some way. Plus, he seems to lack good judg ment. I’d at least have a look at his ankle and thumb.’’
Frank insisted on taking Diane to the emergency room when they finished. She didn’t argue, saving her words for when the real argument would come later. They waited an hour in the emergency room. It took another two hours for the tests that told her she was fine, just banged up.
She was standing outside waiting for Frank to drive around with the car when Shane Eastling, the ME, walked up to the door and started to enter. He stopped when he saw Diane. A shock of brown hair blew over his freckled face. He didn’t shove it out of the way. She thought he was going to give her the kind of sym pathetic comments she had gotten from everyone who saw her face—especially now that she looked even worse. He didn’t.
‘‘I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me how to do my job,’’ he said. ‘‘And I don’t intend to do yours for you.’’
‘‘What on earth are you talking about?’’ she asked. ‘‘The watch that was on backward or upside down, or whatever. That Warrick woman was all over me about it and was questioning me about anything else I didn’t put in my report. I autopsy bodies. If you can’t do your little observations at the crime scene, don’t ask me to do them for you. Who in the hell do you think you are?’’
‘‘For one thing, I’m the person who was
‘‘What?’’ Eastling looked annoyed and puzzled. ‘‘No. Why would you ask that?’’
‘‘You recommended Dr. Jeffcote-Smith to him,’’ she said.
‘‘No,’’ he said slowly as if to a child. ‘‘It’s she I went to school with once upon a time. Bryce mentioned he was looking for a good forensic anthropologist. I immediately thought of Jennifer.’’
‘‘Look, Dr. Eastling, from here on out our paths are going to cross, and there will be times when we will have to work together. I would like to be able to do that as civilly as possible. If I have offended you, then I apologize. It was certainly not my intention.’’
He looked at her for a moment as if surprised. ‘‘As long as you understand what your job is, I don’t see why we can’t get along,’’ he said.
‘‘Good,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Let me ask you, did you know any of the mayor’s friends?’’ she asked. ‘‘They were all very well educated.’’
‘‘Were they? I went to Cal State as an undergradu ate and Chicago for med school. Where did they go?’’ He smirked as if expecting her to say Podunk U. Maybe he didn’t know them.
‘‘University of Pennsylvania, Wharton School of Business,’’ she said.
His smirk faded. ‘‘Really? What the hell were they doing being policemen here? Did they flunk out?’’
‘‘No, they did quite well. I was hoping you knew them and could answer that question—what were they doing here? Puzzling isn’t it?’’ she said.
‘‘It is,’’ he said. ‘‘Bryce go to school there too?’’
‘‘Bryce had the best grades of all of them,’’ she said.
‘‘I wouldn’t have thought that,’’ he said.
‘‘Probably because he was working outside of his discipline,’’ said Diane.
Eastling shook his head and thought for a minute as if processing the new information.
‘‘Can’t help you with any of them.’’
He brushed past her and went on in.
She watched him through the glass doors and saw him meet Jennifer Jeffcote-Smith, who must have been there ahead of him. They stood for a moment talking. It became clear to her now, he was smitten with Jenni fer. From the body language, Diane wasn’t sure if it was reciprocated. That’s why he found her a job here. And possibly why he was so pissed with Diane. She had spoiled all his plans by being the rightful occupant of the osteology lab. They headed toward the cafeteria. An odd place for an assignation, but probably a safe one. Who would suspect a hospital cafeteria as the site for a romantic rendezvous?
Frank drove up and Diane got in the car. She was not looking forward to the ride home. Frank was very slow to anger, but she sensed she had crossed his threshold.
Chapter 38
They drove back home in silence. Diane dozed along the way and awoke with a start when the car stopped, realizing that her own vehicle was still parked at the museum.
Frank built a fire while Diane took a shower and put on a warm nightgown and robe. She sat on a sofa and watched the flames dancing in the fireplace. Occa sionally the wood popped and tiny sparks flew onto the rock hearth. She smelled the hot chocolate Frank was making—one of his ultimate comfort foods for cold nights of fighting crime and maniacs. He’d made it for her more than once.
Frank came from the kitchen with two cups and gave her one. He sat down on the sofa opposite hers.
‘‘How are you feeling?’’ he asked.
His voice always made him sound even tempered. It was one of the things Diane admired about him, but now she found it a bit annoying.
‘‘Physically, I feel fine. I’m a little weary of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know you’re angry with me.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ he said, ‘‘I am. Why did you go running out after that guy? Why did you offer to exchange yourself for the hostage? You should never do that. Why didn’t you just wait for the police to arrive? You have no training in that kind of physical police work.’’ His voice wasn’t as calm now. He set his cup down without taking a drink.
‘‘I thought I could handle the situation,’’ said Diane.
She jumped as a lightbulb blew out in the table lamp beside the sofa, plunging them into a darkness broken only by the firelight. Frank got up and turned on the overhead chandelier. Before he sat down again, he got a bulb from the closet in the hall. Diane watched him unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new one, an act that strangely tickled her brain and oddly re minded her of the loose rock in her desk fountain. Frank laid the old bulb on the table, turned off the chandelier, and sat back down.
As Diane watched him, she realized that was an other idiosyncrasy she had always liked in Frank. He took
