‘‘What kind of fossils are they?’’ said Andie.
‘‘Fossilized excrement,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Oooew,’’ said Andie. ‘‘It must have been a prank, like the guy last month who wanted to sell us the carved baculum coffee stirrers.’’
‘‘Quite possibly.’’ She smiled at Andie. ‘‘I’ll be in my office. You can field all the scatological inquiries,’’ she said.
Diane sat down behind her desk and went through the messages. Andie was right. Nothing urgent. Most were from various vendors. Diane sorted through her messages and put most of them aside. She picked up the phone and called Vanessa, who had just returned from a family reunion in Ohio.
‘‘How was your trip?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Lovely, interesting, and a bit tiring. Never seen so many really old people in one place,’’ she said, laugh ing. ‘‘You know it’s going to be either terribly interest ing or terribly boring when your doctors want to come along to your family reunion.’’
Vanessa’s family was long-lived and the object of study for the Center for Research on Aging. Her grand mother had recently died at 114 years old. Her mother was approaching a hundred, and several other mem bers of her family were centenarians. Diane imagined the whole family together was too much of a tempta tion for the researchers to resist.
‘‘I imagine they reveled in the data,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Oh, yes. Mother has a cousin who just turned a hundred and three, and of course my father’s side has several over a hundred.’’
‘‘Your father’s side? I don’t think side was long-lived too. Coincidence Diane asked, smiling into the phone.
‘‘That is one of your science fiction allusions, isn’t it? Heinlein,’’ said Vanessa.
‘‘I didn’t know you were so well versed in science fiction,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I’m not. I think it’s dreadful, but I have a cousin who kept going on about
‘‘One of my favorite books,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I can see how it appealed to your cousin.’’ Diane paused a moment, absently fingering the summons on her desk. ‘‘Andie said she told you about the Nean derthal.’’
‘‘Indeed she did, and I am elated. Have you seen the bones yet?’’ she asked. ‘‘Are they nice ones?’’
‘‘Kendel says they are,’’ said Diane. ‘‘She’s deliv ering them herself.’’
‘‘Let me know the minute they arrive,’’ said Vanessa.
‘‘And I’ve filed notice for the crime lab to move out of the museum,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You’ve been busy. I’m glad we are reclaiming the space. I liked the crime lab; it was fascinating, but it’s just not the same without you in charge,’’ Vanessa said.
I realized that or arranged?’’
Diane took a breath. ‘‘I suppose you’ve heard the news in Rosewood,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I heard that the mayor and chief of police have been murdered. I must say, I’m shocked. I didn’t like Jefferies, but to be murdered in your own home, that’s a frightening thought. And this just a month after Judge McNevin. What is happening to my town?’’ said Vanessa.
‘‘I don’t know.’’ Diane filled her in on the meeting with the mayor before the murders, including the fact that he wanted to have her replaced as director of the museum.
‘‘What? How on earth did he plan to manage that?’’ asked Vanessa.
‘‘I don’t have any idea. I think they were just talking through their hats,’’ said Diane.
She told Vanessa about the debacle with the new forensic anthropologist and about the subpoena. As she spoke she heard a commotion in Andie’s office. It sounded like someone was pushing their way in.
‘‘I need to go. There’s apparently someone insistent on seeing me. Let’s have lunch at the museum this week and talk about the primate exhibit.’’ Diane fin ished the call with Vanessa and went into Andie’s office.
A middle-aged woman wearing a flowered dress stood in front of Andie’s desk. She had dyed blond hair with gray roots and carried about fifty extra pounds evenly distributed over her body. She had a large black purse hanging on one arm and two-inch black heels that looked to be too small for her feet.
‘‘I need to see her. I’ve been calling all day. Now, let me see her. I’m not leaving ’til I do.’’
‘‘Is there a problem, Andie?’’ asked Diane.
The woman turned toward Diane. ‘‘You’re Dr. Fal lon. I recognize you. I need to talk to you. I’ve been everywhere else. Please just give me a minute.’’
‘‘This is Mrs. Donovan,’’ said Andie. ‘‘Her son has been arrested for killing Judge McNevin.’’
‘‘Why do you need to see me?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘I’m the museum director.’’
‘‘Everybody knows you’re more than that,’’ she said.
Mrs. Donovan’s face was haggard and worn, wrin kled before her time, but she had beautiful blue eyes that now beseeched Diane.
‘‘Come in. I’ll give you a few minutes,’’ said Diane. She stood aside and gestured to her office.
‘‘Thank you,’’ she said and walked past Andie’s desk and into the office.
