Dead Past

and shells. The basket was filled with tropical fruit, shell-shaped chocolates, canned oysters, colorful seashells, and as a centerpiece, the mermaid Ariel from the Disney animation, all amid blue green celluloid grass and artificial plants that looked like seaweed. It was a beautiful basket. Andie had it sitting on Juliet’s desk when she arrived. The gift didn’t have the desired effect. Juliet saw it, screamed, and almost fainted.
    Juliet had been mortified by her reaction. Kendel reassured her, telling her that on her first day she herself had screamed loud enough to wake the dead and scare the employees up to the third floor. Of course, Kendel screamed because she found a rather large adult snake coiled up in her desk drawer. The thing that sparked Juliet’s fear had been a gift basket.
    Andie felt guilty, everyone else was simply puzzled, and Diane was left wondering if perhaps Juliet had a stalker who had been leaving her unwanted gifts. She asked Juliet if that was why she wanted a very low-profile job. Juliet assured Diane that was not the case, but her only explanation was that she was afraid of new dolls. Not a particularly satisfactory explanation. Which was probably why, thought Diane, she avoided having lunch with her.
    Whitney Lester sat stiffly in the chair. It was a plain un-upholstered wooden chair and looked very uncomfortable. Diane wondered if she chose it because normally she wouldn’t be sitting in it, but her staff would. Then maybe, I’m reading too much into a chair, thought Diane.
    “My management was always effective in my previous positions,” said Lester, her chin raised, ready to defend herself.
    “Bullying is not the culture we promote in this museum.”
    Whitney Lester stood her ground. “The shells are gone. Everyone else in this department is off on that ship.” She said it as if marine biologists are foolish to go off on a research ship. “Who else could have stolen them?”
    “You,” said Diane.
    That stopped her cold. She sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened until Diane could see the whites all the way around her iris.
    “Me? Me?” she sputtered.
    “By your own admission, you were the last person to see them in the vault. You know the exact value of each item. You haven’t gone to Security; instead you wanted to keep it quiet. And you weren’t exactly telling the truth when you told me that Juliet is the only one who has access to the vault. You do.”
    “But I didn’t,” she said, her knuckles were white, gripping the arms of the chair.
    “I don’t know that,” said Diane. “Accusing Juliet Price could be an elaborate ruse to deflect suspicion from yourself.”
    “You can’t accuse me, ” she said, emphasizing the word me as if she should be, like Caesar’s wife, above reproach.
    “Yet you accuse Dr. Price on fewer grounds than I just presented to you.”
    “I’m the collection manager. It’s my job to know all the collection. That’s why I know their value.”
    “And it’s Dr. Price’s job to be here working and have access to the vault as she needs it.”
    “But I know I didn’t take the shells,” Lester insisted.
    “Dr. Price says she knows she didn’t,” countered Diane.
    “This isn’t right,” Lester said finally.
    “No, it isn’t right, and neither is it right to accuse and browbeat Juliet Price. Here’s what is going to happen. I am going to report the theft to Security and let them handle it. You are going to get me photographs of the missing items to give to them. They will question everyone. It doesn’t mean any specific person is under suspicion. And I’m telling Andie to sign you up for a management class. They will teach you the style that we use here in the museum.”
    “Management class?”
    “Yes. You may not buy into our philosophy here, but you will abide by it. Now, I need those photographs.”
    Whitney Lester stood up, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do, as if obedience was defeat. Diane felt a twinge of guilt for being so hard on her, but she had been looking forward to a peaceful time amid the shell collection, and Whitney Lester had ruined it.
    Diane stood and went back out to Juliet Price who wasn’t bent over holding her stomach anymore. She was standing, smoothing out her gray corduroy jumper, trying not to look in either Diane’s or Whitney Lester’s direction. Diane walked over to her.
    “Your job is safe. The security people will talk to you, so try and remember what you can about the