Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery)

by Gina Conroy

“Are you still holding last night against me? It was the wine. I said I was sorry.”

  “I’m not talking about that. And don’t ever mention it again. It was a big mistake.”

  He tossed the file on the desk and rested his hands behind his head. “Be honest, Mari. We connected in that kiss. Like before Jack, when it was just you and me.”

  I shook my head.

  “I know what I felt.”

  “You felt what you wanted to feel. I didn’t see it coming, but at least I learned a valuable lesson.”

  “That I still make your heart flutter?”

  “That I lose all sense when I drink.” I knocked his boots off. “Keep your feet off Jack’s desk!”

  “Lighten up. The guy hasn’t used it in two years. Besides, I’m just playing with you.” He sat up, elbows on the desk. “I’m not here to take over Jack’s office.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “No, you’re here to steal his wife.”

  “Last I checked, you weren’t his wife anymore.”

  “I meant his life.”

  “Is that what’s got your panties in a wad? You think I came back for you?”

  “Admit it. You always wanted what Jack took from you.”

  “Get over yourself. You weren’t the first woman I was with and you definitely weren’t the last.”

  Heat climbed my neck threatening to blow my composure. I threw the sign-in copies in his lap. “Explain yourself.”

  He read the papers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the lab on Friday?”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “Slipped your mind or you conveniently forgot?”

  “I wasn’t sure of the exact time, and I didn’t know I had to report my every move to you. Why is it so important?”

  I confessed to the illegal hacking Danny and I did, and the confirmation of the two different lab reports from Henderson.

  “So little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You strut around like you’re better than everyone. Why do you put on a mask and hide?”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” I crossed my arms, fists clenched.

  “You’ve changed over the years.”

  “Unfortunately, you haven’t.” I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. I pretended I was perfect when deep inside I knew I was fatally flawed. Helplessly hopeless. If I couldn’t fool Fletcher, the King of Fools, who was I to think I could fool the FBI, Ms. Bomani. KTXL.

  “Why be someone you’re not?”

  I slumped into the chair in front of the desk. “I don’t know.”

  Fletcher moved to the front of the desk and took my hands. “When we first met, you were shy, but inside your shell I saw strength. That’s what attracted me to you—and your legs, but I’m getting off the point. We became friends and slowly I saw your confidence emerge. For a brief time you walked in that confidence, then you started to retreat, then after … I couldn’t get you back so I pulled away. No, I ran away. I didn’t know how to deal with your pain or my failure, and Jack was there. I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. I thought Jack could.”

  Tears crowded my eyes. The strain in my head grew as I refused to let them fall. “I only pretended to be confident. To forget. I couldn’t bear to think about how I left my mom at home with him every morning when I went to school. If I did, the guilt would have eaten what was left of me.” I swiped a stray tear. “But this isn’t about me right now. It’s about Jack. And you didn’t answer my question. Why were you in the lab on Friday?”

  Fletcher’s shoulders slumped as he handed me the sign-in copies. His sparkling blue eyes dimmed. “I was checking the artifacts for Monday’s show. Deciding which ones to use. And for your information, I wasn’t the only one there. What’s her name, the bird lady, the secretary … she was there with me.”

  “Candy Finch?”

  “She was on the computer. Professor Henderson came in a little later. So if you’re accusing me of what I think you’re accusing me of, you’re flying up the wrong tree.”

  Fletcher’s words cut deep. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem. Quit thinking and start living. Stop beating yourself up for what happened a lifetime ago. You can’t go back and create a new beginning, but you can start to create a happy ending. If only you could let go.” He collected his things and stomped out of the office, leaving me alone.

  ***

  3:55 p.m.

  THE EMPTINESS IN JACK’S office smothered me. The silence, deafening. Part of me wanted him to return, at least to distract me from Fletcher. But if Jack returned, would the FBI be waiting at the airport with handcuffs and shackles? Not if I could help it.

