Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery)

by Gina Conroy

  “The human remains found in the Luxor lab weren’t Jack’s.”

  Air whooshed from my lungs.

  “They belonged to an Egyptian local with ties to a smuggling ring busted up years ago.”

  I cupped Detective Lopez’s hand and drank in his gaze. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “I’m glad I get to bring you good news this time.”

  Something had shifted in the detective’s dark eyes, or maybe something had changed inside of me.

  “There’s one more thing. They found a watch with the inscription ‘I’ll love you till the end of time.’ Do you know anything about it?”

  Dread grabbed me by the throat as I tried to squeak a reply. “It’s Jack’s. I gave it to him for our seventh anniversary.”

  After Detective Lopez left, I retrieved the blank tape from the VCR and dragged myself to my office. I should’ve been elated Jack hadn’t died in the blast, and I was, but his watch at the smuggling lab only added more questions and concerns. I tried to disconnect my emotions from the evidence, but everything lumped together in one big, messy heap.

  I sat behind my desk, grabbed the essay I’d been working on, and tried to push Jack from my mind. Thoughts of Peter’s arrest invaded. I stared at the wall I shared with Peter’s office. The evidence, though circumstantial, pointed to Peter. How could it be denied?

  The pang in my gut wouldn’t quit tugging. Peter and Susan were longtime friends of mine. How could I not come to his defense? But his guilt meant Fletcher’s innocence, and if Peter killed Henderson then I’d be defending a murderer. I straightened the stack of test papers. What made Peter go from a model citizen to a killer?

  Henderson’s erased security tape burned through me, a reminder of my own moral demise. One good intention led to one small sin then another and another until the lines of right and wrong blurred in a desperate attempt to preserve my family’s integrity. Is that what happened to Peter? A chill swept through me.

  I hoped not. If so, I wondered what would be my next transgression.

  Someone knocked on the door. Fletcher entered before I said come in and made a beeline for the chair. “What in the world did I miss?” He leaned forward. “I saw them haul Peter away in handcuffs. Then you and the detective seemed really absorbed in conversation. And what’s with the DNA samples? Is Peter going down for Henderson’s murder?”

  “Seems so.” I leaned forward. “Detective Lopez said there’s enough evidence to arrest him.”

  “That’s a big relief.”

  “I wouldn’t relax yet.”

  “But if they’ve tagged Peter for the murder, maybe he had something to do with the stolen artifact, and Jack and I’d be off their radar.” Fletcher slumped in his chair.

  “Good point. The two might be related, though I’m not sure why Peter would draw attention to the artifact he stole being a fake.”

  “Maybe Henderson figured out it was a fake, and Peter decided to off him to cover the forgery.”

  “Then why call the authorities?” I wasn’t a detective, but even I could see it didn’t add up.

  “To try to divert attention off himself by aiding the police. It happens all the time.”

  “When did you become an expert?”

  Fletcher shrugged. “I watch a lot of crime TV.”

  “Interesting theory, but I don’t think so.” I grabbed a pen and scribbled out the sequence of events. “Remember, first Henderson’s test authenticated the artifact, then his test claimed it was a fake. Then Peter’s test reaffirmed the forgery. The time frame doesn’t fit, but the theory does take suspicion off you and Jack.” My stomach grumbled loudly in agreement.

  “Why don’t we finish this discussion over brunch?” Fletcher stood. “I’m buying.”

  “I can’t. I’m picking up Ben and meeting Elizabeth at noon for lunch at McDonald’s.” Truth is I didn’t want to be around Fletcher outside of the office.

  Fletcher’s eyes narrowed.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. I was just thinking …”

  But I could tell it was more than nothing. “I don’t think there’s anything else you can say that would shock me. You’ve already indirectly accused Jack of antiquities theft.”

  “I wish I didn’t think it could be true, but I can’t shake Jack’s odd behavior at the dig site.”

  A blast of heat replaced my earlier chill. “Let’s not get into that again. I chose to overlook your accusation. If you continue down this path—”

  “But, Mari, what if we’re looking at this the wrong way? What if we’re trying to jam the right piece of the puzzle in the wrong spot? What if—”

  “Quit stalling.”

  Fletcher opened his mouth, then shut it, indecision shaded his eyes. “What if Jack was working with Peter?”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  12:07 p.m.

  EVEN THOUGH I LEFT Fletcher at the Archaeology office almost two hours ago, his ridiculous theory clamored in my head above the McDonald’s play area chaos. Jack conspiring with Peter to forge a priceless antiquity and then murder Henderson? Unthinkable. Still, the weight of his accusation couldn’t ease my restlessness.

  If Jack was innocent, why did I feel the need to protect him?

  I hiked my charcoal Gucci purse on my shoulder, and carried my tray to the table, searching for Ben and Luke as the aroma of grease and burgers competed for my attention. A pink neon orb flew millimeters past my face. I flinched, thankful I didn’t have my father’s Roman nose. “Ben, Luke, come eat.” They ignored me, smacking each other in the face with plastic balls. I cringed. Who knew what germs lurked on those circular cesspools?

