‘‘I know it is,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Maybe we can think of a way to pare it down even more.’’
‘‘Her mug shot isn’t that good,’’ said Garnett.
‘‘We don’t want to use that anyway,’’ said Diane. ‘‘These lawyers are people who don’t normally deal with criminal cases. They have chosen to associate with wealthy clients who don’t get into that kind of trouble. They would probably dismiss her mug shot out of hand, thinking that it couldn’t possibly be anyone they would know. We need to get one of the photos the media took of her coming out of court— where she was dressed up and looked the part she was playing.’’
Merrick nodded. ‘‘Okay. I’m buying all of this. What else?’’ he said.
‘‘This is a little more’’—Diane searched for the right word—‘‘a little more Hail Mary. Get someone in linguistics to analyze her core vocabulary if we can find any recordings of her voice. We can check with the prison—’’
‘‘What do you mean her core vocabulary?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Body part words, colors, action verbs—the words she would have learned first as she learned to speak. Her early use and pronunciation of those words would be heavily influenced by the region of the country in which she lived and what kind of environment she lived in. Some of the words might have retained hints of her original accent. The linguist can also look at her journal writing in her scrapbooks and any other writing samples we can find.’’ Diane shrugged. ‘‘It might lead to where she’s from, even though her accent will have changed over the years. Clymene speaks fluent French and Spanish. I think she may have lived abroad. That would change her accent. As I said, this one’s more of a long shot.’’
Merrick knitted his brow and shook his head. ‘‘If this woman is as chameleon as you say, hell, she could have dyed her hair black and gone to work somewhere as an illegal.’’
Diane nodded. ‘‘She’s accomplished at many things, which gives her many choices.’’
‘‘Shoot,’’ said Drew, ‘‘she could be working here as one of your tour guides.’’
Diane laughed, then stopped. ‘‘Damn.... Not her, but one of her sisters. Damn.’’
Chapter 34
All eyes were on Diane as she sat lost in thought, trying to remember everything that Karalyn had told her about Bobby Banks.
‘‘What?’’ said Garnett. ‘‘Are you telling me that one of them is here? Where?’’
‘‘I’m not sure,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Agent Kingsley and I were both drugged, and it apparently happened here in the museum restaurant. When I went to interview our waitress I found that our drinks were actually filled by another waiter, who didn’t show up for work the next day. He was described as being pretty for a male. I was just wondering if it could be one of Clymene’s sisters, or Clymene herself in disguise.’’
‘‘Surely they wouldn’t be that bold,’’ said Neva.
‘‘Is it really that easy for a woman to pass as a man?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Not easy, but it’s been done. It’s easier for a woman to pass as a boy. The wait staff are young, some just out of high school,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That would be bold on her part,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘What’s the waiter’s name?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Bobby Banks, and he apparently lives in the woods. At least that’s where his address puts him.’’ ‘‘In other words, he gave a false address,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘I’ll go talk to your staff.’’
‘‘Ask them if he had an Adam’s apple,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Guys over fourteen have them; women don’t.’’
‘‘Always?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Nothing’s always. But in the great majority of cases,’’ said Diane.
‘‘While you guys do your thing,’’ said Merrick, ‘‘Drew and I will get back to some old-fashioned detective work and talk with everyone Clymene was in contact with while she was in prison. Who knows, that might actually work.’’
‘‘She had to be getting information to and from her sisters someway,’’ said David. ‘‘Might check with the other inmates and see if they were passing information along or if someone was getting her throwaway cell phones.’’
‘‘Gee, why didn’t we think of that?’’ said Merrick. ‘‘You know, if we hadn’t listened to you guys, we would still be out there looking for her, maybe even found her by now.’’ His words had a little bit of a sting, but Merrick looked good-humored when he said them.
David just smiled at him. ‘‘Call me if I can help some more,’’ he said.
The meeting broke up, with the marshals and Garnett going to interview witnesses and Kingsley calling to get a linguistics expert. Diane’s staff already had a full load of assignments. That left Jacobs and the misdirected artifacts.
‘‘You still want to see my books?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Just to be thorough,’’ he said, smiling.
Diane had made arrangements for a crime scene cleanup crew to clean her apartment. She looked at her watch. She’d agreed to meet Kingsley for lunch and had just enough time to go to her apartment and get some photographs and other personal items she wanted to retrieve.
The crisp white Greek Revival house looked almost luminescent in the bright sunshine. Years ago it had been converted to apartments. Diane didn’t know who originally owned it. She would have to ask the landlady sometime. Speaking of the landlady, she needed to speak with her. Diane entered the wide double doors that led to the hallway and all the downstairs apartments. The landlady’s apartment was immediately to the right of the front door. She knocked.
The landlady, a small, white-haired, elderly woman, opened the door. She was normally a nonstop talker, but at the moment she was speechless as she stared at Diane with a rather startled look on her face. Diane was beginning to wonder if she had morphed into an insect as she walked up the steps.
‘‘Oh, dear, this is awkward,’’ the landlady said finally.
‘‘Who is it, Aunt . . . oh,’’ her nephew said as he came to the door. ‘‘You’re right, awkward’s the word. Come in,’’ he said with a rather faint smile.
As she entered she heard one of her neighbors from upstairs speaking. Leslie had just had a baby a few months earlier. She and her husband were students at Bartram. They were a nice couple. In the aftermath of a meth lab explosion on a nearby street, they had knocked on everyone’s door to make sure all their neighbors had heard the evacuation order. Later the two of them served coffee to Diane and the others whose grim task it was to identify the bodies in the house that blew up while a student party was in progress.
‘‘This isn’t right. It’s un-American,’’ said Leslie. Her voice was full of feeling. She sounded close to tears.
‘‘I don’t even think you can,’’ said her husband. ‘‘You’re turning this into the Salem witch trials. It’s just wrong, and Leslie and I won’t have any part of it.’’
Everyone went quiet as Diane entered the room. She looked around at the landlady’s quaint living room. The entire population of her apartment building was sitting either on the rose-covered upholstered sofas, or the matching stuffed chairs, or her needlepoint dining room chairs.