  I sat at his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed the Radio Carbon Lab in Austin. Several transfers and endless explanations later, they confirmed they’d received Jack’s organic sample, but it was still being processed.

  After opening the server on Jack’s computer, I began composing an email when his inbox caught my eye. Seven hundred seventy-three messages he hadn’t checked. I logged in with his King Tut password he had yet to change. Scanning the senders, I searched for obvious spam and noticed several emails from Pharo294 dated before Jack left. All of them were marked as READ except the last email sent on Monday at 10:30 a.m. Yesterday. That would have been 5:30 p.m. in Luxor. An hour before Jack called the first time.

  I opened the email. It was full of letters mixed with unfamiliar symbols in some kind of code. Why the secrecy? I scrolled the list, clicking each one from Pharo294. Same symbols. My dull headache intensified. Could Jack be involved in the artifact’s disappearance after all? I pushed the idea away. Not Jack, but hadn’t I misjudged Danny? What about Cherilyn? Even Peter seemed to keep secrets. Maybe my judgment was tainted. Could Jack somehow be involved?

  I shook the thought from my mind. No, Jack was innocent. But if Ms. Bomani got hold of these emails Jack might look even more suspicious. Or they could hold the answer to his innocence. After forwarding each email to my inbox, I inhaled and clicked the boxes next to the sender of every email sent by Pharo294. My finger hovered above the delete key, trembling in the midst of choosing right or wrong. There was no other way. I tapped the button and the emails vanished, yet my anxiety lingered. I fired off an email to Jack telling him to contact me at my personal email and exhaled, shutting down the computer.

  I peeked into the main office area. It was empty except for Candy who flipped through a large book, dabbing her eyes. Stepping into the office lobby, I cleared my throat. Candy scooped up the black book, shoved it in her bottom drawer, and busied herself at her desk.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure no one will mind if you left early.”

  “Thank you, Mari. Sometimes the grief sneaks up.”

  “I know.”

  She patted my hand. “I’ll go home right after I finish here.”

  “Candy, you mentioned earlier you saw Fletcher walk into the lab as you left. He says he saw you on the computer.”

  Candy’s eyes darted around her desk as she shuffled stacks of paper. “Oh. I know I shouldn’t have, but Professor Henderson … he doesn’t, I mean, didn’t like me sending personal emails from the office computer.”

  “As interim head, I don’t see any harm in using the computer for quick emails.”

  Her eyes brightened like Little Orphan Annie at Daddy Warbucks’. “I’m so glad you said that because I’ve been dying to check my email.” She clicked her inbox.

  “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

  “Can you stay a minute? I’ve been busting at the seams to tell someone about this.”

  “Sure. I’m all ears.” I leaned against Candy’s desk.

  “A couple of months ago I got an email from someone. From my past. He won’t tell me who he is, but he’s been asking lots of questions.”
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  “Don’t tell me you’ve answered them? You haven’t given out any personal information?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just trivial things about my past. Every time I answer, he leaves me a clue to who he is. So far I know he’s male, we were close at one time, and we’re connected through a mutual person.” She clicked the keyboard. “Isn’t this exciting? Like one of those television talk shows where a secret admirer wants to meet after years of separation.”

  “What questions is he asking?”

  “Where I grew up and went to school. Things like that. I guess my secret admirer wants to make sure he has the right person before he gets a little more personal.”

  “Be careful,” I said. “There are a lot of scammers who take advantage of kindhearted people like you. Keep me informed and don’t go making any rendezvous with this cyber admirer.”

  But Candy didn’t hear a word I said. I left her to her email and decided to take a walk to clear my pounding head. For a millisecond I considered asking Peter for the Feverfew, but I called Elizabeth’s chiropractor instead. He couldn’t fit me in until after Christmas.

  I walked through the hall sorting all the information in my overloaded brain. Too many questions. Too many secrets. Too many mysteries around those who worked in our little Archaeology Department.

