‘‘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 Legolas? 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. Just being paranoid, she thought. She pushed on the accelerator and caught up with Frank’s Camaro.

  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 museum 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 Jefferies. 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 election, 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. Odd how things turn out sometimes, she thought as she drove up to Sutton’s house. 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 jaw-dropping, 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 active 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 father. 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 fabric—layered oriental rugs, drapes, wall tapestries, upholstered chairs and sofas of jacquard, leather, and various floral designs, all in hues of dark red, brown, green, and gold. There was either a parlor palm or a schefflera at each window. The coffee table was dark walnut with a black marble top adorned with fresh flowers. The marble fireplace had a painting of a horse over the mantel.

  The mayor and his son, Albert, rose to greet Diane as she entered the room. The son was like a young clone of his dad—tall, lean, sharp featured. The former mayor had steel gray hair, whereas the son’s hair was blond. Diane thought its color probably came from a bottle and it was a little too stylish to look natural. Walter Sutton’s wife, Eleanor, came in from another door carrying a tray of coffee and cookies. She was also a slim woman. She was dressed in a peach pantsuit and wore her dark hair up in a French twist. It was a family who could make a good portrait together. Just what a politician needed. Eleanor Sutton stopped for just a moment when she saw Diane’s face. They all did. She slowly lowered the tray onto the coffee table. Diane was glad she didn’t drop it.

  ‘‘We’re sorry to stare,’’ said the elder Sutton, recovering first. ‘‘We were just startled. Were you in an accident?’’

  ‘‘Did you hear in the news about Harve Delamore?’’

  They had. Diane tried to give as short an explanation as she could of what had happened. But like everyone else, they had questions. She answered them all.

  ‘‘That is just terrible,’’ said Eleanor. ‘‘What possessed the man? Being demoted in rank is hardly the end of the world.’’

  ‘‘He evidently had problems,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That’s an understatement,’’ said Loraine. She helped her mother serve the coffee.

  Whenever Diane visited, she always drank her coffee black because it was just so much easier. She felt uncomfortable visiting and eating at the same time unless it was at a dinner party and she had a table in front of her. She took a cookie offered her, put it on the saucer, and sipped her coffee. Not bad, but not as good as the coffee she made. Mrs. Sutton sat down on the arm of her husband’s chair, sans coffee or cookies.

  Diane started to turn the conversation to why she had come.

  ‘‘There are a couple of things I wanted to talk with you about,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m sure you’re keeping up with what’s been going on in Rosewood—the murders.’’

  ‘‘Terrible, terrible thing,’’ said Walter Sutton. ‘‘I had no love for the man, but this is just terrible. Peeks too.’’ He shook his head as if it were just too much to contemplate.

  ‘‘There are some things you need to know about the election,’’ began Diane.

  She was hoping that in giving them information, she would encourage them to be more willing to give her information in return. Sutton would not readily admit if he had tried to dig up dirt on Jefferies.

  ‘‘What kind of things?’’ asked Walter Sutton.

  Diane opened the folder.

  ‘‘You know that during the election a lot was made of the rash of burglaries that occurred during the latter part of your administration,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Don’t I though. It was really bad luck for me. I don’t believe for a minute that anything Jefferies did brought the rate down,’’ he said.

  Diane leaned forward. ‘‘You’d be wrong.’’

  Sutton looked startled for a moment but said nothing.

  ‘‘A man in my crime scene unit has an eye for data,’’ continued Diane. ‘‘The crime rate, particularly burglaries, bothered him. So he started collecting data from police and court records. One of the things he discovered is that, though the number of burglaries went down after Jefferies came into office, the number of arrests for burglaries did not go up.’’

  Walter Sutton frowned. The others looked puzzled for a moment.

  ‘‘What are you saying?’’ whispered Loraine.

