One Grave Too Many dffi-1

by Beverly Connor

  “Diane. I’m glad you’re alone. The party’s great, but I’ll bet you’re frazzled.”

  It would have been rude to tie her to the bear and stuff an apple in her mouth, so Diane gave her the best smile she could manage.

  “I’m holding up. I hope Mark had a chance to enjoy the exhibits before he had to leave.” Diane took a bite of sandwich.

  “Oh, he loved them.” Signy sat down and nearly tipped her wine onto the platform, spilling a few drops, which started to run toward the middle of the exhibit. “Oops, good save,” she said, giggling, catching it before losing the whole glass.

  Diane wiped up the running spill with her napkin as Signy moved her China plate and wineglass. Diane was wondering if she should have closed down the wine bar. She looked up, wine-stained napkin in hand, as Alix and Melissa approached, offering fresh napkins.

  “Dr. Fallon, Mrs. Grayson. You’re just the two we need to see.”

  Diane nodded a thank you and finished the cleanup. The two musicians began a two-pronged conversation with her and Signy. Melissa asked about playing at a Junior League function of which Signy was an officer, and Alix seemed to be inquiring about a summer job.

  Diane was grateful to have Signy Grayson’s attention diverted from what she knew was going to be a pitch for her husband. As Melissa talked to Signy, Alix picked up Diane’s plate and wineglass and handed them to her as the violinist sat down on the exhibit platform opposite Diane.

  “We’ve both had experience working at Disney World.” She launched into an animated Disney World greeting, and Diane laughed. “They teach you to be very friendly,” said Alix. “Melissa and I would really like to do something with the children’s programs at the museum.”

  “Why don’t you and Melissa bring your résumés by this week and leave them with Andie? Disney World has pretty tough standards-that’s certainly in your favor-and we’re looking for assistants for our docents, the tour guides. With your qualifications, there shouldn’t be a problem. You will have to put in some time learning the exhibits.”

  “Great! You’ll have our résumés tomorrow morning.”

  “It looks like with your music and a job at the museum, the two of you are going to be busy.”

  “Daddy always said that all play and no work makes one very poor.” Alix rose and shook Diane’s hand. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for us. Melissa, I think we’d better get back to our violins.”

  “Well,” said Signy, watching the girls’ retreating backs and retrieving her glass of wine, “they are certainly an energetic pair.”

  “Youth,” said Diane.

  Signy frowned, as if she’d been insulted, but after a moment her face brightened. “Diane, I wanted to give you a word to the wise. I really think you should give Mark’s ideas some thought.”

  “Signy, do you really think Milo went forward with his plans”-Diane gestured, taking in the room-“without giving considerable thought to the alternatives? He looked into several possibilities before deciding to renovate this location. He considered it to be by far the best, and I agree.”

  “I’m just asking you to give it some more thought,” said Signy. “Mark will win. He always does. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.” She smiled and sipped her wine.

  I’ll drink to that last part, Diane thought, washing down a bite of sandwich with a drink. She managed to avoid discussing moving the museum with any would-be champions for Mark’s cause for the remainder of the evening. Toward the end, as the guests were leaving, the string quartet entertained them with a little bluegrass and jazz. It was a good ending to what was actually a successful evening, but one Diane was relieved was behind her.

  When everyone had gone and only Leonard, the night guard, and the cleaning crew remained in the museum, Diane climbed into her car, almost too tired to drive home. Despite her exhaustion, she made it home without running her car into a tree, and went straight to bed without even expending the energy to take off her makeup. Cold crisp sheets on bare skin-it felt good. She slept until 7:30 in the morning-when the phone rang.

  Chapter 7

  “Did I wake you?” Frank’s voice sounded like a rasp on sandstone.

  “Frank, are you all right?” Diane asked.

  “Can I come over?”

  Diane hesitated a moment, filled with dread about hearing details of murder. But these were Frank’s friends. And so was she. “Sure. I’ll fix you breakfast,” she said.

  “I’ll bring it. It’s the least I can do for waking you up.”

  Diane jumped out of bed and into the shower. She had just pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt when the door-bell rang. After slicking her wet hair back with a comb, she opened the door.

  Frank was in running sweats, but she could tell from the smell of shampoo that he hadn’t been running. He set two sacks on the table. The bulky one was filled with doughnuts; the other with cups of coffee from Vance’s Café.

  “I’ll make us some bacon and scrambled eggs to go with the doughnuts,” she said.

  She also put on a pot of coffee. Why Frank liked Vance’s coffee was a mystery. To say it tasted like dredge from the Chattahoochee River was giving it flattery it didn’t deserve.

  Diane microwaved strips of bacon while she scrambled three eggs. Frank stood in the doorway of the narrow efficiency kitchen as she worked. “Kevin had a great time last night. It was good of you to let him and his mother come.”

  “No problem.” She took down a couple of plates from the cabinet and warmed them in the oven. She felt awkward, like he had brought a huge gorilla in with him that neither of them wanted to mention, yet it was taking up so much space.

