Dead Past - By Beverly Connor Page 0,86

to kill herself,” continued Izzy. “They’re saying it was an accidental overdose, but we all know different. You don’t plan on outliving your kids. It’s just too awful.”

It is, agreed Diane silently. Just too awful.

Izzy dropped Diane and Jin off at the museum and she drove Jin to the emergency room. She stayed in the waiting room until he came out.

“Nothing to it,” said Jin. “The doctor put three stitches in my head and told me to call if I have pain, nausea, or dizziness—usual stuff.”

“Didn’t he say to go home and rest?” said Diane.

“Well, yeah, but they always say that. They’re just covering themselves. I’m fine.”

Diane drove him home and watched as he went into his apartment building. She headed back to the museum, but just as she was about to turn the corner, she saw his car backing out of his parking space. He was going back to the warehouse. She shook her head, reached for her phone, and dialed David.

“How’s Jin?” said David.

“He’s fine. Got three stitches. I just called to tell you that I think he’s headed back to you guys. Watch him,” said Diane.

“We will. Neva will get on his case. That usually works.”

“Finding anything interesting?” asked Diane.

“The basement of the apartment house had a kitchen, so we’ve got lots of metal. We’re looking for anything we can trace back to a person, but mostly it’s just stuff that’s part of the house. We’ve found some bone. One looks like a piece of one of the long bones. But it’s slim. Has kind of an oval cross section.”

“Sounds like it might be a radius.”

“We’ll bring all the bones to you. We’re thinking we’ll leave the other evidence here with a guard. Garnett’s bringing in an arson investigator whom he trusts to have a look.”

“Keep me informed.” Diane hung up the phone and drove the rest of the way to the museum. She parked by the outside elevator dedicated to the crime lab.

The night guard was already in the small first-floor reception room that contained the elevator. She spoke to him and rode up to the crime lab, keyed in her code, and, carrying the box of bones, walked through to her lab.

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket just as she set the box down on the table. The display said LAURA HILLARD.

“Hi, Laura,” said Diane.

“I just called with some information. Juliet’s grandmother’s name is Ruby Torkel. She’s still alive and lives in Glendale-Marsh, Florida. She’s lived there all her life.”

“Just a minute, let me get a pen.”

Diane fished a pen from her purse, uncapped it, and looked around for a piece of paper. She found a pad in a drawer and wrote down the information.

“I don’t suppose you have a number.”

“Sure do.” Laura gave Diane the phone number. “Juliet says she’s rather cranky.”

“I deal with cranky every day. How is Juliet?”

“She’s good, considering the crime spree we’ve been having. I’m getting a lot of calls from people just needing to debrief and, unfortunately, from people needing help with their grief. Poor Juliet’s trying not to freak out over the murder in her apartment complex.”

“Her apartment complex? Where does she live?” asked Diane.

“Applewood Apartments. You know, where the Cipriano girl was murdered.”

“Juliet lives at Applewood? The poor girl. As if she doesn’t have enough problems.”

“Yes. She says it has everyone in the apartments calling locksmiths. All the people with a 131-something address similar to the victim’s are a little upset, including Juliet. She lives in 131 H. It was several buildings away from the murder apartment, 131 C, but it’s still spooky to have an address so similar to the murder victim’s.”

“What a coincidence,” said Diane.

“Yes, that’s what I told Juliet. When they ran out of the alphabet on those buildings, they started designating them AA, BB, and so on. Imagine how spooked the people are in 131 CC. Anyway, I know you’re busy, I just wanted to give you the info on her grandmother.”

“Thanks. I’ll get on it tomorrow,” Diane said. She flipped her phone shut and just stood in place for a moment. That’s odd, she thought. She slipped on a pair of gloves. It was an odd coincidence, too, that Joana Cipriano had blond hair and blue eyes—not as light as Juliet’s, but still, it was an odd coincidence. Diane felt a sense of unease as she started laying the bones out on the table.

Chapter 36

Among the bones from the warehouse, a lot were missing and most were broken, either from the

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