“Wading through early memories is tough,” said Laura. “But we’ll get though it. I have some ideas.”
That was all that was on the tape. Diane was glad it was over. Hearing Juliet talk about her memories was uncomfortable. She could hear the pain in Juliet’s voice. A person’s deepest fears are such a private thing. Diane took off the earphones and sat thinking.
“I don’t know how Laura expects me to solve a twenty-year-old crime with this scant evidence,” she whispered to herself. “I must have been nuts to agree.”
Diane looked at her watch. It was about time to go home. She locked Juliet’s information in her desk and went to tell Andie good-bye.
“We haven’t been getting any more harassing phone calls,” said Andie. “Whatever you did worked.” She smiled brightly.
Diane smiled back ruefully. Patrice Stanton thinks I’ll kill her, she thought. What a reputation I’m getting.
Before she left the building Diane stopped by the crime lab. David, Jin, and Neva were sitting at the large round table looking at reports.
“We don’t have anything, guys,” Jin was saying when Diane walked in.
“I don’t want to hear that,” said Diane. “We have to have something. What are you looking at?”
“We have some of the trace back from the GBI,” Jin answered. “They’ve accounted for all the fibers found on McNair. The only thing interesting is a blond hair about seven inches long. It could be his wife’s; they don’t know yet. So far, we can’t find any link between Joana Cipriano’s scene and the other two. In fact, there’s no common trace evidence between McNair and Stanton.”
“Everything we found in Stanton’s boathouse belonged to the family,” said Neva. “I don’t think the killer ever got inside the boathouse.”
“I agree,” said David. “I think he came by boat, shot him, and left.”
“What about the noise?” asked Diane.
“Electric trolling motor,” said David. “Just a little hum.”
“But aren’t they slow?” asked Diane.
“As fast as walking. Fast enough to get you to one of the little coves where you have a car waiting,” said David.
“That sounds awfully chancy,” said Diane.
“This is a lake where people do night fishing,” said David. “Nothing unusual about a small boat being out on the water.”
“In the middle of winter?” asked Diane. She shrugged. “It’s as good a theory as any we’ve had. But where does it get us?”
“Where you came in,” said Jin. “We don’t have anything.”
“What do the detectives have?” asked Diane.
“Less than we do,” said Jin. “We got hold of the GBI report first.”
“They must have more,” said Diane. “They’ve been investigating McNair’s life, his friends and enemies, his family. Same for Stanton. Surely, they’ve come up with something.”
“They say they have nothing,” said Neva. “It could be that my sources have been told not to talk.”
“I’ll talk to Garnett,” said Diane. “They have to have something.”
“You want my opinion?” said David. “It was the uncle-he’s got enough clout to dry up the investigation. And I’ll bet he’s behind the drug operation.”
“Go home and get some rest. A fresh idea may occur to you in the morning. I’m leaving.”
Diane left through the museum exit of the crime lab, crossed the dinosaur overlook, and took the elevator down to the first floor. She walked to the east-wing exit where yet another museum car was parked for her use. The museum store was closed and dark except for the floor lighting. She looked in at the row of Dora the Explorer dolls lined up on the shelf and was reminded of Juliet’s dream. What was it about dolls? Diane continued past the primate exhibits, feeling guilty for not putting enough time in the department for which she was curator. An idea of an exhibit had been forming in her mind for several days and she had done nothing about it. She walked through to the lobby and out the doors.
She was home in bed when an idea hit her. She looked at the clock. One o’clock, shit. She picked up the phone anyway and called Andie.
Andie answered, obviously wide awake.
“I’m sorry to call you so late,” said Diane.
“It’s not late,” said Andie. “What you need?”
“You know that basket you made for Juliet Price?”
“How could I forget it?” answered Andie.
“The mermaid doll, was it in a box? I seem to recall that it wasn’t.”
“No, it wasn’t. Is that why you called?”
“Yes. Thanks for the information.”
“Anytime,” said Andie.
Interesting, Diane said to herself. I’ll wait until morning to call Laura.
Chapter 31
It was the first good night’s sleep Diane had since the explosion. She woke up feeling good-no midnight calls, no murders, no bad dreams. She made herself scrambled eggs, the kind of bacon that’s already fried and just needs to be microwaved, the kind of toast made in the broiler and not the toaster, and orange juice. She didn’t know exactly why she felt so good.
Her mind had certainly been working overtime while she slept. Besides an epiphany she was experiencing about Juliet Price, her head was buzzing with questions about the cases that needed to be solved. Uppermost in her thoughts today was the question of how Blake Stanton had gained access to her museum holdings. How did he manage to get into every department in the museum and how did he know so much about what they had and what was valuable?
She enjoyed her breakfast and then dashed outside where she found, to her relief, her car unmarked by the mad graffiti artist, Patrice Stanton. She drove to the museum and parked in her usual place. The weather had been warmer the past few days, but the temperature was dropping again and the wind was strong. She wrapped herself in her coat and hurried up the steps to the warmth of the museum.
She met Juliet in the lobby. Juliet’s platinum hair was pulled back and out of her face. Diane thought that was a good sign-becoming visible.
“Dr. Fallon,” said Juliet, “I want to thank you for everything you’re doing for me. You and Dr. Hillard are really being great.”
“I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll try.” Diane didn’t mention the idea she was having-she wanted to talk it over with Laura first.
“Whatever you do, I appreciate it.” She looked at her watch. “I’m waiting for visiting hours at the hospital,” she said. “Darcy is in her own room now and can have limited visitation. This is terrible for her.”
“Yes, it is,” said Diane, “but it looks as if she is on the mend.”
“Her parents can’t decide whether they should tell her that her boyfriend was killed,” said Juliet.
“Oh, no,” said Diane. “Was he in the explosion, too?”
“Yes, but he survived that.” Her voice went down to a whisper. “But later he was murdered.”
Diane was so shocked it caught her breath.
“Murdered?”
Some of the museum staff came through the doors, bringing with them a gust of cold wind. Diane shivered.
“Come to my office where we can talk,” she said.
She hadn’t meant it to sound like such a command, but Juliet followed her back to her office. Diane took her into her lounge area and plied her with orange juice.
“What was her boyfriend’s name?” asked Diane. Still trying hard not to sound like she was interrogating her.
“Blake Stanton,” said Juliet.
If Juliet was disturbed by Diane’s questioning, she didn’t show it. Diane hoped she was successful at looking casual. She remembered how Blake had told his parents at the hospital that she was the director of the museum. She just assumed he had seen her in the newspaper or something. But it was clear now, he knew who she was because he had been to the museum, probably on more than one occasion.