  “I think Cindy’s husband, David, was the one who wanted to come, to rub elbows with some of the big guys.”

  “And did he?” Diane asked.

  “Must have. Cindy said she wants to invite us over for supper next week.”

  “Us?”

  “You and me.”

  Diane looked over at Frank through narrowed eyes.

  “She’s not matchmaking.”

  “No. I don’t think she is. I think Mark Grayson is using David to try and talk me into selling the museum property.”

  “What’s that about?”

  “Grayson hopes to make a killing on a big real estate sale he’s cooking up involving the museum. I imagine he wants to buy it himself and sell it for a heck of a lot more than he would pay for it.” Diane divided the scrambled eggs and slices of bacon-two-thirds on Frank’s plate and one-third on hers. “It’s all rather complicated, and I’m not sure how he plans to accomplish it without gutting the museum’s holdings. He’s been trying to push the old Vista Building on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he holds an interest in that.”

  “Why is he after you and not the board?” Frank took a plate from her cupboard and stacked the doughnuts on it.

  “Oh, he’s after them all right-to put pressure on me. But even if he gets every member of the board to sign off on it, he still has to convince me.”

  “You have that much power?”

  “I certainly do, thanks to Milo.” Diane stood with the plates in her hand, staring at the pyramid of assorted doughnuts. “Were you expecting an army of policemen?”

  “I thought you might like a choice.”

  She set the plates on the table. “Have a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”

  “I brought coffee.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She brought two mugs and filled them at the table from her pot of fresh brewed coffee.

  Frank sat down and started eating. “You make the best eggs.”

  “The secret is to not put milk in them, and to cook them slowly until they’re just done.”

  “So how come you have so much more say-so than the board?”

  “Do you know Vanessa Van Ross?”

  “I know of her. Richest old woman in the state, isn’t she?”

  Diane frowned at him. “I don’t know that, but she has money, and she and Milo had a thing.”
>
  “She must be one hundred and twenty. He was what? Sixty?”

  “He was sixty-five. What is it with you guys? You think women stop being someone you can love when they get crow’s-feet?”

  “She’s got more than their feet.”

  “She set up the foundation and gave Milo final power over practically everything.”

  “So the board’s only show?”

  “Almost. Milo hired me as an assistant while I was still in South America. He fixed it so that not only would I become director if anything happened to him, but all the power would pass to me as well.”

  “Was he expecting to die?”

  “No. But he had a heart condition. It obviously crossed his mind.”

  “At least he knew it was a possibility.” Frank stared into his coffee.

  Diane put a hand on his arm. So the gorilla was about to awaken. “How are you?” she asked.

  Frank set his coffee down and capped the rim with his hand. The steam rose through his fingers. It was several moments before he spoke.

  “Jay was just fourteen. They found him outside, lying under a tree-shot in the back. George and Louise were upstairs in their bed.”

  She could see Frank was making a big effort to sound objective.

  “Frank, I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t help but think it’s my fault. If I’d taken that bone more seriously.”

  Diane rose, went around the table and started to hug him. Instead she put a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault. I know it must feel like it is, but it’s the murderer’s fault.” He grabbed her hand and held it. “What do you think happened?”

  He pulled away, and Diane walked back to her seat. “I don’t know. I’m afraid the detective in charge seems to like their daughter, Star, for it. But as far as I can see, she has little evidence and isn’t likely to get any. But. . ”

  “But what?”

  “They did find the gun-or at least the caliber of gun they believe was the murder weapon.”

  Diane sensed there was more. She reached out for his hand. “And?”

  “They think it was Louise’s gun. George bought it for her several years ago. One of the policemen at the scene thought he recognized it because he gave Louise lessons with it. Last year, Star stole it and took it out to shoot it with her boyfriend. When George found out, he took it and locked it up and grounded Star.”

  “Do you think their daughter could have done it?”

  “She was a handful. Hell, that’s being kind. As soon as Star hit fourteen, she turned from this sweet little girl into this rebellious kid.” He took a drink of his coffee. “But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t see her killing her parents, and I sure can’t see her shooting Jay.”

  “If she’s into drugs. . they can change you.”

  “I know, but her little brother? I don’t think she’d do it. She adored him. The detective in charge is just taking the easy way out.”

  “What about this boyfriend of hers?”

  “They’re looking for him. He hasn’t been home in weeks. His parents don’t know where he is. Right now, it’s frustrating, being an Atlanta detective. I have no jurisdiction whatsoever even though I live in Rosewood, and the homicide guys refer to me as just a PC.”

  “Politically correct?”

  “Paper cop.”

  “Oh.” She could see that hurt him. “What about the bone?”

  “They don’t think it’s relevant, especially now that they know George just picked it up in some woods. It could have come from anywhere. Star looks much better to them.”

  “One human bone’s still a body. It’s rather a large coincidence, them finding a human bone a few days before they get killed. I think it’s important.”

  “And. .” He stopped, looked at her and frowned and looked away.

  “And what?”

  “And I don’t know. For some reason they don’t believe you.”

  “You’re kidding. In that case, find another osteologist to look at the bone.”

