She called Hanks and told him about the boot print. He was as mystified as she and her crew were. He seemed to like the scenario that the boots were thrown away and retrieved by someone else-the ski masks too. That was how the rope fiber got on them. The masks were near the rope, picked up the transfer, and when Marcella’s attacker used them, the fiber was transferred again. It was the only scenario that made sense.
Diane put the Stacy Dance evidence in the DNA lab. Her bodyguards were in comfortable chairs near the door, and now she waited for the others to arrive. She was not looking forward to this evening. She’d rather be at home with Frank.
Chapter 46
Diane asked museum security to post someone at the information desk to greet her guests and bring them downstairs to the DNA lab. Ross Kingsley arrived first, looking, as usual, professorial. Lynn Webber came shortly after, looking rather stunning in a black gabardine suit with an olive silk taffeta blouse. She was dressed to be a presence in the room. Her black hair had a lustrous sheen and her makeup was perfectly applied.
Diane wondered whether she had remembered to run a comb though her own hair.
Sheriff Braden, who was in charge of the Mary Phyllis Lassiter investigation in the neighboring county, arrived shortly after Webber. He hadn’t changed from his sheriff’s uniform. Jin was already there, working in the DNA lab. Detective Hanks arrived after Braden. Now it was only the Gainesville contingent who had yet to arrive-Detective Ralph Fisher, Chief of Detectives Nancy Stark, and Medical Examiner Oran Doppelmeyer.
When Diane called Sheriff Braden, she had asked him to sit on one side of Lynn Webber. Diane was going to put Detective Hanks on the other side. Diane told Braden about her encounter with Doppelmeyer in the parking garage at the hospital and that she didn’t want him to get aggressive. Sheriff Braden, of course, was outraged. He was known to be fond of Dr. Webber ever since she arrived in the Rosewood area. Putting her between Hanks and Braden was to protect Webber from herself as much as from Doppelmeyer. Diane had a gut feeling that Lynn wasn’t ready to turn loose of him yet.
Diane mentally went over her ducks and calculated whether or not they were in a row. Close enough. The only problem she had with the meeting was any fallout for the Rosewood PD. Gainesville PD assumed that Rosewood had butted into their jurisdiction. She could see how that would piss them off. She hoped refusing to have Garnett there would reinforce her message that Rosewood wasn’t involved.
Diane served coffee, and as they waited she told Kingsley about the diary.
“He translated it?” Kingsley seemed surprised.
“He said it was pretty easy,” said Diane. “I don’t have it with me, but you could come over tomorrow, or this evening, and Frank can go over it with you.”
“Anything of interest?” asked Kingsley.
“There were a few entries about people she described as creepy. It’s hard to say who they were because proper names were harder to decipher. Frank can tell you about it.”
The people from Gainesville arrived. They didn’t look happy. Chief of Detectives Nancy Stark wore a plain brown suit and white blouse. It was wrinkled, as if she’d had it on all day and then had to drive here in it. Stark’s short dark brown hair was just beginning to gray. Her dark blue eyes looked suspicious as Diane made introductions. The detective, the one who closed Stacy Dance’s case as an accident, was in his mid-fifties. He had a thick shock of white hair and black eyebrows. He frowned at all of them. From the way Doppelmeyer glowered at Lynn, he was as angry now as during their run-in at the hospital. This was going to be a fun meeting. Diane ran her fingers through her hair.
They all did shake hands. That was a start. She and Lynn managed to avoid Doppelmeyer’s handshake. Not hard, since there were so many people. Diane directed them to the table and offered coffee. They declined. Perhaps later, she thought. Right now they probably felt that Rosewood was telling them they did a piss-poor job of investigating one of their own crimes. Diane understood their anger.
Chief Stark turned to Hanks. “You are Ms. Fallon’s supervisor?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I don’t think she has one.” He laughed.
If he was hoping to relieve the tension, he hadn’t. Rosewood’s inside jokes didn’t play to a Gainesville audience. However, Kingsley smiled, as did Lynn.
