Part 4 (1/2)

After hanging up with Jin, Diane immediately dialed David Goldstein, another member of her crime scene crew, who was supposed to be leaving for vacation today. David had worked with Diane at World Accord International when she was a human rights investigator and had been a friend for a long time.

She hated interrupting his time off, but she knew he would love it.

”Diane,” he said immediately, ”want me to come in and look into that artifact thing I've been reading about?”

”You sound like you've been waiting by your phone,” said Diane.

”It's a cell. I always wait by it. So that's why you called, isn't it? I figured you would need me.” ”I'm sorry to intrude on your vacation,” said Diane. ”It's not an intrusion. You know how I've been dreading it. So is that why you called?” he asked again.

”Yes, it is. You can start by interviewing Kendel.” ”Great. I'll be right there. And thanks. You don't know how I've been hoping for something to do.” ”I thought you were going to be doing some traveling,” said Diane.

”I was, but then what do I do when I get there?” ”Go sightseeing?”

”If I wanted to stand and look at stuff, I could stay at the museum and save on gas money.”

”I'll be in a board meeting when you get here. Kendel will be in my office waiting for you.”

When she hung up with David, she turned her attention back to Kendel, who sat looking like her world was coming to an end. Normally Kendel was tough.

Diane wondered if there was something else, or perhaps Kendel was tough only when she had firm footing. Now, with the rug pulled out from under her . . . ”Kendel,” said Diane a little sharper than she meant to, ”David is going to investigate. He's the best.

I've asked him to speak with you first. What I want from you is two things. First, find where you left your backbone. Then I want you to think about every interaction you had concerning the Egyptian artifacts.

Every person you spoke with, anything, no matter how remote, that you noticed during the transactions, any casual person who happened to walk through the room while you were negotiating, anything.” Kendel nodded. ”I appreciate your support. Everyone at the museum has been great.”

Except for a certain member of the board, thought Diane. ”You're innocent unless proven guilty,” she said. ”Stay here and wait for David.” Diane stood up.

”Now I have to deal with the board.” She picked up the rolled newspaper from her desk.

Chapter 8.

Andie looked up from her desk as Diane pa.s.sed through her office on her way to the boardroom.

”Mrs. Van Ross is with the board members,” Andie said.

The situation must be critical, thought Diane. More than any other single person, Vanessa Van Ross was was the museum. She and Milo Lorenzo had been the driving forces behind its development. She had shown caution not to undermine Diane's authority or to give the impression of undue influence over the operations of the museum. She rarely came to board meetings, trusting instead to give Diane her proxy vote. If Vanessa was in attendance, it meant she was more than just concerned; she was alarmed at the possible harm to the reputation of the museum-Milo's museum and hers. the museum. She and Milo Lorenzo had been the driving forces behind its development. She had shown caution not to undermine Diane's authority or to give the impression of undue influence over the operations of the museum. She rarely came to board meetings, trusting instead to give Diane her proxy vote. If Vanessa was in attendance, it meant she was more than just concerned; she was alarmed at the possible harm to the reputation of the museum-Milo's museum and hers.

Milo hired Diane to be a.s.sistant director under him. He died of a heart attack before the museum even opened, and the governance he had set up for himself went to Diane-a governance that gave Diane more power than the board. Still, under extraordinary circ.u.mstances they could remove her. It was going to be an interesting meeting.

Diane started out the door, hesitated. Clymene's concern for Grace Noel nagged at her. d.a.m.n, if she hadn't enough to do. She turned back to Andie and pulled the piece of paper from her pocket with Grace Noel Tully's information written on it that Rev. Rivers had given her.

”Andie, get this woman on the phone for me. When you find her, transfer the call to the office in the boardroom.” Andie nodded. ”This is the only interruption I want,” Diane said.

”Got you . . . MOF. . . .” said Andie, nodding her head up and down as she read the card.

MOF was Andie's abbreviation for museum on fire museum on fire, which meant only in a dire emergency did Diane want to be disturbed.

Diane c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Andie. ”If the museum's on fire, just let me and the board go up in the conflagration,” said Diane.

Andie giggled and reached for the telephone. Diane left the office, still holding the rolled-up newspaper.

The board members were waiting for her in the third-floor meeting room. Diane wasn't in a hurry to get there. She needed to regain her focus. On the way up she reread the newspaper article to rekindle her anger and her indignation. It worked. What could board member Madge Stewart have been thinking?