  “Ben, your food is getting cold.” I raised my voice above the playroom clamor. “Ben Duggins, if you don’t come here right now you’ll have no video game time for the rest of the week.”

  Without hesitation Ben toppled out of the pit, followed by Luke. Elizabeth joined us, retrieved her antibacterial gel, and slathered their hands. The two boys slid into their chairs and wrestled their toys out of their Happy Meal bags.

  “You know the rule.” Elizabeth’s gentle tone caught their attention. “No toys until you’ve eaten.” The boys obeyed and waited until Elizabeth finished praying before they dove into their fries.

  Elizabeth sank her spoon into her Oreo McFlurry, shoved a big glop of ice cream in her mouth, and smiled with satisfaction as I poured fat-free dressing on my salad.

  “Thanks for taking Ben back to school after lunch.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m getting a little nervous about my three o’clock interview.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, and I threatened her with my plastic fork. “Don’t even think about saying all things work together for good. You really have to get a new mantra.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” Elizabeth spooned a huge glob of ice cream and pointed it at me. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  “No thanks.” I shoved some leafy greens in my mouth.

  “You have to quit dieting.” Her Texas drawl hummed, but I could sense the lecture revving. “You’ve really messed up your metabolism, that’s why you’re not losing the weight you want. Even though I’ve told you a million times, you look great and don’t need to lose anything.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You inhale that McFlurry and lose five pounds. I gain five watching you eat it.”

  “It’s not about what you eat. It’s about how much you eat.”

  “Is that why you hardly touched your lasagna the other night?”

  Elizabeth stared into her ice cream. “Sorry, about that. It was really delicious. I just didn’t have an appetite.”

  “Who needs an appetitive to eat lasagna from Romano’s?” I took a big sip of my Diet Dr Pepper.

  “See, that’s why you can’t lose weight. You have to listen to your body. It’ll tell you how much to eat.”

  “I don’t think that’s the answer. I listened to my body yesterday and this morning when I sca
rfed down more food than Matt.”And right now my body was telling me to snatch that McFlurry from Elizabeth’s hand.

  “You must be a stress eater.”

  Tell me something I don’t know.

  How’s Matt doing?”

  “He’s home supposedly doing his homework. I confiscated his iPhone, iPad, iPod Touch, computer, and video games. I even hid his game controllers and put a code on the television just in case. He should be completely miserable. After the stunt he pulled yesterday I’m content to keep him locked up until he’s thirty. I even thought about homeschooling him.”

  “You, homeschool? What did he do?”

  I relayed my horrible ordeal at the abandoned building, Matt being arrested, and all the consequences.

  “Bless your heart.”

  “I’m not sure what will happen, if it will go on his record or if he’ll just get a fine and some community service. Though I think the best thing for him would be to stick him with kids less fortunate than he is. Maybe it would straighten him out. Make him see he’s got so much to live for.”

  “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.” Elizabeth sucked on her spoon, eyes glazed.

  “Is everything okay?” It wasn’t like her to zone out of a conversation.

  Life returned to her eyes. “Huh? You were talking about Matt, right? Give it some time. All things will work together for good.”

  I pushed aside my half-eaten salad. “You’re kidding this time, right? What good could come of Matt smoking pot and getting hauled off to jail?”

  “Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him.”

  “Then what about Jack? There’s no good in him being accused of theft and murder. I even prayed, but God’s only made things worse.”

  “You prayed?”

  “Sort of. I got a distorted voicemail from Jack the other day asking me to pray. I have no idea what he wanted me to say or why he wanted me to pray, but I felt something in the pit of my stomach urging me. I was so worried I didn’t know what to do. Then I remembered my mother saying this prayer, so I prayed it. But it didn’t work.”

  “Do you remember what it was?”

  “What does it matter? He didn’t answer me.”

  “Humor me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. So why didn’t God help?”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Prayer is not some magic spell.”

  “But it worked when I prayed for Matt to be safe. Why does prayer have to be so confusing?”

  “Just because you pray doesn’t mean God will answer the way you want him to.”

  “Then why bother to pray at all?”

  “Because it brings peace. When my life is spinning out of control and nothing I do seems to work, I ask God to take over, and he does. It may not be the way I planned or even the way I prayed, but it all ends up the way God wants.”

  “What troubles do you have? You’re debt free, your kids are angels, and your husband thinks you hung the moon.”

  Elizabeth set her spoon down and glanced at the boys who were sword fighting with their French fries. “Luke, Ben, ten more minutes then it’s time to go.”

  “Elizabeth, is something wrong?”

  The boys rushed from their seats toward the slide, having eaten only half of their meal. Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. “Stephen and I have been in counseling for months.”

  I stopped mid sip. “I know you said he was stressed at work, but I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Stephen didn’t think we needed to advertise our marital problems.”

  “I can’t believe it. You two always look so happy together.”

  “You saw what we wanted you to see. What Stephen wanted you to see.”

  “You guys are strong. You’ll work it out.”

