Beverly Connor - Dead Past

“You can’t accuse me, ” she said, emphasizing the word me as if she should be, like Caesar’s wife, above reproach.

“Yet you accuse Dr. Price on fewer grounds than I just presented to you.”

“I’m the collection manager. It’s my job to know all the collection. That’s why I know their value.”

“And it’s Dr. Price’s job to be here working and have access to the vault as she needs it.”

“But I know I didn’t take the shells,” Lester insisted.

“Dr. Price says she knows she didn’t,” countered Diane.

“This isn’t right,” Lester said finally.

“No, it isn’t right, and neither is it right to accuse and browbeat Juliet Price. Here’s what is going to happen. I am going to report the theft to Security and let them handle it. You are going to get me photographs of the missing items to give to them. They will question everyone. It doesn’t mean any specific person is under suspicion. And I’m telling Andie to sign you up for a management class. They will teach you the style that we use here in the museum.”

“Management class?”

“Yes. You may not buy into our philosophy here, but you will abide by it. Now, I need those photographs.”

Whitney Lester stood up, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do, as if obedience was defeat. Diane felt a twinge of guilt for being so hard on her, but she had been looking forward to a peaceful time amid the shell collection, and Whitney Lester had ruined it.

Diane stood and went back out to Juliet Price who wasn’t bent over holding her stomach anymore. She was standing, smoothing out her gray corduroy jumper, trying not to look in either Diane’s or Whitney Lester’s direction. Diane walked over to her.

“Your job is safe. The security people will talk to you, so try and remember what you can about the missing items,” Diane told her.

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

Juliet shook her head.

“Then we’ll go to the restaurant and have our oft postponed dinner.”

The museum restaurant had the look of a medieval monastery or ancient library with its maze of tall old-brick arches and vaulted ceilings. Four archways at right angles to each other made small chamberlike spaces throughout the restaurant. The spaces were furnished with dark rough-hewn wood tables and large padded wood chairs. The walls of the restaurant were lined with booths inside arched brick alcoves. Diane preferred the privacy of the booths. Apparently, so did Juliet.

Diane could tell by Juliet Price’s demeanor that their presence in the restaurant was pushing Juliet out of her comfort zone. She said nothing, and her gaze darted around the room as if looking for some unknown thing. She scooted into the booth, looking dwarfed by the high-backed wooden bench. The dark interior and candlelight gave her an even more ethereal look. Diane would not have been surprised if she just suddenly faded away.

“I have lunch or dinner with each of the employees of the museum to try to get to know them a little better. We’re long overdue. This is not meant to be a punishment or an opportunity for me to scrutinize you. I just like to know the people who work at the museum. So, tell me about yourself.”

Juliet nibbled on a bread stick. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve mostly led a very quiet life.”

“Well, start with what you would like to eat. The waitress will be coming back soon,” said Diane.

They looked at their menus, but Diane knew what she wanted. This late in the day she selected a vegetarian plate with portobello mushrooms, cheese, and tomatoes, and a fruit salad.

“That sounds good. I’ll have the same thing,” said Juliet when Diane ordered.

Diane made an effort to engage Juliet in conversation but was having little success. Juliet fingered her napkin as they waited for the food and looked like she’d rather be reamed out by Whitney Lester than eat dinner with Diane.

“I hope you are not worried about your job,” said Diane.

Juliet looked up from her napkin and Diane was startled by the clarity of her piercing blue eyes. There was someone in there after all.

“Why did you believe me when I said I didn’t steal the seashells?”

It was a fair question. Diane did tell her point-blank that her job was safe. Why had she said that?

“Usually, stealing on such a scale takes a bit of daring. You don’t seem to be a person who takes any kind of risk.”

Juliet gave a wisp of a smile. “No. I suppose I’m not. I’m a coward and I’m afraid of silly things.”

Diane thought of the incident with the gift basket. Yes, that seemed to be a silly thing. She wondered what was behind it.

“Almost everyone has a fear that others might think of as silly.”

“I seem to have a lot of them. They make no sense. Even I realize that. I’m afraid of new dolls, and I don’t know why. I’m afraid of certain words-I see them written down or hear them spoken and they strike dread in me. That’s why this job is so important to me. With so many neuroses, I need to work at something solitary. Creating educational kits and cataloging seashells is perfect.”

“Have you seen a professional about your fears?” asked Diane.

“Yes. In college. They weren’t very much help.”

“I’m sorry,” said Diane, “this is very personal and I didn’t mean to force you to share that kind of information. What do you do for fun? You do have fun, don’t you?”

Juliet was thoughtful for a moment. “No, I really don’t.” She shrugged. “I like to read.”

“What do you like to read?” asked Diane.

“Biographies of historical figures. I’m reading Dumas Malone’s biography of Thomas Jefferson at the moment.”

Diane raised her eyebrows. “Which volume are you on?”

“ The Sage of Monticello. Have you read them?”

“No,” said Diane. “I’ve read about them. I read a lot of science fiction.”

“Really. I also like historical romances.” She smiled at the admission of a guilty pleasure.

Diane thought it was a very rare dropping of her guard.

The waitress brought their food and they ate for several minutes without saying anything. Diane felt lucky to have gotten this much out of her.

“I like working here,” said Juliet. “I know I’m a little strange, but academic settings are perfect for people who are a little strange.”

Diane grinned. She agreed. “I think there is a little strangeness in all of us. I like to go caving. Most people find that very strange, especially the guy I date.”

“I’ve heard about your caving. I confess, I can’t imagine going caving.”

“Most people can’t. But I find caves to be absolutely beautiful mysterious worlds.”

“The geology curator also explores caves, doesn’t he?” she said.

“Yes. He’s one of my caving partners. The caving club meets here in the museum once a month, if you’d ever like to drop in. You aren’t obligated to go caving. You could talk to the group about fossil seashells. We usually have some kind of educational program at the meetings.”

Diane talked a long time about the caves she’d explored. She told Juliet about Mike’s-the curator of the geology collection-extremophiles research. Their conversation was awkward and a little strained and certainly one-sided, but Diane felt it was probably normal for Juliet.

“They have terrific chocolate cake here,” said Diane.

The waitress came and Diane ordered a piece. So did Juliet.

“I like chocolate,” said Juliet. “The chocolate shaped shells in the gift basket were wonderful. I was going to buy some more but then I found out that Andie made them herself.”