Beverly Connor - One Grave Too Many
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- Book:One Grave Too Many
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- Publisher:New American Library
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- Year:2003
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One Grave Too Many: summary, description and annotation
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With spot-on details, a smart new voice, and ingenious plot twists, Beverly Connor has been compared to the hottest crime writers on the scene. Now, she ratchets up the suspense with a brand new series featuring one of todays most cunning and complex sleuths: forensic anthropologist Diane Fallon. Her new job as director of the RiverTrail Museum of Natural History in Georgia takes Diane out of the game-until a former love and a murdered family bring her back in.
Beverly Connor: author's other books
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to GBI crime scene specialist Terry Cooper for his helpand sense of humor. And another special thanks to Genny Ostertag for her amazing work on my manuscript.
Chapter 1
His head isnt on straight.
It doesnt seem to fit. Maybe its not his.
Dr. Fallon
Diane Fallon, director of RiverTrail Museum of Natural History, looked up from the work she was trying to finish to see the spectacle of Gary and Samantha, two university students, balancing between a ladder and a construction platform, holding the skull of a giant sloth tilted at an odd angle atop its fifteen-foot skeleton. She raked her gaze over the offending skull as Gary was trying to wire it in place. Wait a minute, she said.
Diane climbed the ladder to the platform to have a look at the problem. She glanced at her watch as she lay down on her stomach on the platform. It was late and she was tired. She inspected the bones and shook her head and pointed to the neck of the giant creature. You have the atlas on backward.
Are you sure?
Yes, Gary, Im sure. Bones are like puzzle pieces. When theyre put together right, they fit together perfectly. How do you think your head would fit if your neck was on backward? The other students giggled. Did you follow the diagram I gave you?
Yes... I thought we did. I already have it wired in place. He said this as if expecting Diane to say, Well, then, I guess well just have to make the head fit, wont we?
Youll have to redo it.
Its getting late, Dr. Fallon. Ive got a big test tomorrow to study for.
The opening of the exhibit is tomorrow evening. Test or no test, we have to finish this display. Youve known the schedule since the beginning of the semester. Lay the skull here on the platform, gently. Unwire the atlas and put it on correctly. Follow the diagram.
Ah, man, Gary whined.
Samantha looked close to tears. Diane could hear the frustration in their voices, but there was nothing else to do. The exhibit had to be finished and they were aware of the timeline.
Leslie, the third of the student threesome, looked at her watch as Diane stepped down off the ladder. It is getting late, she said.
I realize this is terribly unfair. Diane pulled loose a piece of packing tape that had stuck to her slacks. Normally, students get to ask fellow students which teachers are a bitch to work for, but Im new at the museum and have no track record. You guys can spread the word. Do the work assigned, do it correctly and on time. I give only As and Fs. We miss the opening, its an F. The three students eyes widened in surprise. Youve already wired the entire postcranial skeleton and done a good job. Getting the head on straight wont take as long as you think.
Dr. Fallon, telephone. Andie, her assistant, brought the cordless phone from Dianes office. Diane took it and retreated across the room away from the grumbling students.
Yes?
Diane, how are you? It was a voice she hadnt heard in three years, and she was surprised that the sound of it made her smile.
Frank? Frank, Im... fine. And you? Its been a while.
Im good. He hesitated half a beat. I wrote you several letters.
I didnt receive them.
I didnt mail them.
Oh.
Could I take you to dinner? he asked. There are some things Id like to talk with you about.
I dont know. This is a bad time, Frank.
He hesitated again. I hate to ask a favor of you over the phone.
A favor? What is it? Diane looked over at her students busily working on the sloth exhibit. She hoped she had sufficiently put the fear of God into them so that they wouldnt mess up again.
I have a bone that may belong to a missing girl....
Dianes voice caught in her throat. A bone? No, she said a little too roughly, almost choking on the words.
No, what?
Andie was standing in front of her, holding out two handfuls of artificial leaves. The interruption gave her mind time to think and her racing heart time to slow down.
Hold on just a moment, Frank. Diane placed a hand over the mouthpiece and raised her eyebrows at Andie.
They sent the wrong plants, Archaeopteris, but Donald insists we go ahead and use them. He says no one will know the difference.
Thats why were hereto teach them the difference. Tell him this is a museum of natural history, not a B-grade movie setwe have to be accurate.
Andie smiled. Thats about what I told him youd say.
Im sorry, Frank. Were opening a big exhibit tomorrow evening and Im up to my ears.
What do you mean, no?
No, I dont do that anymore.
Dont do what?
Forensic work. I dont do it anymore.
There was such a long stretch of silence on the phone that Diane thought he might have hung up. You still there?
But thats what you do, he said.
Not anymore.
Look, this is off the record. Its only one bone.
I dont care. There are other bone experts you can take it to. Get them... One bone? You have only one damn bone? Theres probably nothing I could do with that anyway.
Its half a bone, really. You can tell me if its human.
If thats all you want to know, any decent osteology student can tell you that. If you can find one, she thought, watching hers fumble with the sloth. But I cant do it.
It may belong to someone I know. I play poker with the missing girls father. Hes been my best friend since we were kids, and his daughter baby-sat Kevin. The police are treating this as a runaway, but the girls parents are afraid her boyfriend has done something to her. Her brother found the bone in the woods behind her boyfriends parents home.
In the woods, Diane thought. No.
Diane...
I have to go, Frank. Im working with some students, and if they see me talking on the phone, theyll want to do it too. Its good to hear your voice again. It really is. Come by sometime. She hung up.
Diane stood still for a moment. Hearing Franks voice was good. The tenor of it brought back past feelingsof warmth and passion. Why did he have to be talking about bones? She filled her lungs with air to clear her head, exhaled and went back to her students.
It was almost ten oclock before the last person left. Diane was alone in the museumbut not completely alone. Jake Houser and Leonard Starns, the two night security guards, were making their rounds. And somewhere in the three-story structure the cleaning crew was hard at work.
Everything was almost ready for the reception the next eveningjust a few odds and ends left. Diane walked among the exhibits representing North America in the Pleistocene. The skeleton of a huge Bison antiquus stood, as if on the ancient tundra, against the background of a restored mural of a grazing herd, oblivious to the Paleo-Indians hiding in the tall grass with their Clovis point-tipped spears.
The giant sloth turned out not to be the disaster she had feared. It stood majestic among prehistoric flora, head on straight, looking out at the skeleton of Mammothus columbi several feet in front of it. Something in the mammoth exhibit caught her eye. Archaeopteris leaves sprouting around the mammoths feet. Donald, damn him, had put the wrong vegetation in anyway. He was such a willful... She stepped over the barrier rope carefully and took up the plants. A loud knock on the front doors brought her head up with a start.
She leaned over to look through the double doorway into the museum lobby. Jake appeared from the direction of the primate room.
Ill get it, Dr. Fallon, he called out as he pressed the intercom button. The museum is closed, he said into the speaker.
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