Dead Guilty by Beverly Connor Page B

‘‘However, his
hands are crossed. That’s significant.’’
‘‘It is, indeed,’’ agreed Jonas.
‘‘How is that significant?’’ asked Andie.
‘‘It’s a royal burial position,’’ said Jonas. ‘‘Plus he
had a top-notch embalming job done on himself.’’
Andie rubbed her hands together. ‘‘I’ll bet we got
ourselves a king.’’
‘‘Arrange a CT scan at the hospital,’’ said Diane.
They all looked at one another, sharing the excite
ment, both surprised and pleased that Diane had de
cided to spring for the expense of a scan.
‘‘Korey, you’ll have to package him so he doesn’t
contaminate the hospital,’’ Diane said.
‘‘I can do that. I’ll take care of any infestations first,
then we’ll wrap him in plastic wrap on a board.’’
‘‘Plastic wrap?’’ said Andie.
‘‘Sure. He’ll be wrapped up like a mummy.’’
A groan from Andie. ‘‘Oh, please.’’
‘‘We’ll
need
tissue
samples
for
dating
and
other
analysis,’’
said
Diane.
‘‘Jonas,
I’ll
depend
on
your
knowledge
of
embalming
techniques
for
the
various
dynasties to help us narrow in on the time and place
of origin for this guy.’’
‘‘Already been collecting my references,’’ he said.
‘‘Korey, let me know when you set up the scan.’’
Diane left them excitedly discussing the mummy and
headed for her office.
She sat down behind her desk, closed her eyes and lis
tened to the water bubbling over the rocks of the fountain
decorating the side table in her office. She had designed
and constructed the fountain to remind her of the inside
of a cave. When she closed her eyes and listened, she was
in some deep dark grotto. She could almost feel the cool
of the rock around her—the perfect peace.
‘‘Damn, I’m sorry to disturb you.’’
Diane
opened
her
eyes.
Peace
was
always
shortlived. ‘‘Mike. Can I help you?’’
Mike Seger, graduate assistant to the geology cura
tor, pulled up a chair and laid a folder on her desk.
‘‘Saw your interview on TV last night,’’ Mike said
‘‘Last night? Interview?’’
‘‘About the bodies in the woods.’’
‘‘I didn’t give an interview.’’
‘‘It
looked
like
file
footage
taken
at
the
official
opening
of
the
crime
lab.
You
talked
about
justice,
the objectivity of evidence, the evil of murder—’’
‘‘Great. My mailbox will be filled with more com
plaints about the crime lab being in the museum.’’
A
handful
of
people—including
a
few
on
her
board—objected to having something as tawdry as a
crime lab in the pristine learning environment of the
museum, and they liked to E-mail her about it, having
somehow gotten her private E-mail address.
From the look of her mail, she was right. Amid Email from various members of her staff was some from
people she recognized as dissenters.
‘‘I
have
photographs
of
the
model
in
progress,’’
Mike
said.
‘‘Of
the
Journey
to
the
Center
of
the
Earth exhibit.’’
‘‘Have you shown it to Kendel?’’
‘‘Yes. But since it was your idea...’’
Mike’s light brown eyes glittered with what looked
to Diane like mischief. She processed her E-mail as
Mike laid out photographs of the model he and the
exhibit designers were constructing.
There was a message from a man who lamented that
everywhere he turned there was forensics—books, mov
ies, TV networks, learning channels, and darn it all, now
his museum. And an E-mail from a woman who insisted
Diane resign rather than serve two masters—the sublime
and the grotesque. Another one began with something
about an eye for an eye, and what did a museum director
know about evil? And several wanted her to include the
crime lab on the museum tour. She hesitated a moment,
wondering whether to forward the messages to Andie for
reply, or simply delete. She deleted all of them.
Mike was enthusiastic as he arranged the photos.
‘‘It’ll look just like they’re descending through lay
ers of the earth. It will be especially cool when