The Hidden

The people at the Conway Ranch were all behaving like rats confined too long in a cage that was far too small, attacking one another with a vengeance.

He walked into the center of the room. “Could I see whatever’s in your pockets, please?” he asked. “And your purses, ladies.”

“Certainly not,” Charles Barton said angrily. “This is America.”

“Yes, where everyone is subject to the rule of law, which would be me. Let’s take this from the beginning. I want to know who moved the statue of Nathan Kendall up the stairs at the museum the other morning,” Diego said.

“What?” Trisha said.

“Someone was in the museum the morning after Candace and Larry Parker were killed. That someone carried the statue of Nathan Kendall up the stairs and set it at the foot of Scarlet’s bed for reasons unknown, maybe hoping to give her a heart attack, or maybe to scare her into leaving. At the moment the why doesn’t matter. I need to find out the who,” Diego said.

“The museum is kept locked,” Gwen said, shifting closer to her husband and taking his hand. “How could any of us—other than Ben and Trisha and Scarlet—have gotten in and done something so bizarre? Maybe they’re in it together—Ben and Trisha and Scarlet. They could have moved that stupid statue just to make it look like someone else was behind everything.”

“Until recently, the museum had no alarm system, and it wouldn’t have been all that hard for someone to ‘borrow’ the key and make a copy,” Diego said. “Someone has that key. So, please, your pockets and purses.”

“Do you have a warrant?” Clark demanded.

Gray stepped forward before Diego had a chance to respond and said, “Since you’re interested, I do, so,” he said, reaching into his jacket, “I’ll let you all know now that it includes the house and grounds, all buildings on the grounds, and all vehicles parked on the grounds. In other words, it covers pretty much everything here. You’re all welcome to read it at your leisure.”

“Let me see that,” Gigi said, leaping to her feet.

Lieutenant Gray politely passed her the warrant.

“Take care with that,” Adam warned her quietly.

“I don’t know why you’re looking so hard for a suspect when you have several right in front of you, as Gwen has pointed out,” Clark said. “Ben has both a key and the physical strength to move a mannequin. You don’t even know that the incident with the statue is connected to the murders. Maybe it was Ben’s idea of a joke. Or maybe Scarlet did it herself. Look at her history, excavating graves, for heaven’s sake. Maybe all that death drove her crazy.”

“Mr. Levin, trust me, I am not crazy,” Scarlet said with quiet dignity.

Diego glanced over at her, trying not to smile. She was completely controlled. She really did have more inner strength than he’d ever expected when they first met.

“No, Scarlet is not crazy,” he said, before turning back to the others. “We’ve already acknowledged that three people had the key legitimately. But copying a key is one of the easiest things in the world to do. In fact, Lieutenant Gray, perhaps in the morning you could check local hardware stores and find out if anyone in this room has been in recently to have a key duplicated. Now, for the last time, pockets and purses.”

For a second there was silence. Then Clark stood in aggravation. “Look, here’s me, emptying my pockets. I have keys to my house, my Lincoln back home and my room here. That’s it. Pat me down, feel me up, search wherever you like.”

“Here, my purse,” his wife offered. She stood up from the antique sofa where she’d been sitting and dumped the contents of her little over-the-shoulder handbag onto the coffee table. A packet of tissue, a lipstick, reading glasses, and a little leather case that held ID and credit cards fell out.

“My pockets,” Charles said, rising and pulling them out. Change fell onto the rug and rolled across the hardwood floor.

“My purse is upstairs,” Gwen said.

“Since I live here, so is mine,” Linda said.