Dead Past

I’ll keep it here and talk with Juliet about it,” said Laura.
    “OK. I’ll bring it by.” Diane hung up the phone, put on her coat, and took the package out of her drawer.
    “Andie,” she said as she walked through her office, “I’m going to drop a package by Laura Hillard’s. I’ll be back within the hour. Call the crime lab and tell David to expect me.”
    “Sure.”
    Diane walked to her car, clicking open the locks on the way. It was still cold. She thought she heard on the weather forecast that it was going to warm up. She was about to open her door when she felt the point of a gun barrel stuck in her back.

Chapter 42

    Diane’s first emotion was disbelief. Here in front of the museum with so many people coming and going, someone was holding a gun on her? It had to be a joke. Then came the voice—a throaty blend of age and years of smoking cigarettes.
    “Just give me the package,” he said. “If you don’t, I have no problem opening fire on the line of tourists unloading from that bus over here behind us.”
    Diane had seen the tour bus arriving when she walked out. She handed him the package over her shoulder.
    “Now, that’s good. All you have to do now is stand here looking inside your car for five minutes while we get out of here. Same thing applies. You move or try to get a look and I’ll open fire. Nod your head if we have an agreement.”
    Diane nodded. She felt the pressure release from her back and she heard the footfalls walk away. She didn’t move her head; she couldn’t risk the safety of the visitors. But she shifted her eyes looking for a reflective surface somewhere in her car to perhaps see something of the gunman. There was none. She waited for several minutes until the passengers from the bus were inside the museum. It was another field trip of schoolchildren. She watched as they passed her car and filed into the building.
    She closed her car door and went back into the museum. Fear wasn’t her strongest emotion at the moment. It was anger. It was one thing to threaten her, but to casually threaten a busload of children. She went straight to the Security office. Chanell was in her office on the phone. She hung up just as Diane walked through the door.
    “Good news, we’ve got a line on several of the stolen items,” she began before Diane interrupted her.
    “I need to see the security tapes for the last ten minutes. Start with the camera near my parking space.
    Chanell’s coffee-colored face went from a bright smile to a frown. “Is something wrong?”
    “Someone pulled a gun on me at my car and stole a package I was carrying,” said Diane.
    “What? Here? Now?” Chanell made a beeline to the room with the video monitors.
    “Stefan! What have you been watching?” said Chanell.
    She stood with her hands on her hips next to a young man with brown hair with blond highlights who was wearing a brown museum security uniform. He looked up at Chanell with startled hazel eyes.
    “The tour buses, you told me to always make sure to keep an eye on them.”
    “Where was your other eye?” she asked.
    “Huh?”
    “Dr. Fallon was robbed at gunpoint at her car in the parking lot,” said Chanell.
    His eyes grew wide with what looked like fear. “Where was she?” he said.
    “At her car, in her parking space.” Chanell tapped the center of the appropriate monitor with each syllable.
    “I . . . I was looking at the schoolkids getting off the bus,” he said.
    “Call up the video for the last ten minutes,” said Diane.
    Stefan punched the keyboard, and a video came up showing the area of the parking lot that included Diane’s car parked beside Kendel’s Mercedes convertible. He sped forward for several seconds to the point the video showed Diane coming out of the museum and going to the driver’s side of her car. A man several inches taller than Diane walked between Kendel’s car and Diane, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a gun. He looked around for the first time, as if to see if anyone was watching.
    “Stop it there,” said Diane. “Give me a close-up of his face.”
    Stefan selected the face and enlarged it. It didn’t really help. It was a profile: He had on sunglasses, his collar was pulled up, and his stocking cap was pulled down over his ears. The clearest view was of his nose.
    “Enlarge the gun,” said Diane.
    A picture of a gun showed up on the screen. “That looks like a 1911 Army automatic,” said Diane.
    “Sure does,” said Chanell.