Surprisingly, for all the revelations of the morning, Jane had managed to get a lot of information entered and reported her progress. 'But do you have any idea how many thousands of individual 'things' the museum has?' Jane asked. 'If it's just Shelley and me, it'll take us months and months to even start making a dent.”
Sharlene nodded. 'Next week we'll have lots more help. When school starts, more volunteers will come on. At least they've said they will.”
They fell into a discussion of volunteer work in general and the difficulties institutions were having now that so many women, even those with young children, were joining the work force. Shelley fidgeted, anxious to get to the object of this luncheon. Sharlene finally gave her an opening.
“. . and in the summer, a lot of teachers help us out. And often take on a year-round role when they retire.'
“Babs McDonald was a teacher, wasn't she?' Shelley asked.
“Yes, a college history professor,' Sharlene said. 'She even wrote a couple of textbooks. But I don't think she ever considered teaching as a full-time job. She didn't have to. She comes from a lot of money, I hear, and the research and writing were her main interests. At least that's the impression I've always had.'
“She's a remarkable woman,' Jane said. 'Is she married?' Shelley asked.
“No. Widowed. A long, long time ago. It's a tragic story.'
“Oh?' Jane said encouragingly.
The waiter brought their salads and Jane was afraid the food might steer the conversation away from Babs, but after tasting and raving about the salad, Sharlene returned to the subject without any prodding. 'She was married during World War Two. A whirlwind courtship, I imagine, with her young man going off to war. Anyway, they were married only three days or sowhen he left. And he was gone for a whole year. When he came home on leave for a couple days, some friends of theirs threw a big party for them. Sort of a delayed wedding shower, I think. And on the way home their car went off the road and her husband was killed. Babs was pretty badly hurt, too.'
“How horrible!' Jane said, thinking this didn't at all match Derek's version. 'Was that her only marriage?' Maybe it was another husband he'd referred to.
“Oh, yes. She must have loved him so much she could never love another man,' Sharlene said, her enormous blue eyes misting romantically.
They ate in respectful silence for a few minutes before Shelley asked, 'How do you know about this? Did Babs tell you herself?'
“Oh, no! I'd never ask her about anything so personal and painful. She never mentions her husband. No, I found an article about it when I was cataloging some of our old newspapers a couple years ago. I made a copy of it, just because it had to do with someone associated with the museum, but I never said anything to her about it.”
Their lunch arrived with a flourish. Lasagna for Shelley, eggplant parmigiana for Jane, and fettuccine Alfredo for Sharlene. They concentrated on eating for a while, until Shelley said with elaborate casualness, 'I wonder if anyone else at the museum knows.'
“Knows what?' Sharlene asked, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread.
“About Babs's marriage.”
Sharlene considered. 'Miss Daisy knew — she was friends with Babs since they were girls — and so I imagine Ms. Palmer knew. She was close to both of them. And probably Tom, just because he knows everything.'
“What about the others?' Jane asked. 'Like Derek Delano?'
“Oh, I don't think so. How would he? Babs was never very friendly toward him. She surely wouldn't have talked about it to him. And I don't think anybody else would.'
“And Georgia?'
“Oh. I see. Yes, Georgia would know, I guess. She was Miss Daisy's niece and would have heard.”
So that was how Derek had learned the information, Jane thought. But why did his version have Babs 'murdering' her husband when it was simply a car wreck?
“Why are you asking about all this?' Sharlene was suddenly wary.
“No reason,' Shelley replied. 'It's just such a moving story. .' She paused, took in Sharlene's skeptical look, and glanced at Jane, who nodded. 'That's not true,' Shelley said. 'Jane overheard an argument between Jumper — Tom, rather — and Derek this morning. Derek made a nasty crack about Babs and said she murdered her husband.”
Sharlene was horrified. 'No! What a terrible, terrible thing to say!'
“He was very angry,' Jane explained. 'Jumper had told him that he wouldn't supporthis appointment as permanent director, and Derek was just flinging insults left and right.”
Sharlene's pretty face was flushed. 'That makes me so mad!'
“I'm sorry we upset you,' Jane said. 'But you obviously didn't believe why we were asking questions. Still, look at it this way — Derek has probably ruined any chance he might have had of staying on at the Snellen. It was an ugly thing to say, but it almost certainly means he's not going to be your boss for much longer.”
The redness in Sharlene's face faded somewhat and she smiled. 'Thank you, Jane. For telling me the truth and for making me feel better. I'm sure Tom won't let him be director. Tom thinks the world of Babs. I guess nasty things sometimes happen for good reasons, don't they?'
“Sometimes,' Jane agreed. Then she said to Shelley, 'Are you going to let the rest of the cats out of the bag?'
“Georgia, you mean?'
“What about Georgia?' Sharlene asked.
“Derek said something about Georgia, too,' Jane told her. 'About how she cheated on the fund-raising money and kept some of it herself. Do you suppose that's true?”
Sharlene looked down at her lunch for a long minute, then sighed. 'I shouldn't talk about this, but I think everybody already knows. Including the police. Yes, Georgia often seems to turn in less money than is actually raised. I take minutes, you know, for the board meetings, and I've heard the rest of them question her about her figures. And I've taken enough accounting courses myself to see that she's probably skimming.'
“The whole board knows this?'
“Knows? I'd say suspects strongly. Georgia's not stupid, you understand. Caspar is, but Georgia isn't.'
“And they let her stay on the board?' Shelley was shocked to the core.
Sharlene nodded. 'For a couple reasons. For one thing, she doesn't seem to keep much. Not enough for the risk she's taking. It seems to be a game or something. Just to feel that she's putting something over on them, maybe. I don't know.'
“It would probably cost them more to prosecute her than she's taken, then?' Shelley asked.
“I imagine so. And until Miss Daisy died, nobody wanted to embarrass her by throwing Georgia off the board. Miss Daisy knew Caspar and Georgia were both crooks and all, but that would have made it public.'
“Still—' Shelley said.
“The thing is, Georgia is good at fund-raising,' Sharlene explained. 'Very, very good. She knows lots of people with lots of money to give away. Before Miss Daisy's bequest, the museum might have gone broke without Georgia. Miss Daisy wouldn't have let it really happen, of course, but she'd have been awfully disappointed in all of us. So the board is grateful to Georgia, see?'
“But they have plenty of money now,' Jane said.
“Yes. That's true.' Sharlene thought for a long minute, then said, hesitantly, 'I guess you might as well know — there was supposed to be a regular board meeting the week after the Pea Festival closed. I typed up the agenda. One of the items Ms. Palmer had on it was 'Replacement of board member.' I didn't ask, of course, but I assumed that meant Georgia. Of course, Ms. Palmer died, and now all the normal business is sort of on hold and they're only having emergency meetings to cope with it.'
“This agenda you typed up,' Shelley said. 'Had everyone on the board seen it?'
“Oh, yes. The bylaws require that I send it to everyone a week before the meeting.'
“So Georgia must have also suspected that Regina wanted her out?' Jane said.
“Yes, I imagine—' Sharlene stopped and her eyes got very wide. 'You don't think Georgia shot Ms. Palmer —?'
“Sharlene, somebody did,' Shelley said.
