Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  “So the conservator position is a cover?”

  “Yes, although she is quite qualified to fill the position. Walter wanted her to attempt a breach of the museum security.”

  Which was what she’d done tonight. “Does anyone else know what her real job is?”

  “The director, Robert Tomlinson, but I don’t know who he’s told.”

  “Thank you. Do you know where he is now?”

  “He said something about calling the museum’s lawyer, who left just before all this happened.”

  Brad nodded. “Let me get a statement from your wife, and you’ll be free to leave.” Then he would talk to Kelsey.

  The statement from Cynthia Allen didn’t take long, and he walked to the table where Kelsey was holding her sleeping niece in her lap as she talked with her sister. A man he hadn’t met earlier was at the table as well. Before he could say anything, Kelsey nodded toward Sabra.

  “Why don’t you take Sabra and her husband’s statement so they can take Lily home.”

  Sabra’s statement was brief. Her husband, it turned out, had been outside on his cell phone most of the evening and had seen nothing. Once they left, Brad sat in the chair Kelsey’s sister had vacated. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working with Rutherford?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  She wasn’t going to make the night get any shorter. “Did you or did you not breach the security tonight?”

  A struggle showed in her eyes.

  “Come on, your dad just confirmed that Rutherford hired you earlier today. Is that why you were coming down the side of the building?”

  “I’ll answer your questions on one condition. Whatever I tell you is confidential.”

  He looked toward the ceiling, then dropped his glance back to Kelsey. “I’m not your psychiatrist or your lawyer.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “I don’t know, do you?”

  She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair, her lips pressed together.

  “Okay.” He gritted his teeth. “For now I’ll keep it confidential.”

  “Not good enough. If you talked to Sam or Robert Tomlinson, you know I’m working undercover. I don’t want that blown.”

  “Could you just trust me, Kelsey?” Her expression didn’t change. “How about I share on a need-to-know basis. Right now, that will only be Lieutenant Lane. And we’ll start with you giving me your cell phone number.”

  She recited the number, and he put it in his cell phone and waited while she sat, tense as a wound spring, and then suddenly her shoulders relaxed.

  “Okay,” Kelsey said. “Mr. Rutherford hired me to help catch the person stealing artifacts, and the first thing I needed to know was whether anyone could break into the museum from the outside.”

  “And?”

  “It’s possible—I did, but I don’t believe that’s the way the murderer got into the vault tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t see any evidence that anyone had climbed in the window I went through, and it would have been the most logical entry point other than walking through the doors. I planned to check the other windows Monday with Mr. Rutherford. Do you have any idea when he was murdered?”

  “Not yet. The ME promised to give me an approximate time before he leaves. You’re pretty good at climbing. Where did you learn?”

  She shrugged. “In Jackson. I could do what I did tonight in my sleep.” When he questioned her with his eyes, she said, “Sorry. I climb rocks and do 5.10 climbs all the time, which only dedicated climbers attempt. This would be no more than a 3 or 4. I just wish now I’d gone into the room with the vault.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No. I’d found out that it was possible for someone to get into the museum from the roof.” She dropped her head. “I just keep thinking he may have still been alive, and I could have saved him.”

  “Well, at least your fingerprints won’t be in the vault.”

  Her head jerked up. “Did you think I killed him?”

  8

  KELSEY’S HEART BEAT LIKE A JACKHAMMER on steroids as she ignored the people staring at them.

  “Of course I don’t think you killed Rutherford.” Brad flipped his notebook to a new page. “You’re not a murderer, or even a burglar, in spite of the fact that you obviously broke into the building tonight. Legally, of course, since Rutherford hired you to do that.” He tapped his pen. “Doesn’t change the fact that it would be hard to explain if your fingerprints were found near the body.”

  An invisible band squeezed Kelsey’s lungs, cutting off her breath. The only reason he didn’t consider her a suspect was because she was part of the museum’s security team. If Brad discovered she was the Phantom Hawk . . . well, it was something she’d rather keep to herself. She glanced down at her fingers, where traces of liquid chalk remained. Either Brad hadn’t noticed her hands, or he didn’t know the magnesium carbonate that rock-climbers used to ensure a better grip also filled in the ridges on their fingers, masking fingerprints.

  Other thoughts struck her. What if Rutherford was killed just before she broke in? What if the killer wore gloves? And there was the missing card and whether or not the murderer might have seen her. Even if he had, with the cap and dark clothes, she doubted anyone would recognize her. She needed to focus on the job Rutherford hired her for.

  “It’s really important that no one knows I’m part of security or that I broke into the museum tonight.”

  “Why is that so important?” he asked.

  “That should be obvious. My cover will be blown, and Mr. Rutherford’s death doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been hired to find out who’s stealing.”

  “No!”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “A man’s been killed. It’s too dangerous for you to be nosing around. This is a police matter now.”

  Brad could not keep her from doing this job.

  “Excuse me?” She stood and fisted her hands on her hips. “You didn’t hire me, and you can’t fire me. And if you think about it, the safest place I probably can be is working here with security guards all around.”

