Free Dead Hunt by Beverly Connor Page B

about.
    ‘‘Are we okay?’’ asked Laura, laying a hand on Diane’s arm.
‘‘You mean about the board meeting?’’ said Diane, shrugging her shoulders. ‘‘Something like this is likely to come up again in the future. We all need to be calm about it.’’
‘‘You’re right. We live in such a bubble here in Rosewood,’’ said Laura.
Some of us do, thought Diane. As director of the crime lab, her bubble had been burst a while back. She took the elevator to the second floor, where her legal researchers were waiting in the conservation lab.
At first glance the conservation laboratory might look like little more than a room full of tables, each with different works in progress. Closer inspection would reveal varieties of microscopes, a fume hood, a suction table, photographic equipment, and other instruments designed to stabilize, protect, and record the many items brought to the lab.
Korey Jordan, a tall African American in his early thirties, was head conservator. He and his staff stood with Jin and Neva and with Harold and Shirley, the provenance checkers. Before them lay the suspect artifacts. A dead body on the table would not have produced a more solemn group.
Well, damn . She so wanted good news.
Everyone looked up when Diane entered. Each was wearing a Richard III T-shirt—except Harold the registrar, only because he thought Richard III was guilty. Even Jin and Neva wore the white shirts with Richard III’s picture on the front. Diane hoped that Kendel was comforted by this show of support by the staff.
‘‘What have you found?’’ she asked as she neared the table. They parted to let her see the artifacts.
They’re beautiful, she thought as her gaze rested on them. A necklace containing the image of an Egyptian deity on a pectoral of gold, lapis lazuli, and turquoise lay on a piece of linen. Next to it on the same piece of linen was a circlet made from gold beads shaped like cowrie shells. Diane recognized it as a girdle to adorn the waist. Next to it was a simple canopic jar with a lid in the shape of a jackal’s head. Three other artifacts were of stone. There was a bust of red granite about a foot and a half high with the nose broken off and a quartzite face also without its nose. On the floor still in its crate was a small granite sphinx about three feet in length and almost as tall. The staff were quiet as Diane looked over the artifacts.
Harold stepped forward and gestured to another table, where he’d placed open folders containing documents and photographs.
‘‘We were evaluating the documents and everything was looking great,’’ he said. ‘‘Everything was in order.’’
Shirley, one of his legal researchers, stepped up and nodded her head. ‘‘The documents are fine. They are authentic.’’
‘‘Then why does everyone look so grim?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘When we brought the documents down to compare the photographs with the items...’’ began Harold.
Diane saw it before he finished. The folder in front of her contained documents for the girdle. The photograph showed a circlet formed from lion heads made of gold alternating with polished amethyst beads, not the girdle on the table made of gold cowrie shell beads.
She looked at another set of documents. The photograph showed a gold and jeweled necklace containing the image of the Egyptian deity Senwosret III. The necklace on the table was similar, but it wasn’t the same.
‘‘These artifacts don’t belong to these documents,’’ finished Harold.
Diane looked at the photographs of all six items. They were all similar, very similar at first glance, to the items on the table, but not the same.
Well, damn .
Diane thanked Harold and Shirley for their work. They took that as a dismissal and started to leave.
‘‘Do you want to keep the documents here?’’ asked Harold.
‘‘For now,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’ll return them to you today so you can continue researching.’’ She paused a moment. ‘‘Everyone