“Your counterpart, Chief Garnett, is my supervisor when I work for the City of Rosewood,” said Diane. “In the Stacy Dance death, I am not working for Rosewood. I am a consultant to the private firm of Darley, Dunn, and Upshaw, represented here by Ross Kingsley.”
“What are they doing here, then?” Stark asked of Detective Hanks and Sheriff Braden.
“They are working on cases that have a certain overlap of evidence. I thought it would benefit everyone for them to be here,” said Diane.
“You shared our evidence with them?” Fisher said. It was more of an accusation than a question.
“It’s my understanding that the Stacy Dance case is closed. This is evidence we collected at the behest of her father. As yet, it isn’t your evidence,” said Diane.
“What are the patrolmen doing here?” said Chief Stark. “Why are we in Rosewood’s lab?”
“This is the museum’s DNA lab,” said Diane. “As for the patrolmen, they are bodyguards assigned to me by Chief Garnett.”
“That’s an insult,” said Fisher, in a voice louder than he meant. The acoustics of the room were quite good. His white hair highlighted his reddened ears and face. “I know there’ve been some accusations thrown around. I believe Dr. Doppelmeyer here, that he’s behaved with the utmost propriety. However, if you need calming down, you have my guarantee you are safe from him.”
“Detective Fisher,” said Diane. She kept her voice calm and even and maintained eye contact with him. “Here in the museum, the DNA lab, and crime lab, we place a particular importance on the difference between what we believe and what we know. I know that Dr. Doppelmeyer accosted Dr. Webber in the parking garage. I know, because I was there. I understand that you believe he did not. I hope you understand that, logically, I can’t accept your guarantee.”
“Jesus save us,” he mumbled, turning his face away.
“I understand that sometimes in a darkened garage, perceptions might not be as accurate as we like,” said Chief Stark. “I agree with Detective Fisher. Bodyguards are an overreaction to the situation, one that insults us and our integrity.”
“They were assigned to me because last night a man was sent to my home to kill me. He shot his way into the house. I fled to the attic where he followed and shot his way through that door also. He was about a second away from shooting me, point-blank, with a shotgun blast. Fortunately, I shot him first. We don’t know who sent him. The guards will be with me until we find out and the situation is resolved.”
Kingsley looked at her openmouthed. “Are you all right? How’s Frank?”
“He wasn’t home. I was alone,” Diane said, still looking at Stark.
“I heard something about a home invasion in Rosewood,” said Stark. “That was you?”
“Yes,” said Diane. “You will forgive me if, today, I am a little cranky.”
“You think it was me?” said Doppelmeyer. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t think you did. I really don’t. I think it had something to do with another case I’m working on. But that’s what I believe. I don’t know.” She turned back to Chief Stark. “I understand that some people are panicked when confronted, even in a mild way, in the dark confines of a parking garage. That’s not true of me or Dr. Webber,” said Diane. “We viewed the situation accurately.”
“So did the security cameras,” said Lynn Webber. “Hospital security can make them available if you want to see them.”
Doppelmeyer looked at Lynn and snarled. “You vindictive freaking bitch.”
Both Fisher and Stark jerked their attention to him. She could see they were surprised by his vehemence-and his inability to keep his temper in check.
Diane was suspecting that there was something more to Doppelmeyer and Lynn’s enmity than what Lynn had described. She was willing to bet that Lynn had rebuffed his attentions and that was a large part of what led to him getting her fired.
“You know,” said Ross Kingsley, “normally in these kinds of meetings, we try to break the ice with small talk and jokes. And I’m ashamed to say that I find this more entertaining, but we have some evidence we would like to show you.”
“That’s why we’re here,” said Stark.
Jin had been standing by a credenza with the box of evidence on top of it. He came over with the box and set it between Diane and Ross.
