Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery)

by Gina Conroy

  Someone knocked on my door. I jerked away from Fletcher as Natasha sashayed in. She glared at us. “Hope I’m not disturbing anything. I need to talk to Mari.” She eyed Fletcher as he walked past her and closed the door on his way out.

  My face flushed. “Natasha, it’s not what—”

  “I could care less about your love life. But I would caution you, Fletcher Murdock is not who he pretends to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a gold digger, a player. I should know.” She rolled her eyes. “I was raised by the best.”

  She pulled a stack of VHS tapes from her purse. “There’s more, but I could only get these.”

  Great, I had forgotten Natasha asked me to play Columbo.

  “They’re from a month before Daddy’s murder. Do you really think they’ll be useful?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s worth a look.”

  “Here’s the list you wanted.” She handed me three pages, single-spaced.

  “Thanks.” I glanced at the list of all the people that held a grudge against Henderson, not knowing what to do with it.

  “I stopped by the bank and removed the contents from Daddy’s safety deposit boxes. The code to the trophy room was there. It seems Daddy put me back on the list when he thought he divorced Susan. I’m having my lawyer go through the papers, but it doesn’t look like anything significant. Just passports, birth certificates. Not stocks or bonds, though I’m sure Daddy must have had a ton of investments. I’m having a hard time getting access to his financial records since I’m not the Executor.”

  I shifted my weight. “I’m sorry you’re having such a difficult time.”

  “I don’t understand how Daddy could remember to take Susan off the safe deposit box list and not out of his will. I could’ve sworn when he divorced her he made Executor. I should pay her a visit and see what she has to say about all this.”

  “That’s probably not the best idea, especially since the memorial service is tonight.”

  “You’re right. I guess it could wait.” She checked her watch. “I have to run, or I’ll be late for my spa treatment.”

  My brow crinkled as I showed Natasha to the door. Spa treatment? How could Natasha be so vain at a time like this? But she was stressed and probably needed to relax. In fact, I could use a spa treatment right now. Instead I asked Candy where the TV/VCR/DVD unit was. She told me to check Jack’s office. Fletcher had been watching some excavation footage yesterday. I headed down the hall to his office, afraid of what the FBI had done to it. Aside from his computer being gone, everything appeared the way I had left it yesterday.

  The chair screeched across the floor as I pushed it up to the TV in the corner. Then I popped in the first tape, a month before Henderson’s murder. I clicked play. Forwarding through the hours took forever. You would think Henderson could have updated his security system. Finally, a person appeared on the screen. I jotted down their description to ask Natasha about them later. The first five days slugged by. Not many people visited Henderson’s mansion during the week, but the weekend teemed with various women coming and going. Unfortunately, no one ventured near the trophy room.

  I popped in the second tape and fast-forwarded through the days until someone caught my eye. Tall, brown hair. Nice bu—Jack! I slowed the footage, telling the thumping in my chest to settle. I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew all about Jack’s visit to Henderson’s to finalize the Egyptian plans. Or did I?

  On the tape, Jack stood on his tiptoes and peered over Henderson’s shoulder as he punched in the code to the trophy room. Thirty minutes after they entered, Henderson exited without Jack. What exactly was Jack doing while Henderson was gone? Were there more tapes to the trophy room?

  I paused the tape and searched through the stack. None marked trophy room, but I did remember seeing cameras inside. I dialed Natasha and asked about the tapes to the room. After she called the security guards, she assured me there were no other tapes and that the cameras inside the room had been disabled by her father. But why, and when? Maybe he wanted some privacy in the room with one of his female visitors.

  I turned on the tape and watched the door to the trophy room. What was Jack doing inside? Henderson returned to the room ten minutes later. Enough time for Jack to—no, I didn’t care how it looked. Until I heard it from Jack’s lips, saw the forgery in his possession, I wouldn’t believe it.

