One Grave Less

other way we could have come by the information so we can keep his secret.”
    Gregory shook his head. “David, I’d forgotten how much I have missed you.” He chuckled. “Isn’t this a bit of Big Brother? Must cause you a bit of a split in your conscience.”
    “I do have a lot of guilt over it,” he said.
    And Gregory laughed again at his seriousness.
    “I have you an office here.” David opened another door.
    This room had two computers with printers, a couple of telephones, a fax machine, an oak desk and office chair, and a large flat-screen television. Two stuffed chairs sat in the corner with a small table between them.
    “I could rule the world from here,” said Gregory.
    “Not yet,” said David.
    Just as Gregory looked at him to see if he was joking, Diane’s cell rang. It was Andie.
    “There’s these two DEA agents for you,” she said. “I have them here in my office.”
    “Offer them coffee. I’ll be right up,” she said and flipped the phone closed.

Chapter 20
    Diane sat at her desk. The two DEA agents, Stewart and Bailey, sat in the stuffed leather chairs in front of her desk, looking a lot like the Men in Black. Diane expected more of an L.L.Bean kind of look—casual jacket with DEA patch and maybe Dockers.
    There were subtle differences in the expressions on their faces—one countenance looking vaguely sympathetic, the other looking vaguely bad cop-ish.
    So this was not a law-enforcement-professional-to-professional visit. It was to be an interview with someone they considered a person of interest—her. Diane relaxed in her chair and picked up a pencil. Gregory once gave her that bit of advice. He told her that you can sometimes acquire a psychological edge by putting a desk between you and them and trifling with a pencil. “In Western cultures,” he had said, “it’s subconsciously associated with authority figures such as teachers, principals, doctors, psychiatrists, and lawyers.”
    Diane put on her best “I’m your teacher” face and rubbed the pencil between her palms.
    “How can I help you?” she said.
    If they were intimidated, they didn’t show it.
    “Do you know why we are here?” said the slightly good agent, Bailey.
    “No,” said Diane.
    “Really?” said the slightly bad agent, Stewart. “You have no clue?”
    “Why don’t you fill me in?” she said, steepling her hands in front of her with the pencil between them.
    “We’re here about the drugs found in the museum,” said Stewart.
    “There were no drugs found in the museum,” said Diane. “There was a cloth bag with drug residue, which we discovered and reported. My criminalist, Neva Hurley, contacted your department about it.”
    “Residue,” said Stewart. “Is that how you would describe it?”
    “I’ve seen the report and, yes, that is how I would describe it,” said Diane.
    “Are you aware that soaking fabric in a liquid version of a drug is one way of smuggling it into the United States?” said Bailey.
    “I have heard of that method, yes,” said Diane.
    “We understand you were involved in drugs while you were in South America,” said Stewart.
    “No,” said Diane, “I was not.”
    Stewart raised his eyebrows. “That is not the information we received.”
    “Your information is false,” said Diane easily.
    “You don’t seem to be curious as to where we got the information,” said Bailey.
    “One of my board members received a call recently from a travel reporter from the AJC asking about something of the sort. In addition, someone hacked my e-mail account and sent romantic assignation requests to many of the male board members, museum contributors, and members of the Rosewood Police Department. An anonymous person called my fiancé and told him I entertain men at his home when he is gone. I have no idea where this blitzkrieg of slander is coming from, nor why. However, I have people looking into it. I assume that whatever information you received came from the same malicious source.”
    Diane sat back in her chair, trying to maintain the impression that she was completely comfortable. She had to make an effort to keep her face blank and free of emotion when, in fact, she hated this.
    “Why did you say you didn’t know why we’re here?” asked Stewart. “We are from the DEA. Drugs were found in the museum. You know of the accusation against you.”
    “No, you misstate the situation. Drug residue was found on an object some unknown person brought into the museum