Scattered Graves

‘‘You’ve been to crime scenes before and know how they are done.’’
He shrugged. ‘‘They are all different. I wasn’t at the Jefferies crime scene, but at Peeks’. Bryce and that Rikki chick were looking for something. Some kind of list, I heard them mention.’’
‘‘Do you know what kind of list? Names? Num bers?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘No. They didn’t say,’’ he said.
‘‘Anything else?’’ she asked. ‘‘Did they check for fingerprints?’’
He had been slouching but stood up straight. ‘‘Now that you mention it, they didn’t dust for prints at all. Now, that’s strange. Another thing. That Rikki chick pocketed something she found on the floor near the body. I thought it was a silver pen, but I don’t really know what it was. Something shiny. I thought it was something she dropped maybe. That’s all I know.’’
‘‘Thank you for talking to me,’’ said Diane.
‘‘The GBI said that Harve wasn’t pushed. Some thing about the math and something about his foot injuries being consistent with your description. But I don’t know why he would have gone after you. I know he didn’t like you, but . . . this is just strange.’’ He shrugged and left before Diane could comment.
When she and Colin left, Diane was glad to get out of the police station. She never found it to be a comfortable place even before the Jefferies adminis tration. On the way to the museum she told Colin that Monroe would be putting Janice Warrick in as lead detective.
‘‘How did you pull that off?’’ said Colin, looking over at her, then back at the road.
‘‘By trying to be both logical and political. Not easy,’’ she said.
‘‘That will make our job easier. Maybe the worm is finally turning,’’ he said.
‘‘I had Janice take pictures inside the mayor’s house,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I noticed when we were there earlier that there was fingerprint powder only on one corner of the hall chest—no place else. When I saw the pictures of the kitchen, I saw the same thing. There was fingerprint dust only where Garnett had touched the countertop.’’ Diane related her discussion with Garnett to Colin.
‘‘So, Bryce or what’s her name—Rikki—didn’t try to find any other prints, just Garnett’s.’’ Colin whis tled. ‘‘Wow.’’
‘‘I assume they acted on orders from Peeks, but I don’t know,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That’s both good and bad. Good in that it looks like they were trying to frame Garnett. But the prose cutor could see it as a motivation for Garnett to kill Peeks.’’
‘‘Janice will interview Bryce,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’ll be interested to see his explanation. Her pictures also showed that the house appeared to have been searched after the mayor’s body was discovered and the police had turned the crime scene over to Bryce. Janice said the original crime scene photos taken by the police didn’t show the disarray that her photo graphs did. I can’t be sure, but it looks like Bryce may have been looking for something—or he has a very messy style of working a crime scene. Officer Pendle ton said that Bryce and Rikki were looking for some kind of list and that Rikki may have taken something from the crime scene.’’
‘‘What do you think it could be?’’ asked Colin. He pulled into the museum parking lot and into Kendel’s space.
‘‘I have no idea. Janice also said the mayor’s com puter was heavily encrypted and no one has been able to see what is on his hard drive,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That’s interesting. I think. But even I have a pass word on my computer,’’ said Colin.
‘‘I got the idea that this is a little more heavy-duty encryption. I’ll ask Frank about it,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Frank Duncan?’’ said Colin. ‘‘He’s Atlanta, isn’t he?’’
‘‘Yes. The Metro-Atlanta Fraud and Computer Fo rensics Unit,’’ she said.
‘‘We’ve met. Not a guy a defense attorney likes to have on the stand,’’ said Colin. ‘‘Nice guy, I’ve heard.’’
‘‘I’ve heard that before,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Yes, he is a very nice guy.’’
‘‘You dating him?’’ asked Colin.
‘‘Yes. I’m staying at his home while I’m house hunt ing. My neighbors kicked me out of my apartment.’’
‘‘What? Neighbors can’t do that. Why?’’ said Colin.
Diane explained about the various times she had to have the police come to her apartment when someone went after her—the attacks, the blood. ‘‘They