One Grave Too Many

over?”
    Diane hesitated a moment, filled with dread about hearing details of murder. But these were Frank’s friends. And so was she. “Sure. I’ll fix you breakfast,” she said.
    “I’ll bring it. It’s the least I can do for waking you up.”
    Diane jumped out of bed and into the shower. She had just pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt when the door-bell rang. After slicking her wet hair back with a comb, she opened the door.
    Frank was in running sweats, but she could tell from the smell of shampoo that he hadn’t been running. He set two sacks on the table. The bulky one was filled with doughnuts; the other with cups of coffee from Vance’s Café.
    “I’ll make us some bacon and scrambled eggs to go with the doughnuts,” she said.
    She also put on a pot of coffee. Why Frank liked Vance’s coffee was a mystery. To say it tasted like dredge from the Chattahoochee River was giving it flattery it didn’t deserve.
    Diane microwaved strips of bacon while she scrambled three eggs. Frank stood in the doorway of the narrow efficiency kitchen as she worked. “Kevin had a great time last night. It was good of you to let him and his mother come.”
    “No problem.” She took down a couple of plates from the cabinet and warmed them in the oven. She felt awkward, like he had brought a huge gorilla in with him that neither of them wanted to mention, yet it was taking up so much space.
    “I think Cindy’s husband, David, was the one who wanted to come, to rub elbows with some of the big guys.”
    “And did he?” Diane asked.
    “Must have. Cindy said she wants to invite us over for supper next week.”
    “Us?”
    “You and me.”
    Diane looked over at Frank through narrowed eyes.
    “She’s not matchmaking.”
    “No. I don’t think she is. I think Mark Grayson is using David to try and talk me into selling the museum property.”
    “What’s that about?”
    “Grayson hopes to make a killing on a big real estate sale he’s cooking up involving the museum. I imagine he wants to buy it himself and sell it for a heck of a lot more than he would pay for it.” Diane divided the scrambled eggs and slices of bacon—two-thirds on Frank’s plate and one-third on hers. “It’s all rather complicated, and I’m not sure how he plans to accomplish it without gutting the museum’s holdings. He’s been trying to push the old Vista Building on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he holds an interest in that.”
    “Why is he after you and not the board?” Frank took a plate from her cupboard and stacked the doughnuts on it.
    “Oh, he’s after them all right—to put pressure on me. But even if he gets every member of the board to sign off on it, he still has to convince me.”
    “You have that much power?”
    “I certainly do, thanks to Milo.” Diane stood with the plates in her hand, staring at the pyramid of assorted doughnuts. “Were you expecting an army of policemen?”
    “I thought you might like a choice.”
    She set the plates on the table. “Have a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”
    “I brought coffee.”
    “No, you didn’t.” She brought two mugs and filled them at the table from her pot of fresh brewed coffee.
    Frank sat down and started eating. “You make the best eggs.”
    “The secret is to not put milk in them, and to cook them slowly until they’re just done.”
    “So how come you have so much more say-so than the board?”
    “Do you know Vanessa Van Ross?”
    “I know of her. Richest old woman in the state, isn’t she?”
    Diane frowned at him. “I don’t know that, but she has money, and she and Milo had a thing.”
    “She must be one hundred and twenty. He was what? Sixty?”
    “He was sixty-five. What is it with you guys? You think women stop being someone you can love when they get crow’s-feet?”
    “She’s got more than their feet.”
    “She set up the foundation and gave Milo final power over practically everything.”
    “So the board’s only show?”
    “Almost. Milo hired me as an assistant while I was still in South America. He fixed it so that not only would I become director if anything happened to him, but all the power would pass to me as well.”
    “Was he expecting to die?”
    “No. But he had a heart condition. It obviously crossed his mind.”
    “At least he knew it was a possibility.” Frank stared into his coffee.
    Diane put a hand on his arm. So the gorilla was about to awaken. “How are you?” she asked.
    Frank set his coffee down and capped