“This is Deven Jin,” said Diane. “He’s the director of the DNA lab. He was formerly on my crime scene team. He helped gather the evidence and he processed it.”
“Hi.” Jin grinned, as if they were all good friends.
“Dr. Webber has her autopsy report that she will go over with you,” said Diane.
“Let’s get it over with, then,” said Detective Fisher.
Chapter 47
Diane put a diagram of Stacy Dance’s room on the table. She had marked where all the evidence was found. She turned the map to face toward Fisher, Stark, and Doppelmeyer. She also placed their own photograph of Stacy next to the map.
Kingsley explained his firm’s involvement first. Diane noticed he tried to keep all words out of his narration that might in any way suggest that their guests had bungled the case. He used a lot of passive voice and weasel words. He was far more tactful than Diane would have been.
“Her father, Harmon Dance, left her room intact,” Kingsley said. “That’s why I was able to have Diane examine it.” He nodded to Diane and they gave her their strained attention.
“When someone is strangled, they often evacuate their bladder and bowels,” began Diane.
“Oh, here we go, Pathology 101,” said Doppelmeyer.
“Oran, let’s listen,” said Chief Stark. Her voice was quiet, but it held her authority.
Doppelmeyer sat back in his chair, his ears turning red. “We know this,” he said.
“I was just introducing the evidence,” said Diane. “I meant no disrespect.” She pointed to a marked place on the diagram that was in the living room area of Stacy Dance’s apartment.
“This is where she was strangled. We found her urine and feces here and it covered a wide area. It had been cleaned up, but there was enough left for Jin to positively identify it as belonging to Stacy Dance,” said Diane.
“What about the bed?” said Fisher. “Did you check it?”
“Yes. It was negligible. The amount was what you might get from transfer,” she said.
Diane put a photograph of the rope in front of them.
“This was around her neck. Notice that it is tied with a granny knot. If you are involved in cutting off the blood supply to your brain for fun, it’s important for the knot to be easily released when you want it to be, or you lose consciousness. You use a knot that lets the rope slip, or you use a knot that can be released by a pull on the end of the rope. You don’t use a granny knot. Granny knots are incorrectly tied square knots that are notoriously hard to untie, and they don’t slip. Look at the picture. There is no way she could have gotten out of this. She would have lost consciousness in as little as four seconds after the knot was pulled tight, and death would have followed within minutes.”
“It could have been suicide,” Fisher shot back.
“Have you ever in your experience seen a suicide like this?” said Kingsley. “Has anyone committing suicide ever attached clothespins to their nipples?” Fisher didn’t say anything. “This was staged to humiliate as well as to deflect the manner of death.”
“You know about knots?” Stark asked Diane.
“Diane is an expert in knots,” said Kingsley.
“She is,” said Lynn Webber. “I hadn’t heard of a forensic knot expert until I met her. Let me tell you, when we had those hanging victims, she made sure my diener and I were really careful with the knots. She read those knots like a book.”
“How do you get to be a forensic knot expert?” asked Fisher.
Diane could see the skepticism in his face. But she saw interest too.
“Study and experience. My interest began when I became a caver. In caving, your life often depends on your knowledge of rope and knots. Then I had my first case involving ropes, and it grew from there,” said Diane. “Knots carry unique information. They tell you things about the person who tied them. It’s often not a great deal, but it can be a critical piece of information. I can look at a set of knots and tell you if the person is a caver or a rock climber, a boater, or a hauler. I can also tell you by looking at their rope if they are careful or reckless.”
“Huh, interesting,” said Stark. “So this is not a knot someone would use in this situation?”
“Not like this. In this situation, if a granny knot is used at all, it would be to tie a small loop to stick the end of the rope through to make a loop around the neck that would release.”
Diane watched their faces to see if she was winning them over. She couldn’t tell. They had far better poker faces than she did. Except Doppelmeyer. And he was not ever going to be won over. But he didn’t need to be. Nancy Stark was their audience. She was the one who needed to be convinced.
