Dead Past

her car and looked at the front of her apartment building for several minutes. She scanned the street for cars she didn’t recognize. None. She walked down the sidewalk and up the steps. They were clean of snow and ice, but all the ground around was covered in about a foot of the white stuff. It was still sparkling white and pretty. She was almost to the door when someone stepped out and put a hand on her arm. She jumped back, ready to fight.
    “Dr. Fallon, I’m sorry.”
    It was Shawn Keith, her neighbor in the basement apartment. He was wrapped up in a brown sweater and muffler and was shivering.
    “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw you drive up and I was waiting for you to come in. I wanted to apologize. I . . . you see . . . I had my mother with me.”
    Diane stared at him a moment. What is he talking about? Then she realized—the carjacking, Blake Stanton.
    “You mean that kid trying to take your car?”
    He nodded. “I saw him walking to your car when I took off.”
    “It’s all right, Professor Keith. You did the right thing. You called the police. They came and everything was fine.”
    “I’ve been worried about it ever since it happened. I should have . . .”
    “Done just what you did,” said Diane. “Really, you did the right thing.”
    “That’s kind of you to say,” he said.
    “It’s true. It looks like you need to get inside. You’re turning blue.”
    “It is freezing out here. Thanks, Dr. Fallon.” He nodded his head up and down. “Thanks.”
    Diane climbed the stairs to her apartment and unlocked the door, glad to be home. Just as she walked in, her telephone rang.
    “Don’t let it be a murder,” she said to herself as she grabbed the phone and dropped to the couch.
    “Diane, it’s Frank.”
    Diane grinned to herself. She’d take Frank over a murder any day.
    “Hello, Frank. It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
    “I’m OK. I heard about Izzy Wallace’s son. I know Daniel. Is it true?”
    “Yes. I’m afraid it is. I matched his dental records this evening. That, with the x-ray of his wrist, cinches it. But the family hasn’t been officially notified.”
    Frank was silent a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been so grateful for finding Star. . . .”
    “I know. I’ve had those same emotions. How is Star? How did her test go?”
    “She said she thought she did well. She thinks she’s going to make above a three-point this semester.”
    “Wow, good for her. When can I see you?” Diane hadn’t meant to say that. She was just feeling very lonely.
    “How about tomorrow night?”
    “I’d like that.”
    “You sound beat.”
    “It’s just all the bodies from the explosion and everything that goes along with it. I’m having problems at the museum. Someone is stealing some of our rare items.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Any leads?”
    “No. We’re just now discovering what’s missing. Many of the items weren’t from the exhibits, but from the vaults.”
    “So it’s someone who knows the museum.”
    “It looks like it.”
    “That narrows it down considerably.”
    “I don’t want it to be someone from the museum.”
    “I know.”
    “Frank . . .” The call waiting signal beeped. “Just a moment. Let me get this call.”
    She switched to the other call. “Diane, it’s Garnett. We’re at a crime scene in the Briarwood Apartments. Better get your crew over here.”

Chapter 21

    Briarwood Apartments were upscale dwellings catering more to the professional crowd than to students of Bartram University. Diane met David, Neva, and Jin in the parking lot in front of section C, four duplexes clustered together.
    “I looked at these when I moved here,” said David. “Nice apartments. I liked them. Very quiet, good neighborhood. A little expensive for my budget.”
    They got their crime scene kits out of their vehicles and followed the sidewalk to apartment 131. Garnett met them at the door, frowning when they saw him. Diane knew what he was thinking—Councilman Adler was going to make hay out of this. Murders in good neighborhoods scare people.
    Diane sent Jin and Neva to search outside the apartment—under the windows, any nooks and crannies where someone could lie in wait or leave evidence. She and David slipped covers over their shoes and hair and walked into the room. The body was in the living room, lying face up, blood pooled under her head. She was a young woman. Long blond hair partially covered her battered face. Her