"Check his elbows."

Diane raised her eyebrows and reached for the left ulna and examined the proximal end. She raised her eyebrows further and checked the right ulna. However, it had been gnawed by animals.

"The left ulna has a healed lesion. The right might, but I can't tell."

Linc winked at her.

"How about the lower back?"

Diane narrowed her eyes and examined several of the lumbar vertebrae. "One shows some wear on the margins."

Linc grinned broadly, showing a row of even white teeth.

Chapter 36

Diane laid the vertebrae back in place on the table and turned to face Linc, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Okay, are you going to tell me?"

"I think your fellow here was a hockey player," he said.

"Hockey?"

"I've seen that cl.u.s.ter of injuries many times in hockey players. Breaks in the tibia are common, so are lower back problems. I've seen olecranon bursitis so bad it'll leave scars on the bone. Groin pain is common in a lot of sports, but the side-to-side motion in hockey puts a strain on the pubic symphysis, causing the kind of lesions you just showed me."

"Possibly a hockey player. Good. In fact, terrific. Grew up in a cool climate, that fits. Surely someone out there will recognize all the information we have and can identify this guy. Thanks."

"Glad to be of help. Now, will you follow my orders as a doctor and go home and get some rest?"

"Sure." Diane locked the vault, turned out the lights in the lab and locked it and the second floor when they left. Their shoes echoed on the marble floor as they walked across the lobby and through the doors to the elevator. Chanell Napier and Bernie Chapman were the two security officers on duty. They were talking to each other at the front information desk. Chanell was inside the semicircular booth and Bernie was leaning on the desk.

"Where's Leonard tonight?" asked Diane.

"He's been sick the last couple of days," said Chanell. "We're filling in for him."

Diane realized how much she'd been neglecting the museum and felt guilty. "Not serious, I hope?"

"I don't think so," said Chanell. "He said he was having migraines."

"You two doing OK?"

"It's real quiet here. Bernie was just about to make the rounds."

Bernie ran a hand through his red hair and put on his security cap. "Just going now," he said, and started off on his rounds.

"Be sure to keep an eye out for that missing snake," she told him. "I want him found."

"Oh, my G.o.d," Bernie said. A little tremble went through him. "I forgot about that snake." He watched the floor along the walls and looked under a table in the hallway as he pa.s.sed. At one point he gave a sudden jump to one side, as if he had seen something, then continued on.

Diane shook her head in bewildered fascination. She hadn't had time to look for a head of security. She was thinking about Jake Houser, but he had a full-time day job. She decided at that moment to give it to Chanell. She had experience at the university before she came here, and Diane could send her for courses at the police academy. Most of all, she'd proved to be reliable and a self-starter.

"Chanell, come by my office when you get in tomorrow."

She looked alarmed for a moment. Diane smiled at her and her face brightened. She felt better having made the decision. It was one she should have made several days ago.

They left the museum in the care of the security guards, and Linc walked her to her car. "Do I need to follow you home?"

"No. I intend to go directly there. I'll be fine. Tell me, is Frank going to be all right?"

"I think so. I won't say it isn't bad right now-it is. But his condition is definitely survivable."

She had never asked anyone at the hospital about the long-term prognosis for Frank's injuries. How he would be when he recovered. She'd been concerned only that he recover. But she thought of it now. Would he have any paralysis? A heart condition? She was afraid to ask. She started to get in her car, but stopped.

"How is he? I mean, when he recovers, will he be OK?"

"I don't know. They repaired all the damage, and he has feeling in his arms and legs. The bullet didn't get near the spine and apparently didn't nick any of the nerves. He'll be weak for a while. Go home and get some rest and try not to worry."

She got in her car and he closed the door for her. She rolled down her window to say good-bye and he handed her a card. "This has my cell phone number on it. Give me a call if you need anything."

She drove home and parked in front of her building. She was getting to feel like she was running a gauntlet in getting from her car to her apartment door, and she was tired of living like this. She hurried to the door, flew up the stairs and opened her apartment door. She flipped on the lights. She expected to feel safe, but didn't. She felt scared.

She stood in the hallway and listened for any sound-creaking, breathing, anything. This is silly, get a grip, This is silly, get a grip, she told herself. It was a small apartment with very few places to hide. In fact, under her bed and in her closet were it. She quickly checked both places, feeling foolish when she finished. What if she'd found someone? She didn't have a weapon. This was really stupid. She walked back into the living room and was about to turn on the television when she saw a form in the draperies behind her living room chair. Her heart jumped in her chest. She was almost paralyzed in place. she told herself. It was a small apartment with very few places to hide. In fact, under her bed and in her closet were it. She quickly checked both places, feeling foolish when she finished. What if she'd found someone? She didn't have a weapon. This was really stupid. She walked back into the living room and was about to turn on the television when she saw a form in the draperies behind her living room chair. Her heart jumped in her chest. She was almost paralyzed in place.

As casually as she could, she moved to the hall and into the kitchen to look for a weapon. What kind of weapon? Her mind raced, trying to think. A knife. Maybe, but how would she fare in a knife fight with some intruder? She could run but would she make it before he caught her? The best course of action would be to call for help. But her cell phone was in the bedroom, and whoever it was would hear her talking. She could grab the cell phone and lock herself in the bathroom. And then what-hope help arrived before he broke down the door? She heard a rustle and creaking of the floor. No time.

