One Grave Too Many

visit all the people on the taxidermy list to look at their stuffed pigs to see which ones were potbellies. Interesting—of most of the pigs that were hunted, only the heads were mounted. The people with pets had the whole animal done. That should have given us a clue in the records, but we were having a good time and didn’t stop to make that deduction. Only two on the list had a stuffed potbellied pig. One was significantly larger than ours. The other one looked right. The date was March 1, 1998.” Sylvia had a look of triumph on her face.
    “Excellent,” said Diane. “You’ve impressed me.”
    “Jonas said your skeleton is young—late teens, early twenties, maybe?” Diane nodded. “I was thinking. Between March and June lies the dates of spring break for some schools, ours included.”
    “Damn, Sylvia, you’re right. Good thinking. You’ve got a knack for this.”
    “I thought so. Go figure.”
    Sylvia left her notes with Diane. She also left an evidence bag filled out by Jonas with a cross-section in it of the tree whose roots skewered both the wolf and the human skeleton and, as it turned out, the pig. She took it out and looked at the rings—four years. Another verification. The skeletons were there before four years ago, or else the tree could not have planted its roots between their ribs.
    She very nearly had a date. After calling Frank’s partner, Ben, and leaving a message about the time frame that Sylvia had discovered, Diane took the evidence up to the conservation lab and slipped it in the box with the bones. In just a few days she had amassed quite a bit of information. She had no doubt she could find out whose bones they were, and for the first time she felt really close to a breakthrough.
    “Is Korey around?” she asked his assistants on her way out.
    “Somewhere. He’s been acting kind of strange all day,” said Barbara.
    “Been on the phone all day talking to a string of people,” said another assistant.
    “I hope everything’s all right. Tell him I was looking for him.”
    “Sure thing.”
    Diane walked down to the first floor. While she was in the main lobby she decided to go talk to the herpetologist to see if he was any closer to finding the snake. It made her shiver just thinking about it. She had these visions of opening a cabinet somewhere and having the snake fall out on her.
    As she walked through, going to the west wing of the museum, she stopped by the museum store to welcome the owners and to check on their progress in getting ready to open. The proprietors, owners of a gift shop in town, were busy shelving merchandise.
    They had a huge variety of items, including books, dinosaur replicas, museum kits and tee shirts, and several shelves of toys. She really loved the museum, but any joyful thoughts about it were always followed by sadness that Ariel wouldn’t be here to share it with her.
    As she crossed the second lobby with the huge high ceiling that was off the dinosaur room and was the twin of the Pleistocene room, she spotted Korey sitting alone on a bench. She went past the twenty-five-foot-long Albertosaurus skeleton greeting people at the entrance with its mouthful of sharp teeth and sat down beside Korey under a Pteranodon suspended above, its wings spanning almost the width of the room.
    “Are you all right?” she asked.
    “Fine.” He was smiling.
    “I was looking for you. I got a lead on who may be involved in the lab break-in.”
    “Mrs. Grayson,” he said.
    “Yes. How did you know?”
    “Deduction.”
    “There seems to be a lot of that going around among my staff.”
    He didn’t ask what she meant, but continued to stare at the wall, looking like the cat who had just found the source of all cream.
    “Are you going to tell me?” she said.
    “Yeah.” He turned toward her and grinned.
    “You going to make me drag it out of you?”
    “Just enjoying the moment. You remember when I was showing Mrs. Grayson the papers we found in the basement?”
    “Are you telling me they turned out to be valuable?”
    “They’re not particularly valuable, no. Well, some are, but what Mrs. Grayson feared was that they might have certain valuable information that she didn’t want to fall into our hands. And as it turned out, she was right. Fortunately, I locked them in the vault and either she or whoever she got to break in couldn’t find them.
    “I believe it was Leonard Starns and his son. His son works for Grayson Real Estate.”
    He nodded.