innocents.
“I’ve been trying not to turn my heat on at night,” said Jonas, “but in a few days, I’m going to have to give in.”
The restaurant had a medieval atmosphere with its vaulted ceilings and rough-hewn wood tables. It was cozy, especially in the evenings when each table was lit by can dlelight. At the time of day they were there, it had sunlight streaming in from the wall of windows and French doors leading to the trellis garden. The restaurant was full of diners. The waitress showed them to a booth in the corner and left them with tall menus written in calligraphy.
“Suddenly, I’m hungry,” said Paloma, her eyes darting over the menu.
“If you like steak, I suggest the filet,” said Diane.
She was convinced that high-protein foods and chocolate were medicine, and the two of them looked as if they needed some strong medicine. The very idea of losing someone you love is the scariest, most helpless feeling in the world. She hoped Paloma wouldn’t have to face the loss of her mother, especially to such a mean cause.
“I agree,” said Jonas, “the steaks here are great.” He closed his menu without looking at it. “You’ve talked me into it.”
They all ordered steak, salad, and baked potato, with Paloma ordering a baked sweet potato with her meal.
While they waited for their food, Diane talked about the museum and its holdings, inviting them to take a look around when they had the time. Mark commented that he wasn’t used to so much green and it would be fun to bring his students there on a field trip if the school ever got a windfall for traveling.
“We won’t hold our breath,” said Paloma, smiling.
The waitress brought their food and the four of them were well into their lunch before anyone brought up Marcella. Diane told Paloma about the beautiful work her mother did and described the reconstructed mask-pitcher in Marcella’s workroom.
“That was one of the pieces she dug up in the backyard,” said Paloma.
“I’m not that well versed on pottery,” said Diane, “but to me it didn’t look Native American.”
“It isn’t,” said Paloma. “It’s modern, but Mother didn’t know how old. One of the things that excited Mother about the house is all the stuff she found. One of the previous owners must have been an artist and a potter. Best of all, whoever it was used a bonfire kiln, like Mother uses. Mother found a pit in the backyard where the pots were fired. She excavated hundreds of broken sherds from the fire pit. For my mother, that was like finding a yard full of gold. Whoever the potter was, he used natural clays and tempers like she uses.”
“I wonder if the artist could have been someone from the university?” said Diane.
“Mother thought they might have been an archaeologist,” said Paloma. “But she knows practically every archaeologist who’s ever worked with pottery and she said there isn’t anyone from Bartrum in the literature. Mother told me a lot more about all the pottery finds, but I have to confess, at a certain point I kind of glaze over.” Paloma smiled. “I didn’t get bit by the archaeology bug the way she did.”
“The mask she was reconstructing in her workroom is so beautiful. Did she have any clue who the artist might be?” said Diane.
Paloma shook her head. “She’s been trying to find out. The house was empty for several years. You may have noticed it got a little run-down. The guy she bought it from had inherited it from an uncle. He didn’t know any owners before that. She talked to some of her neighbors. They didn’t know anything either. Evidently there is a large turnover in the area because of all the students from Bartrum.”
When they had finished eating, Diane talked them into dessert. Paloma and her husband ordered pecan pie. Diane and Jonas had chocolate cake. Both were specialties of the restaurant. Mark asked Diane how they pronounced pecan here. Diane told him it was like
“I saw a lot of pieces of broken garden ornaments when I was at the house,” said Diane.
Paloma and Jonas both nodded.
“Mother found a lot of modern artifacts in the yard,” said Paloma. “All kinds of pieces of statues, birdbaths, gargoyles. Someone at some point liked to decorate the garden in all manner of statuary. Mother said it was impossible to tell if they were in the same time frame as the pottery, but she was having a great time.”
Paloma’s eyes were suddenly moist. She blinked and took a drink of water. “Why would anyone hurt her so cruelly?” she asked.
Diane didn’t think she expected an answer. There was never a good enough answer to satisfy that question.
“She had some paintings on the living room wall that were stolen the night of the attack,” said Diane. “Three portraits. Do you know anything about them?”
“She didn’t have them when I was over at her house a couple of weeks ago,” offered Jonas.
Paloma nodded. “She called me last week, so excited. They were hidden inside a wall in one of the upstairs rooms. She found them when she tore out the wall for a doorway. She thought they might have been done by the same artist who did the pottery.”
“Inside a wall? Interesting. Were the paintings signed?” asked Diane.
“I don’t know,” said Paloma. “I couldn’t talk to her very long that evening; I was late to a meeting.” She started to cry and her husband pulled her over to him and hugged her.
Diane wished she had something comforting to say.
After a minute Paloma straightened up and took another drink of water. “Sorry. It’s just so unfair.”
“Yes, it is,” said Diane.
“She told me one of the sheds out back was a potter’s shed,” said Paloma. “It was mostly filled with a lot of junk, but she found some pieces of furniture there that she wanted to refinish. She was like a kid in a candy store with all the stuff she was finding.” Paloma smiled. “Most people would have thought it all junk and trash. Archaeologists have a different view about old things.”
“Yes, we do,” said Jonas.
Diane almost mentioned the odd note on the bottom of the desk drawer, but decided not to say anything. It seemed, at this particular moment, a little too disturbing. Instead, she changed the subject to the mummy the museum inherited a year ago and all the surprises that came with it. By the end of dessert, Paloma seemed to be feeling better.
Mark glanced around the restaurant. “I don’t see our waitress,” he said.
“Would you like something else?” asked Diane.
He grinned. “Oh, no, this will last me well into next week. I was just looking for the check.”
“She won’t be coming with a check,” said Jonas. “It’s a little-known secret that when Diane brings a guest to the restaurant, the waitstaff don’t bring the check to the table. See, in the museum, Diane is queen. Really, it’s true.” Jonas chuckled. “We have a herpetologist who is terrified of Diane and hides when he sees her coming. Afraid he might be banished or something.”
“He lost a snake in the museum,” said Diane. “It turns up at odd times and scares the staff. He can’t seem to catch it or tell me why it’s still in the building. It should have made its way outside by now.”
Paloma and Mark both laughed. “We appreciate all this,” said Mark. “It’s comforting to get to town and not be strangers.”
“I’m just sorry your visit is for this reason,” said Diane. She paused. “I really think Marcella will come out of it.”
“She has a very hard head,” said Jonas.
“She does that,” said Paloma.
When they got up to leave, Diane spotted Ross Kingsley at another table. She took her leave of Jonas, Paloma, and Mark and walked over to his table.
“Diane,” he said when she sat down, “I’ll be ready to go to Mr. Dance’s house when I finish. Couldn’t resist the cake here.”
“I had a piece too. I’ll go up to the crime lab and get a kit. You want to pick me up outside the lab?” asked Diane.
“Sure. Look, I really do appreciate your help in this. I don’t know where else I’d get free forensic expertise.”
