One Grave Too Many

astragalus, aren’t the bones probably pretty much comingled?”
    “I’m sure there’s a lot of mixing, but I’m hoping enough stayed in place to give me a lead.”
    “Do you need me to come to your site?”
    “It would help, but I don’t want to take you away from your research.”
    “I can manage a few days. This sounds rather interesting.”
    Interesting, Diane thought to herself. Jonas Briggs, his students and now Sylvia Mercer all thought this was interesting. They saw the science, the puzzle. They wouldn’t be so fascinated if they had seen it through her eyes, the dreadful tragedy of it. If they’d dug grave after grave after grave filled with the bodies of people who once had life and who had loved ones who still mourned them.
    Diane thanked Sylvia and left for her own office. In the hallway outside Andie’s office, she was surprised to run into Frank’s ex-wife. Cindy had her blond hair pulled back into a loose twist and was dressed casually, with little makeup.
    “Hi. I was just looking for your office.”
    “Good to see you again. I hope you and your husband had a good time at the reception.”
    “It was great. We really appreciated your invitation.”
    Diane directed her through Andie’s office into hers and offered her a seat. “What brings you to the museum today?” She wondered if she sounded too harsh. She hadn’t meant to, but she thought she knew why Cindy was there, and she was growing weary of the pressure.
    “I thought it would be more polite to invite you to dinner in person than through Frank. Men often get things muddled.”
    “Thank you for your offer. I would like to come, but I’ve had something come up that’s going to take me away from the museum most of the time for a while, so I’m not making any plans.”
    Cindy shifted in her seat and gave Diane a wan smile. “I understand. But you have to eat.”
    It occurred to Diane that Cindy herself must be under a lot of pressure from her husband for her to be here doing something that so obviously made her uncomfortable.
    “I’ll probably be eating here at the museum in the evenings. I’ll be putting in overtime, since I’ll be gone during the day.”
    “Of course. Perhaps next week, then.”
    “Perhaps, but I’m doing something that will take quite a while.”
    She hated to sound so cryptic, especially since it made her sound like she was lying.
    “Something rather important has come up and I have to attend to it.” She got out her calendar. “How about next month? Saturdays are usually good for me.”
    Cindy’s face hardened. “That will be too late.”
    Diane cocked an eyebrow. “Too late?”
    “Look, Diane, I’m really no good at this, so I’ll be blunt. I’m sure you’ve guessed anyway. David wants to talk to you about the museum. This . . . this . . . . ”—she searched for words—“opportunity has come his way. It means quite a sum of money. It could pay for Kevin’s college education and then some.”
    “He’s been approached by Mark Grayson.”
    “More likely, he approached Mark Grayson.” There was such bitterness in her voice that Diane suspected they had had harsh words over it. “He tells me there are plenty of great places for the museum other than this building. I’ve been in the rooms here. None are filled. You could house the entire contents in a much smaller, more modern building.”
    “I know what the argument is. It’s the one Mark’s been telling everyone, and it’s wrong. Do you know why Mark is so keen on this?”
    Cindy shrugged her thin shoulders. “Something to do with Japan—hotels and golf courses. Mark wants to purchase the building and land through another company and sell it. That’s about all I know. He promised David a substantial commission if he could influence you.”
    Through Frank, thought Diane. And through his son? Surely, Cindy wouldn’t allow that. “Unless the numbers add up to something fantastic for the museum—and right now they don’t—it isn’t going to happen.”
    Cindy looked away. Her eyes rested on a photograph of a stalagmite-and-stalactite formation, but Diane doubted she was seeing it. When she brought her head around again, her soft brown eyes were now as hard as flint.
    “This is just a job for you. There’s nothing you lose by agreeing to sell, and there is everything to be gained for other people—for us, for Kevin. If you had children, you would understand. You do things for your children. If you care about Frank,