Finch and Elias exchanged a glance.
“Why doesn’t that surprise you?” Finch asked.
“Because this museum is run by absolute morons from top to bottom.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it is true.” Her tone became matter-of-fact, with a tinge of iciness to it. “Director Leavitt couldn’t manage a lemonade stand and yet he’s in charge of the fourth-largest museum in the state. Why? Because his uncle left an endowment when he died, contingent upon his imbecile nephew getting the position. All he’s done since he took over is run the place into the ground. We have a third fewer visitors than last year. Our drawing power was never that good to begin with, not with Seattle and Portland being so nearby. Now, with our attendance down, we’re in danger of being relegated to a strictly regional museum because we can’t get any major exhibits.”
“You got the mummy,” Finch reminded her.
“And his bastard,” added Elias.
“No thanks to Leavitt,” Dr. Ingram said. “I was the one who made the pitch for River City to be part of the Pedubastis the First tour. It was my work, and frankly, my reputation that brought the exhibit here.”
“You have a good reputation in the academic community?” Finch asked.
“Obviously.”
“You ever been on the Discovery Channel?” Elias asked.
Ingram turned an eye toward Elias as if to determine if he were serious or not. Finch maintained a straight face, hoping his partner did the same. He wished Elias would stop with the comments, but he knew it wasn’t likely.
“I was interviewed for a documentary once,” she told Elias. “Though I’m not sure on which channel it aired. I don’t generally watch television.”
Elias nodded and scratched something on his notepad.
“I’ve never heard of a child mummy before,” Finch said. “Can you tell me about this one?”
Ingram remained tight-lipped while she spoke. “It wasn’t common. But Pedubastis the First had a consort that he cared for deeply. When she had a son by him, he named it Babafemi. It means ‘loved by his father.’”
“Isn’t that sort of a given?” Finch asked. “That a father would love his son?”
“Not always, detective. Particularly not in ancient times. And especially when the child is illegitimate.”
“But the Pharaoh claimed him, right?”
Ingram gave a slow nod. “He acknowledged him, yes. And when he died, he left orders that the child be slain and mummified with him. He loved him that much.”
“Loved?”
“Yes, loved.”
“He loved his son so much that he had him murdered?”
Ingram smiled humorlessly. “To be mummified with the Pharaoh was a great honor, detective. It meant assurance of a place in the afterlife. And, frankly, the alternatives for the illegitimate son of a deceased Pharaoh were considerably less desirable.”
Finch absorbed that for a moment. Then he said, “I’m curious, doctor. What will a theft like this do to this museum?”
“Financially, you mean?”
Finch shrugged. “Sure. And reputation-wise.”
“Financially, it won’t have a large impact. The exhibit is doubly insured. We’ll likely need to increase our security measures to maintain our insurance, but that’s probably all. Our reputation, however?” She shook her head grimly. “It will take several years to recover from a security lapse like this. And it will be a struggle to secure another exhibit of any consequence.”
“Would the director be fired?”
She smiled coldly. “You’ve just struck upon the silver lining in this dark little cloud.”
“That’s a yes?”
“It certainly is. Leavitt’s contract can be severed and he can be fired for gross negligence without endangering the endowment his uncle left.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read the terms of the endowment,” she said.
“Who would become director if Leavitt left?” Finch asked.
Dr. Ingram’s smile broadened but did not grow any warmer. “Ah, and now we touch upon motive, don’t we, detective? If Leavitt were removed, I imagine that I would be appointed as interim director while a search is conducted for a full-time replacement.”
“Which could end up being you,” Finch guessed.
Her smile sagged into a frown. “Possibly. If I wanted it. But I don’t. I am quite content where I am. It allows me to do the work I was trained for and leaves me enough time to conduct additional research for publication.”
“You said the museum was full of incompetents from top to bottom,” Finch said. “Who else were you referring to?”
“I believe I said absolute morons,” Dr. Ingram said. “And I meant everyone who isn’t a scholar. The head of security is a nitwit, who wasn’t even good enough to become a police officer. His night help is a juvenile college student who, when he isn’t sleeping the night away, takes great pleasure in re-arranging the displays into suggestive positions. And the janitor is a convicted felon. Does that about summarize things?”
Finch took a moment to take in what she said. “Moore applied to be a cop somewhere?”
Dr. Ingram looked at him with contempt. “He applied to your agency and was turned down, detective. Haven’t you done any research on your suspect pool yet?”
“It’s in the works,” Finch said, ignoring her tone as Elias bristled beside him. “One last question, doctor. Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts last night?”
“Just Diana,” Dr. Ingram said. “My partner.”
There was a momentary silence.
Finch cleared his throat. “Uh, partner as in…?”
Dr. Ingram smiled genuinely for the first time. “As in life partner, detective.” She turned her gaze to Elias. “As in lover. Or girlfriend, if you prefer.”
In the hallway, Elias needled Finch. “Judging from the way your mouth was hanging open, I’m guessing you didn’t see that one coming.”
“Leave it alone,” Finch said.
“It’s a shame, though,” Elias muttered on their way back to the security office. “Her batting for the other side. But I guess that explains why she’s so snappy, at least.”
Finch glanced at his partner. “What?”
Elias returned the look. “You heard me. She hates men, so that’s why the attitude.”
“I don’t think her attitude has anything to do with her romantic preferences.”
“Romantic preferences?” Elias shook his head. “Come on. When did you get so politically correct? What’s next? You’ll turn in your wingtips and your gun for a pair of Birkenstocks and a bouquet of flowers?”
“It’s not about being PC. I just don’t think that had anything to do with her attitude.”
“Then what, Inspector Clouseau?”
“I think it was plain old intellectual arrogance.”
Elias considered. “She’s got her PhD, so the rest of us are dopes?”
“Or absolute morons.”
Elias grinned. “That’s pretty funny, Finchie. Why don’t you share that humor with the world?”
“It’s custom made for you,” Finch said. “The bigger question, though, is do we still consider her a suspect?”
Elias nodded immediately. “Hell, yes. She had the access code, she has an axe to grind with Leavitt and she stands to gain personally if he’s fired. Plus she knew about Eric sleeping and screwing up the surveillance tapes.”
“That doesn’t exactly strike me as a state secret. Something else bothers me, too.”
“What?”
“I just don’t know if she’d do something like this just to get back at Leavitt. It seems…I dunno, beneath her somehow.”
A wide smile spread slowly across Elias’ face. “You’re buying into her superior bit, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“No. I’m just trying to figure her out. I’m trying to figure all of these people out.”
Elias rubbed his chin and glanced at his watch. “Well, get busy. Who knows how soon the FBI will be here to take over.”