One Grave Less (43 page)

“Neva, you are an artist,” Diane said, still staring at the mammoth.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you ever do drawings of Mike?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? All the time. I’m working on a series from the cave photographs we have. You know that one where we just came out of that cave and we were so tired, he’d taken his shirt off and was taking a drink of water? I’m doing a painting of it. I think it’s going to be one of my best.”

Neva took her cell phone off the loop of her belt and called up her photos. “Here is a head study I did of him.”

Neva handed it to Diane and she and Gregory looked at the pencil drawing of Mike’s face. She had caught him well, the planes and angles of his handsome face, the intense expression he often had, but with a spark of humor that you could see mostly in his eyes.

“My dear, you are quite good. Do you do commissions?” Gregory said.

“Whenever I can get them,” said Neva.

“I have this favorite photograph of Marguerite that I’d love for you to do.”

Neva nodded and grinned. “Sure.”

“Neva,” said Diane, “would Madge draw someone she was in love with, even if it was unrequited?”

Neva’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, she would, she sure would. I would. I do. Damn, I didn’t think of that. She should have lots of drawings of him, if there is a him. If you like to draw, and she did, you just can’t help yourself.”

“Could you recognize drawings of someone that the artist was in love with as opposed to, say, a commission she may have been doing?” asked Diane.

“That’s a good question. Hmmm. At my house it would be the sheer quantity of drawings of Mike. Except that I also have lots of Jin, David, you, Andie. I like to draw. And that’s an element too. You fall in love with whatever you’re working on at the moment. But can you tell if it is someone you’re in love with? I don’t know. What did you see in that photograph of the drawing I did of Mike?”

“I saw Mike,” said Diane. “Him and his personality. I saw who he is. Maybe that’s it.” Diane shrugged and looked at Gregory.

“I was reminded of this photograph I love of my wife. Not that she looks like this bloke, Mike, but I suppose I must have seen the love. Interesting. I’ll have to go back and look at my Vermeers with that in mind. It puts art in a whole new perspective.”

“Neva, if I call Vanessa and the two of you can get access to Madge’s home and her workspace,” said Diane, “can you go through her drawings and paintings and see if there is someone who was special to her? It may be a person of interest we need to talk to.”

Andie caught Diane midstride as she was leaving the Pleistocene Room heading for the basement.

“There’s a storm coming,” said Andie.

“Looks like it,” said Diane. “The wind is really whipping the trees back and forth out there.”

For the middle of the day, it was looking dark.

“You look a little anxious,” said Diane. “Is everything all right?”

“I just wanted to run some things by you,” said Andie.

“All right,” said Diane. She led Andie to one of the benches and they sat down.

“We’ve been having some cancellations because of the weather forecast—a lot of them,” said Andie. “Some are rescheduling for later, like next month, but some aren’t.”

“Cancellations in bad weather are expected. We’ve had them before,” said Diane.

Andie nodded. “I know. It’s just . . . cancellations on my watch are a little scary. And some of the staff—not many, but a few—wanted to know if they could bring their families and sleeping bags and sleep in the basement tonight if the weather turns really bad. It’s a little unusual, I know, but I told them they could. I was thinking they can set up in that big room that’s finished but not decorated. The bathrooms nearby are finished, and that seems like a good camping place.” Andie stopped and took a breath. “Is that all right? I mean, in an emergency? But then I got to thinking about insurance, and now I’m not so sure. But then, I can’t turn people away.”

“I think, for a few people who have nowhere else to go, that’s fine. You’re right. We can’t turn our staff and their families away in an emergency. Is the weather supposed to get that bad? I haven’t been listening to the news.”

“You know how weather reports are. They like drama. But all week we are supposed to have lots of rain, lightning, tree-uprooting wind, and possible tornados,” said Andie. “Then again, maybe it’s just drama.”

Diane raised her brow. “I didn’t know. By all means, they need a place to come. The basement is a good idea. We’ll need to try to control the level of kid activity.”

