Dead Hunt

‘‘Why didn’t you call me after your visit with her,

as I requested?’’ asked DA Riddmann. Diane could

see the marshals were annoyed at the interruption. Diane glanced at Riddmann. She could also see he

was clearly angry with her. ‘‘Agent Kingsley said he

was going to call you,’’ she said.

‘‘He didn’t,’’ said Riddmann.

‘‘Then something must have come up,’’ said Diane.

‘‘I’m sure he will.’’

‘‘Did Clymene perhaps get to you?’’ asked Riddmann.

‘‘No,’’ said Diane.

‘‘Maybe—’’ he began, but Merrick cut in. ‘‘I understand you had a bit of trouble early this

morning?’’ he said.

Riddmann started to open his mouth, but Merrick

cut him a harsh look. Clearly the marshals weren’t

letting their jurisdiction go just yet. Probably because they didn’t have a body. Probably wondering where I

hid it, Diane decided.

‘‘Yes, I did,’’ said Diane.

‘‘Would you go over it with us?’’ asked Merrick. Diane looked surprised only because it would have

looked suspicious if she hadn’t.

‘‘You think what happened to me has something to

do with Clymene?’’ she asked.

‘‘Just tell us about it,’’ said Drew.

Diane again repeated the incident of awaking in the

wee hours of the morning to the sound of knocking

at her door and slipping in the blood.

‘‘Tell me,’’ said Riddmann, glaring over at the marshals. ‘‘How much blood is in the human body? You

would know that, being a forensic anthropologist,

right?’’

‘‘We each have about ten pints,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And how much can you lose and still live?’’ DA

Riddmann asked.

‘‘Less than three and a half pints. Any more than

that and you are dead,’’ said Diane.

‘‘How much blood would you say was on your

floor?’’ Riddmann asked, leaning forward. From the

glitter in his eyes, Diane could see he was warming to

the way he was building up his argument.

‘‘I would say four pints or more,’’ said Diane not

taking her eyes off his.

‘‘Can you distinguish, say, blood from a blood bank

from fresh blood?’’ he asked.

‘‘Yes. An anticoagulant preservative is added to

stored blood,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Among other things.’’ ‘‘Okay, now . . . ’’ He sat up in his chair and

straightened his tie.

Going in for the kill, thought Diane. What she didn’t

understand was why. She cast a glance at Garnett while Riddmann’s attention was averted to his tie. Garnett was staring at her intently. She knew Garnett would be on her side—at least she thought she did. She did know that Garnett and Riddmann didn’t always see eye to eye. In a flash it dawned on her.

Councilman Albin Adler.

Riddmann was a friend and political crony of Adler.

When Adler’s mental and physical health forced him