Dead Hunt

up—or passed out.
‘‘You better tell me about this,’’ he said at last.
Diane heard sounds like he was rearranging himself in his chair, or bed. She explained about waking up to the sound of the police knocking on her door and then falling in the pool of blood.
‘‘It turned out to be Clymene’s blood,’’ Diane told him.
‘‘Clymene’s? I don’t understand. Is she dead?’’ asked Ross.
‘‘She has to be. It was fresh blood and there was too much blood loss for her to still be alive.’’ Diane explained everything she knew about the incident. ‘‘When I heard you had fallen asleep while driving home, it made me wonder if both of us had been drugged at the restaurant. Perhaps someone found it easier to drug both our drinks than to try and make sure I got the tainted drink. That’s always tricky. I’m going to the restaurant to question them now.’’
‘‘Clymene dead? I can’t believe it. What was she doing in your apartment?’’ he said.
‘‘I have no idea,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I don’t understand how she even got in. I didn’t hear anything, nor did any of my neighbors. And the person in the apartment directly below me hears every little footfall.’’
‘‘The newspaper account was wholly inadequate,’’ he said.
‘‘Garnett tries to keep anything to do with the crime lab, in this case me, out of the papers. He usually does a pretty good job.’’
‘‘This is strange. In a bizarre way I’m a little relieved. My wife, Lydia, is convinced that something came loose in my brain. She wants me to take all these tests. If I was drugged . . . well, I actually feel a little better.’’
Diane laughed. ‘‘I’m glad you can see the silver lining in this.’’
‘‘Lydia almost had me convinced, and I was getting a little worried,’’ he said. ‘‘You say they almost arrested you?’’
‘‘That was mostly political. The DA was very upset with me,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And of course I couldn’t account for all that blood in my apartment.’’
‘‘The DA? Oh, I’m sorry, Diane. I didn’t call him,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘That’s all right. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m also glad you spoke with your FBI friend in art theft about me. I appreciate that.’’
‘‘Shane’s a good guy. Knows a lot about the subject,’’ he said.
‘‘I’ll let you know what I find out from the restaurant staff,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Tell me,’’ asked Ross, ‘‘how are you doing, really? You had a hit on the head, the paper said?’’
‘‘It wasn’t serious.’’ Diane told him about the trip to the hospital and the attack there. She left out what the attacker had said to her about being a dirty dealer. She didn’t know why, except she didn’t want people to start questioning her honesty.
‘‘You were attacked again? The same day? Do you think it was the same person who killed Clymene?’’ he asked.
‘‘I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to sit down and think things out,’’ she said. ‘‘Like, who had a motive to kill Clymene?’’
‘‘I imagine anyone of her victim’s family. You know, someone could have recognized her picture from the trial publicity and tracked her down. It may be a family from a victim we aren’t even aware of. You really are going to have to discover who she is.’’
‘‘I know. And I don’t know if it was in the papers, but Rev. Rivers was murdered right after Clymene escaped,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Rivers murdered? Oh, no. He was really a decent guy. Clymene must have convinced him to help her escape. I told you she was good—and no good.’’
‘‘That’s what I was thinking,’’ said Diane, ‘‘that she got to him. He looked so disappointed when I shared the evidence against her with him.’’
‘‘I’m really not in bad condition. Tomorrow I’ll drive to Rosewood and we can talk about it,’’ he said.
‘‘You don’t think you should at least take another day or two to recover?’’ said Diane.
‘‘I was lucky,’’ said Ross. ‘‘I just ended up in a ditch. The air bag was the worst part of it. The hospital didn’t even keep me.’’
‘‘I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, then.’’
After Diane hung up with Kingsley she called Frank.
‘‘Babe,’’ he said, ‘‘how are things going?’’
‘‘All things considering, they’re going pretty well. I avoided getting arrested, thanks to Garnett. Right in the middle of that interview, an agent from the FBI art theft