  Cherilyn scurried from the student lounge. We locked eyes, then she hurried past me. Not even a hello? My concern for Danny intensified. The lockers in the student lounge caught my eye as I passed. I doubled back, reached into my bag, and found the paper with the numbers on it. 328. I was on the third floor. But why would a student’s locker combination be in my bag?

  I was being paranoid. It probably belonged to Hattie or Matt. I started to walk away, but halted. Couldn’t Cherilyn have dropped it in by accident? She was in the studio where I left my Coach bag the day of Henderson’s murder. Maybe in all the confusion, she lost it. Curiosity nagged. If the combination opened Cherilyn’s locker, then I owed it to Danny to find out if she was hiding any more secrets.

  Or blackmail photos.

  Entering the room filled with chatty students, I avoided eye contact and walked to locker 328 as if I belonged, though it was obvious I didn’t. The air filled with the stench of burnt popcorn. I held my breath as I turned the lock around three times to the right … 32, and two times left … 24, and right again … 36. I hesitated, then pulled at the knob. It didn’t budge. I tried two more times, but it was useless. This was the wrong locker. Matt’s phone played some obnoxious rock tune. I answered.

  “How did you get this number?” The helpless voice on the other end surprised me, and I rushed from the lounge toward the elevator. “Sure, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  4:40 p.m.

  MY HANDS GRIPPED THE steering wheel as I followed the curve down the mile-long driveway. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but the professionally manicured lawns and wooded areas of the secluded property begged for attention. A three-story mansion came into view. My mouth hung open. Was that a putting green in the distance? Breathtaking didn’t begin to describe the fortress sprawled on property as big as our subdivision. The place smelled of old money. Henderson couldn’t have gotten rich on a professor’s salary.

  Jack had downplayed the enormity of Henderson’s home. I had never made it to the estate all the years we worked together, and now regretted it. Parking in the enormous circle drive, I half expected a valet to park Matt’s Jeep. By the time I climbed the twenty-two steps in heels and reached the oversized double doors, my legs wobbled like Jell-O. As intimidating as Henderson was in life, his home was twice as overwhelming. Why had Natasha summoned me here? Surely it wasn’t for tea and crumpets.

  Bypassing the giant knocker, I reached for the doorbell. It chimed an unfamiliar melody. I noticed the security cameras as a male voice asked my name.

  “Mari Duggins. I’m here to see Natasha.” The door buzzed open. Standing in the expansive hallway, I felt like Maria waiting to meet Captain von Trapp. Natasha sashayed down the grandiose staircase in black leather pants and a leopard-pattern silk shirt. Like the sleek animal print she wore, she looked graceful and dangerous. I squeezed her extended hand.

  “Thank you so much for coming.” With a tissue, she dabbed her eyes. Striking hazel eyes with a sunburst of blue around the pupils any woman would covet. But I wasn’t envious of Natasha Whetherby. Not now. I knew all too well the sadness those eyes possessed.

  “Let’s go into Daddy’s trophy room. We can talk in there.”

  Our heels alternated echoes on the expansive marble hallway, my heart completing the rhythm like a hyperactive, snare drummer. I followed her elegant stride to the famous trophy room Jack described. The room where Henderson housed the ancient antiquities he’d collected over the decades.

  She stopped at the end of the hall, punched in a code on the lock, and pushed it open. Dark and silent, the room was like a tomb, oppressive as well as impressive. Walking in the room, I soaked in the silence and waited for the unveiling. When Natasha flicked on the light, I was flooded with awe.

  Feelings of unworthiness and privilege tiptoed through my mind as I beheld Henderson’s treasures, and for a moment caught a glimpse of heaven. Ornately carved bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. In various corners of the octagon-shaped room stood suits of armor, large ceramic jugs, spears, and stone statues more impressive than if they had been in a museum.

  “Are these all authentic?” My hand traced what appeared to be a tribal mask from the Incas.

