Dead Hunt, page 26
‘‘I feel fairly confident the timeline belongs to Clymene, but I like to keep my mind open for other possibilities. Clymene does have an unusual capacity to surprise.’’
‘‘More wine?’’ asked Frank.
Diane shook her head and snuggled back into Frank’s arms. ‘‘This is cozy,’’ she said.
‘‘You know, you could have it on a more regular basis,’’ he said.
‘‘What do you mean?’’ she said.
‘‘You know what I mean. You need a home. Move in here. This is a big house. You can have your own space if that makes you feel easier about it. You can have the whole upstairs if you want it.’’
Diane was silent for several moments. It sounded like such a commitment—moving into Frank’s house. On the other hand, it felt really good nestled against Frank. She would like coming home to that.
‘‘I’m not hearing you say anything,’’ he said. ‘‘You need a place to stay while you look for a house. Just take your time looking. Try it out here for a while. You might like it. Besides,’’ he added, ‘‘I need someone who can cook lasagna like that.’’
Diane laughed and started to push him away, but he kissed her.
‘‘This is nice,’’ she said after a moment.
‘‘It’s more than nice,’’ he said. He rubbed his thumb across her lips. ‘‘It feels right, doesn’t it?’’
‘‘I’ll stay here while I’m looking,’’ she said.
‘‘Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,’’ he said and kissed her again.
‘‘I already have a lot of my things here,’’ she said.
‘‘See, it’s already working out,’’ said Frank.
‘‘You’re good to talk to,’’ she said. ‘‘This thing with Clymene and the artifacts have my mind completely occupied.’’
‘‘You think she’s a sociopath?’’ said Frank.
‘‘She says not,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Would you believe a sociopath?’’ asked Frank.
‘‘That’s the thing about Clymene. It’s easy to fall into believing her. And it’s not the big things; it’s the smaller ones, the subtleties, like her giving the money to Redding’s daughter and ex-wife. Was that sincere or just part of her act to make people believe in her? The same with her concern for Grace Noel and Eric Tully’s daughter. She really did
the daughter, and I believed it,
mene’s special gift,’’ said Diane.
seem concerned for but subtlety is Cly
‘‘Interesting case. I can see why Kingsley is fascinated by her. She must be a profiler’s dream girl. I’m going to get some ice cream,’’ he said. ‘‘Want some?’’
‘‘Yes, please. What kinds do you have?’’
Diane knew he had more than one flavor. Frank always got more food than he needed, just so he’d have lots of choices. She supposed that was why he had such a large freezer on his back porch.
Frank’s kitchen matched the rest of the house. The cabinetry was dark wood similar to the Queen Anne style of the house. His appliances were bright white and the floor was a deep green slate. It was a comfortable kitchen to cook in. Certainly more comfortable than the small kitchen in her apartment.
‘‘How about rum raisin?’’ he said.
‘‘Sounds fine.’’
Diane watched as he got two pints out and opened
them and gave her a spoon.
‘‘Out of the carton?’’ she said.
‘‘Of course. Only way to eat ice cream.’’ He
grinned, and they sat in the kitchen around the island and ate ice cream.
‘‘I won’t be able to eat all of this,’’ she said.
‘‘Save it for later. How is your artifact problem coming?’’ he asked.
‘‘It’s not. It’s at a complete standstill. The good news is that nothing directly implicates the museum or any of us. The bad news is that it doesn’t clear our reputation. Frankly I’m not sure what the FBI guy is doing. He’s spent a lot of time on the Clymene case.’’
‘‘The Clymene case? Why?’’ asked Frank, savoring a spoon of ice cream.
‘‘Actually, that’s not true. He and Ross Kingsley are friends and he visited with Ross a while. He got the idea that Clymene might be behind the artifact thing. She does know about archaeology, but . . .’’ Diane shrugged.
‘‘You don’t think so?’’ he asked.
