‘‘I don’t know who the original source was,’’ said Diane. ‘‘But I will find out. Someone set out to do us harm. And I will find out who they are.’’
Harvey smiled at Diane. He tried making it the avuncular smile he usually had for her, but it came up a little short. ‘‘What are we doing about the problem?’’ he asked.
‘‘I’ve told the registrar’s office . . . ’’ Diane noticed a puzzled look from the newer members. ‘‘That’s where we review provenances,’’ she explained. ‘‘I told them to start reviewing the provenance for the Egyptian artifacts immediately. My best detective has agreed to cut short his vacation and find the source of this attack on us.’’
‘‘Our bank uses a good detective agency I can recommend,’’ offered Barclay.
Diane supposed he wanted to purchase back some of the ground he had lost by now being helpful. She really wanted to ask him what a bank needed with a detective agency.
‘‘David will do an excellent job,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Professionals in the field will do a better job than museum people,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m sure your people are good at researching artifacts, but this investigation needs to be out in the real world.’’
Diane didn’t believe that he meant to be insulting. He was just one of those people who was out of touch with anything that wasn’t in his world. She folded her arms and looked at him for a moment.
‘‘I think you’re forgetting that Diane’s also director of the crime lab over in the west wing,’’ said Kenneth Meyerson. ‘‘Her people are pretty professional in the real world.’’
‘‘Yes. Well, I suppose I must have forgotten. One doesn’t think of that in a museum,’’ he said.
‘‘How is Kendel?’’ interrupted Vanessa.
Vanessa liked Kendel—well enough to let the assistant director talk her out of a ten-thousand-dollar diamond to put in the gemstone reference collection.
‘‘Not well at the moment. As you can imagine, this has been devastating,’’ said Diane.
Madge looked up suddenly from somewhere deep in her thoughts. ‘‘You don’t think she will sue me, do you?’’ she asked.
‘‘I would,’’ said Diane.
Madge sucked in her breath and her eyes grew large and round. She looked frightened. Diane hoped she would think before she spoke from now on.
‘‘But what should I have said?’’ asked Madge. ‘‘The woman said Kendel was guilty.’’
‘‘You say you have no comment, and then refer them to me,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That would be good for all of you. The charter specifies the director as the official spokesperson for the museum. I’m the one with the most up-to-date information. And we do have policies in place to handle these matters.’’
They nodded, muttering among themselves in agreement. Barclay sat looking at his glasses. Diane noticed he no longer looked as if he were going to make her explain herself.
The room was tense and Diane wanted to leave it that way. The mission of the board was advisory, and they had offered only recriminations. However, her friend Laura sat smiling brightly. Laura liked to end things upbeat. Diane supposed it was the psychiatrist in her. Diane started to adjourn when she heard the phone ringing in the adjacent office.
‘‘I have to take this call,’’ said Diane. Ignoring the frown Barclay gave her, she left the table and entered the small, bare, little-used office off the boardroom. It had a large window that allowed her to watch the boardroom.
She picked up the phone. ‘‘This is Diane Fallon. Is this Grace Noel Tully?’’
Chapter 9
‘‘Yes, I’m Mrs. Grace Tully,’’ said the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘‘The girl said something about your being the director of the museum?’’ She emphasized the word Mrs. and ended with a slight giggle. Grace had a childlike voice that probably made her mistaken for a kid on the phone.
Okay, Diane thought, she’s not dead. Now what? Tell the woman that I’m happy to find her alive?
‘‘I’m working with FBI agent Kingsley, the profiler . . .’’ Diane began.
‘‘Oh, I know him . . . but the girl who called said you worked at the museum . . .’’ she repeated.
‘‘I’m also director of the crime lab,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Oh, I think I knew something about that. What can I do for you?’’
‘‘I was wondering if we could meet and talk about one of the prisoners.’’
‘‘Well, I’m kind of in the middle of my honeymoon...’’ She giggled again. It was a girlish sound that made Diane sense her happiness even over the phone.
‘‘I did hear that you had just gotten married. Congratulations,’’ said Diane, testing the waters. ‘‘How do you like married life so far?’’ Diane hoped she sounded sufficiently friendly and congratulatory.
Diane watched the board members as she spoke. Madge looked like she would like to curl into fetal position. Laura was smiling, trying to keep the conversation light, Diane guessed—Laura the peacemaker. Barclay cleaned his glasses again. Probably wondering how to recover his alpha status.
‘‘I love it, just love it. Eric, my husband, has a daughter, Julie—just a living doll. I became a wife and a mother. I’m so lucky. I just have to pinch myself every day.’’
‘‘So you’re on your honeymoon?’’ said Diane.
Grace told her that she and Eric had just returned from Gatlinburg, where they had a shortened honeymoon because they didn’t want to be away from Eric’s daughter, Julie, for long. ‘‘We are leaving in a few days on a sort of family vacation,’’ she said.
‘‘Where are you planning on going?’’ asked Diane.
Grace laughed again. ‘‘Can you believe we haven’t decided yet? Eric wants to take a trip across the country and visit the national parks—he’s always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. I think that might be a little tiring for Julie. I’d love to take her to Disney World. We’ve also talked about a cruise.’’
Grace Noel Tully sounded happy and Diane didn’t want to ruin it. Truthfully, she only partly believed Clymene; on the other hand, the thought of the Grand Canyon and an ocean cruise gave her pause. She glanced at her board again and made up her mind.
‘‘Agent Kingsley would like to speak with you before you leave again,’’ said Diane. It was Kingsley, after all, who had sent her to see Clymene. He could take care of the consequences. Besides, she didn’t feel competent to assess whether or not Grace Tully had married a serial killer. That was Kingsley’s expertise.
‘‘I’m not sure....Eric’s been after me to quit and be a stay-at-home mom and I’ll admit, it appeals to me. . . .’’
‘‘Are you familiar with Clymene O’Riley?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Oh, Lord, yes. She’s one of the more interesting inmates. Is this about her?’’ asked Grace.
‘‘Yes,’’ said Diane—only half lying, she told herself. ‘‘Kingsley is profiling her and it would help the FBI a great deal if you would speak with him. Briefly,’’ she added.