  “What’s going on? I heard you two arguing across the room.”

  They both turned as Reggie asked the question.

  Kelsey shot a covert glance around the room. More people were staring their way. “He doesn’t want me to do my job,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “What job?” Reggie’s face registered confusion. “And who exactly are you?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m Kelsey Allen, and like I’ve already said, he doesn’t want me to do my job.”

  Reggie’s gaze shifted to Brad. “Can we start at the beginning?”

  “I’m not sure where the beginning is,” Brad replied. “And for the record, this is Lieutenant Reggie Lane. He’s in charge of this case.”

  “Good,” Kelsey said and turned to Reggie, lowering her voice. “Mr. Rutherford hired me today as a consultant to help investigate the thefts occurring here at the museum.” She jerked her head toward Brad. “He wants to blow my cover, and he doesn’t want me investigating.”

  “Your cover? I still don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  She rolled her lips in, pressing her teeth against them. There had to be a way to explain this without revealing her extracurricular activities. “Not long ago I discovered . . . flaws . . . in the security system at the Allen Brothers building. I pointed them out to Dad and he happened to mention it to Mr. Rutherford.”

  “How did you discover these flaws?” Reggie asked.

  “I’m good with computers, and I found a way around the firewall and was able to access the company’s financial files.” She hoped he would let it go at that, as she did not want to reveal her trade secrets.

  Reggie’s eyes widened. “You’re a hacker?”

  “A white-hat hacker. There’s a difference—I only hack to help people.”

  “She’s good at climbing building
s too.”

  Kelsey narrowed her eyes at Brad. She could do without his cheeky attitude. “I happen to be an expert-level rock-climber, and the last time I checked, there wasn’t a law against it.”

  “Climbing up the side of the museum and entering the building isn’t rock-climbing. And that is against the law,” Brad said.

  “Was she breaking and entering?” the lieutenant asked.

  Brad’s lips turned down. “No. The victim had hired her to test the security at the museum.”

  Reggie raised his hand and eyed Brad. “You can’t stop her from doing what she was hired to do. And arguing isn’t getting people interviewed. Can you two finish this later?”

  “I believe we’re done,” Kelsey said.

  “Good.” Reggie shifted his attention to Brad. “It’s getting late and these people want to go home.”

  Brad’s eye twitched, then he turned and jerked his head toward a table where a couple was seated. “I’ll start with them,” he said.

  Before he stood, he shot Kelsey a look she had no trouble reading.

  “What?”

  “I’m not finished with your statement.”

  “Then find me Monday. I’ll be here, in the conservator’s office.” She turned to Reggie. “Am I free to leave?”

  “As far as I’m concerned. I assume Brad has your contact information?”

  “He does, but starting Monday, you can find me here at the museum, filling in until the conservator returns from her maternity leave.”

  He handed her his card. “And if you discover anything I need to know, contact me at the number on the card.”

  Instead of leaving after Reggie walked back across the room, Kelsey wandered around, remembering what Mr. Rutherford had said about the thief probably being there tonight. Did one of the guests kill him? She wished she’d mingled more before eating when everyone was still there.

  “Aren’t you Sam Allen’s daughter?”

  Kelsey turned at the question. She’d seen the man in deep conversation with Robert Tomlinson while she’d waited for Brad to return. He appeared to have at least ten years on her. “His stepdaughter, actually. And you are . . . ?”

  “Jackson King. Would you like to sit here at the table for a minute?”

  The name rang a bell. Her eyes widened as she took a chair across from him. “You’re this year’s Cotton Carnival King.”

  She’d heard her mother and sister talking about it earlier today and thought it unusual that the king was a King. Kelsey had no idea why her mind stored such useless trivia.

  “The term is actually Carnival King. The cotton part was dropped years ago when the powers-that-be decided to honor different businesses in the industry. But regardless what it’s called, it’s going to be fun.” Then he turned serious. “I’m also Walter Rutherford’s partner. Not that he always confided in me. I had to learn from Robert that he’d hired you to check into the thefts going on here.”

  She stared at him. This was the first she’d heard of Rutherford having a partner. “Why didn’t Mr. Rutherford tell me about you?”

  “I was more of a silent partner. He ran into financial difficulty a few years ago and I invested in the company. You’ll be reporting to me now,” he said. “I saw you talking to the two detectives. Tell me what happened tonight.”

  The memory of the security chief’s body on the vault floor was lodged in her brain. She refocused. “There’s not much to tell.” She went over what she’d already told Brad. “Once I accomplished my mission, I left.”

  “You didn’t see or hear anything?”

  “I thought I heard a door creak, but it was probably the band starting up.” She tilted her head. “Why aren’t you helping the police with the investigation?”

  “I was, but once they arrived, I let them take over.” Jackson glanced past her and nodded. Kelsey turned, and a brunette about his age approached their table. A brunette who seemed to be trying to appear younger with her short skirt and off-the-shoulder top.

