Dead Secret

library of Susan’s husband, Gerald Abernathy. He put an arm around Diane’s shoulders.
    “You look great,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You don’t live that far away. We need to see more of you. Susan and I’ve been thinking about bringing the kids to visit your museum.”
    “I’d like that,” said Diane. Susan smiled thinly, and Diane wondered if they had ever had a conversation about visiting her.
    Gerald’s hairline had receded a little more since the last time Diane had seen him. His square-built body seemed as active as ever, the way he flitted from Diane to Susan to give her a peck on the cheek. Diane noticed Alan frowning at him. He probably didn’t like Gerald interrupting his big announcement.
    “As your father was just saying, I have an appointment with someone from the Justice Department to talk about Iris.”
    “We think Mother will be getting out tomorrow,” said Susan abruptly. “It’s what we’ve been doing all day, Diane and I, arranging it. Well, Diane mostly.”
    Their father stared at them, openmouthed. “What? Tomorrow? How do you know? How can that be?”
    Alan looked crestfallen. Gerald grinned.
    “Diane has a detective friend who looked into it, and we consulted a lawyer who specializes in that kind of thing.”
    “The only hangup might be if some of the people in charge get defensive about the mistake,” said Diane just as her cell phone rang. She quickly pulled it out of her purse, and checked the display to see who was calling before she answered.
    “It’s Daniel Reynolds, the lawyer,” she told them before answering. “Yes?”
    “Dr. Fallon,” he said. “Just wanted to keep you up-to-date. My assistant has confirmed that the bank was not robbed, and has obtained an affidavit to that effect. I received the fax on the fingerprint and mug-shot photograph analysis. After looking at those materials, I filed an emergency petition for a writ of habeas corpus with a district federal judge requesting his expedited review of the false evidence and release of your mother. Based on my testimony to him, the judge has ordered the immediate move of your mother to a guesthouse on the prison grounds. I’ve sent the judge the documents and fully expect an order for your mother’s release to be issued tomorrow morning. She should be able to come home until a hearing can take place to clear this all up. Could you meet me at my office in the morning at eight? We can drive down to Montgomery.”
    Diane didn’t say anything for several seconds. “Yes . . . yes, we’ll be there. Thank you, from me and my family. Thank you.”
    “We have some persuasive evidence. I don’t expect any delay from the Feds or the officials at Tombsberg. They know they are in a world of trouble.”
    Diane thanked him and put her phone back in her purse.
    “We’re going to pick Mother up tomorrow morning. They’re moving her to a guesthouse tonight.”
    “I don’t believe it,” said her father. He looked at Alan. “I don’t understand.”
    “Mother was a victim of identity theft,” said Susan. “Or someone hacking into the police computers—one or the other. Isn’t that right, Diane?”
    “Yes. Right now it looks like someone hacked into the Justice Department computers and created a fugitive arrest warrant in her name.”
    “How? Why?” asked her father.
    Glenda, the housekeeper who had been with her parents since they moved to Birmingham, came in and announced dinner.
    “Hello, Miss Diane. It’s good to see you home. It’s been a while. I put you in Mrs. Fallon’s Yukon room, as she likes to call it. It’s my favorite. Real cozy.”
    “Hello, Glenda. You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.”
    “It’s all them Botox injections,” she said, laughing. “But did I hear right? Is Mrs. Fallon coming home?”
    “You did, indeed, Glenda,” said Diane’s father. “I think we’ll have some champagne after dinner. This calls for a celebration.”
    “Yes, it does, Mr. Fallon. This has been just the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. It’s no wonder we have such a high crime rate: The police don’t know nothing,” Glenda said as they all walked out of the room.
    The dining room was the same as Diane remembered—stucco walls colorwashed in shades of gold, a dark-pine sideboard with terra-cotta tile inlays, a polished dark-pine dining table and chairs with tapestry-covered seats. The still-life of grapes, apples and pears above the sideboard was new. It was a room