Diane started to leave him to go to her appointments, when she spotted three women at the information booth. She knew them. So did Kingsley.
“Well, hell,” they both whispered together.
Chapter 30
Diane stood looking at Kathy Nicholson, Wendy Walters, and Marsha Carruthers as they turned in her direction. It was obvious they were being directed to Diane’s office. The three of them spotted her and Kingsley. For a moment, Diane had the urge to run and hide behind the mammoth in the Pleistocene room.
Their faces ranged from grim to angry. As the three women approached, Diane wondered which office would be better for whatever was about to happen: her osteology office in her forensic anthropology lab with its cold, spartan decor, or her more comfortable museum office with its Zen-like qualities. She opted for Zen-like. That office was closer.
Marsha Carruthers looked much as she had when they interviewed her. She wore another dark dress. This one was gray with black buttons and a white collar and cuffs.
“I’m glad both of you are here,” Marsha said. “We intend to speak with you.”
Diane supposed it was only fair, since she and Kingsley went to their homes intending to speak with them, and did.
“Very well. We can talk in my office,” said Diane.
She retraced her steps to her office, opening the doors to the administrative wing of the museum for her guests. She led them down the hall into Andie’s office, where she found Jonas Briggs waiting for her.
“I thought I would escort you to the staff meeting,” said Jonas. He smiled cheerfully, probably relieved that Marcella was doing so much better than the doctors had expected.
As Diane attended to Jonas, the three women waited impatiently. Kathy Nicholson spent the time scrutinizing Andie’s seating area, a room Diane thought would be good for entertaining Peter Rabbit’s mother, with its cottage- style overstuffed chairs and sofa. The room’s colors of pink, blue, and green, and the floral design, were repeated in a porcelain grandfather clock. A rag rug in matching colors sat underneath a dark cherry pie-crust coffee table. Kathy Nicholson’s gaze shifted from one item to the next, lingering on a crackled figure of a rabbit sitting on the coffee table beside magazines about museums.
The other two women simply stood, frowning and waiting. Diane didn’t introduce anyone. It didn’t seem appropriate and she didn’t think the three women would appreciate it.
“Change of plan,” said Diane. “Andie, you are taking my place at the meeting.”
Andie’s eyes grew wide. “What? Me?”
“You know the curators and the issues. You have the budgets. And you’ve been wanting to be more involved at a higher level,” said Diane.
“Yes, but, I mean, they are all college professors, and I’m, well, me,” she said.
“Ah,” said Jonas, putting an arm around her shoulder, “but you sit on the right hand of the queen herself. Just remember that. And also that underneath their clothes, those college professors all wear Underoos.”
Andie laughed.
“You’ll do fine,” said Diane. “They are all excited about the webcam project. If anyone gives you trouble, you can send them to me.”
“See there?” said Jonas. “That’ll put the fear of God into them.”
After Jonas and Andie left, Diane ushered her three visitors into her office. Kingsley helped Diane pull up enough chairs to her desk. Diane thought about taking them into her sitting room but decided she wanted her desk between herself and the women. Kingsley was on his own.
“I’m sorry, but I have to make a call first,” said Diane before anyone spoke. She walked behind her desk, sat down, and dialed David’s number. “We have permission for the research project,” she told him.
“Great. I thought we would. Marcella loves research. How is she?” he asked.
“She seems much better,” said Diane.
“Good. Jin loaned me Hector and Scott. So, okay, what’s the deal? Hector’s the older twin, right? And there is something about his shirt?” said David.
“The color is a longer wavelength than Scott’s,” said Diane.
“Yeah, that’s it. God, I hope this isn’t a mistake,” he said.
“They’ll do fine,” she said.
“They have improved the research design. We are going to collect samples using a smaller grid system- collect more samples-to determine the least number of samples needed for accurate results.”
“They enjoy research,” said Diane. “You shouldn’t have any problems.”
“Oh, and I’ve lined up some archaeology students to excavate, in case we find anything,” said David.
“Just remember, if you locate anything, you have to call the coroner before you take anything out of the ground,” said Diane.
“I’ve informed Whit, so he knows we might call,” said David.
“Then you are good to go,” said Diane. “Keep me informed.”
She hung up the phone. They were all staring at her, the three women and Kingsley. She supposed at this end it was a strange conversation.
“Now,” said Diane, “what can I do for you?”
“You can recant what you said to the newspaper,” said Marsha Carruthers. “You aren’t getting that trash out of jail. He killed my daughter.” She leaned forward and repeated her plea. “He killed my daughter.”
Diane guessed that Marsha’s other daughter hadn’t confided in her, or she would have mentioned it first thing. She hoped Samantha didn’t wait too long. Diane didn’t want the police to be the ones to tell the Carruthers it was their daughter who found Stacy’s body.
“You told me you were not interested in getting that monster out of jail,” said Kathy Nicholson. “But it’s obvious you lied.”
She pulled the newspaper article from her purse and tossed it on the table. It was the one Diane had already read.
“Neither I nor Dr. Kingsley had anything to do with the article in the paper,” said Diane. “And we are not trying to get Ryan Dance out of jail.”
“Then where did the newspaper get this information?” asked Wendy Walters.
“I’ve not talked with the reporter. I don’t know her,” said Diane.
“You told me you worked for… or are the director of”-Kathy pulled Diane’s card out of her purse and read from it-“the Aidan Kavanagh Forensic Anthropology Lab. But it turns out you’re a museum director.” She tossed the card on her desk with the article. “Why would you deceive us in this way?”
“How is it you’re qualified to say anything about how that woman died?” said Wendy. “People are going to believe what they read in the newspaper and there is going to be a call for the Dance boy’s release, and the police are going to be chasing a wild goose, because…” She threw up her hands. “This is just stupid. Are the two of you scam artists? Is messing with people’s lives how you get your kicks?”
“I am director of this museum. I’m also director of the Aidan Kavanagh Forensic Anthropology Lab, which is part of this museum. And I’m director of the Rosewood Crime Lab,” said Diane.
They stared at her for a moment. Wendy spoke first. “What does Rosewood have to do with any of this? It’s Gainesville’s jurisdiction.”
“I wasn’t representing Rosewood when I spoke with you or when I investigated the scene of Stacy Dance’s death,” said Diane.
“Then you were using your employer’s time and facilities for personal gain,” said Wendy.
“No, I was not,” said Diane. “First, my work was pro bono; second, I didn’t use Rosewood’s facilities or their time… even though I could have. You see, our crime lab does forensic analysis for jurisdictions all around the world, not just Rosewood. I’m still not understanding why you are here and what you hope to have me do.”
“Is it true you said that woman was murdered?” said Marsha.
“Stacy Dance,” said Diane. “Yes, she was murdered.”