  “Do you mind if I join you two?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Kelsey Allen, Helen Peterson,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Helen said, speaking first. “I heard you were coming to work here. I work as Robert, ah, Mr. Tomlinson’s assistant.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Kelsey murmured. She glanced back at Jackson. She’d seen him somewhere before tonight. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  “We have,” he said with a smile.

  Kelsey studied him. Casually dressed in a dark silk sport coat and with a deep tan that emphasized his silver hair—she couldn’t imagine forgetting anyone as distinguished-looking as the man who waited expectantly, but apparently she had. “We have?”

  His face fell. “Ouch,” he said. “And it was only this week that we met. Turner Accounting?”

  “Oh!” The pieces fell into place. “Yes. You brought papers to the office . . . but you wore a cap that made you look quite different.”

  “I’ll throw that cap away as soon as I get home.”

  Helen laughed politely, but Kelsey sensed she wasn’t enthusiastic about Jackson’s interest in her.

  The woman glanced around and then pinned Jackson with a frank stare. “Who was murdered?”

  Jackson hesitated. “Walter Rutherford.”

  “Are you serious? What—”

  “You know I can’t tell you anything more.”

  Helen appeared put out, then she shook her head. “Who would have thought something like that would happen here tonight.” She shifted her gaze to Kelsey. “Weren’t you wearing a different outfit earlier?”

  She glanced down at her sweater and tights. “I, uh, changed after we ate. I start work as interim conservator on Monday, and I wanted to set up my office.”

  “So you’re the one taking Erin’s place during her leave,” Helen said.

  “Yes.” She saw Brad stop to speak to Mr. Tomlinson. “I think I’ll leave before the detective wants to talk to me again. It’s been a pleasure meeting you two.” She nodded to Jackson. “And I’ll remember you the next time.”

  Brad’s back was to her and she tried to slip past him.

  “Kelsey,” he called after her.

  Grimacing, she stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

  “I want to talk to you before you leave.”

  “Sorry, but I’m beat, and I’m going home. Besides, I think we finished our discussion earlier. If you have any additional questions, I’ll be here Monday.” Kelsey shivered as he leveled an icy stare at her.

  “Nine o’clock?”

  “Nine will be fine.” She’d walked into that one. But there was nothing he could say that would deter her from finishing the job she’d been hired to do.

  9

  SUNDAY MORNING, Kelsey closed the kitchen door to the small apartment over her sister’s garage and hurried down the steps and through the garage. Lily had called and asked her to ride to church with them, and she could see Sabra checking her watch now. Sometimes she regretted not getting a place of her own when she returned to Memphis. But living in her sister’s backyard had its perks. Like seeing Lily every day.

  The back door opened before Kelsey reached it, and her niece grabbed her by the hand. Her heart warmed as Lily pulled her inside the kitchen. Once it’d been her dream to have a daughter like Lily or a son like . . . whoever. It was the whoever that was the problem. She was thirty-five, and no husband in sight.

  “C’mon, Mom’s waiting.”

  “Good morning to you too,” Kelsey said. “You look very pretty in your white dress and with ribbons in your hair. Did your mom do the smocking?”

  “Yes.” Lily looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “I wanted to wear my new shorts.”

  Kelsey hid a smile. No need to encourage her niece, but she understood. Girly clothes and ribbons had never been on her agenda, either.

  “Car’s out front. If we hurry, we’ll make it on time,” Sabra called from the living room.

  �
�Where’s Mason?” Kelsey asked.

  “At the office. That phone call he had last night was another fire he had to put out this morning.”

  Inwardly, Kelsey winced at her sister’s sharp tone. Her brother-in-law spent more time at the office than he did at home. His excuse was always that, since he was fifteen years older than Sabra, he needed to make sure she and Lily were well provided for in the event of his death. Kelsey wished he could see that some things were more important than money.

  In spite of her sister’s best intentions, they were late due to a road detour, and the front pews were filled. Kelsey guided them to her normal spot on the back row.

  “I don’t know how you hear from back here,” Sabra said.

  “Sorry.” Actually she wasn’t. She heard quite well from the back row, actually better than anywhere else in the sanctuary. It was as though her mind recognized this spot and tuned in to what the pastor was saying, and after praise and worship, Kelsey settled in to listen to him. As usual, his words were uplifting, and before she knew it, they were standing to leave.

  “You really do sit in the back row.”

  Kelsey froze, recognizing Brad’s smooth baritone. She looked around. He was holding up the line of people behind him to let them out of the row. “Thank you.” She stepped out and then let Sabra and Lily go ahead of her.

  “Why were you looking for me?” she asked, glancing at him. The navy polo shirt he was wearing brought out the blue in his eyes, disturbing the rhythm of her heart.

  “Who said I was?”

  “I’ve been going to this church for six months and have never seen you here. Let’s just say I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  She followed Sabra and Lily out the side door. Lily’s eyes widened when she turned and spied the detective. “Mr. Brad! Do you go to church here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

  “Why haven’t I ever seen you?”

  “It’s a big church.” He knelt beside Lily. “But now that I know who you are, I’ll look for you.”