or her hands in its pockets.

  ‘‘We need a way to find out who this is,’’ said Colin.

  Diane sat staring at the picture, feeling sick. She knew who it was.

  Chapter 22

  Diane sat in the living room of Frank’s house in the dark, watching the fire she’d built and wishing he was home. But how could she talk to him about this? There was no one she could talk to. She thought briefly of Mike, her caving partner. He was the only one who wouldn’t be duty bound to report what she told him, but she didn’t want to drag him into this either. She knew what Frank would say. Knowing the right thing to do is not hard. Dealing with the consequences of doing the right thing is the hard part. So is living with the consequences of not doing the right thing. Damn.

  She picked up her phone again and called. No an swer. She left another message. She wanted to scream the message, but she calmly told the voice mail that it was urgent and to call back, please. She got up and went to the piano, opening up the finger exercise book that Frank had said she should try. It was both hands and all sixteen notes. It was what she needed, some thing that looked impossible. She gave it a try.

  She was still working on the exercise when Frank came home. She didn’t hear him until he spoke.

  ‘‘I’m glad you’ve really gotten into those exercises,’’ he said.

  Diane jumped.

  ‘‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’’ He sat down beside her. ‘‘Your fingers aching yet?’’

  ‘‘Not yet. Well, maybe a little,’’ she admitted.

  ‘‘Are you all right?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘No,’’ she said simply.

  ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ he said.

  Diane turned to him. ‘‘I’d like to. But you’re sworn to uphold the law.’’ She smiled in spite of herself.

  Frank laughed. ‘‘Sounds like you’ve had another in teresting day. There is some discretionary room in my code of conduct. Want to give me a try?’’ He stood, pulling her up with him and kissing her forehead. He led her into the living room.

  The fire had died to glowing embers, illuminating very little. Frank turned on the light and Diane shaded her eyes, feeling like a vampire. She realized she had been playing the piano in the dim light of dusk. Frank stoked the fire until it blazed again. The warmth felt good.

  ‘‘What’s this about?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘First, how was your day?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘We al ways talk about my day, which inevitably ends up dominating the conversation.’’

  ‘‘That’s because your life is more interesting than mine,’’ said Frank, grinning. ‘‘This is starting to sound like it’s going to be a really interesting story this time.’’ He paused and Diane said nothing. ‘‘Okay. My day was a bit frustrating. We’ve had a big upsurge in identity thefts all over Atlanta—individuals and businesses—and I’m finding them hard to track down. I suspect we have an organized theft ring in operation. What’s mainly happening is the perpetrator is taking out loans in victims’ names, then disappearing with the money. The trail is almost entirely electronic. Many of the victims are large businesses in Atlanta. Now, see, mine’s rather boring. Tell me about your day—after I get us some coffee.’’

  They ended up ordering a pizza—large, thin crust with mushrooms, pepperoni, and sausage. They ate it and talked about music.

  ‘‘You’re right,’’ Diane said. ‘‘The seventh chords are easier even after only a couple of times of doing the exercise. I’ll be able to hang on to a rock face with my pinkies after this. Who knew?’’

  ‘‘All pianists,’’ he said, taking his last bite of pizza. ‘‘Now, tell me about your day.’’

  They took their coffee into the living room and Diane described it, beginning with finding the body of Edgar Peeks and ending with looking at the videotape. She didn’t say anything about the figure she and Colin saw in the tape.

  ‘‘I heard about Chief Peeks,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Ben says I should move to Atlanta, where there’s less crime.’’

  ‘‘I tell you, this has rattled the community. The city council has finally done something now that Edward Van Ross is back in town.’’

  ‘‘They hardly do anything without his approval,’’ said Frank. Diane knew he liked Van Ross, but she also knew he disapproved of his power. ‘‘Now, what’s your dilemma?’’ said Frank.

  ‘‘I recognize the figure on the tape,’’ she said.

  She picked up the file from the coffee table and took out a still photo she had made of the figure caught by the late mayor’s security camera.

  ‘‘You recognize this? How? It’s so fuzzy it could be a bear for all I can tell.’’

  ‘‘It’s the tilt of the shoulders, the gait, the angle of the head. You can recognize people just looking at the body—if you know them,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Yes. I’ve done that. And I’ve been wrong. Can be quite embarrassing. Who do you think it is?’’ he said.

  Diane started to say, but was saved by the sound of the door chimes. Frank went to answer it, and Diane sipped her coffee by the fire, wrapping her hands around the cup to warm her cold fingers.

  ‘‘Look who’s here,’’ said Frank as he entered the room with David.

  ‘‘I got your messages,’’ said David.

  Diane stared at him for a moment. ‘‘I thought you were going on vacation,’’ she said.

  ‘‘It’s a working vacation,’’ he said. He sat down on the couch opposite Diane and Frank.

  ‘‘David,’’ began Diane. She hesitated. ‘‘I’ve been really worried.’’

  ‘‘Don’t be. I haven’t gone off the deep end,’’ said David.

  Frank sat back and looked at Diane a moment. He had guessed who she suspected was in the photograph, she realized—probably even before David came. There weren’t many people besides Frank himself that Diane would worry about so much.

  ‘‘I hope not,’’ said Diane. She noticed that David had come in carrying a briefcase.

  ‘‘As I said, I haven’t gone off the deep end, but I have been delving into conspiracy theories,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Okay, I can see we’re going to need more coffee,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Please wait; I don’t want to miss any thing.’’

  ‘‘David,’’ said Diane when Frank walked out of the room. ‘‘Were you at the mayor’s house the night he was killed?’’ She showed him the picture from the surveil lance tape. ‘‘I’m probably one of the few people who would recognize you.’’

  David stared at Diane for a long time. He frowned. ‘‘I’ve been in a quandary about this,’’ he said. ‘‘You don’t think I killed him, do you?’’

  ‘‘Of course not, but Garnett’s in jail, and everything seems to be going to hell. I just need to know what’s going on in my corner of the world. What were you doing there?’’

  ‘‘I was casing the place. I wanted to find out when I could break in and plant a bug.’’

  ‘‘What? David? What? Have you gone completely nuts?’’ Diane hardly knew what to say.

  David smoothed out the back fringe of his hair. ‘‘I know it kind of looks that way. But I had my reasons.’’

  Frank came in with three mugs of coffee. ‘‘I think I remembered how you like your coffee, David,’’ he said. ‘‘One sugar and one tablespoon of cocoa powder.’’

  ‘‘That’s it,’’ he said. He took the mug. ‘‘This feels good. It’s chilly outside. Gets into your bones.’’

  Frank took Diane’s old coffee and put it on the mantel and gave her a f
resh cup. He sat down beside her with his own mug of coffee and took a drink. ‘‘I hope I didn’t miss anything,’’ he said. ‘‘Not much,’’ Diane muttered.

  ‘‘Okay, David, what’s your conspiracy theory?’’ said Frank.

  ‘‘I started noticing strange things in the lab,’’ David said.