Dead Hunt

in a board meeting. It’s likely to last a while, but she

will return your call.’’

There was another pause and Diane could hear the

DA’s voice but not his words. Just as well, she thought. ‘‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t pass a note to her. That

would disturb the meeting and I can’t do that. She

will call. I prom— He hung up on me,’’ she said, holding the receiver out for all to see.

‘‘Andie, ask Kendel to come to my office,’’ said

Diane.

‘‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you,’’ said

Kingsley. ‘‘I’ll be glad to wait until after your meeting.’’ He grinned at her, rubbing his shoulder. ‘‘But

can you give me a hint about what Clymene wanted?’’ Diane had started into her office, but she turned to he wants me to jerk him. ‘‘Clymene is afraid that one of her guards has married someone like herself.’’ Diane turned to her

office without looking back.

‘‘Okay, now, you can’t drop a bomb like that and

leave,’’ he shouted after her.

Diane was already in her office and closing her

door. She turned off the water fountain on her desk.

Normally she liked the sound of the water running

over the stones, but today it was annoying. She should

have gotten a jump start on this situation when she

read the first article. But she had been knee-deep in

other things and Kendel had assured her there was

nothing to it.

After a moment Kendel opened the rear door to

Diane’s office and quietly slipped in. She was dressed

in a navy pinstriped suit and a pink shirt. Her brown

hair, usually in some kind of twist, was down, just

touching her shoulders. Her eyes were red and she

looked tired. Her usual countenance, the tough-asbrass assistant director, was absent. Kendel was

scared. Diane motioned for her to sit down. ‘‘Diane, I know I told you the other day that this

was nothing—’’

The phone rang and Diane picked it up. ‘‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’’ said Andie. ‘‘It’s the

Journal-Constitution. Do you want to speak with

them?’’

‘‘Thank you, Andie. Put them through.’’

She waited on the phone, frowning. This was just

the beginning. Kendel sat staring at the photograph of

Diane hanging suspended from a rope inside a dark

cavern. Diane wondered if that was how Kendel felt,

like someone dangling at the end of a rope. ‘‘Diane Fallon?’’ said the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘‘I’m Shell Sidney from the Atlanta

Journal-Constitution.’’

Diane wondered if the reporter’s name was really

Sidney Shell and she had reversed it in order to have

more gravitas.

‘‘I’ve been trying to reach you in regard to the stolen antiquities.’’

‘‘Stolen antiquities?’’ said Diane.

The reporter hesitated a beat. ‘‘The stolen antiquities that have been in the news. One of your own

board members stated that Miss Williams, the—ah—