before. He probably tucked it away to use in his
next campaign.
‘‘I didn’t know you were attacked at the hospital,’’
said Riddmann. ‘‘With this new evidence, I think we
can wait.’’
‘‘Thank you,’’ she said, and Garnett looked relieved. ‘‘This attack,’’ asked Deputy Marshal Merrick, ‘‘do
you think it was connected to the incident in your
apartment?’’
‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Diane.
She didn’t say that she thought it was connected to
the museum, and she wasn’t sure she was going to tell
the FBI. She believed she had a better chance of solving it than they did. If someone thought she was dirty
and was willing to kill her for it, the FBI would, of
course, see her as a suspect for buying stolen antiquities. That would be a blind alley, and valuable time
would be lost. But leaving out important information
when talking to the FBI was very risky business. Diane
was beginning to feel stuck—like she was fighting wars
on too many fronts.
She got back on the phone with Andie. ‘‘Ask him
to wait in my office. I’ll be right there.’’
‘‘Where are you coming from exactly?’’ asked Andie. Diane smiled into the phone. ‘‘I’m in the crime lab.’’ ‘‘Oh, okay. I’ll tell him you’ll just be a few minutes,
then,’’ she said.
‘‘Thank you, Andie.’’ Diane hung up the phone. ‘‘We will be in the area a few more days,’’ said
Merrick. ‘‘If...’’
‘‘Why are you still on the case?’’ asked Riddmann.
‘‘We have jurisdiction now.’’
‘‘Because we don’t have Clymene’s body,’’ said
Merrick. ‘‘It makes the paperwork harder.’’ Merrick turned to Diane. ‘‘If your apartment is a
crime scene, where will you be staying?’’
‘‘I’m staying with Frank Duncan; he’s a detective
in—’’
‘‘We know Frank,’’ said Drew. ‘‘We apprehended
one of his white-collar fugitives. Good guy to work
with.’’
‘‘If we need you, then you will be either at his house
or here, somewhere in this building,’’ said Merrick. ‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane.
She saw them out of the crime lab on its private
elevator side, the side that didn’t go through the museum. She supposed she should be grateful that Riddmann appeared to be satisfied with her apology, but
the whole thing left a sour taste in her mouth. By the
time he got to his office, she imagined Riddmann
would have the story embellished to the point that
Diane got on her knees and begged him to forgive her. Before leaving the lab and going to her museum
office, she called down to the basement. She was right.
That’s where her crew was waiting.
‘‘How’d it go, Boss?’’ said Jin.
‘‘I’ll tell you later. I have to go meet with the FBI
now,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Gee, Boss, you don’t get a break, do you?’’ he
said.
‘‘Apparently not. I want you to know I appreciate
you guys,’’ she said.
‘‘Sure—’’ he began.
‘‘Jin, did you find anything about the artifacts—
anything on NSAF?’’
‘‘The artifacts. Right. The girdle, the one that looks
like it was made of cowrie shells, was stolen from the
Cairo Museum in 1957,’’ he said. ‘‘It was the only one
of the artifacts in the database. The stone artifacts had
soil residue on them, but I haven’t had a chance to
process the sample yet. We’ve been kind of busy.’’ ‘‘I know. Thanks, Jin. It’s about time for you guys
to go home,’’ she said.
‘‘We’ll wait. We want to know what happened with
the marshals,’’ said Jin.
Oh, I’m not sure you do, thought Diane. ‘‘I don’t
know how long I’ll be,’’ she said.
‘‘That’s okay. Neva and David want to know if it’s
all right if they go back up to the lab,’’ said Jin. ‘‘Yes. Everyone’s gone,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Well, tell me this, did they try to hang it on you?’’
Jin was in his usual joking manner and she could tell
he really didn’t believe they would seriously consider
Diane to be a suspect.
‘‘Yes,’’ she said, ‘‘they did.’’
‘‘Really, Boss?’’ said Jin. ‘‘I’m sorry...did they
really?’’
‘‘It’s all right. Thanks to Garnett, I didn’t get hauled
off to the station.’’ She looked at her watch. ‘‘I need
to get going. The FBI is waiting. I’ll tell you about
it later.’’
Diane left the crime lab and walked across the dinosaur overlook through to the bank of elevators in the
middle of the building. She passed several museum
staff. A few looked as if they wanted to engage her
in conversation but she waved them off, smiling, hoping she didn’t look as overwhelmed as she felt. She would really like to sit down and take a break, drink some hot tea, skip town. But there wasn’t time. She took the elevator down to the first floor and walked to her office. Andie was there engaging the FBI agent
in an animated conversation about dinosaurs. He rose, smiled, and held out a hand when Diane
came into the room. ‘‘I’m Agent Shane Jacobs. I understand you have some antiquities that may not be
yours.’’
Chapter 24
You have antiquities that may not be yours—it sounded like a principal gently scolding a naughty student.
‘‘I’m afraid we might,’’ said Diane, ‘‘I’m sorry to say.’’ She took his hand.
Shane Jacobs had a firm handshake, salt-and-pepper wavy hair, and a slim tanned face with sharp features. He looked younger than Diane by a few years. His dark suit, smooth-shaven face, and short hair made him look like the stereotypical FBI agent. He pulled out his FBI identification to let her inspect it.
‘‘I would like to see the artifacts,’’ he said.
He wasn’t somber like the law enforcement officers she had just dealt with, but smiled broadly at her as if he could just as well have been coming to buy the artifacts. He looked at his watch.