Scattered Graves

‘‘Jefferies was behind the rash of burglaries?’’
    She sat openmouthed, staring at David. With what she was finding out about Jefferies from Garnett and others, she didn’t know why she should be so sur prised. But she was. What David was suggesting was beyond political control of jobs or lying to try and claim her lab. If it was true, this was serious criminal activity he was engaged in to get elected.
    ‘‘Yes, I think he was behind the burglaries,’’ said David.
She took the sheet from Frank and looked at the numbers. ‘‘So, he got someone to burgle the homes, then had them stop a month after he came into office? That seems incredible.’’
‘‘It does,’’ said David, ‘‘but how else do you read the numbers? How would the burglaries decrease but the arrest rate stay the same? Maybe it could have been a burglary ring that just happened to move on a month after the election. Nice and convenient for Jefferies. I prefer my conspiracy theory.’’
‘‘What about the crime scenes?’’ began Diane. She paused a moment. ‘‘Were those the ones you and Neva were excluded from?’’
‘‘You got it,’’ said David. ‘‘The newspapers reported that the stolen items were recovered in several in stances. Good stories. Jefferies wanted to make sure the voters knew they did the right thing by electing him. But why weren’t the perps arrested?’’
‘‘You have more?’’ asked Frank. ‘‘This investigation you’ve embarked upon—is that why you resigned?’’
‘‘Yes. I didn’t tell Neva about my suspicions. I wanted to collect more data and I didn’t want to in volve anyone else, just in case it turned out I was completely bonkers after all. That’s why I didn’t say anything to you,’’ he said to Diane.
‘‘What else do you have?’’ Frank asked.
‘‘This next stuff is what I find really disturbing,’’ he said, pulling some photographs from his file.
Diane saw photographs of fingerprints, of crime scenes, trace evidence, more notes. David had been busy.
‘‘Bryce should have just fired me,’’ said David. ‘‘I don’t know why the stupid son of a bitch thought restricting me to the lab would keep all his dirty little secrets hidden from me. The lab is where most of the work is done.’’
David picked up a photograph of several finger prints. ‘‘These are from the investigation of the mur der of Judge Karen McNevin. Bryce worked this scene. Rikki hadn’t been hired then. He brought all the evidence back for me to process. The first thing I noticed on the lifting tape—besides the fingerprints— was a lot of trace.’’
He pulled out another photograph taken through a microscope. It showed small particles with a cubic crystal habit. Diane recognized sodium chloride. There were other particles she didn’t recognize.
‘‘Salt,’’ said Diane.
‘‘This salt was on all the trace lifts—some on the fingerprint lifts, and in fact, on all the trace from the crime scene,’’ said David.
He picked up another photograph. This one showed a close-up of some trace fibers supposedly lifted from the crime scene. There was something else stuck to the cellophane, some kind of red-brown flakes. Diane didn’t recognize them.
‘‘The flakes are peanut skins; the other tan particles are pieces of peanuts,’’ said David. ‘‘They are also pervasive in the trace from the judge’s crime scene, including the dog hair that was lifted from her body. It was consistent with the accused’s dog. Bryce lifted the hair with the fingerprint tape, and it has the salt and peanut parts all over it.’’
David stopped and looked up from the pictures. ‘‘Let me tell you something about the murder,’’ he said.
He took out the crime scene photographs and laid them on the table. Frank’s coffee table was now cov ered in photographic evidence.
‘‘Judge McNevin was shot at home,’’ said David. ‘‘It was on a Saturday. Saturdays her husband took their two kids to a movie, or someplace equally entertain ing. Saturday was Karen’s day to stay home and catch up on her law journals. People who knew her knew she would be alone in the house on a Saturday after noon. Her husband said she liked to soak in the tub while she read. She had a tub tray she used to keep her journals on and a glass of wine. She’d gotten out of the tub, put on a robe, and was in the bedroom when she was confronted by her killer and strangled to death.’’
Diane and Frank listened as