‘‘That stuff Jin did with the blood analysis was pretty good. The mayor and the commissioner were very impressed,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘They like having a DNA lab.’’
Diane wondered if they realized the DNA lab, like her osteology lab, was part of the museum and not owned by the city. They should know it, since they didn’t pay for it. But they sometimes forgot trivial details like that and took a proprietary attitude toward anything in the west wing.
‘‘His analysis was impressive,’’ said Diane. So was his presentation, she thought. ‘‘I’m glad the marshals got a look at what we can do.’’
‘‘My bosses liked that idea too. They have aspirations of being Atlanta, but I guess you know that.’’ He laughed. ‘‘You using some of that face recognition software?’’ he asked. ‘‘They particularly wanted to know about that. Seems the commissioner saw it on television the other night.’’
Diane rolled her eyes. Television had a lot to answer for. ‘‘We’re searching the national and international databases. So far we’ve come up empty on those. What I’m hoping is that another estate attorney will contact us.’’
Diane updated Garnett on the findings in apartment 1-D and finally about the hairs from her attacker matching the blood on the money wrappers.
‘‘What money?’’ he asked.
‘‘I didn’t tell you about the money?’’ said Diane. ‘‘Right, I told Agent Jacobs. You know, between you, two marshals, and two FBI agents, I’m having trouble keeping track of who knows what and who has jurisdiction over what, not to mention who is investigating what.’’
‘‘You are getting a lot of law enforcement attention lately. The mayor was a little upset over the item in the paper about the museum and those . . . looted antiquities, I think is what it said.’’
‘‘Did you tell him he doesn’t have a dog in that fight?’’ said Diane.
‘‘The problem with the mayor is he thinks all dogs are his,’’ said Garnett. He chuckled. ‘‘Jacobs, now, he’s investigating that thing about the artifacts, right?’’ said Garnett.
‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane.
‘‘And he thinks Clymene has something to do with it?’’
Diane could hear the confusion in his voice. Nothing they had discovered pointed to that.
‘‘Just an angle he’s looking at,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Clymene does know something about archaeology and might have the contacts to mess with the museum. There’s no evidence of that whatsoever. So far everything’s a dead end in that investigation.’’
‘‘So, what about the money?’’ he asked.
Diane told him about receiving a padded envelope filled with packets of one-hundred-dollar bills.
‘‘So the guy’s attacking you and sending you money. He sounds conflicted.’’
Diane smiled. ‘‘He does, doesn’t he? I have no idea what the attacks or the money are about, but we’re following some leads,’’ she said. ‘‘I think I have you up-to-date on what’s going on here. We still have several searches going on. I’ll let you know if something comes of them.’’
Diane and Chief of Detectives Douglas Garnett had a good working relationship, and that still sometimes surprised her. In the beginning, before the crime lab, she hadn’t gotten along with anyone in the police department or the mayor’s office. It had to do mostly with her not being willing to sell the museum property to a real estate broker.
The broker told anyone who would listen that unless she sold the property, the city was in line to lose new jobs, extra taxes, and other promised benefits. Diane pointed out that the museum provided jobs and two private businesses—the restaurant and the gift shop. If she had to move, she would move out of the county and all those people would lose, including the city. She was amazed that they wouldn’t listen to her, until the real estate broker was shown to be a crook. But now she was forgiven. The mayor found her useful, and she got along well with Garnett, who was a good buffer between her and the rest of the powers in Rosewood. Today everything worked. In the back of her mind, though, Diane was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
At her stomach’s insistence Diane templating the fickle power structure and went down to eat lunch with her crime scene staff. The restaurant always provided such a pleasant respite. The murmur of the luncheon crowd today sounded soothing. Diane was greeted at the entrance by a waitress carrying vases of spring wildflowers to the tables.
Over a salmon salad Diane told Neva about the bones she was trying to identify of the little Ohio girl and asked Neva to find time to make drawings of her—not just her face, but of her standing.
Diane could describe for Neva how the girl would look with one leg a little shorter than the other. How she might rub her fractured forearms because they would hurt, how her eyes would look afraid, and how her face would show pain. Diane’s facial mapping software did a great job, but Neva’s drawings put life into the image. Diane didn’t want the little girl to get shoved aside because her justice wasn’t as urgent. It was urgent and it was important.
After lunch Diane checked in with Andie and started back up to the crime lab. In the lobby she met Kingsley coming through the door among a group of schoolkids rushing and screaming around him, their teacher calling for them to get in line.
‘‘Can’t stay away from the museum?’’ said Diane.
‘‘There’s just so much going on here.’’ He grinned at her. ‘‘I have some news.’’ He motioned to the lobby elevator. ‘‘Shall we go to the other side?’’ he said.
When the doors opened, before they could get on, a small kid of about five rushed past them and stood stopped conof Rosewood in the back of the elevator laughing. One of Diane’s docents, a young woman by the name of Emily, came in after him, grabbed him, put him under her arm, and hauled him out.
‘‘Emily,’’ said Diane, shocked at the way she handled the boy.
Emily turned and grinned at Diane. ‘‘It’s all right, he’s my brother. That’s our mother over there with the scowl on her face.’’
The kid giggled and tried to wiggle out of her grasp.
‘‘I’m going to feed you to the dinosaur,’’ she said.
He laughed harder.
‘‘And I think my job is tough,’’ said Kingsley.
Diane shook her head. ‘‘They sometimes run away and get lost in the museum. Drives the docents nuts.’’
Diane pushed the elevator button for the third floor.
‘‘I have some news too,’’ she said when the doors shut. ‘‘I’m not sure what I’ve told you, but we have information coming in a little faster now.’’
The doors opened and they got out on the overlook to the Pleistocene room.
‘‘Jacobs is very impressed with your museum,’’ said Kingsley, walking over and looking down at the mammoth. ‘‘He said he will be greatly disappointed if it turns out you are involved in buying and selling looted antiquities.’’
‘‘I would think by now he would have discovered that we aren’t,’’ said Diane.
‘‘He believes you’re an honest museum. He’s just cautious. Plus, he says he’s at a standstill.’’ Kingsley laughed. ‘‘He’s hoping Clymene did it.’’