  “Would you write up a report on it? Please? In the meantime, I’ll send a photograph of it to a couple of other forensic anthropologists. They can ID it from a photo?” Diane nodded. “If Detective Warrick doesn’t want the information, I can give it to Star’s attorney when they find her.”

  “Bring me the bone back and I’ll write a report.”

  The museum looked big and empty after seeing it filled with people the evening before. Diane was glad the party was behind her as she walked through the rooms looking at each exhibit for any damage or forgotten cups of punch. The cleaning crew did a thorough job. Now it was time for the real task: getting the newly remodeled museum ready for the general public. The thought was uplifting. She felt good. New job, new clothes. She unconsciously smoothed the front of her navy blazer, briefly wondering if she looked like she was more accustomed to jeans and tees rather than the pantsuit and silk shirt she had on.

  More of the staff started arriving, and Diane girded herself for a long day. Several faculty of Bartrum University were coming to claim offices in the museum. Her watch said it was only 9:15. She could get about thirty minutes of paperwork done while it was still relatively quiet. She met Andie in the hall on the way to her office, notebook and pen in hand.

  “Great party, huh?” said Andie.

  “Not bad. Most everyone seemed pleased with what they’re paying for. When did you get to bed?” Diane unlocked the door to her office and Andie followed her in and sat down in front of her desk.

  “Didn’t. Some of us went out. We were all dressed up and didn’t want to waste it.”

  Diane sighed. Gone were the days when she could stay up all night and not feel like she had a hangover the next morning. “Donald put the wrong plants in the exhibit.”

  “I know. He said you need to learn how to save money. I didn’t want to tell you until after the party.”

  “And he wonders why I don’t appoint him assistant director. Any other stuff you were waiting to tell me?”

  “Yes. The rock woman and the bug guy are complaining that their offices are too small.”

  “The geologist and the entomologist?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Rocks and bugs.”

  “Their offices are off their respective exhibit rooms. I don’t think we can rearrange everything to suit them. Besides, they have offices on campus. They can make do.”

  “I think they’re just bugged because the collection managers have larger offices.”

  Diane rolled her eyes. “Anyone else?”

  “The archaeologist wants to put in an exhibit on ancient Egypt.”

  “What? She’s not even an Egyptologist.”

  “Not she-he,” said Andie. “She got a job at some university out of state. The archaeology department offered the museum appointment to one of their emeritus faculty members.”

  “Jonas Briggs?”

  “That’s right. Real sweet guy.”

  “Look, we aren’t adding many cultural items yet. We only have exhibits of the Paleo-Indian because of his interaction with megafauna. We’ll have to ask them to appoint someone else.”

  “He really is a nice guy. He knows a lot about Paleo-Indians too. And he’s been telling me some really cool stuff about ape archaeology.”

  “Ape archaeology?”

  “Yeah, it’s interesting. These archaeologists are excavating sites where apes have lived for centuries.”

  “Finding anything?”

  “Tools.”

  “Tools? Is this a joke?”

  “No, really, he showed me the article in Scientific American. It would make a great exhibit.”

  Diane shook her head. “I’ll talk with him. In the meantime, I don’t want to see any requisition forms for mummies.”

  “Got it.”

  “Next.”

  “The exobiologist wants to know if he can put a sunroof in the attic for his telescope.”

  Diane stared at Andie openmouthed. “You mean that the biologist the
y sent us is-”

  Andie held up her hands. “Just kidding. A little bit of X-Files humor.”

  “After the Egyptologist, I thought you were serious. Is that everything?”

  “So far.”

  “Good. If those are all our problems, we’re very lucky. I think we can have this place ready for the general public in a couple of weeks. Let me know when the workmen arrive to move the rest of the paleo exhibits. And if you see Donald, tell him I want to see him-immediately.”

  “Oh, this arrived for you a minute ago.” Andie read the label. “It’s from Frank Duncan.”

  “This must be the bone.”

  “Bone? I thought you weren’t. .”

  “So did I.”

  “You know, we have room to set you up a lab.”

  “No,” Diane snapped. “This is the last one.”

  Chapter 8

  Diane sat in her office and rolled the bone in her hand, feeling its rough surface with her sensitive fingers. Only four inches of broken bone, yet it was a body. If the bone had any distinguishing mark and she had an identical X ray, it could provide an identity. She took the photographs from the envelope and went over the measurements again.

  Nothing had changed. The bone appeared to be male, but it certainly didn’t have to be. Some females are quite large and very strong. Whoever it was was also young. The young shouldn’t die.

  Diane closed her eyes for a moment. The image of dirt-covered, tangled bones standing out in relief flickered before her. Dirty little ragged dresses, tiny shoes, broken bones and skulls with bullet holes, all shoved together in one mass grave. Wickedness still caught her by surprise, even though she had looked upon its work so many times.

  She opened her eyes and reached for the telephone. She had to call information to get the number, and spell the name several times, but she finally reached Ranjan Patel.

  “Ran, this is Diane Fallon.”

  “Diane Fallon, yes. Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a favor that I hope you can do.”