One Grave Too Many

talking to Japanese businessmen about the museum property. She looked around the room and wondered how many were on Mark’s side.
    She turned back to Vanessa. “But there couldn’t possibly be enough money involved to pay for moving the museum, setting it up someplace else, and still make it worthwhile for Mark’s cronies.”
    “Not unless the museum is shortchanged. That’s the only way I see it working. But I assure you, my dear, I’ll never let that happen. Come, take your mind off that for now. Enjoy your party. You deserve it.”
    Diane tried shoving Mark Grayson’s scheming, the incident with the music and the duplicate purchases to the back of her mind. She tried not to think about Frank and what he must be going through—seeing friends, a whole family, wiped out, murdered. The things she tried not to think about were beginning to pile up into an impossible mountain of forbidden thoughts. It wasn’t easy to mingle, make small talk and laugh with so much in her head to keep at bay.
    She stood watching the party for the thousandth time, scanning the crowd, looking for some suspicious person who might be an enemy. Donald was talking to the students who had put together the sloth. He was number one on her list for the duplicate orders. Signy was by the bar getting a refill of wine.
    Laura Hillard was talking with the archivist and one of the new curators next to the refreshment table still heaped with food. Seeing Laura reminded Diane that she wanted to mention Melissa’s black eye. She approached Laura and pulled her away with apologies.
    “You know Melissa Gallagher’s family, don’t you?”
    “I know them well. Wonderful people.”
    “I noticed that she has a black eye. It may have been a simple accident, but I’m a suspicious person. A consequence of my previous career.”
    Laura turned her blond head toward the quartet and back to Diane. “I see what you mean. It wouldn’t be her parents. I’d have known. You’re thinking boyfriend, maybe?”
    “I don’t know,” Diane said. “People do get black eyes accidently.”
    “I’ll mention it to her parents.” Both watched Melissa playing her violin. “I tend to think it’s probably nothing.” Laura’s gaze lingered on Melissa a moment before she turned her attention back to Diane. “Mark Grayson’s made headway with some of the board members.”
    “Won’t do any good unless he makes headway with me.”
    “He knows that. He wants to put pressure on you from all sides.”
    “Let him. Maybe it’ll keep him occupied.” Diane hesitated a moment. “Laura, have you seen anyone here you don’t know?” Laura was a rare breed, one of the few fifth-generation residents of the area.
    “N-no.” She glanced briefly around the room. “What do you mean, exactly?”
    “Are there any strangers here?”
    “No. I don’t think so. Some of the catering staff, maybe. Why do you ask?”
    OK, now that she had opened this can of worms, what was she going to tell Laura?
    “I’m not sure. Some irregularities in purchases. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow at the board meeting.”
    “That sounds cryptic. What would strangers being here have to do with purchases?”
    “It’s just a matter of not wanting to believe that the irregularities have anything to do with people we know.”
    “Now, that does sound bad.” Laura knitted her brows.
    From the look Laura gave her, she must be sounding completely paranoid. “No, just annoying.” She patted Laura’s arm. “I’m sorry I mentioned it tonight. I’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
    Hunger pangs had been gnawing at Diane’s stomach since she arrived. She headed back to the refreshment table but was caught by Kenneth Meyers, CEO of NetSoft, with a young man in tow.
    “Have you met Dylan Houser?” Kenneth said, introducing the twentyish young man. “He’s your security guard’s son. Dylan’s a sharp boy. Just the kind of hungry lad that’ll do well in the computer business. High technology’s the thing now.” He slapped Dylan on the back.
    Dylan shook Diane’s hand. He reminded her of a hockey player, the tough, fearless way he carried his youth. His face was a younger version of his father’s: dark hair, dark eyes, without the deep rugged lines. He was also charming and looked good in a tux. Every mother’s dream for her daughters. She hoped he wasn’t Melissa’s boyfriend.
    Diane mentally shook away the thought. She caught herself weaving a whole story out of that one black