“Do they really dress like Elvis?” asked Kingsley.
“Not exactly,” said Diane. “If you saw them, you wouldn’t say to yourself, ‘Those guys are dressed like Elvis.’ You might think they look like they would make good Elvis impersonators. They’re more subtle than Jin portrayed them. I think the main reason they drive him crazy is they are constantly telling him how he could improve the efficiency of the DNA lab, and Jin doesn’t like anybody trying to step into his shoes.”
“Ah,” said Kingsley. “I see.”
Kingsley left not long after dinner. Diane promised to get him a report on the evidence as soon as she could.
“He seemed very pleased,” said Frank after they had cleared the table and put away the food. Diane poured Frank and herself each a glass of wine.
“It was very sad, but it went well. We’ll see how it goes from here. How was your day?”
He slipped his arms around her waist and danced her a few steps around the living room floor. “My day was fine. But why don’t we leave the topic of crime aside for the rest of the evening?”
Diane spent most of the next day working at the museum. She heard from Kingsley midday that the exhumation of the body of Stacy Dance was scheduled for the following day. Diane was about to go home when Andie forwarded a phone call to her.
“Hello, this is Archaeo-Labs,” said a voice. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with Dr. Marcella Payden without success. Your number is a backup number she has in her file.”
“Yes, Dr. Payden works here. I’m Diane Fallon, director of the RiverTrail Museum. How can I help you?”
“She uses our labs to identify species-specific protein antigens in bone-tempered pottery sherds.”
“Yes,” said Diane. “I’m familiar with her work on Texas pottery.”
“Well, she sent us some pieces from Georgia. Actually, she said it wasn’t archaeological, but relatively modern. And as in the archaeological samples, she wanted to know the species of animal used in the pottery. To tell you the truth, we don’t quite know how to proceed.”
“How do you mean?” asked Diane. “You don’t do analysis of modern samples? I’m not sure I understand.”
“No, it’s not that. We did the identification, but… well… the protein antigen is human.”
Chapter 18
Diane was dumbstruck for a moment. The caller must have thought she would be, because he waited patiently on the other end.
“Human?” said Diane. “Did she give you any information about where in Georgia they came from?” But Diane knew. Marcella dug them up in her yard.
“No,” he said. “She just labeled them
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” said Diane.
“Oh, I’m Justin Ambrogi. I’m the technician who runs the samples in the lab.” He cleared his throat. “What I’m wondering is, that is, some of my coworkers think the sherds, because of the human bone in them, constitute a body-legally, that is-and must be reported. I suppose it could be old bones that were used, but don’t the laws about the use of humans and their body parts apply to ancient ones too?”
“Yes, they do,” said Diane. “You couldn’t have known, but in addition to being director of the museum, I’m also director of the crime lab here in Rosewood, Georgia, and those items will fall under our jurisdiction, at least until we sort out exactly where they came from.”
“Well, this is convenient, then. I called the right place,” Justin said.
“Yes, you did. I’ll also give you the name of a Rosewood police detective you can send a copy of the test results to. That way, your lab can be assured you followed proper protocol,” said Diane.
“Yes. Thank you. To tell you the truth, we ran the tests several times. The first time we thought it had to be an error.”
“I can see why it would give you pause,” said Diane. She fished in her purse and pulled out Detective Hanks’ card and read off his name and address.
Diane gave Justin her fax number so he could send her the report directly. She thanked him and put the phone back in its cradle.
“Okay,” she whispered, “that was odd.”
She picked up the phone and called Detective Hanks.
“I got an interesting call from a lab in Arizona,” she said.
“Oh? What about?” he asked.
She first explained to him about Marcella’s expertise in North American aboriginal pottery. Then she explained about the bone-tempered pottery of the late-prehistoric sites in Texas that Marcella had studied. She explained that Marcella had used a lab in Arizona to analyze protein antigens in the pottery samples to find out what species of animal contributed their bone to the pottery. She debated whether to explain why archaeologists wanted that data, but decided that would be too much information.
“She sent them some pottery sherds she found in Georgia. I’m assuming at her place, but the lab didn’t know specifically where the sherds were found. When they ran their test, it came up with human antigens,” she said.
Just as she had, Hanks remained quiet for a long moment. She assumed he was trying to figure how the heck to process that bit of information.
“She sent them pieces of broken pots that had human bone crushed up in them? Who would do that?” he asked.
“Pottery made in the late-prehistoric period had a tempering substance added to the clay to keep air bubbles out and keep it from breaking while it was being fired. The additive was usually grit, fiber, shells-stuff like that. Some peoples in Texas used animal bone. Marcella apparently found some pottery sherds in her yard and recognized from their appearance that they were bone tempered. Her daughter said that whoever the artist was who lived in the house at one time was a potter, according to Marcella, and used methods similar to the ones used by prehistoric Indians.” Diane was wondering if she was making any sense at all to Hanks.
“Okay, this is now officially the weirdest case I’ve ever worked on. I confess, I don’t know what to make of this new information. Were the pots made by the person who lived in the house immediately before Dr. Payden?”
“I don’t think so. The potter’s shed had fallen into disuse. But I don’t know how long the house sat empty, or the line of ownership of the house, or who lived there before Marcella.”
“I can get ownership records from the county courthouse,” he said. “We can probably track down some answers about who lived there when. But does this new stuff help us in any way?”
“I have no idea,” said Diane. “It doesn’t appear that any pottery was made there in recent years before Marcella moved in. It would seem to be too long ago to be involved in what happened to Marcella, but who knows? At any rate, I asked Justin Ambrogi at Archaeo-Labs in Arizona to send you the report. He also faxed a copy to the museum.”
“The museum?” said Hanks.
“Yes, Marcella works for us doing pottery sherd analysis.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. What a twisted case this is. I’m inclined to think this bone pottery thing, although an odd thing for sure, is not related to her attack. But like you said, who knows? We may be looking for a frustrated artist. A mad potter.”
Diane laughed. “Perhaps,” she said.
She hung up the phone and stood thinking for a moment. It was a bit of information she didn’t know where to put. After a moment, Andie stuck her head in and said good-bye.
“Bye, Andie. See you tomorrow.”
Diane gathered her things together and started for the crime lab, hoping her crew would be there and not out somewhere working on a murder. Halfway there, she got an idea and took the elevator down to the basement where the DNA lab was located.