She spotted her cast-iron skillet sitting on the stove, picked it up and stepped out into the hallway. She edged forward until she was almost to the living room. Maybe she could catch the intruder by surprise and knock him out. She raised it over her head as she saw a shadow cast by her lamp. One more second. Now she swung the pan, but at the last moment swerved and hit the wall with a crash, accompanied by a piercing scream.

"Mrs. Odell, what are you doing in my apartment? Do you know I could have knocked your skull in?"

Mrs. Odell, dressed in a pink chenille robe, was holding her chest and breathing hard. Diane led her to the sofa.

"Are you all right? What are you doing in here?"

"Looking." She wheezed. "Looking for the cat."

"Mrs. Odell." She was interrupted by a pounding on the door.

"That'd be Marvin." She was still breathing hard.

Diane went to the door. A man, possibly in his seventies, a little shorter than Diane, was standing at the door with a concerned look on his horselike face.

"Veda, Veda, was that you? Are you OK? What did you do to Veda?"

"I almost knocked her out with an iron skillet. Mr. Odell, I don't have a cat, I've never had a cat here, the landlady doesn't allow cats."

"Veda was sure you did."

"What? She knocked her out with a frying pan?" A voice from the hallway said. The other tenants along with the landlady were murmuring outside her door.

"Is something wrong?" asked the landlady. "Oh, dear."

"Mrs. Odell was hiding behind the draperies in my apartment. I almost crowned her with a skillet until I saw who it was," explained Diane. The last thing she wanted was the neighbors to believe she was beating up little old ladies.

The landlady entered with a justifiably contrite look on her face. "Oh, dear," she clucked at Veda Odell.

"How did you get in?" asked Diane.

Veda cast her husband a guilty glance. "We, uh, well, we just borrowed . . ."

"My key?" said the landlady. "Did you take my key?"

"We borrowed it. Marvin has been having fits with his allergies."

The landlady looked miserable.

"Well, you can't go stealing keys and poking around in people's rooms. Dr. Fallon was attacked in the parking lot the other night. How do you think she felt seeing someone hiding behind her curtains?"

"That was the only place I could hide. She was coming in the door and I was scared to move."

"Marvin, take Veda across the hall-and give me my key." The landlady held out her hand, and Veda dropped the key in it.

Marvin and Veda Odell left, and the other tenants went back to their apartments. There was only Diane and the landlady. Diane gave her the kind of look she did when Ariel got into something she shouldn't have.

"Oh, dear. You know, don't you?"

"I saw the tail the other night."

"She's such a nice cat, and good company. I was hoping. . . . I guess I'll have to get rid of her."

"Maybe you can find the Odells another apartment over a funeral home," said Diane.

"They are such a strange couple, aren't they? They love planning their funerals. Can you imagine? That's such an odd thing to have as a hobby. Two of them. How do you suppose they found each other in the first place?"

"They probably met at a funeral," said Diane.

The landlady shrugged. "You're probably right."

Diane sat on her sofa, suddenly very tired.

"You know they had children," the landlady said. "Seven of them. They all died. Veda showed me pictures of their funerals. Kind of makes your skin crawl, doesn't it?" With that, the landlady went back to her apartment.

Yes, thought Diane, thought Diane, it does make my skin crawl. it does make my skin crawl. She locked her door, put a chair under the k.n.o.b, and dragged herself into the bedroom. Before she got in bed she took a pain pill to ease her throbbing back. As she climbed in bed she noticed the light blinking on her answering machine. She locked her door, put a chair under the k.n.o.b, and dragged herself into the bedroom. Before she got in bed she took a pain pill to ease her throbbing back. As she climbed in bed she noticed the light blinking on her answering machine. Frank, Frank, she thought, and reached for the playback b.u.t.ton. she thought, and reached for the playback b.u.t.ton.

Chapter 37

The message was from Gregory, asking her to call, he had some news. She looked at the clock. Much too early in England to call now, but in a few hours . . . As she was setting her alarm to wake her up in five hours, the phone rang. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it up.

"Diane," said Gregory. "I figured you'd wait until some decent hour to return my call, so I thought I'd call you back."

"Do you ever get any sleep?" she asked.

"I don't need much, really. Four hours a night and I'm fit for the day. I have some news, mostly good. If not good, at least informative."

"I could use some good news."

"The good news is that Ivan Santos and his people are still in Puerto Barquis. No evidence that any have sneaked out of the country or into the U.S. Bad news is they are mounting a successful coup."

"I'm sorry to hear that. The population's been through a lot."

"I'm afraid they are in for more of the same."

"I hate saying I'm relieved he's not here."

"I know. I have some more news too. I've been checking around, and found out that someone in your State Department was discussing the events of last year at a small private party a few weeks ago. I don't think he meant harm, but I chastised him just the same. G.o.d knows they've been giving me me a hard time. One of the people at the party was from Rosewood." a hard time. One of the people at the party was from Rosewood."

"Really? Who?"

"Gordon Atwell. Do you know him?"

"I do indeed. He's on my board of directors and one of the people siding with Mark Grayson. He also holds the mortgage on the museum-or, rather, his bank does."

"Then maybe this news will help."

"It will."

"How is everything else?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Something's happened, I can hear it in your voice. Tell me about it."

"It's a long story. Will you be able to get your four hours' sleep?"