the figure representing Louise had moved, trying to get out of bed and away.
“Louise fell, probably unconscious, and he swung the bat again. Here’s the castoff going up the wall and across the ceiling. This time he hit George again, fracturing his forehead and nose. He swung again, crushing his cheek-bone. Notice these two points of origin are close together and nearer to the pillow of the bed.
“The last thing the intruder did was shoot Louise in the head where he had struck her. She was probably moaning or was attempting to rise. After that, he left.”
“Warrick’s thinking that because there were two forms of attack, then there were two people involved-Star and her boyfriend,” said Frank.
“It’s possible there were two people involved, but I think this is a reasonable scenario that fits the evidence.”
Frank sat back and looked at the storyboard. “Why was Jay outside?”
“That’s the key. He didn’t have alcohol in his system. He didn’t show signs he had been anywhere. He might have just left the house on his way to meet someone. If he were meeting friends, perhaps you can find them.”
“I’ve talked to his friends of record. Jay was a busy kid-soccer, Boy Scouts. He didn’t have much time to get into trouble or have secret friends.”
“Kids that age are good at keeping parts of their lives secret. But someone out there knows. Perhaps Star does.”
“Star? You think he was meeting her? That wouldn’t look good for her,” said Frank.
“Ask her. He might not have been meeting her, but if he was doing things his parents didn’t know, he may have confided in her.”
“It’s hard to get her to talk to me.”
“Get her lawyer to talk to her. Keep in mind too that the intruder did not break in. Warrick thinks that fact points to Star. However, Jay could have inadvertently let the killer in. It could be someone Jay knew and trusted.”
Frank looked back at the storyboard and photographs of the trajectory lines. “You’re pretty sure about this analysis?”
Diane stood up and stretched. “The math, yes. Any explanation will have to fit that geometry.”
“That’s interesting about the silencer. Warrick doesn’t know that.”
“Maybe that’s one thing she’s keeping back. I would have thought she’d have collected the plastic.”
“Izzy would know.”
“Would he have told you?”
“Of course.”
“Is he one of your poker buddies?”
“And fishing.”
Diane looked at her watch-7:42. It was getting to be dusk outside. Time to go home. Lack of rest was catching up with her. She looked at Frank.
“Would you like some coffee at my place?” she asked.
Frank’s face brightened. “Sure. You don’t make it like Vance does, but that’d be great.” He grinned as she made a face at him.
“Let me check my E-mail. By the way, any prints on that letter or the invoice to the Bickford for the dinosaur exhibits?” Diane went to her computer and called up her Internet connection.
“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you. No prints.”
“Not even mine?”
“No, none.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Shouldn’t there have at least been mine?”
She had several messages. One from the archaeologist Jonas Briggs. One line: Pawn to king three. She E- mailed back: Pawn to queen four.
“I would have expected it; however, it doesn’t necessarily mean the letter was wiped clean.”
The next E-mail was from Laura, her psychiatrist friend and friendly board member. It was about Melissa and the bruises Diane saw at the museum party. Laura had talked to Melissa’s parents-discreetly, she said. They told her Melissa was always getting bruises, ever since she was a kid. That didn’t sound particularly good to Diane, but Laura knew her friends and she was a psychiatrist.
Her other E-mails were from department heads and the newly arrived faculty-curators-the botanist thanking her for his lab and office space. She E-mailed him back, but decided to wait until tomorrow on the others.
Diane’s apartment was sparse. She’d directed all her energy into the museum and hadn’t spent any time decorating it. The beige carpet throughout came with the apartment. She’d purchased a large burgundy-and-gray striped stuffed sofa that converted into a bed. She hadn’t even tried to find one that went with the carpet. Instead, she bought an Oriental rug to go in front of the sofa and pretended the carpet under it wasn’t there. In front of the sofa she had a cherry wood coffee table. The only other pieces of living room furniture were a black leather stuffed chair and a stereo. Not an elegant room, but one her mother would have said had potential.
Diane headed for the kitchen to make coffee. Frank followed and began stuffing her refrigerator with Italian food.
“It’ll just spoil in mine,” he said. “And I’ll have to clean it out, and I hate cleaning out the refrigerator.”
She filled the coffeemaker with water and turned around into Frank’s arms. She had forgotten what a good kisser he was.
Chapter 19
“I missed you,” said Frank. “I should have mailed you all those letters I wrote. I should have come to find you in the jungle.”
Diane looked into his eyes; they were more blue than green at the moment. “It’s good to be back. It’s good to be standing right here, right now,” she said and kissed him again.
“Can I stay the night?” he whispered against her ear.
“I told myself if we ever got together again, I was going to go slower this time,” said Diane. “Go places with you, get to know you. .”
“So can I stay the night?”
She giggled as the kitchen filled with the aroma of coffee. How long had it been since she actually giggled?
“What the hell? Maybe we’ll get tired of each other-then we can go on dates and get to know each other.”
“I can tell you my deepest, darkest secret right now-you know that and you’d know the worst about me.” He rubbed her back under her shirt and his touch both chilled and warmed her skin.
“What’s that? What’s the worst thing to know about you?”
He pulled her closer and nuzzled her ear. “I know how to play the accordion.”
Diane pulled back and looked him in the eye. “No, you’re kidding. That’s not true.”
“It is.” He put his forehead against hers.
“I’m not sure I can handle that,” she said. “What if some evening I find you playing a polka under my window?”
“You don’t have to worry. I have it under control.”
He kissed her again, and Diane felt the strains of “Ode to Joy” vibrating against her breasts.
Frank stepped away, pulled out his phone and looked at the display. “Cindy,” he said, pushing the ANSWER button.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s Kevin?”
While he was talking, Diane filled two cups with fresh coffee and took them into the living room on a tray with cream and sugar.
Frank came out of the kitchen holding his hand over the phone. “She wants us to come over for dinner this
