“I wouldn’t worry,” said Kendel.
“I’m not,” said Diane. “Lately I’ve had people threatening worse.”
Kendel smiled. “I guess you have. By the way, Whitney Lester’s starting her management training today.”
“I hope she learns something,” said Diane, eying the box. “What else do we have?”
“Mike sent you a gift. He wanted me to give it to you in person.” Kendel handed Diane the box.
Mike was the curator for the geology collection at the museum and her caving partner, and he had on more than one occasion suggested that he would like to be more.
Diane smiled. “What is it? Do you know?” She weighed the box in her hands. “It’s heavy.”
“It is,” said Kendel. “Open it.” Kendel sat back smiling. “It’s something you’ll like.”
Diane cut the tape on the box. Inside was filled with Styrofoam peanuts. She stood and put her hands down in the box, spilling the peanuts all over her desk. She found a roundish object wrapped in bubble wrap. She pulled it out and cut off the wrapping.
“Oh, my,” said Diane, “this is lovely. You’re right, I do like it. I love it.”
She turned it around in her hand and looked at it. It was something Diane had wanted for a long time-a crystal skull carved out of quartz.
Chapter 28
Diane set the skull on her desk under a lamp and watched the light play off the surfaces. She placed her fingertips on the top of the skull and caressed it. It was as smooth as glass. The sutures etched into its surface were perfect. It was a beautiful piece. She opened the card that came with it.
If you look into its eyes you will be transported away.
I miss our caving.
— Mike.
Another thing she and Mike had in common was a love of science fiction. In particular, they both liked Stargate-SG1. His note referred to an episode in that series. He was right. Staring into the eyes, she was transported.
“Aren’t you tempted just a little?” asked Kendel.
Diane was startled out of her reverie. Kendel’s voice abruptly transported her back from wherever she was.
“Tempted?” Diane asked.
“Mike.”
“I’m seeing someone that I like very much. Mike is younger than I, and he works for me.”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” said Kendel.
Diane smiled at her. “That is all the answer you’re going to get.”
“Well, I’d be tempted. And I’m dating a great guy whom I like very much. Just one of Mike’s crooked smiles in my direction and I’d melt.”
“I like the skull,” said Diane, evading any talk of Mike and his crooked smile. “Did you help him find it?”
“I did. It wasn’t easy finding one that nice and that large, but I managed,” she said.
Diane imagined she did manage. Kendel was the best at finding things.
“I understand you’ve been visited by headhunters,” said Diane.
Kendel had not tried to hide the fact that other museums had contacted her. Diane knew it would happen. She had been lucky to hire Kendel. Now that other museums were seeing her work, Diane knew they would be interested in her.
Kendel nodded. “Still have my head.” She grinned. “The Illinoisan and the Smithsonian are looking for upper management.”
“Kendel, you are well qualified for a director’s position. I don’t want you to stay here out of a sense of loyalty if something good comes your way.”
Kendel shook her head. “They weren’t looking for a director.”
“Even so, those are big museums.”
“The thing I liked about RiverTrail from the beginning was the quality of the collections and the physical facilities. The collections here may be small, but they are good and the potential for this museum to grow is tremendous. You have the space and the resources. That’s not true of other museums.”
Diane agreed. Good quality space is something they had in abundance, and they had strong financial resources.
“I can make a substantial contribution to a museum like this one,” continued Kendel. “The effect of my work would have much less impact at a really big museum. The geology collection here is already one of the best in the Southeast and it keeps growing. On each of Mike’s excursions he sends back a unique selection of rock and mineral specimens and their petro-genesis. More and more of Bartram’s graduate students in geology are coming to the museum to use our reference collection in their research. I’ve been working closely with the Geology Department on their exhibits. They’re one of our strengths.”
Diane knew that was true. The geology exhibits alone had raised the museum’s ranking in the eyes of neighboring universities.
“I’m pleased to hear that you’re happy here. I just want you to feel free to consider options when the headhunters come to you.”
“Not a problem. That’s another thing, they can’t offer me the freedom I have here. Another quality I like about this museum is the lack of politics-and that’s mainly your influence. I can concentrate on the collections and not constantly worry about sensitive egos and political agendas. Other museums aren’t like that. This is a good place.”
RiverTrail was indeed a good place. Diane counted it as one of her major jobs as director to keep it always a good place.
Kendel was summoned back to her office for some pressing matter, and Diane went to her other job-the one in the crime lab-for a different kind of pressing matter.
“We have the autopsy reports for Blake Stanton and Marcus McNair,” said Neva.
“Bring them to my osteology office,” said Diane, as she passed through. Even though she was more relaxed taking a hands-off approach to the investigations, she had had enough. It was not in her nature to avoid the thick of things.
Neva, David, and Jin followed on her heels. When Diane sat behind her desk, Neva handed her all the reports, including crime scene and autopsy photos.
Diane started with McNair’s autopsy report. The cause of death was the gunshot to the head. He might have survived the hit to the chest. She flipped through the photographs of the scene. It was strange seeing McNair lying dead-the smirk finally gone from his face, permanently and forever wiped away.
She searched for the autopsy photos of McNair and Stanton, the head wounds in particular. She laid them side by side. Both bodies had a similarly sized hole in the middle of their forehead. McNair’s had a large inflamed area around the wound. Neither had powder tattooing. Rankin noted the lack of tattooing, but made no conclusions. Rankin rarely went beyond what he knew.
“Did I hear you guys say the detective in charge thinks all shots were fired at a distance?” asked Diane.
“Yes,” said Neva.
“Rosewood detectives don’t get much experience with bullet wounds made by a gun with a silencer,” said Diane. “And since no one in either scene heard anything, I believe a silencer was used.”
Diane turned the photos around so they could see them. “Look at McNair’s. The detective thought it was not a contact wound because of the lack of tattooing. But you often don’t get tattooing with a silencer. This red ring is the muzzle imprint. Notice that it’s erythematous-red and inflamed looking-and not abraded, as the muzzle imprint of a gun without a silencer would be. If we find the silencer, it will probably have the victim’s tissue inside it.”
Neva picked up the photograph and examined it. Jin looked over her shoulder. David hung back. Examining autopsy photos was not his favorite thing to do.
“If you look at Blake’s wound,” said Diane, “there’s no stippling or muzzle imprint. He was shot from a distance. The bullet was found in his head-which may mean that considerable energy was lost before impact-also a factor with silencers, but that doesn’t prove a silencer was used. It’s just suggestive.”