She went back to bed and lay her head on the pillows. She clenched her teeth until her jaw burned, and didn’t release the grip even when she escaped into sleep.
Chapter 3
As Diane opened the large carved wooden doors to the museum at 8:10 the next morning, she felt late and tired. The guard on duty at the information center greeted her with a broad smile on her friendly round face. Diane returned the smile as she passed, trying to remember her name. She’d just hired her last week.
Andie was arranging reproductions of large prehistoric plants at the entrance to the exhibition hall. Inside the hall, the folks from CyberUniverse were setting up computer monitors next to each display.
The Pleistocene room looked grand. Murals covering three walls depicted stunning panoramic scenes of the Paleolithic period, perfectly complementing the exhibits. The tall paintings on hardwood panels, discovered during renovation behind a layer of plaster and a layer of wainscoting, appeared to have been part of the original design of the building, a late 1800s museum turned private clinic, and now back to a museum. In the dinosaur room in the opposite wing, more wonderful old murals painted at a time when scholars still thought dinosaurs dragged their tails behind them now formed the backdrop of the dinosaur exhibits.
The current remodeling had removed false ceilings to reveal high domed ceilings with Romanesque molding in the exhibition halls, forming enormous rooms for the display of enormous beasts.
The head guy from CyberUniverse motioned her to the computer monitor at the sloth exhibit. “You’re going to love this.”
Diane watched a narrated animation explain how animals can become fossilized after they die. “I do like that. All of you did a great job. The animation is terrific and the explanation is clear and easy to understand.”
A young man wearing faded jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt leaned against the podium and gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re Mike Seger, aren’t you? From the geology department at Bartrum University?”
He had the kind of short hairstyle that looked as if he got out of bed and simply ran his hands through the top, then went outside to let the sun bleach the ends-a messy, rugged effect that probably took quite a bit of styling to achieve. He eyed Diane for a second before responding. There was something about him that seemed intense-his light brown eyes, studious expression, or maybe it was simply the crease between his eyebrows, like a permanent frown.
“Yes, I am. You asked Dr. Lymon to work with your education department on the computer lessons. I’m a grad student always looking for a job, so she assigned me.”
“You did a good job. I’ll write a letter of appreciation to Dr. Lymon, if you like.”
Diane thought he hesitated a moment before he said, “Sure. That would be good.”
She turned to the computer guys. “Are all the displays ready?”
“We want to do one more check, but it looks like they’re ready.”
“Sorry,” said Andie. “The mop fell over. Loud in this hall, isn’t it?”
Diane put a hand over her breast, her heart still racing. Ashamed of herself for being so skittish, she headed for the mammoth exhibit to see how it looked. She’d wait to talk with Donald about the vegetation until after the opening.
“Phone, Dr. Fallon.” Andie, still holding the mop handle in one hand, gave her the portable.
“Hi.” It was Frank. “I’m bringing you breakfast. Egg McMuffin. I know you didn’t stop to eat this morning.”
“I’m not really hungry. I. .” She had bent over to rearrange the weeds by the bison’s foot and something in the wall painting caught her eye-a tiny figure hidden in the tall grass near the Paleo-Indian hunters. It looked like a unicorn. She moved closer.
“Diane, you still there?”
“Sorry, I was examining this unicorn.”
“Unicorn?” He paused. “You mean there really was such a thing? They were here, in Georgia? You have a skeleton?”
Diane took the phone away for a second, stared at it, then put it back to her ear. “No. There’s one in the painting.”
“Oh.” Frank sounded disappointed, and Diane almost laughed. “I’m on my way over,” he said. “See you in a minute.”
He had hung up before she could protest.
“Andie, have you seen this?”
Andie had her brown frizzy curls tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, making her look sixteen instead of twenty-six. She came over and looked where Diane pointed. “I haven’t seen that one,” she said.
“There are more?”
“At least two in here. One grazing around the feet of the mammoth herd and another on the edge of the pond behind some weeds, sticking its horn in the water. It’s kind of like
“How odd.”
“I’ll say. But nice.”
Within five minutes, Frank came through the door, followed by a herd of museum staff. He took Diane by the arm, led her to a bench by the door and produced a still warm egg-and-biscuit sandwich.
A little waft of steam rose from the sandwich when she folded back the wrapper and it had the aroma of breakfast. She took a bite.
“I guess I
“I thought so.” Frank waited until she had taken several bites before he spoke again. “It was a false alarm about the bone.”
Diane cocked an eyebrow at him.
“It was part of my friends’ efforts to persuade the police to investigate the boyfriend. The bone they gave me came from a deer and not from the boyfriend’s back-yard.” He flashed a gleaming set of white teeth through a sheepish expression.
“You have the bone?”
“Sure.” He took it out of his briefcase.
She finished her biscuit and dropped the wrapper into a waste container by the door. “Come with me,” she said, leading him through double doors into the mammal exhibit.
“Clavicles are like struts. They keep our shoulders straight and our arms from falling onto our chest.” She stopped at an exhibit labeled
“What?”
“Find the bone on the deer identical to the one you hold in your hand.”
He started with the long metapodial bones of the feet, moved to the ribs, walked around the deer and stopped by the shoulder. He shrugged. “This skeleton doesn’t have one.”
“Neither do any of its kin. Deer don’t have clavicles. They don’t need them. It doesn’t matter if their forelegs fall onto their chest. We primates have them. So do bats and birds. In birds it’s called a furcula-wishbone to you laymen.”
He looked at her as if not quite understanding, and she dragged him along into another room filled with primate skeletons and stopped at
“OK, wise guy, can you find the bone now?”
Frank looked at the skeleton’s collarbone. Bingo. It was identical. He shook his head. “George told me it was from a deer. I’ve known him for years.”
“Maybe he thought it was. You need to find out what pile of bones he took it from. Now, I have a reception to get ready for tonight and I haven’t looked at all the interactive media yet.”