‘‘I don’t know. It’s as good a theory as anything else we have, which is nothing,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s felt like a game from the beginning. So did the thing with the blood in my apartment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything going on was a series of moves in a game.’’ Diane shook her head. ‘‘This ice cream is really good.’’
‘‘You’ve never had this flavor?’’ he asked.
The phone rang. It felt like an unwelcome intrusion. Diane realized she liked being alone here with Frank. He answered the phone and gave it to her.
‘‘Anne Pascal,’’ he said.
‘‘One of my board members.’’ She took the phone.
‘‘Diane. Hi. David Goldstein gave me your number. He asked me to help find out what teacher was using that list of spelling words. Your life is so interesting,’’ she said.
Yes, my life is a Chinese curse, she thought. ‘‘We very much appreciate your help,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Were you able to find anything?’’
‘‘Yes, I did. I began by matching the words to a book. Spelling words usually come from a particular book the kids are reading that week. I made a call to a school librarian friend of mine and we figured out the book David’s list of words came from is Jack Story and the Big Red Ball. Then I called some reading teachers and asked who was using that book recently, and . . . Well, the end result is I found out those were last Monday’s spelling words in Mrs. Coker’s class at Jewel Elementary in Adamsville. I talked with her and asked for a list of her kids, but she was kind of funny about that because the list was going to the police. I’m sorry.’’
‘‘That’s all right. That’s understandable. I’m amazed that you were able to find the teacher and classroom. You’ve been a tremendous help,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I don’t think we could have done it without you.’’
‘‘Oh, it was fun. Kind of put on my Miss Marple thinking cap, you know. Thank you for asking me. And I also want to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed being on the board of the museum. I just love that place,’’ she said.
‘‘I’m surprised you aren’t wondering what in the world I got you into,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Oh, no. I have to say, I’ve really enjoyed your interaction with Thomas Barclay. He’s on the school board too, you know. He loves to browbeat teachers. I’ve heard ‘when I was in school’ so many times. I don’t know why some people who are successful in one thing think they know how to do everything. I’m afraid he just sees teachers as overeducated babysitters,’’ she said. ‘‘But I didn’t call you to rant about Thomas Barclay.’’
‘‘I’m hoping Barclay will adapt. The museum board isn’t like the other boards he’s served on,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You’ll let me know how this thing with the child and the spelling words turns out, won’t you?’’
‘‘Yes, I certainly will,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Thank you again for your help.’’
‘‘One of my board members,’’ said Diane when she got off the phone. ‘‘She found the teacher who assigned the list of spelling words indented on the paper used to write the note that came with the money.’’
‘‘That lived in the house that Jack built?’’ said Frank. ‘‘What money?’’
‘‘I haven’t told you about the money? The guy who’s been attacking me sent me four thousand dollars,’’ she said.
Frank stared at her for a moment, ice cream dripping off his spoon. ‘‘Four thousand dollars? Why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t have to cook dinner; you could have taken us out to someplace nice,’’ he said. ‘‘Why did he send you money?’’
‘‘I don’t know, but he included a note with the word bitch written on it in capital letters. On the page of the pad above the sheet he wrote the note to me on, a kid had written a list of first-grade spelling words and it made an indentation in the notepaper,’’ she said. ‘‘Using some fancy equipment, David was able to read the words from the indentation and he asked our schoolteacher board member for help in finding out where the spelling words came from.’’
Diane realized that a lot had happened since she last spoke with Frank. She told him about the DNA found on the hairs caught in Andie’s purse matching blood found on one of the money wrappers.
‘‘It looks as though he thinks you’re blackmailing him,’’ said Frank.
‘‘It does look that way,’’ she said. ‘‘I have no idea how I could have left that impression with him. All I did was bite, kick, and scratch him.’’ She put the lid back on her ice cream container and put it back in the freezer.
‘‘So, you think he has a child in the first grade and you’re trying to track him down by finding the child,’’ said Frank.
