Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel (46 page)

"I know it must seem that way."

"Seem nothing, it is. Do you want me to enumerate the
close calls you've had just since I've been here?"

"But that's only since you've been here. It's not like that
all the time."

"I'm glad to hear it. I don't want anything to happen to
you, baby sister."

After Sinjin and Sally left for the airport, Lindsay went to
her office to get the file she had been putting together for
her tenure application. She took it to Mary Catherine
Dellinger, an archaeology buff who had worked on several
digs with Lindsay. She was also a lawyer who had taken on
the university in four major cases and won all of them.

Mary Catherine's seventy-year-old hands showed mild arthritis around the knuckles, but they were sure and steady
as she turned the pages in Lindsay's folder. Her nailslong, shiny, and strong, were painted a peach color that
matched the suit she wore. She listened without interruption as Lindsay told her the whole story. Her white hair was
in its usual French twist without a strand out of place. Lindsay didn't believe she had ever seen it any other way. Mary
Catherine fixed her dark blue eyes on Lindsay and asked,
"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to write the university a really scary letter."

Mary Catherine smiled. "With this and everything else
you've told me, I can scare their pants off. What would you
consider a remedy?"

"My job and tenure."

"No money?"

"I'd rather have job security."

"All right then, we'll start with five million and work
down to job security." She smiled, showing even white teeth.

Lindsay left Mary Catherine's downtown office and
went to Will's. She half expected him not to be there, but he
was, filling out some paperwork.

"Lindsay," he said, ushering her in and motioning to the
red leather chair in the room filled with Shirley's ghosts.
"I'm glad you came by. I wanted to thank you for solving
the mystery of what happened to Shirley. It wasn't pretty,
but there is a kind of peace in knowing. Irene's dropped the
charges against the Ferris kid. I guess you know."

"Yes, Irene called and left a message on my machine. I
need to call her back."

"There's something I want you to know. I really did
shoot Chris in self-defense. That's the truth."

"I thought you did."

That wasn't exactly the truth, and Will shook his head. "I
know you wondered about it, and frankly, I don't know what I
would have done if he hadn't had the gun ready to shoot me." "I imagine his parents are taking this very hard."

Will shrugged. "My association with them is finished."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know."

Lindsay sat there, saying nothing, and for an awkward
moment they stared at each other. Lindsay took a deep
breath and said what was on her mind. "Don't go anywhere
you can't return from."

"What a delicate way of putting it."

"You've thought about it, I'm sure. I just, well, I ..."
She stopped, embarrassed, not knowing what to say
exactly. "You're the person who knew Shirley best, the way
she really was, not the person she showed to her parents or
to anyone else. If you aren't here, she's truly gone."

"You're kind, Lindsay Chamberlain. I'll keep that in
mind. Things are better. I didn't think closure was possible,
but maybe it is. If I figure out how to buy that detective
agency in Atlanta, can I put you on as a consultant?"

"Sure. I might be needing work if I can't get my job
back." He raised his eyebrows, and Lindsay explained the
situation to him.

"That's gotta be tough. They're outta their minds if they
don't keep you."

"Some would say they are frequently out of their
minds." She stood. "Maybe we can have dinner sometime."

"Maybe so. I like you."

It took only two days for the Dean of Arts and Sciences to
summon Lindsay to his office. The dean and the university's counsel wanted her to come without her attorney.
Lindsay called Mary Catherine.

"Oh, I think it will be fine," Mary Catherine assured her.
"Don't you worry. What they will probably offer you is
your job, the tenure you asked for, and in exchange, you
don't sue. Will that suit you?"

"Yes."

"Good. You can show me the contract before you sign it,
but I think things will be fine."

She was right. First, the dean and counsel distanced
themselves from Einer's remarks to Kaufman about her.
Then they defended his actions, saying it was reasonable
for him to look for someone in a position to know about
artifacts, who also appeared to be living beyond her means,
but they regretted the inconvenience it had caused.

