One Grave Too Many

paperwork, and back up to the stranger. “I am.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t. I don’t even know who you are.”
    “Detective Janice Warrick.”
    “All right, Detective Warrick, what is your complaint?”
    “Who are you to mess around with my cases? I doubt you’d appreciate it if I came here and started setting up my own exhibits.”
    “What cases are you referring to?”
    She leaned forward. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The Boone murders.”
    “As I explained to the mayor, I’ve been engaged to help the defense. I didn’t go into your crime scene until it was released. And I did so with permission of the owner. So what are you referring to?”
    “The reports in the media about me botching the case and arresting the wrong person—that’s what I’m referring to.”
    “I haven’t been watching the media, but surely you aren’t denying the defense the right to have its theory of the crime?”
    “No. It’s the character assassination, the lies. Do you know how hard it was for me to rise to detective in this town? We have the killer behind bars, and she’s going to stay there—despite your efforts to free her. In case you haven’t heard, the judge denied her bail again. At least some people aren’t buying your hokum.” Her lips thinned into a grim smile. “I heard you offered to take her home with you. I guess you can’t help taking in strays.”
    Diane’s face hardened. She locked her gaze with Warrick’s as she rose to her feet. The image of the mayor came into her mind, as did his mean-spirited insinuations. This woman was like him, even though separated by two levels of bureaucracy—the commissioner and the chief of detectives.
    People in leadership gather like-minded people around them—not simply like-minded, but people of similar morality. With good leaders, it can be a good thing. With ill-intentioned ones, it is a nest of vipers. She’d seen it in petty dictators, petty bureaucrats and now here in her hometown’s government. She resolved right at that moment to defeat it—to defeat them, to humiliate them, to rub their noses in their own incompetence.
    “Andie,” Diane called without taking her gaze from Warrick’s. Andie hurried into the room, and from the look on her face, she had clearly been listening. “Show this woman out, and she is never to set foot in this private area of the museum again. If she does, call security.”
    “Ms. Fallon . . .” Warrick began. Her face looked suddenly less angry. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
    “Anything else you have to say to me is irrelevant. We’re finished.”
    “I can see my way out.” She turned on her heels and walked out of the office.
    “You all right?” asked Andie. “I heard what she said.”
    “I’m fine. But I’d sure like to arrange for one of the dinosaurs to fall on her.”
    A knock on the door brought both their heads around. It was Jonas, looking like he just came in from the field.
    “We brought the bones in,” he said. “I just left them with Korey, and he locked them in the storage vault.”
    “Were you able to find the skull?”
    Jonas shook his head. “Not yet. But we’ve got a ways to go to get to the bottom of the pit.”
    “I really can’t thank you enough,” said Diane.
    “No, it’s me who’s grateful. My old department wasn’t mine anymore. When you retire, they seem to think all your knowledge retires with you. I got hints every day about how they needed office space. This is heaven-sent for me. It’s like starting a new career.”
    “Why don’t you spend the night at your house tonight?” said Diane.
    “I’m going to do just that. Have a long soak in the tub and then listen to some Bach with a bottle of beer.”
    “Sounds like something I’d like to do.”
    After Jonas left, Diane headed for the conservation lab. Korey was still working on separating the papers found in the basement. He had several single sheets laid out on a table.
    “You working alone tonight?”
    “Yep. Hope I don’t need an alibi later on.”
    Diane smiled at him, as though it was a joke, but she could see he was only half joking. “Anything interesting in the papers from the basement?”
    “I haven’t read any of them thoroughly yet. A lot are written in this spidery handwriting that’s hard to read. But yeah, there’s some requisition forms to a veterinary college for a series of calf fetuses, and one to a guy in Utah about