The Night Killer

you forget, but Tammy said it don’t work that way,” he said.
    “Incredible,” muttered Agent Mathews.
    “I was out with my dogs looking for that woman when the Barres was getting killed,” said Slick.
    “Can the dogs verify that?” asked Ben.
    Slick looked at Ben, squinting his eyes. “Well, no, but I didn’t kill the Barres,” he said. “The sheriff ain’t been out asking me about it. Only the deputy, one time when he come over with that woman.”
    That woman , thought Diane. She needed to have a T-shirt with That Woman written on it.
    “If the sheriff don’t think I did it, then I guess I didn’t,” Slick said. “Look, I really need to go to the bathroom. And I’m not going to talk any more. I want a lawyer and I want to go to the bathroom.”
    “Just one more thing,” said Frank.
    “You been saying that. My bladder’s about to bust, man,” Slick said.
    “How are things with your debt to Roy Barre?” asked Frank.
    “Well, I reckon I owe his kids now, so I ain’t any better off. Now I’m getting up and going to take a piss.”
    He stood up. Frank and Ben stood up with him.
    “Damn it,” Slick said, and before they could do anything, he had his fly open and was peeing on the wall in the corner of the interview room.
    Diane put her head in her hands.
    After watching the interviews, Diane drove back to the museum, hoping there would be something dramatic going on so she could get the image of Slick urinating on the interview room wall out of her head.
    However, they had been fruitful interviews. Ben and Frank had gotten Tammy and Slick to admit quite a lot—more than Slick and Tammy probably realized. Frank had asked about the Barres. That was something he didn’t have to do, and it pleased her that he had.
    Diane pulled into her parking place and surveyed the lot as she exited the vehicle. There was only one tour bus and much of the lot was empty. Not completely unusual at this time of day, but she preferred to see a full lot.
    She walked to the administrative wing and into Andie’s office, making a dead stop in the doorway. She was hit in the face immediately, both visually and aromatically. Andie’s office was filled with bouquets of red roses, violets, and daisies.
    “I guess he wasn’t taking any chances,” Diane said, looking at all the flowers.
    Andie was sitting at her desk working on the computer. She grinned at Diane. “So far he’s doing pretty well with the groveling,” she said.
    “Certainly very lovely in here,” said Diane. “And it smells so nice.”
    “You want to take some back to your office?” asked Andie.
    “No, I think you should keep them up here. Looks very dramatic. How are you feeling?”
    “Better. Not because of the flowers. I just got my head together. Chocolate does that for me. Also talking things over with you. Thanks,” she said.
    “I thought you would do fine,” said Diane. “Anything going on I should know about?”
    “I put all the items you have to look at on your desk. This here”—she pointed at her computer screen—“I can handle. You know, we are still getting requests to examine our mummy.”
    “I imagine they will never stop,” said Diane.
    “You have a fund-raiser in Atlanta at the end of the month,” said Andie, frowning.
    “And this is a problem how?” asked Diane, studying her face.
    “I’ve gotten e- mails from several board members wanting to go,” said Andie. “You know how some of them are.”
    Diane smiled. “I think we can trust them not to embarrass us in public. I can’t very well keep my board away. It’s appropriate that they go. It’ll be fine.”
    Andie was concerned, Diane knew, because Thomas Barclay, one of the board members, tended to be a little heavy-handed with prospective donors. Diane shared Andie’s concern, but she wasn’t aware that Barclay had ever cost them donations. Madge Stewart was another matter. She was just as likely as not to say something like, “The museum is better now that they stopped receiving stolen artifacts.” Leaving Diane to explain what Madge meant and that the museum was not a receiver of stolen antiquities.
    As museum director, Diane had a lot of power. The governance of RiverTrail was different from that of many museums. Most of the power rested with the director, which was Diane. The board was only advisory. But one thing she had no power over was who was on the board, and there were a couple she would like to have sent packing.
    “I’ll be in my