“I spoke with her daughter,” said Diane. “She asked that we take Marcella’s work, her computer, and the TV to her office in the museum for safekeeping because of the break-in.”
“Just checking,” said Izzy.
“What have you found?” Diane asked them, making a fruitless effort to dust off particles of Styrofoam peanuts that clung to her clothes.
“I found several bullet casings,” said David. “The road in back of the house is paved, even though it’s a pretty old road-no tire marks. I did trace their getaway through the woods and collected some fiber evidence. That’s about it. One odd thing. I found two broken pottery sherds on the road. Looked kind of archaeological. I collected them. I don’t know if they’re connected to our suspects, but since Marcella is an archaeologist…” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
Diane raised her eyebrows. “I wonder if they were looking for Indian artifacts? If they were, I don’t think they made it to this room.”
David shrugged again. “Maybe that was what they were after, but… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. That many guys for some Indian pottery? Is it that valuable?”
“I don’t know either,” said Diane. “Some is, I think. But you’re right. It doesn’t feel quite right. What about you, Izzy? Find anything?”
“I took a couple of casts of shoe prints outside in the dirt. Like David, I found fibers where they rolled around on the ground. I found lots of sequins.” He grinned. “You must have rolled all the way down to the bottom of the bank.”
Diane smiled. “I did. Good work. What’s your sense of what’s going on?” she asked Izzy. “Do you think the attack on Marcella and the break-in early this morning are two separate events or part of the same crime?”
“I don’t know,” said Izzy. “Like David said, it feels strange, but hell, guys will break in to steal just about anything these days. I’m thinking they would’ve been interested in the electronics up here. But maybe they didn’t get this far. I’m with you on the problem of how they knew the house would be empty-maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they knew that just one little old lady lived here. Maybe they saw activity here earlier and her being carried away.” Izzy shrugged. “There’s also the problem of there being no sign of forced entry. Did she leave her doors unlocked? Did she let the attacker in and he left without locking the door behind him? I know some people leave their doors unlocked, but usually not older women living alone away from neighbors, like this house is.”
“I agree,” said David. “Too many questions and not enough information for answers.”
“Besides,” said Izzy, “it’s Hanks’ job to figure this stuff out.”
Izzy had told Diane that some of the Rosewood detectives thought she insinuated herself too many times in their cases. Diane thought it was an unfair accusation. She never interfered in cases unless she was brought in by the detectives themselves. Or in some cases, the perpetrators made sure she was involved.
Since Izzy joined her team, he had become her conscience in that regard-trying to make sure the Rosewood detectives had a good impression of Diane and the crime lab. She started to tell him that the county sheriff didn’t have any problems with how she did her job, but her cell rang. She looked at the display. It was Garnett, Rosewood’s chief of detectives. Diane answered.
“Hey, Diane. Just giving you a heads-up. Hanks is bringing Jonas Briggs down here for questioning. Thought you might want to observe.”
Chapter 7
Diane, still in the change of clothes she kept in her car for emergencies and still with Styrofoam packing peanuts clinging to her, stood in the observation room looking with some apprehension at Jonas Briggs on the other side of the glass in the police interrogation room. Douglas Garnett was standing next to her.
Garnett was his usual well-dressed self: dark charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and light blue silk tie. He was a tall man, fiftyish with thick, graying, well-styled hair and dark eyes. He hadn’t called Diane because he was personally concerned for Jonas Briggs; his concern fell more under the heading of protecting the museum from bad publicity and political repercussions. The crime lab, a really big jewel in Rosewood’s somewhat thorny crown, was housed in the museum building. Garnett and the mayor knew if anything bad happened to the museum because of the crime lab, Diane would move the crime lab out. And having the museum house the lab worked out so well for the city that it was worth the little extra political trouble to watch out for the museum’s welfare. Plus, Garnett owed Diane for pulling him out of hot water. And Diane did have a personal interest in the welfare of Jonas Briggs.
Jonas was sitting there alone, his forearms resting on the table. He was dressed in a light denim jacket, white shirt, and Dockers. He looked worried, but Diane guessed he was worried about his friend Marcella, not the circumstances he found himself in at the moment. Garnett told her that Jonas had waived his right to council. She didn’t think it was a good idea, but Garnett’s help stopped at allowing Diane to talk to Jonas before Hanks did.
Diane’s fears had been correct. Jonas had discovered Marcella Payden, which made him an automatic person of interest.
Diane heard the rattle of the door and Detective Hanks walked into the interrogation room. He didn’t look particularly threatening, with his arm immobilized and his neck in a brace because of his broken collarbone.
Jonas raised his eyebrows at Hanks but didn’t mention Hanks’ condition. He waited for Detective Hanks to speak.
“How well do you know Marcella Payden?” asked Hanks.
“Very well. She is a fellow archaeologist and a friend. I know her family,” replied Jonas.
“Did the two of you get along?” Hanks asked.
“Of course,” Jonas said.
“Were the two of you dating?” asked Hanks.
“Dating? That sounds like such a young term. We went places together and had a good time. Is that what the young do on dates these days? There is an element of romance that goes along with dating, so I guess you could say we were dating,” said Jonas.
“Were you intimate?” asked Hanks.
“Now, young man, that’s a very private question. However, I will answer. No.”
“Did that make you frustrated?” asked Hanks.
Diane felt uncomfortable for Jonas. She wanted to bang on the window and tell Hanks to be more respectful.
Garnett must have felt her frustration. He leaned toward her and said, “He has to ask these questions.”
Diane nodded. But she didn’t have to like it.
Jonas chuckled. “Do I look like I’m nineteen? What kind of question is that?”
“You may have wanted to go faster in the relationship than Dr. Payden,” said Hanks. “Take it to the next level.”
Jonas shook his head. “Next level? Where do you young people come up with these phrases? And go faster? Son, at my age, I’m happy just to go at all. You know, you haven’t analyzed your target audience in forming your assumptions and questions. You’re targeting a different age group from mine.”
“Did you and Dr. Payden have a lot of arguments?” Hanks asked.
Diane had a desire to pound on the window again.
“A lot of arguments? As in getting mad at each other? No.”
“What if I told you I had witnesses who heard you and Dr. Payden arguing heatedly just two days ago?”
Diane watched Jonas raise his bushy eyebrows and frown. “Then I would say you had a witness who couldn’t tell the difference between spirited scholarly discourse and arguing,” said Jonas.
“Is that what you call it, ‘spirited scholarly discourse’?” asked Hanks.
“Yes,” said Jonas.
“What did Dr. Payden call it?”
“Marcella called it spirited scholarly intercourse,” said Jonas.
Diane smiled.
“Intercourse?” said Hanks.
