‘‘I agree,’’ said Frank. ‘‘They are implicated in some
way.’’ He appeared to mull over Diane’s answers for
a moment; then he changed the subject. ‘‘RiverTrail
doesn’t seem like a small museum,’’ he said. ‘‘One thing, the building is large. Another is we try
to make the best use of what we have. Like with our
Egyptian exhibit. All we really have is the mummy,
its case, and a collection of amulets that were probably
wrapped with him. It looks like a bigger exhibit because of the things we added to it, like the life-size
reconstruction Neva did of the mummy sitting crosslegged in the middle of the room, the dioramas with
models of Egyptian houses and pyramids, the computer three-D graphics of tombs and temples, the cubicles with computer tutorials on ancient Egypt. There’s
a lot to look at, but not a huge collection of antiquities.’’
‘‘Curious,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Neither problem makes
sense—the antiquities or your apartment.’’
‘‘No, and that’s why I need to get back to the museum and the crime lab. I need to know what my crew
found,’’ she said.
Frank stood and pulled Diane up with him. ‘‘It
won’t hurt you to wait a couple of hours. Take a nap.
You’ll think better after you’ve rested—and eaten
something. I’ll bet you haven’t eaten anything all
day.’’
She hadn’t, and until he mentioned it she didn’t
realize she was hungry. They went into the kitchen
and Frank made bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. No one made BLTs like Frank—the bacon
was always crisp, the lettuce always fresh, and the tomatoes always vine ripened.
‘‘Don’t you have to go to work?’’ asked Diane after
her last bite.
‘‘I’m looking through computer files on a fraud case.
I can do it here. Neva brought some of your clothes
and girl stuff and put them in the guest room. Not
that you have to stay in the guest room,’’ he said,
smiling. ‘‘But that’s where I had closet space. Go take
a nap. Who knows, this thing may have resolved itself
by the time you wake up.’’
Diane took a shower, the second within just a few hours. The guest bathroom had a large showerhead that made the water feel like rain. She stood under the warm water for a long time. When she was clean and dry she slipped on a nightshirt and lay on the down-filled mattress. Frank was right—what she needed was food and sleep. Things would be better when she awoke.
As Diane stirred awake, she heard the muffled sound of Frank’s telephone ringing in another part of the house. She got out of bed, dressed, and put on a minimal amount of makeup. Neva definitely deserved a bonus, she thought, looking in the mirror.
Frank was in the living room standing by the fireplace when she emerged. He kissed her cheek and took her hand—but didn’t smile.
‘‘Neva called,’’ he said. ‘‘The marshals want to talk with you again. It was Clymene O’Riley’s blood in your apartment.’’
Chapter 20
Diane stood staring at Frank in disbelief, barely aware of how tightly he was holding her hands.
‘‘It was Clymene’s blood in my apartment?...
How?’’ she said.
‘‘I don’t know. But Garnett arranged for the mar
shals to speak with you at the crime lab and not downtown,’’ said Frank. ‘‘They’re waiting for you.’’ ‘‘Why the marshals? If Clymene died in Rosewood,
jurisdiction now falls to Garnett,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Garnett will be there. So will the district attorney.
I imagine the marshals are just tying up loose ends
before they leave,’’ said Frank. He rubbed the back
of her hand with his thumb.
Tying up loose ends—like finding the body, she
thought. She could just see the headline now: CRIME
LAB DIRECTOR BROUGHT IN FOR QUESTIONING IN MYSTE
RIOUS BLOODY DEATH. She shuddered at the thought and silently thanked Garnett for scheduling the meeting at the crime lab.
‘‘Why is the DA going to be there, I wonder.’’ said Diane.
Frank shook his head. ‘‘I have no idea. I wouldn’t worry about it. However anyone wants to spin this, it still gets down to the fact that Clymene O’Riley was an escaped murderer who somehow got into your apartment in the middle of the night.’’
‘‘Just as long as they don’t think I invited her and we had a falling out,’’ said Diane.
Frank shook his head. ‘‘That’s a long stretch.’’ He looked at his watch. ‘‘I’ll drive you over. Neva said I should let you off at the loading dock at the side entrance to the museum. You are to go to Mike’s office in geology first,’’ said Frank. ‘‘And I would imagine avoid being seen if you can, though she didn’t say.’’
‘‘What? Did she say why I’m to be so mysterious?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘No, but apparently it’s important,’’ said Frank. He grinned. ‘‘I have a pretty exciting job, but around you it pales by comparison.’’
He let her off at the museum side-door loading dock and extracted a promise for her to call as soon as she could. Diane thought there was just a little too much cloak-and-dagger about the whole thing. However, she slipped into the building, taking back staircases and service hallways to Mike Seeger’s office in the geology lab.
Mike was the head curator for geology, one of Diane’s caving partners, and a good friend. He also worked part-time for a company that searched for and collected extremophiles, organisms that live in the most extreme environments on earth. It wasn’t just his knowledge of geology that made Mike valuable to the company, but his skill as a rock climber and a caver. He had recently returned from one of his expeditions. Mike was also Neva’s boyfriend. He, Diane, Neva, Jin, and another friend frequently went caving together. Diane knocked on his door. He opened it immediately and Diane slipped in. He closed the door behind her.
‘‘God, I love working here,’’ he said with a broad grin. ‘‘There’s always something adventurous going on.’’ He gave her a quick hug and stepped back to look at her. ‘‘You okay, Doc? I haven’t had a chance to talk with you since I got back.’’
‘‘I’m muddling through business as usual,’’ she said. Mike’s office was crowded with crates of rocks— probably volcanic. Each trip, he brought back geologic samples for the museum. These were from his latest. Along the walls he’d hung huge posters of rock formations and caves from around the world. On a bookcase stuffed with geology books was a photograph of all of them at the entrance to a cave.
Mike had the body of a rock climber—lean, no fat between his skin and hard muscle. His boyish face was getting a slight weathered look from all his outdoor activity. He wore jeans and bright white Richard III Tshirt. He pulled up a chair for her and one for himself.