  I sat in front of the television, doubt and fear clinging to my senses. Henderson and Jack walked out of the room. Was there a bulge in Jack’s coat pocket? I shook my head. Surely I was imagining things. I fast-forwarded through the rest of the day. Nothing until the evening when another round of women would likely pile through the door at different hours.

  But the evening was quiet. Only one woman stopped by on Saturday night and didn’t leave until Sunday afternoon. I didn’t see her face, but I had no trouble recognizing the scantily dressed blonde who vanished into the trophy room with Henderson.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  8:49 a.m.

  I REWOUND THE TAPE to make sure I hadn’t imagined the woman with the brassy blonde-hair. She didn’t have to show her face to the camera for me to know it was Susan. “That’s why she wasn’t interested in getting back with Peter.”

  Fletcher threw open the door to Jack’s office, a coffee mug in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be in here.” He picked a piece of lint off his sweater.

  “I needed to use the DVD.”

  “Hope you don’t mind me using Jack’s office again.”

  “Detective Lopez still hasn’t cleared Henderson’s office?”

  “No.” He held up his left hand. “I promise to keep my feet off his desk.”

  “Wrong hand.”

  He switched the mug to his left hand and held up his right. “Better?”

  “Yes.You can work here after I’m finished. I’m sure the FBI left nothing for you to disturb. They confiscated Jack’s computer yesterday.”

  “I heard.” He sipped his coffee. “Did they confirm the forgery?”

  I nodded. “The micromorphology results confirm the heart scarab is a fake.”

  “Wow, I guess this thing is heating up. I’m so sorry to hear they’re narrowing in on Jack.”

  “I thought they had some other suspects, but last night an agent from Egypt’s Department of Retrieving Stolen Artifacts came to my house and took Jack’s home computer.”

  “Jeez Louise.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “No, Asenath Bomani.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Mari, no need to swear.”

  “Ha, ha. Ms. Bomani is the person Egypt sent to find the missing artifact. She hasn’t spoken to you yet?”

  “Is she good looking? Nice legs? Big—”

  I gave him “the look.”

  “Teeth?”

  “Think Egyptian Goddess with the crocodile mouth of Ammit.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “As long as she flosses …”

  “You better quit fooling around. This is serious.”

  “I know, just trying to offer some comic relief.”

  “If I were you I’d drop the standup routine and start worrying. Ms. Bomani is out for a carcass, and if it’s not Jack, it could be you.”

  “Don’t tell me I’m on her list.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Johnny, tell him what he’s won.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! Next you’ll be telling me they’re fingering me for Henderson’s murder.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Get out of here. That’s insane.”

  “Technically the jury is still out about Henderson’s murder.”

  “What else have I missed?”

  “I think you better have a seat. It might take me a while.”

  Fletcher moved a chair next to me and listened without a wisecrack as I explained about the emails, missing artifacts at Henderson’s mansion, and the replicating lab found in Egypt. I even showed him the tapes with Ja
ck leaving Henderson’s trophy room and Susan not leaving until Sunday. I hadn’t meant to tell him everything, but a dam had been opened. Once I started I couldn’t stop. Surprisingly, the stress rolled off my shoulders.

  He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment, and then he stood. “This is big. Way bigger than I thought.” He set his mug on the chair and started pacing. “It all makes sense now.”

  My hands started to shake. “What makes sense?”

  He shuffled across the room a couple of times, his face etched in concentration. I stood in front of him, blocking his path. “What makes sense?”

  “Mari, it’s probably nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  He inhaled deep, then let it out slowly. “At the dig site, before I left. Jack …”

  “Jack what?”

  “Jack seemed preoccupied.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be? As team leader there’s a lot on his plate.” I ticked off the problems on my fingers. “There’s the Egyptian government watching every move he makes, the fear of overnight looters, he has to deal with crabby underpaid workers, the weather is unbearably humid, and don’t forget dysentery and other diseases that could strip any archaeological dig of their crew. Plus, he had to make sure samples from the field weren’t contaminated, not to mention all the paperwork. You know how much Jack despises paperwork.”