‘‘That’s the plan. I thought I might recognize the name of one of the children in the class.’’
‘‘Your board member said the list came from a teacher in Adamsville,’’ said Frank. ‘‘That’s the same county as the prison.’’
‘‘Yes, it is,’’ said Diane. She washed her spoon and put it away. ‘‘So there is a connection there.’’
‘‘You might see if the teacher has a child with the last name of Tully in her class,’’ he said.
Diane stared at him. ‘‘I didn’t think of that. Until tonight I’d put Grace Noel in the back of my mind. Eric Tully has a daughter about that age. Do you think Clymene could have somehow . . .’’ Diane paused, still staring at Frank.
‘‘You said everything felt like a game—like everything that’s happened was a move. I think your instincts are right. Everything has been a game to maneuver you into a corner so Clymene could get away—and maybe exact a little revenge to boot.’’
‘‘You think Clymene is manipulating Tully?’’ said Diane.
‘‘This is just a guess,’’ said Frank. ‘‘I may be all wrong.’’
‘‘But it makes sense,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Do you think she is behind the artifact problem too?’’
‘‘I don’t know. That seems like it would involve more people to carry out. I bet that Clymene only trusts her sisters—and this lone male, whoever he is. I can’t see her trusting a third party much at all, certainly not with anything that could be traced back to her.’’
‘‘I need to call Garnett,’’ said Diane.
She went into the living room and dialed Garnett’s cell phone. As it started to ring, she noticed the time. He was probably at home eating. She hung up.
‘‘I’ll call his office and leave a message,’’ she said.
As she reached for the phone, it rang.
‘‘Go ahead and answer it,’’ said Frank. ‘‘You live here now.’’
Diane picked up the phone and said hello.
‘‘Hey, is that you, Diane?’’ It was Garnett.
‘‘Yes, I’m sorry, I just noticed it’s your suppertime,’’ she said.
‘‘That’s all right. What’s up?’’ he said.
She told him about the line of evidence pointing toward Eric Tully as her attacker. ‘‘I know there’s a lot of ifs here, but I thought it’s worth checking out.’’
‘‘I agree. I’ll have someone go pick him up now,’’ he said. ‘‘Maybe his blood and hair will be a match and we can lock him up.’’
‘‘I’ll be out of town tomorrow,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Kingsley and I are going to North Carolina to speak with one of Clymene’s relatives.’’
‘‘Found one, eh? I assume you’ve told the marshals,’’ he said.
‘‘Kingsley told them. They will be flying to North Carolina as soon as they check out a sighting of Clymene in California.’’
‘‘California? That’s a ways off,’’ he said. ‘‘What’s that about?’’
‘‘I don’t know. The flow of information between me and the marshals only goes one way,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I hear you there,’’ he said. ‘‘Are you staying with Frank?’’
‘‘Yes, until I can find a place. I might buy a house, I just don’t know,’’ she said.
‘‘Have a safe trip,’’ he said.
She got off the phone and told Frank the police were going to question Eric Tully.
‘‘I hope that puts an end to his harassment,’’ she said. ‘‘I can juggle only so many balls at once before they all come crashing down around me.’’
Chapter 45
It wasn’t a long flight, but Diane didn’t like flying. Intellectually she understood how planes stay up in the air, but in her heart she really didn’t believe in the Bernoulli effect or momentum transfer. Flight might as well be magic as far as she was concerned, and the magic could be withdrawn at any moment. She wasn’t exactly white-knuckled, but she was on the lookout for the goblin on the wing.
‘‘You don’t like flying?’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘Not very much, and if you start a lecture on how safe planes are compared to automobiles, I’ll hit you. Automobile accidents are survivable; airplane crashes are not,’’ said Diane.
‘‘And you have no control up here,’’ he said. ‘‘I think that is the source of your discomfort.’’
Diane looked from the window over at him and found him grinning.
‘‘I may hit you anyway,’’ she said. ‘‘Why aren’t we in one of those neat little FBI jets?’’ she said.
