One Grave Too Many

to the karaoke bar this Friday. We’ll miss you.”
    Frank shook his head. “No, not for a while, Andie.”
    “Frank mentioned the two of you do karaoke,” said Diane.
    Andie nodded. “Frank’s a real . . . what exactly was it you called yourself last week?”
    “Crooner,” said Frank.
    “Well, that’s a side of you I didn’t know about.”
    His lips curved into a lopsided smile. “I guess we’re all full of surprises.”
    “You should see him in his sunglasses and black suit when he’s imitating the Blues Brothers.” Andie mimed her impression of Frank’s dance moves.
    “I can’t wait. You sing too, Andie?” Diane asked.
    Andie, in her short black denim skirt, glittery chain belt and shiny gray blouse, looked convincing as she pretended to hold a microphone and did a fair imitation of Britney Spears.
    “It’s a lot of fun. You should come sometime.” Andie’s bright grin froze as her gaze rested on one of the photographs on Diane’s desk. “Oh, God. Is that? Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be dancing around.”
    “It’s all right, Andie,” said Diane. “Thanks for bringing the folder.” Diane watched Andie return to her office, closing the adjoining door.
    Both were silent for a moment. Frank took the file folder and sat down at a table against the wall under a trio of Escher prints: a castle with its endless ascending and descending staircase, an impossible self-filling waterfall, and a tessellation of angels and devils.
    “I should have covered the photographs,” Diane said.
    “It’s my fault,” said Frank. “You said you came back to find some peace. I shouldn’t be bringing this to you.”
    “It’s the fault of the murderer,” said Diane.
    Diane watched Frank examine two pieces of paper he held up to the bronze desk lamp. “This is it,” he said. “They traced your signature from this letter you sent the Bickford Museum confirming an order of . . . whatever these things are.”
    “ Albertosaurus, Pteranodon sternbergi, Tylosaurus and a triceratops?”
    “Yeah, those guys.”
    Diane rose and joined Frank to look at the documents through the light of the lamp.
    “Don’t touch the pages,” he said as she reached for them. Frank barely held them at the very edges. “I know your fingerprints are already on them, but there’s a chance we can get the perp’s prints if we’re careful—and lucky.”
    The signature on the copy of the duplicate order the Bickford Museum had faxed to her matched exactly with the signature on the letter—as did the signatures on the copies of the other orders. They were all exactly the same.
    “Tracing is the quick and dirty way to forge a name,” said Frank. “Amateurs often do it that way. And professionals, when discovery of the forgery after the fact won’t matter. It’s easy to detect in the original because it doesn’t have the smooth quality of a normal signature, among other things.”
    “I really don’t know why anyone would go to the trouble,” said Diane, going back to her desk. “It’s an annoyance at worst, as long as we return the excess.”
    “You mentioned that it might be to make you look bad. If you look bad enough, can you be replaced?”
    “Yes, but bad enough means some kind of maleficence or gross incompetence. I don’t believe ordering too many supplies would qualify.”
    “But the exhibits—that’s one hundred fifty thousand dollars’ worth. If they hadn’t called . . .”
    “That’s just it—they would have. These are casts made from fossil bones belonging to the Bickford. Making casts is a big deal. It’s not as if they have them sitting in a warehouse with a sign that says, ‘some assembly required. ’ They have to send their preparators here to work with mine. There’s a lot of planning and coordination involved.”
    “Who would know those details?”
    She lifted her arms slightly, sighed, and let them fall. “Everyone who works here. At least, all the collection managers and their assistants, and the administrative staff.”
    “Just the senior staff?”
    “Not necessarily. Many people working in lower-level positions are interested in a museum career. They make it a point to learn how we work.”
    Frank thought for a moment. “The person we’re looking for is someone who doesn’t know museum procedures but has access to museum files.”
    That leaves Donald out, Diane thought. He knows procedures very well.
    “Whoever it is had to order things from purchase orders already on