  ‘‘I’m saying that it is quite possible the mayor and his close supporters were behind the surge in burglaries. That he conceived and directed them as part of a strategy to make you look bad and get him elected,’’ Diane said. ‘‘These are maps—’’

  ‘‘That son of a bitch. That son of a bitch.’’ Walter Sutton’s face was flushed with anger. He lunged to his feet, paced a couple of steps, and turned on his heel. ‘‘I knew something was not right. Didn’t I?’’ He looked at his family. ‘‘I told you something just wasn’t right about Jefferies.’’

  Albert reached for the maps. ‘‘What are these?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘David, my assistant director, mapped out the areas in the city where the surge in burglaries occurred. Notice the neighborhoods,’’ said Diane.

  Loraine leaned over to look. After a moment she said, ‘‘The heaviest voters.’’

  ‘‘And if you look at the individual homes,’’ said Diane, ‘‘you will find that the victims are all leaders in their communities. They go to church and belong to organizations.’’

  ‘‘To make a big problem seem bigger,’’ said Albert. He shook his head. ‘‘It’s hard to believe someone could be so…so conniving.’’

  It’s worse than that, thought Diane. When she discussed her plan with Frank and David, it was agreed she should tell Sutton only about the burglaries, not of their suspicions regarding the murder of Judge McNevin. Politicians are not known for their ability to keep a secret if knowledge of it makes them look good.

  ‘‘After the election,’’ Diane said, ‘‘instances of burglaries in these areas dropped back to normal. Many stolen items were recovered. But no perpetrators were arrested and tried. This is just raw data, but it’s very suggestive.’’

  ‘‘I’ll say,’’ said Albert.

  ‘‘I thought you ought to know about it,’’ said Diane.

  Walter Sutton sat down again. ‘‘I’m sorry the SOB is dead and I can’t get my hands on him,’’ he said. His wife put her hand on his arm.

  ‘‘Spence Jefferies put a black cloud over many of us who served in your administration,’’ said Diane. ‘‘You, the commissioner, the chief of police, me— and Garnett.’’

  ‘‘It is just terrible about Garnett,’’ said Sutton.

  Diane noticed that he was noncommittal about his support for his former chief of detectives.

  ‘‘Garnett stayed on the force to help out the department,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Peeks was shifting duties and people around and making a lot of decisions that were not in the best interests of the rank-and-file police officers. And you know about the bulletproof vests.’’

  ‘‘The state-of-the-art body armor,’’ said Sutton sarcastically. ‘‘I saw the picture in the newspaper of Jefferies holding them up.’’

  ‘‘Those were the only two state-of-the-art vests he purchased. The ones he gave the police officers were long out of date and wouldn’t stop rubber bullets, according to the testimony of officers on the force,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘That wicked man,’’ said Eleanor.

  Diane could see they were all wondering why she really had come. They were politically savvy people and knew there was something now they would be asked to give in return for this information. Diane took another deep breath.

  30

  ‘‘I don’t know if you are aware, but Edward Van Ross placed me back in charge of the crime lab.’’

  Diane didn’t want to go into details about Bryce. It would sound too triumphant, and she didn’t want that—even though she did feel it, just a little. She mentally chastised herself. Nor did she want to give away too much information that had to remain confidential.

  ‘‘I had heard,’’ said Sutton, ‘‘and was glad to hear Edward is putting things right. You know I worked hard to get just the right people in positions. People who are qualified. I know the victor gets to make the changes that suit him, but the men he hired had no background in police work.’’

  Diane nodded in agreement. Be agreeable, she told herself. ‘‘The detectives are trying to find out who killed Jefferies and Peeks,’’ she said. ‘‘They are also trying to learn what Jefferies and his friends were involved in. And we all want to clear Garnett. I don’t believe that he suddenly became a mass murderer.’’

  ‘‘No, of course not,’’ said Sutton.

  ‘‘My people are going over the crime scenes again. And frankly, we are all playing catch-up. I’m hoping your staff collected information on Jefferies and maybe even his associates. We need a head start in this,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Well, you know I always run a clean campaign. I told Loraine that I didn’t want any dirt dug up. Just pertinent information,’’ said Sutton.