“I sent Ami to the museum store for some games and toys. I thought it would be a good idea to have something to do. We can lock all the exhibit rooms, of course,” said Andie.

“Sounds like you have things under control,” said Diane. “You are in charge, remember.”

“Yeah, of the museum, but you are still the primate curator,” she said.

Diane frowned. “Is there an issue with the primate exhibit?”

“Sort of . . . ,” she said.

“Is Kendel back yet?” asked Diane.

“That’s the thing. Kendel is still in Mexico. She thinks she can get them to go ahead and loan us the Mayan exhibit. But the price is, they want a loan of our”—Andie made a face—“our primate exhibit—the new resin figures in their habitats. Kendel said she wouldn’t normally think of it, but it would go a long way toward fixing the little PR blip we suffered. And it will look really good in their advertising to see ‘Mexico Special Primate Exhibit On Loan From RiverTrail. ’ Lots of coverage. Their museum is way bigger than ours and has more visitors from all over the world.”

Diane nodded. “It’s a good point. All right. We need to have something to replace it with that’s a little different. I’ll work on an idea and we’ll get the planners on it.” She smiled at Andie. “How do you like being director?”

“How do you know if you’re making the right decisions?” said Andie.

“Sometimes you don’t,” said Diane. “You make the best decision with what you know, keeping the goals of the museum in mind. And always keeping in mind the possible consequences of your decisions.” Diane smiled. “Sometimes you just call it like you see it.”

“It’s those consequences that are the little devils,” said Andie.

“You’re doing fine,” Diane said.

“Are you all right?” asked Andie. “A lot’s happened to you.”

“Pretty good, considering,” Diane said. “Liam was terrific.”

Andie grinned. “I was scared to death when he told me to get to the police station and tell them to go check on Frank’s house and he was going back to help you out. I had no idea how in the world he got all that information out of that short interaction on the steps. I just thought you were stressed out about the Mayan exhibit and the rumors and stuff, and I thought some big hefty-looking security guards were a good thing.”

“Obviously Liam is very experienced and a good detective. I was in serious trouble. I’m very appreciative of his help, and yours,” said Diane. “You are doing a great job, Andie. Hopefully this mess I fell into will be resolved soon. And if you would like to stay in the museum tonight, you know the couch in my office makes into a bed.”

“Thanks. What about you?” said Andie.

“I’ve got one of the new mini bedrooms in the basement near the media-meeting room,” she said. “It’s all very nice.”

Andie stood. “Thanks. I’ve been terrified I’ll screw up the museum,” she said.

“That would really be hard to do, so don’t worry,” she said.

Andie went back to the office and Diane started for the stairs to go down to the basement with the others. She looked up and saw Lynn Webber, the medical examiner, walking through the front doors dragging a huge canvas case behind her, her patent-leather heels clicking on the granite floors.

“Lynn?” said Diane.

“I hope you don’t mind. You’ve seen my little apartment, all that glass, and high up near lots of trees. Can I stay here until the storms pass?” she asked.

“We have some mini bedrooms in the basement . . . ,” began Diane.

“Got it covered,” said Lynn. “This is my get-the-hell-out-of-Dodge bag. My family think I’m nuts to have gotten something like this, especially when I told them how much it cost. Every time I talk with my brother or my dad, they say, ‘Well, have you used that get-outta-town white elephant yet?’ Well, this is my chance. We are in for some seriously bad weather and I can’t stay in my apartment. I’ll pitch my tent in your basement, if that’s all right.”

“Tent? Right. I forgot, it comes with a tent and a sleeping bag,” said Diane.

“You have one?” said Lynn. Her face erupted into a wide grin.

“No, but David is a real fan. He gave Star a Get Home backpack to keep in her car,” said Diane.

“I have one of those too. I just love stuff like that. Well, I’ve got everything I need, including my e-book. I’m set. All I need is to borrow some trees from one of your displays . . .”

Diane looked at her in horror.

Lynn laughed and laid a hand on her arm. “I’m joking. If you could see your face.”