Diane showed them another photograph of the rope. “This part of the rope-the opposite end from the noose-has Stacy Dance’s epithelials and blood on it for a length of a little more than eighteen inches. She was strangled with this end.” Diane looked to Kingsley.
“We also found other evidence, which we will discuss in a moment,” said Kingsley. He nodded to Lynn Webber.
Lynn placed her autopsy photographs of Stacy’s neck on the table beside the photograph they took of Stacy as she was found. She handed them her report. With her well-manicured fingers, Lynn pointed to Stacy’s neck in their photo. Lynn didn’t use nail polish. She buffed her nails to a shine and kept them short. Her nail beds were long and made her nails look longer than they were. She had pretty hands that were a contrast to the difficult photographs she was showing.
“This ligature here,” she said, pointing to a reddened line across the neck, “it’s the same line here on your photo. This is the mark left when she was strangled, as evidenced by the deep-cutting indentation of the rope and the characteristic perimortem color and pattern of the tissue damage.”
Stark nodded. “Go on.”
“This ligature”-she pointed to a second indentation around the neck-“is where the rope was later tied around her neck-the way she was found. If you look at your photograph, you can see some of it where the towel sort of lifts the rope a little.”
She handed them a magnifying glass. Stark and Fisher picked up the photographs and examined each.
“Notice the different color,” Webber said. “See that the bruising did not spread through the tissues from the site of the rope. She was already dead when this was tied around her neck.”
Chief Stark had a copy of Doppelmeyer’s autopsy report. She read it over several times.
“Oran, you don’t mention two strangulation ligatures,” said Stark.
Detective Fisher took the report from her and read it.
“It means nothing,” Doppelmeyer said. “I told you she’s incompetent. This is not an original photograph. She probably Photoshopped this.”
“This is a copy of the photograph from your file,” said Kingsley. “If you compare it with the original in your file, you’ll see that it hasn’t been changed in any way. If you don’t believe the photographic evidence, Stacy Dance hasn’t been reburied yet. You can have a third ME look at her.”
They were silent for several long moments. Diane could now see the doubt in both Stark and Fisher. Doppelmeyer saw it too.
“You’re not buying t
his crap, are you?” he said.
Neither answered him.
“What is the other evidence you mentioned?” asked Detective Fisher. “The evidence that involves their cases.” He wagged his hand between Detective Hanks and Sheriff Braden.
“The hell with this,” said Doppelmeyer. “If this is all you have, I have important work to do. What a waste of time. I’m glad I drove.” He got up to leave.
Diane asked one of the policemen to show him how to get to the first floor. She then turned to Hanks and nodded. He and Braden told them about Marcella Payden and Mary Phyllis Lassiter. Hanks told them about the fiber evidence and he told them about the boot print.
“The same boot print showed up at the Stacy Dance scene,” said Hanks. “We don’t know why. The crimes were completely different. Not just the age of the victim, but”-he threw up his hands-“all of it. With Payden and Lassiter, it was like a smash and grab. Very quick and violent. With Miss Dance, it was staged and slow. It’s possible the same person was involved in both. Or it’s possible your guy threw away the clothes he used and our guys found them.”
“When Diane told us about the evidence connection,” said Sheriff Braden, “we looked for some connection between our victims and yours. Couldn’t find any. Not that we had a lot of time to look-this evidence just came to light-but still, nothing so far.”
“If you get a suspect, we’d like you to allow us to watch the interrogation. We’ll do the same,” said Hanks.
Both Braden and Hanks had been very matter-of-fact, assuming that Gainesville PD would reopen the Dance case. They didn’t know anything about the politics or the biases that closed it in the first place. They were just looking at the evidence. Diane suspected Stark and perhaps Fisher noticed that about them, the lack of guile.
“All right,” said Chief Nancy Stark. “We’ll take another look. I’m not making any promises.”
“There’s something else,” said Kingsley.
“What’s that?” asked Stark, frowning.
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