One Grave Less

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One Grave Less Page 9

by Beverly Connor


  “What is this about?” asked Diane.

  “Did you hear me? Leave or I’m calling security. This is your fault. And his.” The woman gave David a brief glare. “This is all your fault. Every bit of it.”

  “Do you know why Simone came here?” said Diane.

  “Chester, get the nurse to call security.”

  “Eileen,” he said, in a resigned sort of way, but let whatever else he was going to say drop.

  “Please,” Pieter, Simone’s brother, mouthed to Diane. Diane was inclined to fold her arms and stay, but however strange Simone’s family were acting, they were hurting. And they did have the right to bar anyone they wanted from seeing their daughter.

  “Very well,” said Diane. “But please understand, we have no idea what this is about.”

  She and David turned, walked out to David’s vehicle, and got in. David didn’t immediately start up the Land Rover, but sat quietly staring at the hospital.

  “Last week I was a respectable member of the community,” said Diane, putting on her seat belt. “Today I’m a drug-dealing whore. What the hell is going on?”

  David muttered something like, “I don’t know.” Diane knew him well enough to know he was working through the problem. As she complained about everything that was happening she stared at the dashboard, which looked like it could have come out of an airplane. She stopped abruptly.

  “David, what is all this stuff on your dash?”

  “This”—he pointed to a section of buttons and knobs—“detects bugs planted in or on my Rover.”

  “You are kidding. Have you ever had your vehicle bugged?”

  “No, but it would be too late if I waited until it became a problem,” he said.

  “And this other stuff?” asked Diane.

  “If you are going to make fun of everything, I’m not going to tell you. However, I will tell you that some of it can access my computer.”

  “Really?”

  “I have my little inventions I’m working on,” he said. “You know how I like to marry algorithms, databases, and gadgets together.” He paused for several moments. “I’ve been accused of dealing in drugs too. Martin Thormond got another call, this one about me. He tried to get the reporter, Brian Mathews, to be more forthcoming, but Mathews refused.”

  “What is this about?” Diane asked again.

  “It has something to do with Simone and what she was doing here,” he said.

  Diane looked over at him. “Why? Because it’s happening at the same time, and you don’t like coincidences?”

  “No, things happen to us on such a regular basis, we can’t rely on simple correlation to be particularly helpful.”

  Diane smiled and started to disagree, but didn’t say anything.

  “There’s an international news bit I read before we came over here. The executive director of World Accord International has gone on an extended vacation amid accusations of consorting with prostitutes.”

  “But the executive director is Gregory Lincoln,” she said, staring at David. Gregory was their boss when they both worked at WAI, and a good friend.

  “Yes. And our experience in South America connects all of us. Someone is trying to discredit and/or kill us.” He glanced at the hospital again. “And the big event in all our lives is the massacre.”

  Diane was quiet for several moments.

  “I know,” she said. “The bone we found in the backpack belonged to someone from the part of South America we . . . I thought it might be . . .” Diane couldn’t finish. She didn’t have to. David reached over and grabbed her hand and squeezed.

  “What was it Simone said?” said David. “‘It was one of us.’ It’s been haunting me.”

  “Me too. Look, we know for sure it was Ivan Santos who carried out the massacre. We know why he did it—to get back at us, to stop us. So what did she mean by ‘It was one of us’?” said Diane.

  “We need to find out,” said David. “I’m going to call Gregory. In the meantime, we need to see Garnett. He can speak with Simone’s family and Simone herself if she is awake.”

  “We couldn’t even find out how she is,” said Diane.

  “Garnett can,” he said.

  They drove to the police station and walked up to the chief of detectives’ office. Diane saw people taking surreptitious glances at her, some smirking.

  Christ.

  Garnett’s office was not as ornate as Garnett himself. Not that he actually adorned himself, but he was a sharp dresser. He liked Italian suits and shoes and wore them well. His office, by contrast, was simply utilitarian. It was furnished with faux leather and chrome chairs, a metal desk, and a long maple-wood conference table. On the sand-colored walls he had hung his diplomas, awards, and a few photographs of him shaking hands with various politicians. He also had framed a few newspaper clippings of high-profile cases he had worked on.

  Izzy Wallace, one of Diane’s crime scene crew, was with Garnett. They were going over a case that Izzy worked last week. They stood as Diane and David entered.

  “The two of you have long faces,” said Izzy.

  “We just came from the hospital,” said Diane.

  “I hope Miss Brooks hasn’t taken a turn for the worst,” said Garnett, frowning.

  “We don’t know,” said Diane.

  Izzy and David pulled up a couple more chairs and they all sat down. Diane described the reception she and David had received.

  “Neither of us knows what that’s about,” Diane said. “We were hoping you would find out.”

  “I will be speaking with them this afternoon,” said Garnett. “That’s very peculiar. They actually barred you from seeing their daughter?”

  “Yes,” said Diane. She paused a moment. “You may be able to get more out of speaking with Simone’s father and brother—alone.”

  “Gotcha. It’s like that, is it?” said Garnett. “I’ll take Detective Warrick with me to speak with the wife and I’ll talk to the men.”

