DF09 - One Grave Less by Beverly Connor

Author:Beverly Connor [Connor, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Forensic
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2010-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

Diane studied her own navy leather sandals, thinking about what Lynn Webber had said about Madge Stewart and her shoes. She looked up at the group.

“What do you think?” she asked anyone who might want to answer.

Izzy was the first. He had slimmed down considerably since she first met him—not from becoming health conscious, but from losing a child. Food just hadn’t been important anymore. Diane understood. Like her, he had been slowly climbing out of depression after he lost his almost grown son in a meth lab explosion. A lab that none of the more than thirty partying students from Bartram University who died there knew was in the basement. It was one of Rosewood’s biggest tragedies, touching in one way or another everyone who lived there.

Izzy credited his recovery with the change from being a policeman to being a crime scene specialist, focusing on collecting the evidence that convicted criminals. Diane thought it probably had a lot to do with the friendships among the lab team. She had put together a good group and she was proud of them.

If she wasn’t able to solve her problems in a timely manner, the museum directorship wouldn’t be the only job she would be in danger of losing. She would also lose her job as head of the crime lab. The lab couldn’t afford to have a director with damaged credibility.

“I’m having a problem with the shoes thing,” said Izzy.

“Dr. Webber told a good story . . . but really? The Stewart woman could have just hiked up her skirt and stepped over the chain and walked down the embankment. It wasn’t steep and her heels weren’t that high. Are you gals really that obsessed with shoes? Maybe Webber is. I can see that, but what about you, Neva?”

“Hey,” she said, “you saying I’m not in her league?”

Izzy turned to David. “Is that what I said?”

David nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I meant . . . look, the woman dresses up for a crime scene.”

Neva smiled at him. “When I was nine I got these white shoes for Easter. Mama told me not to get them dirty. After church I went outside and completely forgot about my shoes—and my dress. I got them both filthy,” said Neva. “Kids forget things like not getting their shoes dirty.”

“Madge Stewart wasn’t a kid,” said Izzy.

“Sometimes she was,” said Neva. “Look, I’m giving you ammunition for your argument.”

Diane knew Neva was right. Diane’s big complaint about Madge Stewart was the way her friends—like Vanessa and Laura—had babied her. Hiding in the closet eavesdropping, for heaven’s sake, then running to Vanessa like she was tattling. How childish was that?

“But she was an adult,” said David, “and whenever I saw her she was always well dressed.”

“The woman was, well, I mean, she was on the museum board. Was she, what’s the word?” said Izzy. “Was she mentally challenged? You’re talking like she was.”

“No, she wasn’t,” said Diane. “But her personality never got out of the stage where she believed everyone would always think she was cute, no matter what she did.

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