One Grave Too Many

you should care about his child.”
    Cindy Reynolds’ face suddenly transformed from hard and angry to startled and frightened. Diane realized her own anger must have taken over her face as well as her pounding heart.
    “Mrs. Reynolds, I did have a child.” She clutched the locket around her neck. “She’s now dead. Murdered by a man who was willing to kill thousands just to get what he wanted. I am weary and sick of men who think that what they want is more important than anything else in the world. I am singularly unsympathetic to people who are collaborators with that kind of man. If you indeed are a good mother, you won’t use your son to get what your husband and Mark Grayson want.”
    Cindy gripped the arms of the chair and stood on shaky legs. “I . . . didn’t know. Frank never said anything.” She paused, apparently searching for words. “David doesn’t know I came here. I hope you will not mention it to him, please.”
    “I don’t have any reason to ever speak with your husband.”
    “Thanks . . . I . . . I can see my way out.” Cindy left through Andie’s office, looking defeated. Diane followed, watching her go out the door.
    Andie sat, wide-eyed, at her desk. “Diane, are you all right?”
    “I suppose you heard our conversation.”
    “I didn’t mean to, but yes. I didn’t know. . . .”
    Diane took off her locket and opened it. On one side there was a miniature of the photograph of her and her daughter. On the other was a small picture of Ariel’s dimpled pixie face. She handed it to Andie.
    “This is my daughter, Ariel. She died a little over a year ago.”
    Andie looked at the photograph with tears in her eyes. “She was a pretty little girl. Look at all that black hair.”
    “Yes, she was.” Diane took the locket and put it back around her neck. “I would have told you about her, but it’s been hard to talk about.”
    “I can understand that. I’m so sorry.” Andie took a Kleenex from her drawer and blew her nose. “I don’t understand why Grayson is so set on selling the museum. What’s that about?”
    “Money, apparently.” Diane shrugged. “I have a feeling something else is going on, but I have no idea what it is.” She started for her office, but turned back to Andie. “Do you remember me asking you at the party if you knew who asked for the ‘Hall of the Mountain King’?”
    Andie thought for a second. “Yeah, I remember. . . . It wasn’t on the playlist, you said.”
    “No, it wasn’t. Someone left a note for the quartet and signed my name. That piece of music was Ariel’s favorite. She played it all the time on a CD player I gave her.”
    Andie’s eyes widened again. “Oh, no. You think someone . . . ? That’s mean.”
    “Yes, it is. It could’ve been a coincidence.”
    “But what a coincidence. You want me to try and find out who did it?”
    “How?”
    “I can kind of ask around. See if anybody saw someone leave a note. I can be discreet.”
    “Don’t go out of your way, but if there is an opportunity . . .”
    “Sure. I’m really sorry about your daughter. That’s so sad.”
    “I was hoping to raise her here, occasionally bring her to the museum. I was thinking about asking Milo if we could put in a staff day-care center.” She forced her mind away from that lost possibility. “It’s why I quit forensic work. I couldn’t face the work anymore. But now I find that I need to use my skills to help Frank and his friend’s daughter.” She told Andie about the pit of animal bones and the human talus.
    “You’re kidding. You found where that collarbone came from—a clavicle?” She said clavicle carefully, as if she were trying to learn a new word. “What was the other bone you said. A talus?”
    “Yes. It’s a bone in the foot. The tibia—the shinbone—sits on top of it. It has a pulleylike structure where the tibia rests that allows you to move your foot back and forth. It’s also called an astragalus.”
    Andie swiveled her chair around to look at her feet and moved her foot up and down. “So, wow, you think you’ve found the guy?”
    “It seems likely. I’m going to be excavating. Jonas Briggs and Sylvia Mercer will be joining me.”
    “Didn’t I tell you he’s a nice guy?”
    “Yes, you did, and you were right. I’m going to be in and out for the next few days or weeks, depending. You’ll be able to reach me on the cell phone if you need to.”
    “OK. Maybe I could go some time and watch?”
    “The process