Dead Secret

minivan.”
    “Probably so. Let me talk to Vanessa when the graveside service is over.” She stood between Andie and Korey as people gathered around and listened to the final words.
    The ceremony was very short, to Diane’s relief. When it was over, they all stood in a line of people waiting to express their condolences to the family.
    Vanessa was speaking to the mayor and a tall man with dark salt-and-pepper hair as Diane approached. The mayor frowned when he saw Diane, but quickly recovered. She guessed he had just remembered that she was now a friend and not a foe. She hadn’t really spoken with him since an argument resulting from his urging that the museum be moved. She didn’t really want to speak with him now, but there he was.
    “I hear a lot of good things about the . . . museum,” the mayor said.
    Diane knew he almost said “crime scene lab,” but realized at the last minute that this wasn’t the venue to talk about it.
    Diane nodded and muttered, “We do our best.”
    “Ah, you must be Diane Fallon.” It was the tall, distinguished-looking man beside the mayor. He looked like a politician too. “Vanessa has told me much about you.”
    “This is Steve Taggart,” said Vanessa. “His mother and father are old acquaintances of my parents.” She pointed to an elderly man with sparse white hair and a silver-headed cane, and a slim silver-haired woman with him. They were talking to Vanessa’s mother and a friend of Diane’s.
    “We think Steve’s going to be one of Georgia’s next senators in Washington,” added the mayor.
    Steve Taggart extended his hand, and Diane shook it. “I’m thinking about running. Talking to my family about it. One doesn’t run alone; unfortunately, it’s a family affair.”
    “Indeed,” agreed the mayor.
    Diane smiled and nodded, wondering if they would notice if she turned and ran. Unfortunately, her way was blocked by a throng of people closing in on the family. Vanessa, apparently with the same idea, wandered away to speak to a young couple, leaving Diane with the mayor and the Taggarts.
    “My father’s been wanting to meet you,” he said. “He’s wild about your new Egyptian exhibit.” Steve Taggart stepped a few feet over to a small group of people and escorted an elderly gentleman to Diane. “Dad, this is the director of the museum. My dad’s Emmett Taggart. . . .”
    “Of course,” said Diane. “Mr. Taggart is one of the museum’s supporters . . . among many other things, I understand.” Diane shook his hand and he held on to it, placing his other hand on top.
    “Dad believes in giving back to the community. Something he’s drilled into all of us since we were old enough to sit up and listen.” Steve Taggart was already making his political speeches.
    As Steve Taggart spoke about his father, Diane noticed that the elder Mr. Taggart seemed to have an unpleasant odor. She caught just a whiff, but her cheeks suddenly burned with embarrassment for him.
    “Wonderful exhibit.” The elder Taggart shook her hand as he spoke. “That mummy and all those trinkets that he was wrapped with—so interesting. This is my wife, Rosemary.” The older woman nodded at Diane. She seemed more curt and standoffish than the rest of her family. “And this is my grandson, Robert. He’s my daughter’s son.”
    Robert was shorter than his politician uncle, but a lot like him, except with auburn hair. He had the same black eyes and broad-toothed grin. As Diane made small talk with the Taggart family, she heard Kendel, Korey, Mike and Andie talking to Vanessa, who hugged each of them. Diane didn’t realize Vanessa knew Mike and Korey that well, then remembered that she was prone to making nighttime visits to the museum just to look around by herself, and both Mike and Korey often worked late.
    The only other time that Diane had seen Korey in a suit was at formal museum functions. He usually wore T-shirts and Dockers. Today, however, he had on a suit, and his long dreadlocks were gathered up and tied in a low ponytail down his back.
    “We’re real sorry, Mrs. V.,” said Korey. “Bekka’s mother’s in the hospital. She wanted you to know that she would’ve been here. . . .”
    “Tell her that’s all right; we understand and hope her mother gets better soon.”
    Bekka was one of the anthropologists at the museum. She was making a record of Helen Egan’s 114-year history and had spent a lot of time with her. Diane was sure she hated missing her