  “That’s what I thought, but Stephen wants to separate. I guess he’s tired of working things out. I’m tired, too.” She glanced at the boys climbing backward up the slide. “But I’m not ready to give up. There’s too much at stake. I know no matter what happens in the end, everything will be okay. Knowing all things work together for good doesn’t mean I’ll be happy about the separation, but God will bring good out of it in the end.”

  “God could’ve prevented this from happening. You deserve a happy ending.”

  “Yes, he could have, but he chose not to. I have to believe that it was for a reason. I can’t possibly understand what that might be while I’m going through this trial, but when I come out on the other side, it will all be so clear. You’ll see.”

  I marveled at my friend’s strength, her faith in God to make everything okay despite the lousy hand she’d been dealt. I wasn’t that strong. I didn’t have faith. I couldn’t see any good coming out of my troubles. “I’m glad you’re so sure about this, but my life hasn’t worked that way. I can’t see the good in Jack leaving. God’s never done anything for me, and I don’t think he ever will.” Even when I prayed for Matt in the abandoned building, his fate had already been determined. My prayer hadn’t changed anything.

  I crossed my arms and pushed back against the plastic chair. A familiar pressure built behind my eyes. “He could’ve saved my mother, but he didn’t. He could’ve stopped Jack from leaving. Why doesn’t God care about me?”

  “He cares about you more than you’ll ever know.” Elizabeth leaned in, compassion filling her eyes. “You just need to give God everything in your life, no matter how it turns out.”

  My throat tightened. Burning, suffocating. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

  “I was like you once, but when I gave away my pain, God was able to work in my life and heal my hurts. He forgave me and gave me peace—”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is.”

  “No, it’s not.” The tears I had dammed up broke free. “Forgiveness won’t bring back my mother. It can’t undo all the wrong I’ve done. I could’ve stopped my father, but I didn’t. I could have saved my mother. Don’t you see? Even if God forgave me, I’m not sure I can forgive myself. She died because of me. Her death was my fault!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  12:27 p.m.

  THE PANDEMONIUM OF LUNCHTIME at McDonald’s dissolved into the background as my inner turmoil increased. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder. I gazed up. Elizabeth stood by my side. Just like she always had. Through my celebrations and devastations. She hugged me long and steady, and I ached for my mother’s touch.

  “Oh, Mari, when I meant you needed to ask God to forgive you, I didn’t mean you needed forgiveness for your mother’s death. It wasn’t your fault. You have to believe that. I meant we all need forgiveness.”

  “Whether you meant it or not, it’s true.”

  “No, it’s not, and you need to stop punishing yourself for what happened.”

  I glanced around the crowded McDonald’s playroom and lowered my voice. “I can’t. It was my fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “If I hadn’t gone home for Matt’s birthday. If I stood up to my father and refused to leave, if I insisted my mother leave him, she would still be alive. He wouldn’t have killed her.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. Don’t you see? All this stuff with Jack and Matt, it’s because of me. God’s punishing me.”

  She cradled my hands with hers and peered into my eyes, my soul. “God isn’t punishing you.”

  “Then why is all this happening?” I slumped in my chair.

  “I don’t know, but I do know sometimes when we think God doesn’t hear our prayers, he’s right in the midst of answering them.”

  “Just not the way we might think. I get it. What good does that do me now?”

  “None, I guess. But maybe you’re where God wants you. Everything that’s happening is for a purpose.”

  “What?”

  “If your life was perfect you would
n’t need him.”

  “But it’s not perfect. It’s never been. I’ve always needed him.” The ache in my chest expanded.

  “And he’s always been there guiding you to this place, this moment.”

  Could Elizabeth’s words be true? Could God have been there through it all? Was he here with me now? If he was, then he knew. He knew it all. All my lies and secrets. All the times I spouted Ma’at, only to hide the heaviness of my own heart. All the masks I wore to hide my hypocrisy. “I just don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “God knows, and he’ll forgive you.”

  “But will Fletcher?” I sobbed into my hands unable to look Elizabeth in the face for fear my eyes would reveal the secret I’ve kept for seventeen years.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The baby. He’ll never forgive me.”

  “He never blamed you for the miscarriage. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was my fault. It was all my fault, but I … I … don’t know how to tell him. To tell you.”

  She reached for my hands, her touch soothing the tremors beginning to rack my body. “You don’t have to. Not here. Not now. We can talk later.”

  But I couldn’t let this secret gestate for another second for fear I might burst. “How can God, how can Fletcher forgive me for lying about the miscarriage?”

  “What?”

  “You never saw me pregnant. Remember my dad wouldn’t let me leave the house for the summer, and I didn’t start school until the second semester? We didn’t tell anyone. You never knew. No one knew. Neither does Fletcher.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes got big, and I knew she was thinking the worst. She stroked my hair. “God will forgive you for what you did. So will Fletcher, in time.”

  “It’s not what you think. I didn’t have an abortion. Fletcher and I have a son.”

  It seemed like an eternity before Elizabeth responded.

  “God offers forgiveness to all. For all things. All you have to do is ask.” If Elizabeth was shocked about keeping this secret from her for so long, her voice didn’t betray her.