Dead Hunt

state her innocence, but only in response to a question or some statement from him. She wasn’t like other prisoners. Ross thought she made it a point not to be like them.
‘‘Why do you think Grace Noel may be in danger?’’ asked Diane. She wondered if there was a real danger or if this was a ploy—or threat.
‘‘Let me start at the beginning,’’ Clymene said. ‘‘Grace Noel is the kind of guard who likes to talk with the prisoners—some of them anyway.’’ Diane noticed that Clymene usually referred to prisoners as them , not us .
Clymene smiled. ‘‘I suppose I should say us ,’’ she said, as if reading Diane’s mind. ‘‘Grace Noel is a plain woman, large boned.’’
‘‘Are you saying she is overweight? How is that relevant?’’ asked Diane, growing more impatient. She shifted her position in the hard chair, thinking she needed to be tending to the problem at the museum.
‘‘It is relevant. That’s how she describes herself and . . . just let me explain. I work in the library and in the chapel. Noel talks to me while I’m working. You know, girl talk. A few months ago she was lamenting the fact that she was rarely asked out on dates. She was asking me things like how she should wear her hair—girl stuff.’’
Diane was having a hard time visualizing Clymene deep into girl talk and how this was leading to Grace Noel’s being in danger. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table.
‘‘One day,’’ continued Clymene, ‘‘she asked me how I got so many husbands, and she couldn’t even get a date.’’ Clymene paused a moment. ‘‘I told her that I’d only had two husbands. She gave me the knowing smile.’’
‘‘The knowing smile?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Once you’ve been convicted, to the entire world you are guilty of all charges and innuendos against you. No amount of denial changes anyone’s mind, especially not in here.’’ She paused again and smiled. ‘‘Of course everyone in here says they are innocent, which takes the credibility away from those of us who really are. Noel, as kind as she is, believes I am guilty not only of the crime for which I was convicted, but also of the rumors and accusations the DA and others have leveled at me.’’
‘‘Rumors and accusations?’’
‘‘That I’ve had many more husbands and killed them all. I know that’s what the DA believes—and so does my profiler,’’ she said. ‘‘So that’s what Noel believes. And in my capacity as a serial black-widow murderer I must have many wonderful secrets for capturing a man.’’ Clymene’s mouth turned up in an amused expression.
‘‘That’s what she wanted? Secrets to getting a man? What are you worried about? That she’s looking for Mr. Goodbar?’’ said Diane.
‘‘No. She had already met the man—a new member of her church. She wanted him to notice her, to be drawn to her. So I gave her the benefit of my expertise.’’
‘‘Is this an admission?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘You have expertise to give?’’
‘‘For my trial I researched the kind of person the DA thought I was. Yes, I’ve become quite the expert.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘I’ve also had two husbands and many boyfriends, so I figured I would give her some pointers and stay in her good graces—so to speak.’’ She smiled at her own pun.
‘‘What did you tell her?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘To research the man of interest—find out what he likes and dislikes and become the person he wants.’’ She shrugged again.
‘‘Just how did this put her in danger?’’ Diane glanced down at her arm for her watch. Clymene seemed not to notice.
‘‘Noel didn’t know how to begin with such a plan and she wanted me to help her. I asked her to tell me all about him. This is what she told me. Eric Tully, that’s his name, is an accountant. He likes camping, hiking, boating—anything outdoors. He likes country music, reality TV, and action movies—but he also likes poetry.’’ Clymene arched a brow as she said the last statement. ‘‘His most recent wife died giving birth to his daughter, now five years old. Before that he lost a wife to leukemia, and both his parents died when he was a teenager. He’s had a very sad life, Grace told me.’’ Clymene leaned forward. ‘‘Too sad, I told her.’’
‘‘What are you saying?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I’m saying that I recognized the kind of person I’d been reading about during my trial.’’
‘‘Are you saying