Dead Guilty

ambiance was startling. The shiny metal antiseptic fur nishings and white walls were replaced by dark, rich wood walls, granite floors, vaulted ceilings and the sweet smell of wood polish. She crossed the overlook that allowed a view onto the huge first-floor dinosaur room, where she saw the silhouette of David sitting on a bench in the dim light. Looking at the wall paint ings, no doubt. The pictures of dinosaurs didn’t exactly have the soothing quality of Vermeers, but she herself often unwound by sitting quietly and looking at them—or at any number of wonderful things in the museum.

She took the museum elevator to the first floor and joined David in the dinosaur room with the skeletons of the twenty-five-foot-long T. rex–looking Alber tosaurus, the suspended pteranodon with his bony wings nearly spanning the width of the room, the aquatic tylosaurus, the three-horned triceratops, and the newly arrived brachiosaur.

She sat down beside David on the bench. ‘‘Relaxing?’’

‘‘Looking at that little unicorn.’’

The museum’s wall paintings were done in a style of dated realism that gave them a charming antique quality. A distinctly unique characteristic of the twelve wall murals was the tiny unicorns hidden in each painting. Diane never tired of looking at them. Appar ently, neither did David, for she often found him sit ting with the Mesozoic Era dinosaurs or in the Pleistocene room.

‘‘What are you thinking about it?’’

‘‘Some days I think he’s going to get trampled. Other times, I think he’s just going along with the big guys.’’

‘‘They never get trampled,’’ said Diane. ‘‘They’re magic.’’

‘‘That’s good to know. Sometimes I worry about them.’’

‘‘You don’t have to worry.’’

David’s voice was calm, quieter than usual. ‘‘My divorce became final today,’’ he said.

Another casualty of our work, Diane thought.

‘‘You okay with that?’’

‘‘Actually, yes. I don’t feel much about it. It’s not that I don’t still love Carolyn, but . . . I don’t feel it anymore—if that makes any sense whatsoever.’’

‘‘I guess I can understand that.’’

‘‘I thought we might get back together. She was excited when I got a job at a museum.’’

‘‘Then she discovered you would still be doing crime scenes?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘You know, David...’’

‘‘I need to do this. I need to see justice done. De spite all the little political undercurrents, this is a good place to work.’’

‘‘Yes, it is, despite all the political undercurrents— as long as you can swim.’’

David smiled. ‘‘That was a good thing—sending Neva to work the car. She just left here a while ago. Found some blood. A few fibers and some miscellany. She’s getting a warrant to go over Mayberry’s trailer.’’

‘‘Blood’s not good.’’

‘‘There wasn’t much of it. So who knows? We may yet have a happy ending. What do you think’s going on?’’

‘‘I don’t have a handle on it yet.’’ Diane told him about the discoveries she found on the skeletons.

‘‘Interesting about the noses. What you figure?’’

Diane shrugged her shoulders. ‘‘Coincidence, maybe? Perhaps a familial relationship? Maybe they met each other in Blue’s doctor’s waiting room?’’

‘‘It’ll be interesting to compare DNA. The M.E. did take samples, didn’t she?’’

‘‘Sure. But you know how DNA is. Good chance it’s all degraded. I’m going home to get some rest. You head home too.’’

Diane left the dinosaur room, walked down the hall way past the museum store and cut through the pri mate section to the main lobby of the museum. Chanell Napier, the museum’s head of security, was at the desk.

‘‘What’re you doing here this late?’’ asked Diane.

Chanell was slender and athletic. She had dark skin, a round face and black hair cut close to her head.

‘‘I like to rotate out with the night guards once in a while. Keeps me up to date on what goes on at night. I get to know the night custodial staff.’’

‘‘I hope not a lot goes on here at night.’’ Diane laughed.

‘‘It’s pretty quiet. Just a lot of polishing of these shiny floors and walls. I like things quiet.’’

‘‘So do I. Carry on.’’ Diane passed through the dou ble doors that led to the private area of the museum where she and many of the other staff had their of fices. The office corridors were empty. The carpeting looked freshly vacuumed, so she guessed the custodial staff had already cleaned here.

She unlocked the private door to her office. On her desk was a stack of mail Andie had left for her. She sifted through the letters and placed them in stacks according to how urgent they were. Some she simply threw away.

Kendel had put a stack of requisition forms from the museum curators with notes attached to each re quest