  “I know all about being team leader. I’ve spent half my life in the field. But this was different. I can’t explain it. Jack didn’t seem himself.”

  I knew it was childish, but I covered my ears anyway. When I couldn’t quiet the questions in my head, I lowered my hands. “Do you think he’s involved in a smuggling ring?”

  Fletcher started to pace again. “Now it all makes sense. Being the first one at the dig site. The only one with the key. The last one to go home. He wouldn’t even meet us for a beer, so not like Jack after spending a day sweating in the field. Sometimes he’d arrive at the hotel hours after quitting time. Then there was that one time—”

  I grabbed Fletcher’s arm. He stared into my eyes. Eyes on the verge of spilling. “What? You can tell me.”

  “When they evacuated the hotel for a small kitchen fire. I searched for Jack, but couldn’t find him.”

  My head strained as I stifled the pooling tears. “That doesn’t mean anything. There had to have been a lot of people at the hotel.”

  “Mari.” Fletcher laid two gentle hands on my shoulders. “I was rooming with him. His bed wasn’t slept in. It was 3:00 in the morning, and Jack hadn’t been to his room.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  9:45 a.m.

  “JUST BECAUSE JACK’S BED wasn’t slept in doesn’t make him an antiquities thief.” I paced Jack’s office, not surprised Fletcher diverted the focus off of himself and on to Jack. Fletcher had always looked out for himself. It was crazy to think that what transpired between us earlier could change his genetic makeup.

  “Mari, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  I ignored his pity-filled eyes. “There’s nothing to say. Jack is innocent.”

  “Why are you so intent on proving the guy innocent after what he did to you?”

  “Do you mind finding somewhere else to work until I’m done?”

  Fletcher left without a word. I finished the rest of the footage in silence, schlepped the tapes to my office, and settled in to grade papers. Though it seemed Jack was the only one left in the trophy room alone and had opportunity in the field to take the scarab, there was still no proof. Until then I couldn’t, wouldn’t betray him. For the sake of our kids. At least that’s what I told myself.

  Halfway through grading the first essay, images of Jack in the trophy room niggled at my imagination. I tapped the end of the pen to my lips. Natasha would want to know what I found, but I couldn’t tell her about Jack. What about Susan? She had opportunity. She was at the mansion longer than Jack. Who’s to say the artifacts were taken that weekend? Natasha admitted not knowing when she last saw the missing pieces of her father’s collection. They could have been taken months ago.

  No. I couldn’t chance Natasha or the FBI learning about Jack and pinning this theft on him. There had to be something I overlooked. There had to be a more logical explanation, I just didn’t know what.

  I cracked my door open, clutching the incriminating tape, shuffled through the hall, and peeked in Jack’s office. Just as I had left it. Fletcher must’ve found another place to work. I hurried to the VCR and popped in the tape, making sure the TV was on input and showed a blue screen. Then I pressed record and turned off the television. Thank goodness Henderson’s security company used tapes. I wouldn’t have known how to erase a DVD.

  Now no one would know what was on that tape. No one except Fletcher, but I’d figure out how to deal with that later. Noises from outside the door erupted. I hurried out, wide-eyed.

  Detective Lopez pinned Peter against the wall, trying to cuff him. “Let’s not make this difficult, Mr. Kipling.”

  Peter resisted, trying to wiggle free of the detective’s grip. “I had nothing to do with Henderson’s murder.”

  Officer Benson lumbered out of Peter’s office with a small plastic bag filled with bottles in one hand and a trash bag in the other. “Lookee what I found in the garbage.” He held up Peter’s trash. “The same nutrition bar wrapper found in the green room.”

  Peter scowled at the young officer. “Is eating healthy a crime?”

  “You said you weren’t in the green room before Henderson died.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Then why did we find a Balance Nutrition Bar in the green room trash and in your trash?”

