Dead Guilty by Beverly Connor

it because it doesn’t absorb water—
and it floats.’’
‘‘You know your rope,’’ said Raymond.
‘‘Rope is one of the most versatile tools in history.
It’s good stuff.’’
‘‘Not too good for our boy here,’’ said Lynn.
After the noose was off, Diane took the rope off
his hands. This was more difficult, for the rope was
tight and bit into his skin. As she worked, Raymond
snapped pictures.
‘‘I’ll get these
to you as soon
as I can. I
put the
other
photographs
with
the
bones,’’
he
said.
‘‘They
turned out real good.’’
‘‘Raymond
also
gave
you
copies of
the
photos
of
the
tattoos.
Maybe
they’ll
help
in
making
an
identification.’’
Diane
didn’t
wait
around
for
the
autopsy.
Even
though she’d met Chris Edwards only briefly, it was
not easy to watch someone she knew being dissected.
As
she took
a last
look
at the
body, she
wondered
where Steven Mayberry was. Dead like Chris? Or was
Steven the killer and on the run?
    Diane
took the bones of Red and Green Doe, the
rope, and all of the evidence Lynn and Raymond had
collected for her back to the crime lab. David looked
up from his microscope when she came into his lab.
    ‘‘I’m
looking at fibers from the door frame of the
house now,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s mostly white cotton from
tee-shirts
and
blue
cotton
from
jeans.
Jin
got
some
good prints of his bloody glove.’’
    ‘‘Speaking
of blood . . .’’ Diane said.
‘‘Neva drove the samples to Atlanta.’’
‘‘I’m glad none of you people need any sleep.’’
‘‘Sleep? We get too much sleep.’’ Jin, wearing jeans
    and
a black tee-shirt that said M . E . S ARE ON THE CUT
TING
EDGE, came
bopping
into
the
lab,
holding
a
folder. ‘‘You know, if we live to be a hundred, we’ll
have spent over ten years asleep. I checked out the
prints we found. All are exemplars, except maybe the
glove print.’’
    ‘‘Got
anything
on
the
clothes
from
the
Cobber’s
Wood crime scene?’’
Jin nodded. ‘‘Lots of carpet fibers. Orange nylon. I
found them on all the rope too, including that piece
found
on
the
ground.
I’ll
have
the
brand
of
carpet
soon.
There
was
some
brown shed
human
hair,
but
no roots.’’
‘‘All
the
blood
samples
are
delivered.’’
Neva
en
tered the lab and stood for a moment, looking embar
rassed. She held a brown bag in her hand from which
she took three boxes, and handed one to each of them.
‘‘Hey, what’s the occasion?’’ asked Jin.
‘‘No occasion. We talked last night about my work
with clay, and... well, thought you might like some.’’
Diane opened her box. Nestled in white tissue paper
was a tiny figurine of a gray squirrel on a log, holding
an acorn. It was small enough to hold in the palm of
her hand, but the details—the fur of the squirrel, the
bark
on
the
tree,
the
cap
of
the
acorn—were
remarkable.
‘‘You made this?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Yes. It’s very relaxing.’’
‘‘Relaxing?’’ said David. ‘‘Look at this. You must
have had to do each leaf separately.’’ His figurine was
a tree with a bird standing on a branch next to another
bird sitting on a nest. ‘‘Those feathers look real.’’
Jin’s
was a
raccoon
peering out
of
a hollow
tree.
‘‘Cool,’’ said Jin. ‘‘Do you sell them?’’
‘‘I
go
to
craft
fairs
occasionally.
Mostly,
I
make
them
for
friends
and
family.
Mom
calls
them
dust
catchers.’’
‘‘It’s heavy,’’ said Diane, weighing hers in her hand.
‘‘I
put
nuts
or
BBs
in
the
bottom
of
the
clay
to
keep the center of gravity low. Even though they’re
small, they’re pretty good paperweights.’’
‘‘These
are
great,’’
said
Diane.
‘‘Thank
you.
This
had to take hours to make.’’
‘‘As I said, it’s very relaxing.’’
‘‘I’ll have to introduce you to the people who make
models of planned exhibits. They’ll love this.’’
Neva seemed pleased with the reception of her gifts.
Diane was relieved that Neva was making an effort