‘‘You think she’ll tell me?’’ said Neva. ‘‘She’ll know what I’m up to.’’
‘‘Maybe, but she might let something slip,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Who knows.’’
‘‘Okay, I’ll be as nice as pie to her.’’ Neva wrinkled her nose.
‘‘Tell me this,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘If those watches are as valuable as you say and they don’t make very many of them, wouldn’t the company keep a record of who they sold them to? Wouldn’t there be some kind of serial number, like a VIN for a car? Maybe Neva can find out the number to little Gollum’s watch. Or maybe there’s some kind of receipt in the mayor’s house—if she stole it from him. If she’s stealing, that’ll give you something to bargain with. Maybe we can get her to talk.’’
Diane looked over at Izzy and raised her eyebrows. ‘‘You’re absolutely right on all counts,’’ she said. ‘‘We’ll look into that tomorrow.’’
‘‘I could do that,’’ said Izzy. ‘‘I’ve worked burglary.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ said Diane, nodding.
‘‘So, where are we now?’’ said David. ‘‘What do we think happened at the house?’’
‘‘Well, I think Bryce and Rikki were right about how it went down,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Someone came up behind the mayor and shot him in the back of the head.’’
‘‘He probably knew his attacker and didn’t expect anything,’’ said Neva. ‘‘And the shooter didn’t steal anything. It was a hit.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It was a hit. Both murders look basically the same to me. Same MO. Doesn’t have to be an outsider. The shooter could be someone that Jefferies and company were in business with . . . and we don’t even know about them yet.’’
‘‘What about ballistics?’’ said Frank. ‘‘How do you explain the fact that the bullet that killed Peeks came from Garnett’s gun?’’
‘‘That’s one we have to work on,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And we need to know if the gun that fired the bullet that killed Peeks is the same gun that killed Jefferies.’’
‘‘I can’t believe that Garnett did it,’’ said Izzy.
‘‘Nor I,’’ said Neva.
‘‘Me either,’’ said Diane. ‘‘But we have to put our personal beliefs aside and find the best evidence we can to lead us to the killer or killers.’’
‘‘How about the other security tapes?’’ said Neva. ‘‘We need to look at all of them to see who’s been visiting the mayor over the last month. God, that will be boring. You can do that, Jin.’’ She laughed and punched him on the shoulder. ‘‘Or should I say Lego las? You can use some of your elfin magic and get it done quickly.’’
‘‘We have a lot to do tomorrow, so I’m going home to get some rest,’’ said Diane.
Her face was aching and her arm was sore. In fact, she was tired and aching all over. Sleep would fix everything, and tomorrow maybe they would find a solution. Diane told David to lock up. Izzy stayed with the others. He seemed to be having a good time. She imagined he hadn’t had one in quite a while.
She followed Frank home in her SUV. A time or two she thought she was being followed. But when she slowed down to see if she could get a look, whoever it was turned off.
Chapter 29
In the previous Rosewood City administration, mayor Walter Sutton and Police Chief Buford Monroe had arranged for the crime lab to be housed in the mu seum and for Diane to run it. Mayor Sutton and Diane had gotten off to a very shaky start when the mayor tried to talk her into selling the museum property—a deal that could have brought him and his friends a lot of money. The mayor’s tactics in trying to persuade her had bordered on threats.
Vanessa had told Diane that Sutton was devastated at losing the mayoral election to Spence Jefferies. It had crossed Diane’s mind several times that Sutton was among those who had a motive for killing Jeffer ies. But in all honesty, she couldn’t imagine Sutton doing it or even hiring someone to do it. Then again, if he had learned what Jefferies did to win the elec tion, he would have at least thought about it. Of course, her feelings were colored by the fact that she really didn’t like Sutton and hadn’t voted for him—or for Jefferies either. She had filled in the write- in spot on the ballot with the name of someone who wasn’t even running—ironically, Edward Van Ross.
Now she would have to act like nothing had ever happened between them. Not hard. She had been doing that very thing ever since the crime lab opened its doors.
Sutton lived with his family in a house that was a white-columned Greek revival on the outside but a more modern floor plan inside. It had a great room, a sunken living room, and a deck on the back. Not as large as Jefferies’ house, it was still a mansion. She had been there for a party a time or two with Vanessa and had thought it an unusual combination of styles and not a particularly good layout for people who like to give parties.
Diane parked her SUV in the drive, picked up the folder off the seat, walked up to the house, and knocked. The door was answered almost immediately by a young woman in her mid-twenties.
‘‘Hi. I’m Loraine Sutton. I believe we’ve met at one of my parents’ parties. So nice seeing you again,’’ she said, smiling.
It must have been a rote thing she said to people, for she didn’t really notice Diane’s face until she got to the end of her greeting. Then she showed the jawdropping, startled look that Diane was getting used to.
Diane had tried to make herself look less bruised, but she hadn’t gotten any better at applying makeup this morning than she was the previous days. She had given up and left it off, deciding she would just have to forgo trying to look like nothing had happened.
Loraine Sutton was Walter Sutton’s daughter. Diane knew she graduated from the University of Georgia. Other than that, she didn’t know very much about her except that she and her brother were always very ac tive in their father’s campaign. Diane didn’t know if Loraine had a job other than that of cheerleader for her father. She had dark brown hair and dark eyes like her mother, and sharp facial features like her fa ther. Her best feature was her skin. It was creamy and blemish free. Her eyes were a little too close together and her nose a little too pointed for her to be called beautiful, but she had an interesting face and a nice smile. She wore a rust-colored pullover sweater and matching wool slacks.
‘‘I’m very happy to see you again,’’ said Diane. ‘‘The family’s in the living room. We’re all anxious to hear what you’ve come about. It sounded rather cryptic.’’
‘‘I know,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It’s one of those things that is hard to explain briefly over the phone. It’s very kind of all of you to see me.’’
Loraine led her to the sunken living room, just to the right of the entryway. It was a cozy room with lots of