  “Of course. Please don’t touch anything. These items are priceless.” Natasha snapped, then softened her tone. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? It’s just that woman. Daddy gave it to her. All of it. I could kill her.” The guttural utterance that escaped Natasha’s perfectly shaped mouth made me shiver.

  I placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, drinking in the exquisite Tang Dynasty horse behind her. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Daddy’s ex-wife. At least I thought she was his ex-wife. She claims they never divorced. The lawyer never filed the papers.”

  “Do you mean Susan Kipling?”

  “Don’t you mean Susan Henderson? That fortune-seeking piranha sunk her teeth into Daddy’s money. Now she has it all. All except the mansion and everything in it. Thank goodness Daddy had sense enough to leave it to me.” Tears streaked her rosy cheeks, but I couldn’t tell if they were because of her father’s death or her lost inheritance. “She even has his body.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently Daddy never changed his will before he died. She has power of attorney or whatever it is you need to take a body from the morgue. She’s taken his money and is having him cremated. I can’t even give him a proper burial.”

  For a brief second, relief washed over me. No graveside funeral.

  Natasha’s sobs perforated my insensitivity. “I guess I should be happy she’s giving me his remains for the memorial service.”

  “I know it’s not much of a consolation, but at least you have this mansion to remember your father by. And this extraordinary collection.” Which was more than my father left me.

  “I was supposed to get it all. I’m his family, not her. And now someone’s stealing my Daddy’s artifacts. I’d suspect Susan, but she hasn’t been to the house in months.”

  But Jack had. I rubbed my temples. He’d only been in town for a couple of days. Didn’t have time for more than dinner with the kids, but he mentioned he visited Henderson to finalize plans for the excavation in the Valley of the Queens.

  Natasha walked to the computer in the corner of the room. “Everything here is catalogued like it would be in a museum. There’s the history of each item including the date and place of purchase. I went through my father’s files this afternoon and several pieces are missing.”

  Her hands shook as she printed the information on twelve different artifacts ranging from an Egyptian amulet to an a
ncient Roman dagger. All small enough to be smuggled out without being missed.

  “Have you reported this to the police?”

  “No!”

  The tension in my shoulders loosened.

  “They’ve already botched my father’s murder investigation. I can’t trust them with this information.” Her harsh eyes softened. “I hoped you could help me find out what happened to them.” More tears.

  I ushered her to the simple horseshoe wooden chair, then halted, noticing the rich color and harmonious proportions, the craftsmanship of how the wood joined. I had never seen one in person, but this had to be dated between the year 1400 and 1600 from the Ming Dynasty. “Me?” I led her away from the chair. “How could I possibly help?”

  “I don’t know. You’re smart. You’re an archaeologist. Isn’t that like a detective, using the clues left behind to discover the truth? That’s what Daddy always said.”

  She had a point, though far stretching.

  Natasha dabbed her eyes. “I don’t have anywhere else to turn. Plus Daddy liked you. He trusted you and Jack.”

  “I could try.” If Jack’s missing artifact was connected to Henderson’s missing collection, I couldn’t afford police involvement. “When did you last see the missing pieces?”

  “I can’t remember. I don’t come here often. Daddy always has the door locked.”

  “Has any of the staff been in this room since your father’s passing?”

  “No one has the code except me and Daddy. He changed it every week. He keeps the code in one of his safe deposit boxes at the bank.”

  “Who had access to that box?”

  “Me, until he married Susan, then I was taken off the list. I’m not sure who can access it now. He could have put me back on the list when he thought he divorced Susan.”

  “I’m no detective, but maybe you should start by checking the safe deposit box to make sure the code is still there. Then talk with the staff and your father’s business acquaintances. It might not have been hard for someone to get the code if they entered the room with him. Make a list of anyone who might’ve held a grudge against your father or came to this home in the last month.” I glanced at the cameras in the room. “What security company do you use?”