Dust to Dust

of them asked.
    “There’s a guard on duty there as well. It also has reinforced doors and locks.”
    Diane left them in the elevator lobby and rode up to the crime lab. Izzy was there, holding down the fort while David and Neva were at the crime scene at Marcella’s house.
    Izzy looked at her wide-eyed when she entered the lab. “Are you all right?” he asked when she walked in. “Jeez, what the hell happened? I’ve been hearing some strange stuff. The news and some of my buddies said someone shot his way into your house.”
    Diane explained the events of the previous evening and her visit to the police station.
    “Those IA inquiries,” he said, “don’t worry about them. They have to do that. Nobody’s going to fault you for shooting some son of a bitch in your house. Jeez, he shot through the back door.”
    “It was very violent,” said Diane. “I intend to find out who sent him and why.”
    “This case has been strange from the beginning,” said Izzy. “Attacking Dr. Payden and making off with only a few paintings and a little pottery—what is that about? And that crazy writing on the bottom of the drawer. You know, at first it sounded like the writer was the victim, but now it looks like she might have been the perp. I don’t know what to make of it. And what about that poor Lassiter woman? None of it makes a bit of sense.”
    “No,” said Diane. “But it will soon. I won’t have people coming after me and messing up Frank’s house like that,” she said. “I’ll be in my office in the osteology lab. There are two policemen downstairs assigned to watch over me.”
    Diane went to her office and called her chief of security and told her what was going on. Diane told her she wanted to make the office wing off-limits to all but museum personnel until this was solved. She then called Andie, her assistant.
    “Dr. Fallon, I heard on the news. Was it true? Are you all right?” she asked.
    “I’m fine,” said Diane. “I’m working from my osteology office, for the time being. I want you to work from the office up in archives.”
    “Why?” asked Andie.
    “Because you are in my office and I don’t want anyone in there. I’ve instructed security. And please, don’t talk about this. Just have your workstation routed up there,” she said.
    “Sure. You think someone will come here?” she asked.
    “I don’t think so. The guy who broke into Frank’s house is in custody. But someone sent him and we don’t know who yet. I just want to be extra cautious and make sure everyone is safe,” she said.
    “Sure, I’ll do that. I’m really sorry this is happening,” she said. “You know, people are just crazy.”
    “That seems to be the general consensus,” said Diane.
    After her talk with Andie, Diane donned her lab coat and walked into her osteology lab. The lab was a large room with bright white walls, white cabinets, and plenty of overhead lighting. It was a bright room and cheery in its own way, with its shiny tables, sinks, and microscopes.
    Neva had been working on laser mapping the skull. Her computer drawings were spread out on the counter. They showed a pretty girl. She looked so young. Too young to be dead.
    The ceramic mask and sherds had been brought up from the archaeology lab and were lying on another table. The bones excavated from Marcella’s well were in plastic containers sitting on one of the metal tables. Diane started laying them out in anatomical order on two tables—one for each skeleton. They were broken skeletons with missing parts. It was a sad group of bones.
    She examined the skull of the female. It was small with nice, even teeth, but they were starting to decay. Without intervention they wouldn’t have stayed nice for very much longer. Was she homeless? Poor?
    Diane fit the mandible, the lower jaw, to the maxilla, the upper jaw, and held them together with one hand. She placed the reconstructed ceramic mask over the face.
    It was a perfect fit.

Chapter 44
    Diane set the mask aside, a mask she strongly suspected was made of clay tempered with the crushed bones of its subject. When she had first seen it sitting in Marcella’s workroom, she was struck by its beauty. She saw now that the beauty was in the young girl. The mask was simply the product of a cruel and arrogant mind.
    As she was about to lay the mandible aside, Diane’s eye stopped on a disfiguration showing through the dirt stains. It was a healed fracture—a disturbing sign, evidence of an