‘‘You know, TV has really ruined my job for me. Planes are expensive to fly and I don’t have access to one at the drop of a hat. Nor can I do perfect on-thespot profiles by glancing at a crime scene. I have to research it, think about it, and sometimes I’m wrong. Profiling isn’t supposed to be an exact science, just a tool to use in the furtherance of criminal apprehension.’’
‘‘Oh, you don’t like to fly either, do you?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Not particularly, no,’’ he said.
The flight attendant brought drinks and both Diane and Kingsley accepted a bottle of water.
‘‘I did some homework yesterday,’’ he said. ‘‘I have more detailed information on how Clymene’s husbands died. I thought you might be interested.’’
Anything to take my mind off flying. ‘‘Yes, I would,’’ she said.
He gave her several sheets of paper. ‘‘I’ve summarized each husband’s death. Grant Bacon is the first we know about and one of the most interesting.’’
Diane read Kingsley’s notes. ‘‘It says he got hung up in his boat’s propeller while he was trying to repair it. How can that happen?’’ she said.
‘‘They don’t exactly know. According to the police report, he was untangling his mooring line, or whatever you call it, and somehow the boat’s motor got started. He was tangled in the rope and fairly chopped up when they found him. The whole thing is a mystery.’’
‘‘Was Clymene—or rather, Kathy Bacon—suspected?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘No, she wasn’t. This is the interesting part. Everyone reported that the wife, as she was often referred to, was a mouse. Grant Bacon was a batterer and he liked submissive women. By all accounts, she was very submissive.’’
‘‘If she was battered, that would make her a suspect,’’ said Diane.
‘‘She had an ironclad alibi. She was with a number of notable people at the country club when it happened,’’ he said.
‘‘Her sisters helped her,’’ said Diane. ‘‘One of them must have.’’
‘‘That’s what I figure,’’ he said. ‘‘Either as the murderer or the alibi. Grant was into a lot of shady dealings, made a lot of money. But she didn’t gain much by his death because of a prenuptial agreement she had signed. So no one really looked at her as a suspect.’’
‘‘This doesn’t sound like Clymene,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It gets better. I talked to the lawyer who called you from Richmond, Emma Lorimer.’’
‘‘She talked to you?’’ said Diane.
‘‘The marshals had softened her up quite a bit. Besides, you don’t refuse to talk with an FBI agent, even if he is just a lowly profiler,’’ he said with a chuckle.
The plane hit a bump in the air, and Diane gripped the armrests.
‘‘What did she say?’’ said Diane, ignoring the churning in her stomach.
‘‘Lorimer is involved in helping abused women escape—you know, underground railroad. She said Kathy Bacon came to her in a panic with the story that Grant’s son had started abusing and threatening her. Lorimer said Kathy, or Clymene, asked her to tell her what to do. Lorimer put her in the escape system with a new birth certificate, social security number, and everything.’’
‘‘That was clever of Clymene,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Wasn’t it? Clymene disappeared into the system and the only one who wanted to know where she went was the son.’’
‘‘Why?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Well, and this is the twist, it seems that all of his father’s offshore bank accounts had been emptied— about a hundred million dollars.’’
‘‘A hundred million?’’ said Diane. ‘‘That’s a lot of money. So the prenup didn’t mean a thing.’’
‘‘Not so far as Clymene was concerned,’’ he said. ‘‘The jurisdiction of the probate court didn’t extend to the Cayman Islands, and she apparently had the account numbers and the access codes.’’
‘‘Do you think Clymene knew he was an abuser before she married him?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘Clymene knows how to read people. Of course she knew, and she played the part for him,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘She was married to Grant Bacon the least amount of time of all her husbands. She gave Emma Lorimer a huge sum of money for the underground railroad before she left. Lorimer said she tried not to accept it, but Clymene insisted, saying she could earn her way from here on out, and she wanted to give something back.’’
