Scattered Graves dffi-6

by Beverly Connor

  ‘‘Conversation in the supply closet?’’ said Neva. She laughed. ‘‘Who was Crabtree talking to in the supply closet? And why?’’

  ‘‘He and Bryce were talking. It’s the conversation you interrupted, David,’’ she said.

  ‘‘How the hell did you know about that?’’ he asked, laughing. ‘‘I saw them go in and I wondered what they were up to.’’

  ‘‘The supply closet is next to my lab, and the wall is thin. There wasn’t much to the conversation, not much more than what I learned from Jin and Izzy. Apparently it was Crabtree’s job to get employment in the DNA lab. Now it appears that it was part of some master plan to get the crime lab, the DNA lab, and the osteology lab,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘What balls,’’ said Neva. ‘‘I can’t believe it. Did they really think they could do that?’’

  ‘‘They seemed to. What I don’t know is what their master plan was supposed to lead to exactly. David pointed out that the crime lab would be a great thing to control if you were in the crime business—you could frame or free anyone.’’

  ‘‘I’ll say,’’ said Neva.

  ‘‘I also asked Janice if they had searched Peeks’ residence. She had, and found nothing that would sug gest why they had been killed, nor anything to suggest they had been involved in illegal enterprises. Peeks did appear to be living way beyond his means. With Jefferies it’s more difficult to tell because of his busi ness in Atlanta. It’s successful and might account for his income.’’

  ‘‘Could Jefferies have been paying Peeks?’’ said Jin.

  ‘‘What for?’’ said Diane. ‘‘That’s the thing. What was the business really? Were they just a new criminal organization we haven’t heard of? Did they deal in drugs? What? It’s scary to think about. They get rid of a judge and have a new one appointed and—’’

  ‘‘Wait? Get rid of a judge?’’ said Neva. ‘‘What are you saying?’’

  Diane realized she hadn’t told them about the tainted evidence from the murder scene of Judge McNevin and about David’s suspicions. She nodded to him and he laid out all the evidence for them.

  ‘‘That’s why I quit,’’ he said.

  Jin, Neva, and Izzy sat with their mouths open. When David finished, no one spoke for several moments.

  ‘‘But the mayor doesn’t appoint judges,’’ said Neva.

  ‘‘He could influence the choice,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘He’s been making cozy with the governor. If the newspa pers can be believed, they shook hands a lot. There was a photo op of them every other day. Evie was in one of them for her work on drugs. She said the gover nor liked the young can-do attitude of Jefferies. Evie was put off by him. Couldn’t put her finger on what she didn’t like,’’ Izzy said, proudly showing off his wife’s good judgment.

  ‘‘I told Edward Van Ross about our suspicions today,’’ said Diane. ‘‘He’s very disturbed about the whole thing, as you can imagine. That’s why I think it’s important to find out what they are—were—up to and how far it extends. Not only for the sake of Doug las Garnett, but for Rosewood. And we can’t forget that somebody killed them. Our most important job is to find out who and why.’’

  ‘‘Have you talked to the former mayor yet?’’ asked Frank.

  ‘‘I’m going to try to see him tomorrow,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I would like Neva and David to search the crime scene at the mayor’s house. Jin, go with them and analyze the blood evidence. And David, we need to find out what’s on Jefferies’ computer.’’

  ‘‘Okay,’’ said David. ‘‘It isn’t going to be easy. Maybe Frank can help.’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ said Frank. ‘‘You know how I like codes.’’

  ‘‘Good,’’ said Diane. ‘‘There’s something else I want to discuss. Bryce and Rikki are looking for something. I put pressure on her today, especially with the watch business, and virtually told her she was going to have to relearn the job, and she didn’t flinch. I’m not sure why she’s sticking around, except that she must still be looking for something and we are her best bet for finding it.’’

  ‘‘What do you think it is?’’ said Neva.

