forensics. It would also mean that he left no trace evidence nor took any away from the scene. This would make it harder to find usable evidence.
Diane went back to the 3-D animation and played it out. It showed the killer leaving and going down the hall to the back of the house. David had noticed the smudges too.
She finished examining the photographs of the dining room crime scene and found no other images she could identify as clues. She turned her attention to the living room, first briefly looking at the 3-D rendering. Nothing leaped out at her. She turned to the photographs. David arranged them so that she could look at them as a panoramic virtual tour. It made it easier than looking at the photographs individually, one after another.
Several of the hutches were open. She’d seen that at the house. Nothing was in disarray particularly, just open. She tried to remember exactly what it had looked like when she was there to pick up the artifacts. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a perfect photographic memory. All she could say was that, although the rooms didn’t look tossed by any means, someone had searched for something.
She took a virtual “walk” around the room, then started a systematic search, enlarging spots of interest. No good clues here like there were in the dining room.
She toured the room again, grid by grid-looking for drawers pulled out, cabinets opened, something dropped on the floor, stains, anything wrong. On her third pass she noticed something as she examined the hutch where Roy kept his collection of things. A cigar box filled with rocks his grandfather had collected was missing. She remembered it because Ozella mentioned that she’d offered Roy a pretty glass jar so he could see the rocks, but he wanted to keep them in the cigar box where his grandfather had stored them.
The cigar box was not there. In addition, other items had been moved to conceal the space where it had been. She tried to remember the rocks that were in the box. Roy had opened it to show her, but she had merely glanced inside. Nothing had jumped out at her. She had been more interested in getting her business over with before the storm hit. Now she wished she’d paid more attention.
Chapter 17
Diane was soaking in a bubble bath when Frank got home from Atlanta. He’d called earlier and said he was picking up dinner from a new Polish restaurant he wanted to try.
“I’m glad to see you weren’t arrested,” he said, swishing his hand in the warm water.
“I think I came close,” she said. “All in all, it went well with the sheriff, but he wasn’t pleased. He barred me from his county.”
“His county? He said that, did he?” commented Frank. He bent down and kissed her. “Dinner’s here whenever you’re ready.”
She sighed and got out of the tub.
Diane and Frank rarely talked about forensic work over dinner, and never discussed Diane’s crime scene work, which was invariably more gruesome than his fraud cases. They often talked about the museum. When things were going well at RiverTrail, it provided an endless supply of happy conversations. That evening Diane told him about the fossils Kendel and Mike were acquiring from Africa, Kendel’s e-mail saying she bought several large specimens of
“Nothing big, like a brachiosaur. Mostly a collection of plants and insects,” she said.
She and Frank ate cabbage rolls, potatoes, and Polish cheesecake. They decided the eatery was good enough to be put on their list of preferred restaurants.
After dinner, curled up on the couch with coffee, Diane told him the details of her visit with the sheriff. She liked cuddling next to Frank, except when she talked about her crime scene work. Somehow, cuddling and gruesomeness at the same time offended her sensibilities. Instead, she tucked her legs under her and leaned sideways against the back of the couch, facing him.
“Leland Conrad does not seem to know anything about modern technology,” said Diane. “Really, he doesn’t. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was so strange. Rendell County isn’t that far away.”
Frank looked amused. “A lot of folks are intimidated by new technology, either because they fear they won’t be able to understand it or, like some of the people in Rendell County, they are afraid that it brings with it a window into all manner of wickedness.”
Diane visualized the population of Rendell County looking into the screen of a computer or cell phone and being greeted by a scene straight from a Hieronymus Bosch painting. She made a face and sipped her coffee.
“They’re not necessarily wrong. On occasion, technology does bring problems. But it’s not good for someone in Conrad’s position to disdain professional tools and help.” Frank took a drink of his coffee and set the cup down on the coffee table. “Hot,” he murmured. “But like Leland Conrad said, it’s his county. Besides, I’m sure it will all change sooner or later. They’re just lagging behind.”
“I think his son, Travis, convinced him to let the GBI work the crime scene, but I’ll bet he moved the bodies before they got there,” said Diane. “I have a feeling this is a cunning killer, and I’m not sure the sheriff is up to catching him. He warned me off, but I can’t just drop it.”
“You may have to. How are you going to investigate when you are persona non grata over there? True, it’s illegal for him to forbid you to come into the county, but he can really make your life difficult if you do,” said Frank.
“I’m thinking that his son, Travis Conrad, might be more amenable to talking with me, if I approach him just right.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Frank. “That would put him at odds with both his father and his superior.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I have evidence that Sheriff Conrad couldn’t take with him. He would have if he could. He asked for the negatives,” said Diane.
Diane ran her analysis of the photographs by him. “I wish I’d paid more attention to the cigar box when I was there,” she said.
“When I’m out somewhere, I see bright little auras surrounding objects that are about to become important, don’t you?” he said, grinning at her.
Diane gently punched his shoulder. “Unfortunately, that isn’t one of my superpowers,” she said.
“You have more information than I realized,” he said, “between what you found in the photographs and what your crime scene crew was able to reveal.” He picked up his coffee again and took a tentative sip. “It must be a relief that no blood was found on the knife or the rain gear.”
“It was, I confess.” Diane looked at her cup of coffee. “Is this a different mix?”
Frank’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. “I was wondering if you were going to notice. It’s a mixture of chocolate-raspberry and mocha. You like it?”
“Yes, I do. What’s not to like?” Frank was a constant experimenter in mixing varieties of coffee for unique tastes. “This one is a keeper. I hope you remember how you mixed it,” she said.
“I thought you would like it. When we finish our coffee, why don’t we stop all the crime talk and turn in? I have to get up a little earlier tomorrow morning, and I’d like to do more tonight than talk about murder.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” she said, smiling at him and drinking her coffee a little faster.
Diane had just arrived in her museum office when Andie came rushing in.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, taking off a light sweater and hanging it on a hat rack in the corner of her office.
Today she wore an emerald green jersey dress with a wide black belt. Andie was definitely changing her fashion sense.
Diane looked at the porcelain grandfather clock that sat against the wall in the part of the office Andie had furnished like a pretty cottage-style sitting room.
“You’re not late,” Diane said.