  “This is asinine. You’re arresting me because I happen to eat the same nutrition bar half the campus eats? They sell them in the café on the second floor. Henderson could have eaten it himself, for heaven’s sake.”

  “The autopsy report would’ve mentioned it.” Detective Lopez looked at Officer Benson. “Seal off his office until you do a thorough sweep.” He turned to Kipling. “You’re going to the precinct. A squad car is waiting downstairs.”

  “What about my rights?” Kipling’s arrogance wavered.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of all that at the department. We’re doing this one by the book.”

  Lopez’s voice faded as he spoke to the officer by the door. Surely a protein bar wasn’t grounds for arrest. I knew half a dozen people who ate those nasty things. Danny included. Could there be more evidence to Kipling’s crime to warrant his arrest?

  I waited by Candy’s side until they hauled Peter from the office. Detective Lopez returned from the hall. “I’m sorry for the disruption, ladies. How are you feeling today, Mrs. Duggins?”

  “Fine, considering our last meeting.”

  “I’m sorry you were the one to find Brian Farlow.” Detective Lopez touched my arm, and I didn’t flinch. “I know how tough that must have been for you to be placed in those circumstances again.”

  “He was the last person I expected to see in that abandoned building.”

  “After his car accident, he started taking medication for the pain. It must have turned to harder drugs. He hid his addiction well. Fooled me.”

  “I assume he completed Henderson’s blood work before he died? Is that why you came to arrest Peter?” I couldn’t believe a nutrition bar tipped the scales in his direction.

  “The blood test hasn’t come in yet. We’re hoping the other lab techs can continue Mr. Farlow’s work, but we have enough evidence to move forward.”

  “C.S. and Fletcher are no longer suspects?”

  “Let’s say we followed the money, and with Henderson and Kipling’s volatile history, plus the tenure letters, we’ve got enough evidence for an arrest. Not to mention the money trail seems to suggest we found our blackmailer. Once we get the DNA samples on the nutrition bar we’ll have a strong case. All we need for a slam dunk is a positive ID on the drug Kipling used.”

  Officer Benson emerged from Pete
r’s room. Detective Lopez waved him over. “Mari, I’m sorry I have to ask you this, but I have a warrant to get a DNA sample from everyone in this office.”

  Candy sat at her desk, wringing her hands as Officer Benson swabbed my mouth and bagged the sample. Then Candy’s. Moments later, Fletcher walked into the room and Officer Benson collected his DNA sample.

  “A couple more questions, then we’re through.” Detective Lopez retrieved his pad. “What do you know about a small pharmaceutical company belonging to Kipling and his ex-wife?”

  I searched my memory. “Several years ago Peter said something about Susan starting a small business with the money her father left her when he died. A couple of times he mentioned the business was about to go under.”

  “Well, it didn’t. And it wasn’t noted in the divorce settlement. Do you have any idea why?” Detective Lopez tapped his pen to his lip.

  “No, I got the impression Susan ran the business and Peter was a silent partner. Maybe it had accrued so much debt Susan didn’t want the company and liability to be hers alone.”

  “That’s a possibility, but it doesn’t explain why about a year ago the company received a large anonymous donation to take it out of the red, and Susan didn’t file a motion to absolve Peter’s rights to the company.”

  “That is strange.”

  “Thanks for your help, Mari.” He held out his hand. When I shook it, he didn’t let go. “I almost forgot. Ms. Bomani wanted me to relay a message about the remains found in the Egyptian lab.”

  I froze, pulse racing as I remembered a similar scenario. Lopez looked into my eyes, then and now. He hesitated like when he shattered my world telling me of my father’s suicide after he gunned down my mother. Detective Lopez gripped my hand. I stared back for what seemed like an eternity. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to push past this moment, but I had to. “Go ahead, I’m ready.”

  I was getting pretty good at lying.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  10:17 a.m.

  I BRACED MYSELF FOR my worst fear, knowing I might never recover from Lopez’s news, wishing I could rewind my life ten years and force my mother to leave with Matt.