  ‘‘It has to be something about money. It’s always about money, isn’t it? She and Bryce must know we are looking at them for some kind of criminal activity, yet they are not leaving. Bryce is suing the city for his job back, according to Janice,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Maybe he’s innocent, or maybe he’s just keeping everyone in the government occupied while they also have Jenni fer’s lawsuit to deal with.’’

  ‘‘If there’s something in the mayor’s house to find, we’ll find it, boss,’’ said Jin.

  ‘‘Neva, try making nice to Rikki. I want to know what she pocketed at the crime scene.’’

  ‘‘You think she’ll tell me?’’ said Neva. ‘‘She’ll know what I’m up to.’’

  ‘‘Maybe, but she might let something slip,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Who knows.’’

  ‘‘Okay, I’ll be as nice as pie to her.’’ Neva wrinkled her nose.

  ‘‘Tell me this,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘If those watches are as valuable as you say and they don’t make very many of them, wouldn’t the company keep a record of who they sold them to? Wouldn’t there be some kind of serial number, like a VIN for a car? Maybe Neva can find out the number to little Gollum’s watch. Or maybe there’s some kind of receipt in the mayor’s house—if she stole it from him. If she’s stealing, that’ll give you something to bargain with. Maybe we can get her to talk.’’

  Diane looked over at Izzy and raised her eyebrows. ‘‘You’re absolutely right on all counts,’’ she said. ‘‘We’ll look into that tomorrow.’’

  ‘‘I could do that,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘I’ve worked burglary.’’

  ‘‘Okay,’’ said Diane, nodding.

  ‘‘So, where are we now?’’ said David. ‘‘What do we think happened at the house?’’

  ‘‘Well, I think Bryce and Rikki were right about how it went down,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Someone came up behind the mayor and shot him in the back of the head.’’

  ‘‘He probably knew his attacker and didn’t expect anything,’’ said Neva. ‘‘And the shooter didn’t steal anything. It was a hit.’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It was a hit. Both murders look basically the same to me. Same MO. Doesn’t have to be an outsider. The shooter could be someone that Jefferies and company were in business with . . . and we don’t even know about them yet.’’

  ‘‘What about ballistics?’’ said Frank. ‘‘How do you explain the fact that the bullet that killed Peeks came from Garnett’s gun?’’

  ‘‘That’s one we have to work on,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And we need to know if the gun that fired the bullet that killed Peeks is the same gun that killed Jefferies.’’

  ‘‘I can’t believe that Garnett did it,’’ said Izzy.

  ‘‘Nor I,’’ said Neva.

  ‘‘Me either,’’ said Diane. ‘‘But we have to put our personal beliefs aside and find the best evidence we can to lead us to the killer or killers.’’

  ‘‘How about the other security tapes?’’ said Neva. ‘‘We need to look at all of them to see who’s been visiting the mayor over the last month. God, that will be boring. You can do that, Jin.’’ She laughed and punched him on the shoulder. ‘‘Or should I say Lego las? You can use some of your elfin magic and get it done quickly.’’

  ‘‘We have a lot to do tomorrow, so I’m going home to get some rest,’’ said Diane.

  Her face was aching and her arm was sore. In fact, she was tired and aching all over. Sleep would fix everything, and tomorrow maybe they would find a solution. Diane told David to lock up. Izzy stayed with the others. He seemed to be having a good time. She imagined he hadn’t had one in quite a while.

  She followed Frank home in her SUV. A time or two she thought she was being followed. But when she slowed down to see if she could get a look, whoever it was turned off. Just being paranoid, she thought. She pushed on the
accelerator and caught up with Frank’s Camaro.

  Chapter 29

  In the previous Rosewood City administration, mayor Walter Sutton and Police Chief Buford Monroe had arranged for the crime lab to be housed in the mu seum and for Diane to run it. Mayor Sutton and Diane had gotten off to a very shaky start when the mayor tried to talk her into selling the museum property—a deal that could have brought him and his friends a lot of money. The mayor’s tactics in trying to persuade her had bordered on threats.