  Diane and David went on to tell them about the calls Thormond had received, and the false e-mails about Diane, and the calls made to Frank about her partying while he was away.

  “You mean it wasn’t really from you?” said Izzy. “And here I thought I got lucky.” He grinned at Diane.

  “Not you too?” said Diane.

  “Me, as well,” said Garnett. “If it helps, I knew right away someone had hacked your e-mail.” He turned to David. “Can you trace those?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “We’ll see.”

  “Don’t worry about this,” Izzy said to Diane. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. Most people know it’s not you.”

  “I had a contributor come see me about soliciting her husband. Not all people understand how e-mails can be hijacked,” said Diane.

  She and David reluctantly told him about the news story on Gregory Lincoln. They had debated it on the way over. Given their preferences, the two of them would rather handle the whole thing themselves. But they needed help, so they had to be forthcoming.

  “Could there be any truth to it?” asked Garnett. “About the Lincoln fellow?”

  Both Diane and David shook their heads. “Not Gregory,” Diane said.

  “You should see his wife,” said David. “Look up the most beautiful woman in the world and you’ll find a picture of Marguerite. She’s also very nice, very intelligent, and very witty. On top of that, she can cook and ride a horse.”

  “You sound a little infatuated,” said Garnett, grinning at David.

  “To meet Marguerite is to fall in love with her, even if slightly,” David said, completely deadpan.

  Diane cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Gotta meet this woman,” muttered Izzy. “Can she shoot a gun?”

  “Marguerite is nonviolent,” said David. “Unless she is in a courtroom, and then her weapons are her sharp wit and keen brain.”

  Diane and Izzy smiled at each other.

  “We are going to contact Gregory and ask him what this is about,�
�� said Diane. “He might have some information. He keeps in touch with all of us, and he may know what Simone—”

  Diane stopped when Garnett’s phone rang. Garnett answered it, listened a moment, then said, “Yes, they are here. I’ll tell them, Andie.”

  Diane realized she hadn’t turned her cell phone back on after they left the hospital. Neither had David.

  “That was Andie,” said Garnett, leaning forward, resting his arms on the desk. “You have a visitor waiting for you. A Gregory Lincoln from London.”

  Chapter 16

  It had been a little over three years since Diane last saw Gregory Lincoln, though she had corresponded with him by e-mail and telephone regularly. He didn’t look much older than she remembered, a little grayer maybe. He was dressed casually in a sea green chambray shirt, tan chinos, and brown sports coat.

  He grinned broadly and stood up when he saw her. He was being entertained by Andie. The two of them were drinking tea in the comfortable country cottage sitting area of Andie’s office. Gregory gave Diane a long hug and kissed her cheek.

  “Good to see you, girl,” he said.

  “Good to see you too, Gregory,” she said. “I’m so glad you are here.”

  Gregory gave David a hug and a slap on the back. “You keeping all the conspirators at bay?”

  “You have no idea,” said David.

  “This is a nice surprise,” said Diane to Gregory. “You’ve had a long trip. I hope you haven’t had lunch yet.”

  She didn’t want to get into any unpleasant topics until after they ate. Gregory obviously needed their help.

  “Oh, heavens no. Came straight here from the airport,” Gregory said.

  Diane turned to Andie. “Has the restaurant delivered lunch?”

  “Just got here. It’s in your sitting room,” said Andie.

  Gregory loved American cheeseburgers, and the museum’s restaurant made great burgers. Diane had called ahead and ordered lunch for the three of them to be sent to her office. Andie had the waitstaff set up the meal on the coffee table between the sofa and two stuffed chairs. The food was covered with stainless-steel dome covers. A pitcher of tea sat amid the serving dishes. Diane removed the covers to a table, poured the tea, and sat down on the sofa. David and Gregory each sat in one of the chairs across from Diane.

  “Very nice,” said Gregory. “I hope you don’t mind my coming early,” he said. “And Marguerite sends her regrets. I thought I could do some sightseeing, see what kind of prostitutes you have this side of the pond. Guess you heard that story.”

  “Yes,” said Diane. She looked at David. They were both a little puzzled.

  He took a bite of his burger. “This is good. You Yanks are always first class on the burgers. You don’t have to put me up. I can stay at the local inn.”

  “You aren’t here about the rumor?” said Diane.

  “What? Heavens, no. I’ve hired detectives to sort that out,” said Gregory. “I’m here for the wedding. I realize I’m early . . .”

  “Actually, they haven’t told me when it is,” said Diane.

  Gregory stopped with his burger halfway to his mouth.

  “You are going to have to explain that one,” he said.

  It was David who did the explaining.

  “Diane wants to go to a judge and have it done within five minutes. Vanessa—she’s told you about Vanessa—wouldn’t hear of it, nor would any of Diane’s friends, and they discovered that they didn’t really need her cooperation to plan her wedding. I know more about it than Diane does.”

  Gregory looked from one to the other. “That’s not just his peculiar sense of humor, is it? He means it.”

