Free One Grave Too Many by Beverly Connor Page A

Instead she put a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault. I know it must feel like it is, but it’s the murderer’s fault.” He grabbed her hand and held it. “What do you think happened?”
    He pulled away, and Diane walked back to her seat. “I don’t know. I’m afraid the detective in charge seems to like their daughter, Star, for it. But as far as I can see, she has little evidence and isn’t likely to get any. But. . . .”
    “But what?”
    “They did find the gun—or at least the caliber of gun they believe was the murder weapon.”
    Diane sensed there was more. She reached out for his hand. “And?”
    “They think it was Louise’s gun. George bought it for her several years ago. One of the policemen at the scene thought he recognized it because he gave Louise lessons with it. Last year, Star stole it and took it out to shoot it with her boyfriend. When George found out, he took it and locked it up and grounded Star.”
    “Do you think their daughter could have done it?”
    “She was a handful. Hell, that’s being kind. As soon as Star hit fourteen, she turned from this sweet little girl into this rebellious kid.” He took a drink of his coffee. “But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t see her killing her parents, and I sure can’t see her shooting Jay.”
    “If she’s into drugs . . . they can change you.”
    “I know, but her little brother? I don’t think she’d do it. She adored him. The detective in charge is just taking the easy way out.”
    “What about this boyfriend of hers?”
    “They’re looking for him. He hasn’t been home in weeks. His parents don’t know where he is. Right now, it’s frustrating, being an Atlanta detective. I have no jurisdiction whatsoever even though I live in Rosewood, and the homicide guys refer to me as just a PC.”
    “Politically correct?”
    “Paper cop.”
    “Oh.” She could see that hurt him. “What about the bone?”
    “They don’t think it’s relevant, especially now that they know George just picked it up in some woods. It could have come from anywhere. Star looks much better to them.”
    “One human bone’s still a body. It’s rather a large coincidence, them finding a human bone a few days before they get killed. I think it’s important.”
    “And . . .” He stopped, looked at her and frowned and looked away.
    “And what?”
    “And I don’t know. For some reason they don’t believe you.”
    “You’re kidding. In that case, find another osteologist to look at the bone.”
    “Would you write up a report on it? Please? In the meantime, I’ll send a photograph of it to a couple of other forensic anthropologists. They can ID it from a photo?” Diane nodded. “If Detective Warrick doesn’t want the information, I can give it to Star’s attorney when they find her.”
    “Bring me the bone back and I’ll write a report.”

    The museum looked big and empty after seeing it filled with people the evening before. Diane was glad the party was behind her as she walked through the rooms looking at each exhibit for any damage or forgotten cups of punch. The cleaning crew did a thorough job. Now it was time for the real task: getting the newly remodeled museum ready for the general public. The thought was uplifting. She felt good. New job, new clothes. She unconsciously smoothed the front of her navy blazer, briefly wondering if she looked like she was more accustomed to jeans and tees rather than the pantsuit and silk shirt she had on.
    More of the staff started arriving, and Diane girded herself for a long day. Several faculty of Bartrum University were coming to claim offices in the museum. Her watch said it was only 9:15. She could get about thirty minutes of paperwork done while it was still relatively quiet. She met Andie in the hall on the way to her office, notebook and pen in hand.
    “Great party, huh?” said Andie.
    “Not bad. Most everyone seemed pleased with what they’re paying for. When did you get to bed?”