  Vanessa had told Diane that Sutton was devastated at losing the mayoral election to Spence Jefferies. It had crossed Diane’s mind several times that Sutton was among those who had a motive for killing Jeffer ies. But in all honesty, she couldn’t imagine Sutton doing it or even hiring someone to do it. Then again, if he had learned what Jefferies did to win the elec tion, he would have at least thought about it. Of course, her feelings were colored by the fact that she really didn’t like Sutton and hadn’t voted for him—or for Jefferies either. She had filled in the write-in spot on the ballot with the name of someone who wasn’t even running—ironically, Edward Van Ross. Odd how things turn out sometimes, she thought as she drove up to Sutton’s house.

  Now she would have to act like nothing had ever happened between them. Not hard. She had been doing that very thing ever since the crime lab opened its doors.

  Sutton lived with his family in a house that was a white-columned Greek revival on the outside but a more modern floor plan inside. It had a great room, a sunken living room, and a deck on the back. Not as large as Jefferies’ house, it was still a mansion. She had been there for a party a time or two with Vanessa and had thought it an unusual combination of styles and not a particularly good layout for people who like to give parties.

  Diane parked her SUV in the drive, picked up the folder off the seat, walked up to the house, and knocked. The door was answered almost immediately by a young woman in her mid-twenties.

  ‘‘Hi. I’m Loraine Sutton. I believe we’ve met at one of my parents’ parties. So nice seeing you again,’’ she said, smiling.

  It must have been a rote thing she said to people, for she didn’t really notice Diane’s face until she got to the end of her greeting. Then she showed the jawdropping, startled look that Diane was getting used to.

  Diane had tried to make herself look less bruised, but she hadn’t gotten any better at applying makeup this morning than she was the previous days. She had given up and left it off, deciding she would just have to forgo trying to look like nothing had happened.

  Loraine Sutton was Walter Sutton’s daughter. Diane knew she graduated from the University of Georgia. Other than that, she didn’t know very much about her except that she and her brother were always very ac tive in their father’s campaign. Diane didn’t know if Loraine had a job other than that of cheerleader for her father. She had dark brown hair and dark eyes like her mother, and sharp facial features like her fa ther. Her best feature was her skin. It was creamy and blemish free. Her eyes were a little too close together and her nose a little too pointed for her to be called beautiful, but she had an interesting face and a nice smile. She wore a rust-colored pullover sweater and matching wool slacks.

  ‘‘I’m very happy to see you again,’’ said Diane. ‘‘The family’s in the living room. We’re all anxious to hear what you’ve come about. It sounded rather cryptic.’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It’s one of those things that is hard to explain briefly over the phone. It’s very kind of all of you to see me.’’

  Loraine led her to the sunken living room, just to the right of the entryway. It was a cozy room with lots of fabric—layered oriental rugs, drapes, wall tap estries, upholstered chairs and sofas of jacquard, leather, and various floral designs, all in hues of dark red, brown, green, and gold. There was either a parlor palm or a schefflera at each window. The coffee table was dark walnut with a black marble top adorned with fresh flowers. The marble fireplace had a painting of a horse over the mantel.

  The mayor and his son, Albert, rose to greet Diane as she entered the room. The son was like a young clone of his dad—tall, lean, sharp featured. The for mer mayor had steel gray hair, whereas the son’s hair was blond. Diane thought its color probably came from a bottle and it was a little too stylish to look natural. Walter Sutton’s wife, Eleanor, came in from another door carrying a tray of coffee

  She was also a slim woman. She was

  and cookies. dressed in a

  peach pantsuit and wore her dark hair up in a French twist. It was a family who could make a good portrait together. Just what a politician needed. Eleanor Sut ton stopped for just a moment when she saw Diane’s face. They all did. She slowly lowered the tray onto the coffee table. Diane was glad she didn’t drop it.

