‘‘We looking for her too?’’ asked Jin. ‘‘You saying we’re helping the marshals?’’ He looked so skeptical that Neva laughed.
‘‘The FBI would like us to find her,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You mean Kingsley,’’ said David.
‘‘Same thing,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Jin, can you do it or not?’’ asked Diane.
Jin looked wounded. ‘‘Sure, Boss. I’ll start tomorrow.’’
Diane shook her head and put her hand to her temples. ‘‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.’’
‘‘You look tired,’’ said David.
‘‘I am. It’s been a weary day and instead of getting my morning run in, I had to visit Clymene. The woman is a lot of trouble. Now, Neva, Jin—go. David, tell me about your interviews with Kendel and Marge—and the fire at Golden Antiquities.
Chapter 15
‘‘I’ll start with my interview of Madge,’’ said David. He stretched out his legs, then after a moment sat up straight and stretched. ‘‘Let’s go into your osteology office. It’s more comfortable and you have that little refrigerator with drinks in it. You know, you need to put in a bar.’’
In Diane’s capacity as forensic anthropologist at the crime lab she had an osteology lab in the west wing with an attached office. She punched in her key code for the bone lab, entered, and switched on the light. A newly arrived box of bones from a cold case in Ohio was sitting on a shiny metal table waiting for her analysis. If she hadn’t felt so tired she would have started laying them out while David briefed her. Instead she went to her office.
Smaller than her museum office, it had off-white walls adorned only with a watercolor of a wolf, a green slate floor, dark walnut office furniture, a leather chair, and a long burgundy leather couch that David immediately claimed. He stretched out full length with his head on the arm and his hands behind his head.
‘‘Now, this is comfortable,’’ he said.
Diane went to the small refrigerator in the corner that was topped with an artificial green plant because she managed to kill real ones. Besides, there was no sunlight in the room anyway. She got Cokes for herself and David. She tossed David his and popped hers open as she sat down in the leather chair near the sofa.
‘‘Did Madge have any useful information?’’ asked
Diane.
‘‘I had to calm her down before I could get much
out of her,’’ he said. ‘‘She said you told her that Kendel was going to sue her.’’
‘‘Not exactly right. She asked me if Kendel would
sue and I told her that if I were Kendel, I would,’’
said Diane.
‘‘Well, it scared her,’’ said David.
‘‘Madge Stewart is babied too much,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It’s time she started taking responsibility for her
behavior.’’
David knitted his brows together. ‘‘So you’re her
mother now?’’
‘‘No. I’m director of this museum and she made
some stupid statements to the newspaper that caused
problems that I now have to deal with.’’
‘‘Just getting things straight,’’ said David. He looked
comfortable lying there in his jeans and T-shirt. Diane
wished she had taken the couch instead.
‘‘Did you get a coherent answer from her?’’ asked
Diane, sipping on the ice-cold drink. She pressed the
cold can to her forehead.
‘‘More or less. She said the reporter called her from
the Rosewood Review and told her that Kendel Williams had knowingly purchased looted Egyptian antiquities for the museum and what did Madge have to
say about it. Madge told her that Kendel would be
fired,’’ said David.
Diane rolled her eyes. ‘‘Is that it? Did the reporter
have any other questions for her?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘She asked Madge information about herself. You
want my opinion, I think the reporter played up to
her ego—or lack of it. Then she asked her about your
running of the museum,’’ said David.
Diane frowned. In her meeting with the board she
had purposefully ignored the parts of the article that
raised questions about her management of the museum. She wanted to keep the board members focused
on the real harm of the article to the museum and not
think that her anger was in response to things Madge
had said about her personally.
Truth was, she didn’t care that Madge thought she
ran a loose ship or that the crime lab was taking too
much of Diane’s time and that too much responsibility
had been shifted to Kendel. She did care that Madge
verified the reporter’s accusation about stolen antiquities without having any real knowledge and without
thinking about the consequences to the museum or
to Kendel.
‘‘What about the reporter?’’ said Diane. ‘‘I suppose
you haven’t had time to speak with her.’’
David shook his head. ‘‘I haven’t tried. I called a
buddy at another paper and asked about Janet
Boville—that’s the Rosewood reporter’s name. He
said she’s an ambush reporter, very aggressive, and he
had little respect for her ethics. I was concerned that
if I approached her the wrong way, the next article
would be ‘Museum Director
This Reporter,’ or something
said David.
Panicking—Harassing equally tabloidlike,’’
Diane nodded. ‘‘I wouldn’t have liked that. Did you find out anything else from Madge?’’
‘‘Not directly, but Boville had been tipped off by some informant; I think the informant scripted the questions,’’ said David.
Diane sat up straight and leaned forward with her forearms on her knees. ‘‘Why do you say that?’’
‘‘Because of the questions she asked Madge—about the UNESCO convention and where the museum stands on its provisions. About whether the provenance matched the artifacts. I thought that one was interesting.’’
‘‘That is interesting. The informant obviously knew they didn’t match,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Yes,’’ said David. ‘‘Madge was clueless as to what the questions even meant, much less how to answer them.’’
‘‘How about Kendel?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘Did she have any helpful information?’’
‘‘Yes. She provided a model to work from. Now that I know the lay of the land, so to speak, I’ll know where to go to investigate.’’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘‘The Pearle Museum in Virginia had a nice collection of twelfth-dynasty Egyptian artifacts that Kendel wanted to get her hands on. She had seen them several years ago, and when you guys inherited the twelfthdynasty mummy, Kendel went back to Pearle and asked if they would like to sell the artifacts. The answer was no.’’ David stopped, sat up, and took another big swig of his drink.