Scattered Graves

realized she was not above wanting it for the way the whole crime lab directorship was han dled. The thought made her ashamed. She suddenly felt not so different from them.
She went home early. It felt like a storm was coming. * * *
Diane spent the time until Frank got home playing the piano. It was calming, and she needed calm. The mayor and his friends had disturbed her core more than she realized at the time. She had gone head-to head with the last mayor and it was no big deal. As a rule, authority didn’t scare her. These guys did. They seemed mean and she knew they were willing to lie. Lies are wicked weapons.
After Frank got home they went to a movie and had a late dinner, and an even later evening. Diane awoke late the next
dressed and drinking
morning. Frank was already coffee when she got up and walked into the kitchen.
‘‘Ah, I knew the smell would get you in here.’’ He handed her a cup.
‘‘I’m going to be late to the museum,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Why didn’t you wake me?’’
‘‘You were sleeping so soundly, I thought you needed it. Besides, I haven’t been up that long myself. I’m late too. I’m going to have to run by McDonald’s for breakfast.’’
He kissed her cheek. ‘‘I’ll see you tonight.’’
The telephone rang and Frank grabbed it. Diane rarely answered the phone when he was home.
She could hear from the conversation that the call was from Ben Florian, Frank’s partner. She watched Frank’s face change from a grin to a look of utter surprise and shock.
‘‘Thanks for calling, Ben.’’
He hung up the phone and looked at Diane for a moment.
‘‘That was Ben. He was on his way to work and heard the news.’’
‘‘What news?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Mayor Spence Jefferies was murdered last night.’’

Chapter 15
    Diane and Frank stood staring at each other for sev eral long moments, astonishment and disbelief re flected on both their faces.
    ‘‘Murdered?’’ Diane said finally. ‘‘The mayor? I just saw him yesterday.’’
She always thought it strange that people would say that, as if having just seen someone should have af forded them protection against death. But there she was, saying it with the same surprise in her voice. She wanted to say Are you sure? but that was just as silly.
Murdered —a dreadful word, even applied to some one she didn’t like.
‘‘Who?’’ she asked. ‘‘How?’’
‘‘He was apparently killed at home, shot in the back of the head. They don’t have a suspect yet.’’
‘‘When did it happen?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Late last night,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Ben didn’t have a lot of information. He just heard it on the news.’’
‘‘Well,’’ said Diane, ‘‘this is certainly unexpected.’’
There was a time when she would have been one of the first on the scene. She would have known last night that there had been a murder and by now would have collected a truckload of evidence. But now she was like everyone else in Rosewood—one of the last to find out. That was good, she told herself. Nothing like getting called out late at night to look at someone with the back of his head shot out. Now she could go to work and, like most everyone else, simply speculate about what had happened.
‘‘The detective in charge will probably want to talk to you,’’ said Frank. ‘‘Just because you talked with him yesterday.’’
Diane nodded. ‘‘Probably so. The chief of police was there too.’’ Diane smiled halfheartedly. ‘‘He’ll probably say I did it then and there and moved the body.’’ She kissed Frank again. ‘‘You’re going to be late.’’
‘‘Have a good day,’’ he said. ‘‘I may be late tonight. These identity thefts are becoming a real bear.’’
‘‘I’ll be here playing the piano,’’ she said.
‘‘I laid out a finger exercise book for you.’’ Frank gestured toward the room with the piano.
‘‘I saw it. The cover said The Virtuoso Pianist . The words virtuoso and Diane Fallon will never be heard in the same sentence.’’
‘‘Forget the word. Do the exercises. They’ll strengthen your fourth and fifth fingers.’’
‘‘My fingers are very strong,’’ protested Diane, look ing at her hands.
Frank took a hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘‘Strong enough for rock climbing, but not for the piano. Trust me. You’ll find those seventh cords you have trouble with a little easier. See you sometime tonight.’’ Frank kissed her again and