Cut to the chase, Lindsay wanted to shout at them.
Instead, she listened quietly, vowing that if they said anything else in defense of Einer, she would walk out and turn
the whole thing over to Mary Catherine. If they were aware
of the accusations she had made to the police about Einer
and the police telling her that, in the absence of corroborating evidence of his duplicity, it was her word against his,
the dean and the university's lawyer didn't say so. They
did, however, offer her her job with tenure. Lindsay read
the contract in their presence.

"This appears to be satisfactory. I'll let Mary Catherine
read it, and if she also finds it satisfactory, I'll sign." She
stood, they shook hands, and she left. On the way out of the
building she met Ellis Einer. He walked by as if he had no
idea who she was.

"We're all really glad you got your job back," said Sally,
"but I think you should have stuck it to them."

"I got what I wanted." Lindsay sat leaning back in her
chair with her feet up on her desk.

"But Einer got away with it," Sally said. "That's not fair."

"More or less, he got away with it. But his reputation's
damaged. I'm sure many of the people he works with
believe he's behind the thefts. Sometimes, all you get is the
satisfaction of being right."

"But what about Gerri Chapman and Francisco Lewis?"

"I assume Lewis is still coming. He can't fire me, but
there's nothing to prevent him from assigning me a janitor's closet for office space. We'll just have to see what
happens when he gets here."

"Are you worried?" asked Sally.

Lindsay smiled. "No. I'll deal with problems if they
arise. This political stuff is just part of university life."

Sally still frowned. "Isn't anything secure?"

"Just family, friendship, and personal integrity," Lindsay said.

Sally went to her desk, shaking her head. But the smile
still played around Lindsay's lips. All in all, things were
pretty good. So what if she had learned some things about
her grandfather she would have preferred not to know. The
new relationship with her brother was something she had
yearned for for a long time. And Derrick-yes, things
looked pretty there good.

Her telephone rang and Lindsay looked at it, wondering
if she should pick up the receiver.

"Chamberlain, this is Trey. Can you come up to my
office? There's something I want you to see. Bring Sally if
she's there."

"Sure. We'll be right there."

Brandon and Bobbie were in Trey's office when Lindsay
and Sally arrived. The three of them were grinning like
Cheshire cats.

"What's up?" asked Lindsay.

"You remember that paper I've been working on about
the Southern Cult hand-eye motif?" Brandon asked.

"Yes," said Lindsay, wondering why they were all grinning at her.

"You remember how we took pictures of the Kentucky
artifacts, and I took a lot of pictures of the mica cutout of
the hand-eye?"

"Yes, as long as I live, I'll never forget them."

They all laughed.

"Well," said Brandon-apparently this was his show,
and Lindsay felt a pang of guilt for suspecting him of
having anything to do with the thefts-"Dr. Marcus has
been helping me and Bobbie scan the photographs. We
were going through them and we found this one."

They watched as Lindsay and Sally took the eight-byten photograph and examined it. The date and time in digital lettering, entered automatically by the camera, were in
the left-hand corner. The photo was so clear she could see
the texture of Sally's hand as she held the shiny mica
cutout. Brandon was a good photographer.

She looked at Brandon, Bobbie, and Trey. They were
still watching her closely, waiting. She looked back at the
picture-the mirror-smooth mica, the hand, the etching of
the eye in the center of the palm. Like an illusion that at
first you can't see but then becomes clear, Lindsay saw it
and grinned. There, on the day the artifacts were unpacked
and their value discussed, the day before Ellis Einer came
to Lindsay's office, the glossy mica hand with the allseeing eye showed the reflection of Ellis Einer's face as he
stood in the doorway leading to the archaeology lab, his
eyes aglow at the sight of the Indian treasure.

Beverly Connor knows how to mix anthropology
with a mystery that ultimately educates the reader
while keeping them on an exciting edge.

-Harriet Klausner, Painted Rock Reviews

From the very first page of Dressed to Die, Chamberlain's cool head and rational hypotheses about the
densely packed plot keep the reader in suspense
amid the rising tension. Her stability and potent feminine intuition give suspicion a good name.

-Daily Press/Banner Herald, Athens, Ga.

"Delightful."

-Northwest Arkansas Times, Fayetteville

"A highly charged, tightly plotted, and well-paced
mystery.... The forensic techniques are as fascinating as the political dynamics of the University of
Georgia.

-I Love a Mystery