Diane smiled. “We have a large room in the basement that is finished but empty. There are restrooms nearby. But be forewarned, some of the staff will be joining you with their sleeping bags . . .”

“Then I’d better go pick me out some prime real estate,” said Lynn.

Somehow Diane couldn’t imagine Lynn roughing it in any way, even if the tent was on a polished granite floor with a bathroom ten feet away.

Diane smiled again. “I’m on my way down to the basement. I’ll show you where the room is.”

They got on the elevator with the giant canvas bag that was at least four feet long.

“How are you going to pitch the tent?” asked Diane.

“I don’t need a tie down and it has its own support structure. I think it will do just fine,” Lynn said.

And I thought David was strange
, thought Diane.

“I had an idea about Madge Stewart,” said Diane. She explained her thinking about Madge’s art—that she might have made drawings of a man she was interested in.

“What a brilliant idea,” Lynn said. “I’m sure she did just that. Let me know.”

Diane knew Lynn wanted to be right about the romantic angle and Madge’s death—she had a feeling she was.

“I’ll let you know. Neva is checking it out now,” said Diane.

“How about your other problems, those terrible rumors?” said Lynn.

Diane looked over at her and realized she didn’t know about last night’s drama. She related as briefly as one could about Frank’s house being under siege and her being kidnapped by the Terminator and taken to the museum to be rescued by her assistant’s boyfriend.

Lynn stood gaping at her.

“You think that’s something. I had an argument with my new neighbor over his cat,” Lynn said finally.

The elevator doors opened and Lynn stepped out. Diane led the way to the huge room.

“We are making progress with the rumor mill,” said Diane, “but we’ve got a lot of gaps to fill in.”

Diane opened the doors to what looked like a ballroom. They hadn’t decided what exactly to do with it. A ballroom was one option. It would be great for fundraiser functions. It also would be a good area for a series of storage vaults, an idea that Diane liked. That was the thing about having such a large building—lots of options for what to do with the space. Right now it was a big empty room with very hard floors.

“If you change your mind, we have these really cute bedrooms,” said Diane. “Each has a soft bed, a chair and desk, and nightstands.”

“This will be fine,” said Lynn.

Diane left Lynn to set up camp and walked back to the meeting room where she had left Frank and the others. He and David stood when she entered. Frank smiled at her and it actually made her heart ache. She smiled back and fought off tears.

Stop it, Diane
, she thought.
Break down when this is over
.

“Izzy and Garnett went over to Colin Prehoda’s,” said David. “Someone ransacked his office and his home in the same manner your old apartment was tossed.”

“Looking for that package,” said Diane.

“Presumably,” said David. “On an optimistic note . . .” He handed her several photographs. “Supersoldier’s clothes yielded a lot of trace fibers. You’re looking at copper nanofibers from his socks. They’re pretty diagnostic, so if we can find a match at any of the crime scenes, we’re good.”

Diane examined the microscopic image that looked like tangled string.

“They aren’t that unusual,” she said. “I have several pair I use when I’m caving.”

“Ah, but yours are of a different color. These are from a batch made especially for the military,” said David. “They have their own palette of colors—Desert Dune, Combat Black, among other nifty names.”

“Military? Stolen, you think?” said Diane.

“It’s what I’m thinking. I’ve got a call in. The next photographs are the most interesting.”

Diane studied the next set of photographs of microscope images of what looked like honeycomb structures. She cocked an eyebrow at David.

“What am I looking at? I’m not familiar with this kind of fiber.”

“Cutting-edge stuff,” said David. “These boys have been shopping at high-tech places. These”—he pointed at the photographs—“are nanofibers that have been produced through the combination of polyurethane and high voltage. The result is a fabric that can trap toxic chemicals. Cool, huh? The company uses the fabric to make suits that protect from hazardous materials. Or at least, that is what they intend. It’s still in the experimental and testing stage. And I haven’t even begun to tell you about the lightweight Kevlar body armor he had on. These guys somehow got access to some high-powered military closet. It wouldn’t surprise me if some Men in Black arrived at the museum and demanded all the evidence.”