Dead Secret

to going caving again, and I’d like you to be well so you can go too. You can’t do any of those things if you reinjure yourself.”
    “Okay, I take your point,” Mike said. “I’m really sorry about Dr. Lymon. She’s not taking her husband’s leaving well, is she? Did she really think I was her husband? We don’t even look alike.”
    “I believe she was mixing up the two rejections. Anyway, have you been to the osteology lab?”
    Diane was anxious to get away from Dr. Lymon’s problems. She kept thinking that she should call the university, but she didn’t want to make Lymon’s problems any more public than they were.
    “No, I haven’t,” said Mike.
    “Neva is reconstructing a face from one of the skulls; you can watch her if you like. I also have a comfortable couch in my osteology office, and you can rest there if you need to.”
    “You are so good to me, Doc.”
    Diane unlocked the lab door. Plymouth Doe, covered with the wet cloth and sans head, was lying on the table.
    “Yes, I am.”
    She unlocked the bone vault. Neva was there. The skull was turning on the stage of the laser scanner, shafts of red lasers measuring the contours of the facial bones.
    “Mike,” Neva said. “You doing okay? Was that Dr. Lymon?” She came over to him. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.
    “I’m fine. I’ll tell you about Lymon later. Show me what you’re doing. Looks high-tech and flashy.”
    Diane left them and went back into the outer lab to the bones of Plymouth Doe. She uncovered them and resumed her examination of the ribs. She found no nicks on them; nor did she find anything on the long bones. She did find that the feet showed evidence of bunions. Her toes had a marked deformity where the big toe drifted toward the smaller ones. Diane guessed that Plymouth Doe during her young years had spent a lot of time on her feet in tight shoes.
    Neva, followed by Mike, came out of the vault carrying the skull, put it in the alcohol tank and washed her hands. Mike held the picture generated by the software from the laser scan.
    “I haven’t drawn her yet, but I thought you’d like to see the face generated by the computer.” She took it to the table where the other drawings were still laid out and put it beside the drawing of Caver Doe’s snapshot.
    The computer image showed Plymouth Doe with a wide jaw and forehead, a straight nose and wide, almond-shaped eyes. Both Plymouth Doe and the woman in the unidentified snapshot were very pretty women, but they were not the same.
    “Okay, not Caver Doe’s girlfriend,” said Neva. “So what is the connection? Black-market button seller?”
    Diane shrugged. “Maybe the trace evidence will tell us something. Nice job, Neva.”
    “When I do the drawing of her it’ll look better. Let’s do a newspaper article soon. I’d like to find out who these people were and why they have the same rare button.”
    Diane smiled at her. “That’s the first thing we’ll ask the next of kin.”

    When Neva and Mike left her lab, Diane went back to the bones, examining them one more time under a magnifying glass, making sure she hadn’t missed something that might help identify Plymouth Doe or indicate what happened to her. She found nothing more. Diane put the Plymouth Doe bones in the alcohol bath and walked to the crime lab.
    David was on the phone and taking notes. Neva was at the light table working on her drawing. Jin came bouncing in, still elated over the buttons.
    “We have a name,” said David, waving a piece of paper. “That was the eye surgeon who implanted the shunt you found in Jane Doe. I traced him from the number on the shunt. Her real name is Flora Martin. I was about to call Sheriff Burns.”
    “Do we have all of her evidence processed?” said Diane.
    “Yes. I have a report ready to fax him.”
    “Excellent. When the dermestids are finished with her bones and I have a chance to take one more look at them, that case will be closed for us.” Diane felt a wave of relief go through her, and it surprised her.
    “We’re making some progress. Look, guys, you all have been working very hard and doing a good job. It’s almost quitting time—I realize we often don’t pay any attention to that, but why don’t we knock off for the evening? I’ll stay on call, and if anything comes up, I’ll phone you,” Diane said.
    “I’d kind of like that,” said Jin. “The thing about this job is that it’s hard to have a love life—of course,