Diane knew the answer to that question. Madge liked to feel important and in the know. She also liked to blame others for her own lapses in judgment. How she must have enjoyed it when Ms. Boville called for her opinion. No one on the board ever did.

It probably was not simple chance that led the reporter to the one board member who was most likely to speak unguardedly to her. Someone had primed the reporter and pointed her toward the weakest link. Diane looked again at the byline-Janet Boville. She didn't know her. She wondered if David could wheedle out of the reporter the name of the person who started this whole mess. Perhaps not without extreme trickery.

Madge Stewart was on the board of directors because her parents were friends of the Van Rosses and had donated a substantial sum to the museum. Madge had studied art and she worked as an ill.u.s.trator for a publis.h.i.+ng company in Atlanta. Added to her trust fund, her work should have provided her with a good living. But Madge had reached her Diane sensed she was feeling that her by.

mid-fifties, and life was pa.s.sing Diane didn't hesitate at the door when she reached the meeting room. She opened it and walked in. They were all there-Vanessa; Laura Hillard, a psychiatrist and Diane's friend; Harvey Phelps, retired CEO; Madge Stewart; Kenneth Meyerson, CEO of a computer company; and the newest members-Martin Thormond, American history professor at Bartram; Thomas Barclay, a bank president; and Anne Pascal, schoolteacher and Georgia Teacher of the Year.

They were divided up-old Rosewood families on one side of the table and more recent residents on the other. Recent Recent meant having great-grandparents who weren't from Rosewood. It was odd how social boundaries were subconsciously maintained. meant having great-grandparents who weren't from Rosewood. It was odd how social boundaries were subconsciously maintained.

They all looked up as she entered. Laura smiled slightly. Vanessa didn't smile, but she rarely did in board meetings. All their faces reflected the seriousness of the situation. Their frowns deepened when they saw Diane. She must look as p.i.s.sed off as she felt.

Thomas Barclay looked eyes over gla.s.ses pushed at her with dark, serious forward on his nose. His bushy eyebrows met in the center as he frowned. She wondered how many loans he'd turned down with that weighty expression. Laura told her that he had been shocked to discover how much power Diane had and how little the board had. She said he had been lobbying Vanessa to make changes. Were it not that the governance was Milo's plan-and as far as Vanessa was concerned, Milo was a saint-she might have considered it.

Diane reminded herself that most of the people in the room were her friends. Not because she was nervous about what they were going to say to her, but because she was angry-angry with the reporter, with Madge, and with all of them for insisting on a board meeting. Before the meeting was over, she intended to wipe that what-do-you-have-to-say-for-yourself look off Barclay's face.

Diane went to her place at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, unrolled the newspaper, smoothed it down on the s.h.i.+ny surface, and sat down. She looked at Madge, then at the others.

”This article has created a problem for the museum,” she said in an even tone.

”It looks to me like Miss Williams has created the problem,” interrupted Barclay. ”Has she been suspended?”

Diane looked over at him. ”Mr. Barclay, you are trying to apply solutions when you don't know what the problem is.”

She turned her attention back to the rest of the board. They looked startled. Were they surprised she hadn't come hat in hand? They were all frowning except Kenneth Meyerson, who winked at her. Don't make me smile Don't make me smile, she thought.

”The museum's reputation is seriously threatened,” continued Barclay.

He said that for Vanessa's sake, thought Diane. He knew what phrases would get to her. Diane also knew that Vanessa would listen to what she had to say . . . and Vanessa was no fool. She came from a family of centenarians and supercentenarians and had more than sixty years' learning from their experiences. thought Diane. He knew what phrases would get to her. Diane also knew that Vanessa would listen to what she had to say . . . and Vanessa was no fool. She came from a family of centenarians and supercentenarians and had more than sixty years' learning from their experiences.

”Mr. Barclay, a museum's danger. That's the reality of reputation is always in an enterprise that depends on acquiring objects in a field fraught with looters, smugglers, forgers, grave robbers, and sharks. That's why we have procedures and a code of ethics for dealing with acquisitions.”

”Well, it looks like your procedures and ethics don't work.” He tapped the table with his middle finger, reaching toward the newspaper in front of her.

”How do you know?” asked Diane.

”What?” he said, clearly surprised by her question.

”How do you know the procedures didn't work?” repeated Diane.

”Look at the news.” This time his tapping was more of a hammering. ”The newspapers . . . then television...now that d.a.m.n radio talk show...”