  “ ’ Fraid so,” said Diane, munching on her own cheese-burger.

  “So what are they going to do? When it’s time, your friends will climb in your window and carry you off? Sounds rather tribal.”

  “Presumably they will let me know in a reasonable amount of time,” she said.

  “I see,” said Gregory. “Well, should I spoil the surprise?”

  “Please do,” said Diane.

  “You have less than a fortnight to set your affairs in order,” he said.

  Diane sighed.

  “Marguerite would have liked to come. Did I tell you she is pregnant?” he said.

  “No,” said Diane. “You didn’t have to leave her to come to my wedding!”

  “Marguerite is rather odd, verging on alien in her approach to pregnancy and childbirth. She prefers to be alone. She won’t have family in the delivery room—she barely allows the medical staff. On our first, I was going to be there. You know, cut the cord, bond. She looked at me the way only Marguerite can and told me that I could bond by changing nappies, teaching him cricket, and paying for public school.”

  “Still,” said Diane.

  Gregory shook his head. “She told me not to come back until things are sorted out by the detectives and she has killed all the reporters.” He looked at his watch. “Tomorrow she’ll be having an ultrasound. She told me not to come back at all if it’s not a girl. So I may be looking around for a spot of real estate.”

  Diane smiled. “She doesn’t think you . . . ?”

  “Consort with prostitutes? Of course not. It’s a mystery to me where this came from. WAI has always had its share of the political types taking aim at us, but this is taking it too far—and it appears to be only me.”

  “We may be able to provide a clue,” said Diane. “It’s been happening to David and me too.”

  Gregory stopped eating, put down his burger, and stared at them for a long moment. “The two of you? I didn’t expect this.” He shook his head. “Is it the same prostitution nonsense? Do you know who is behind the rumors?”

  “Apparently I’m the prostitute—no, that’s not right. It seems I don’t charge. I solicit men through e-mails and we party at my fiancé’s house when he’s not at home. And both David and I were involved in drug trafficking while we were in South America.”

  “That’s preposterous. Do you have any idea what this is all about?” he asked.

  “David has a notion,” said Diane.

  The two of them told Gregory about the attack at the museum, about finding Simone, about her parents’ reaction this morning. When they finished, Gregory sat openmouthed.

  “I’m glad I came early. We will have to get to the bottom of this,” he said. “If the two of you were dealing in drugs, then so was I.” He shook his head. “Is there anyone else from among our associates to whom this is happening?”

  “None of the people I’ve gotten in touch with are having any problems,” said David. “I haven’t spoken with everyone yet.”

  “There is a more disturbing aspect to it,” said Diane. She told him what Simone had said before she lapsed into unconsciousness.

  “‘It was one of us,’ ” whispered Gregory. “That could mean many things, none of them good.”

  They discussed all the possibilities that occurred to them, but when everything else was eliminated, they were left with the massacre. That was the biggest event in all their lives.

  “I’m going to have to think on this,” said Gregory. “For so long I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind.”

  “I’ve been going over the days leading up to the massacre,” said David, “trying to remember anything I overheard, or saw, anything that could have a different meaning from what I placed on it at the time. But . . . nothing. I’m just drawing a blank here.”

  “Maybe if we go over those days, something will jog our memory.” Gregory looked over at Diane. “Would that be all right with you?”

  Diane nodded.

  Andie poked her head in. “I know you don’t want to be disturbed, but I have two things. First, I contacted Frank, and it is okay for you to invite Mr. Lincoln to stay at the house.” She grinned. “See what a good assistant I am? I anticipated that you would want Mr. Lincoln to stay with you, but you would need to ask Frank. Now it’s all taken care of.”

  Diane sm
iled. “Indeed you are a good assistant, Andie. Thanks. What’s the other thing?”

  “Garnett is on the phone and would like to speak with you.”

  Chapter 17

  Diane reached for the phone on the end table beside the sofa. Garnett and Janice Warrick had been on their way to interview the Brooks when she and David headed back to the museum to meet Gregory. She was eager to hear what Garnett had discovered. David put down his food and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.

  “Garnett,” she said into the phone.

  “We spoke with the family,” he said. “Interesting. Controlling doesn’t begin to describe the mother. She tried to stop me from having separate interviews with the father and brother. I thought for a moment Janice was going to handcuff her. Bottom line is they got a call from someone who said he was a friend of Simone at the detective agency where she works. The caller told them that Simone was working on something at your request and that it had to do with covering up things you and David were involved in during your time in South America.”

  “That’s not true,” said Diane. She felt her face flush, felt the need to defend herself when no defense should be needed. “Damn. What is this about?”

  “Mrs. Brooks was adamant about blaming you for her daughter’s condition,” said Garnett.

  “What is her condition?” asked Diane.

  “She’s in a coma. The doctors have no idea when or if she will come out of it.”

  “Poor Simone,” whispered Diane.

  “The brother, Pieter, said he didn’t believe the caller. For one thing, his sister wouldn’t go along with any kind of cover-up. His father agreed. And second, Pieter likes you and David.”

 

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