  ‘‘We’re sorry to stare,’’ said the elder Sutton, recov ering first. ‘‘We were just startled. Were you in an accident?’’

  ‘‘Did you hear in the news about Harve Dela more?’’

  They had. Diane tried to give as short an explana tion as she could of what had happened. But like everyone else, they had questions. She answered them all.

  ‘‘That is just terrible,’’ said Eleanor. ‘‘What pos sessed the man? Being demoted in rank is hardly the end of the world.’’

  ‘‘He evidently had problems,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That’s an understatement,’’ said Loraine. She helped her mother serve the coffee.

  Whenever Diane visited, she always drank her cof fee black because it was just so much easier. She felt uncomfortable visiting and eating at the same time unless it was at a dinner party and she had a table in front of her. She took a cookie offered her, put it on the saucer, and sipped her coffee. Not bad, but not as good as the coffee she made. Mrs. Sutton sat down on the arm of her husband’s chair, sans coffee or cookies.

  Diane started to turn the conversation to why she had come.

  ‘‘There are a couple of things I wanted to talk with you about,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m sure you’re keeping up with what’s been going on in Rosewood—the murders.’’

  ‘‘Terrible, terrible thing,’’ said Walter Sutton. ‘‘I had no love for the man, but this is just terrible. Peeks too.’’ He shook his head as if it were just too much to contemplate.

  ‘‘There are some things you need to know about the election,’’ began Diane.

  She was hoping that in giving them information, she would encourage them to be more willing to give her information in return. Sutton would not readily admit if he had tried to dig up dirt on Jefferies.

  ‘‘What kind of things?’’ asked Walter Sutton.

  Diane opened the folder.

  ‘‘You know that during the election a lot was made of the rash of burglaries that occurred during the latter part of your administration,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Don’t I though. It was really bad luck for me. I don’t believe for a minute that anything Jefferies did brought the rate down,’’ he said.

  Diane leaned forward. ‘‘You’d be wrong.’’

  Sutton looked startled for a moment but said nothing.

  ‘‘A man in my crime scene unit has an eye for data,’’ continued Diane. ‘‘The crime rate, particularly burglaries, bothered him. So he started collecting data from police and court records. One of the things he discovered is that, though the number of burglaries went down after Jefferies came into office, the number of arrests for burglaries did not go up.’’

  Walter Sutton frowned. The others looked puzzled for a moment.

  ‘‘What are you saying?’’ whispered Loraine.

  ‘‘I’m saying that it is quite possible the mayor and his close supporters were behind the surge in burglaries. That he conceived and directed them as part of a strat egy to make you look bad and get him elected,’’ Diane said. ‘‘These are maps—’’

  ‘‘That son of a bitch. That son of a bitch.’’ Walter Sutton’s face was flushed with anger. He lunged to his feet, paced a
couple of steps, and turned on his heel. ‘‘I knew something was not right. Didn’t I?’’ He looked at his family. ‘‘I told you something just wasn’t right about Jefferies.’’

  Albert reached for the maps. ‘‘What are these?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘David, my assistant director, mapped out the areas in the city where the surge in burglaries occurred. No tice the neighborhoods,’’ said Diane.

  Loraine leaned over to look. After a moment she said, ‘‘The heaviest voters.’’

  ‘‘And if you look at the individual homes,’’ said Diane, ‘‘you will find that the victims are all leaders in their communities. They go to church and belong to organizations.’’

  ‘‘To make a big problem seem bigger,’’ said Albert. He shook his head. ‘‘It’s hard to believe someone could be so...so conniving.’’

  It’s worse than that, thought Diane. When she dis cussed her plan with Frank and David, it was agreed she should tell Sutton only about the burglaries, not of their suspicions regarding the murder of Judge McNevin. Politicians are not known for their ability to keep a secret if knowledge of it makes them look good.