  Loraine was nodding her head. ‘‘It was my job to do research. Maybe if I’d done it better…’’

  ‘‘It has been my experience that Jefferies was really good at hiding things,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Who knew he would pull things like this?’’ Her brother gestured at Diane’s maps.

  ‘‘You probably know,’’ began Sutton, ‘‘that Spence Jefferies was from Atlanta. His mother was, at any rate. He was a military brat for a while. His mother and father divorced, and the mother moved him to Atlanta. You know he went to a good school, one of the ivy league schools.’’

  ‘‘Pennsylvania?’’ said Diane.

  This was just the initial dance. He was telling her ordinary background information to show her that was his focus. But Diane had no doubt he would get to the meatier information after the dance was over.

  ‘‘That’s it—Penn State.’’

  Diane didn’t correct him. And neither did his children, she noticed, though their faces said they noticed the error.

  ‘‘Good business school. The others, Peeks and Bryce, went there too. They were just his campaign workers then. I had no idea he would reward them with such high positions. No matter how good the business school is, it didn’t prepare them for work in law enforcement.’’

  He shook his head. ‘‘Loraine headed up my research.’’ He smiled at his daughter. The dance was over.

  ‘‘I knew there was something about Jefferies… his eyes,’’ Loraine said. ‘‘I didn’t like him, and not because he was running against Dad.’’

  ‘‘He did have that shark-eyed look,’’ said Diane, hoping to encourage Loraine. She could see there was a reluctance to say anything bad about him right off the bat. Diane wanted to tell them to get on with it, that she didn’t have all day. Instead she smiled and took a sip of coffee and a bite of the sugar cookie.

  ‘‘That was it—like a shark. Cold and dark,’’ she said, giving her body a small shake.

  ‘‘Did you find out anything in your research?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘I thought I had. I was really concerned that Dad not look like he was digging for dirt. We don’t do that. I mainly tried to find out about a candidate’s positions on issues. It’s not easy if they’ve never held office, but we—the volunteers who were working with me—happened upon something that was suspicious. I told Dad I needed to follow up on this, and I did. But maybe I didn’t go deep enough.’’

  ‘‘What were you concerned about?’’ asked Diane.

  ‘‘I was afraid he was abusing young people in some way,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Abusing how?’’ prompted Diane.

  ‘‘It was Buckley who first noticed something. You remember Buckley Kramer, Dad.’’

  Her father nodded. Her mother murmured that he was a nice boy.

  ‘‘He was in Atlanta at a new restaurant. He saw Jefferies there with three young boys—I guess I should call them men—but they were high school and college age, Buckley said. They weren’t as well dressed as Jefferies. But they were young people; it’s hard to tell if they are poor dressers or just in style.’’

  She stopped to take a drink of coffee. Diane imagined it was cold by now. It must have been, because she set the cup and saucer down on the coffee table.

  ‘‘Jefferies was giving them gifts,’’ she said. ‘‘Buckley couldn’t see what kind of gifts, exactly, but they looked like watches.’’ Diane raised her eyebrows a fraction.

  ‘‘I know that’s certainly not incriminating behavior,’’ continued Loraine, ‘‘but Buckley said there was something about it that was creepy to him. Not all the kids looked happy.’’

  Loraine called them kids, but it sounded like some of them were adults—young adults, but adults just the same. Still…

  ‘‘What did you make of it?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Nothing, at first. But we spoke with someone from his campaign who had quit. He said the mayor and his friends gave him the creeps. It looks like Jefferies gave everyone the creeps. I can’t understand how he got elected. Sometimes I think people deserve the leaders they vote in.’’ Her voice was vehement.

  Diane could see that the election defeat had stung her too—and was still stinging.

  ‘‘Now, Loraine,’’ said her father. ‘‘He pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Look at how the governor took to Jefferies. You know people don’t deserve to suffer for making bad choices; let’s just hope they learn from them.’’

  He may have been gently chiding his daughter, but Diane could see he was feeling the same thing she had felt—

 

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