Beverly Connor - One Grave Too Many

Diane had the key in her hand, ready to unlock the door. She spun around and faced Donald. “Why did you do that?”

He took a small step back. “You said to change the meeting to fifteen minutes earlier.”

“No, I did not.”

“I have your E-mail.”

“I didn’t send it. This is going to stop.” She thrust the key in the lock. Before she turned it, the door opened, almost knocking her backward.

Diane and every one of the museum board members took a step backward at the startling sight of a disheveled, droopy-eyed Signy Grayson stumbling into the hallway and almost to the floor, if Diane hadn’t held on to her arm. The heavy aroma of metabolized alcohol and perfume wafted over the small crowd.

“I must have fallen asleep. It’s, uh, been a long day.” She looked at them in confusion.

No one said anything for several beats, shifting their gazes from Signy to Mark, who stood strangely silent and surprised. Diane broke the silence. “Are you all right? Were you here all night?”

“Signy?” Mark found his voice and pushed his way to the door and took her by the arm. “Sweetheart, are you ill?”

“Just feeling a little tired. What does she mean ‘all night’?” Signy put her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes.

“Because it’s Wednesday,” said Diane. “The party was last night.”

A look of alarm crossed Signy’s face. “Oh, no.”

“It must be the cold medicine,” Mark muttered to the silent crowd around them. “We won’t be long here, and I’ll take you home. We can pick up your car later.”

“Would you like to go to the first-aid station and lie down?” asked Diane.

“No. . I’m fine, really.”

Diane spotted the head conservator walking in their direction. She nabbed him as he came past, heading toward the elevators. “Korey, will you escort Mrs. Grayson to the staff lounge?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Fallon. I have the proposal for the conservation workshops.” He waved the folder he was carrying. “I’ll give it to Andie.”

“Good. I’m anxious to see it.”

“Come with me, Mrs. Grayson. I was just heading in that direction.”

There were some quiet whispers among the board members who stood watching Signy, in her red sparkling dress, walk down the hallway with the much taller Korey, dressed in his khaki dockers and yellow museum tee shirt, his long dreadlocks falling past his shoulders. As the two of them turned the corner to the elevators, Diane heard Korey say: “Lovely dress, Mrs. Grayson.”

Diane wondered why it wasn’t Mark who was escorting his wife-and how he didn’t know she hadn’t come home last evening. Laura must have wondered the same thing. She lifted her brows at Diane, who knew what she must be thinking: Mark was up to his same old tricks as when he was married to her.

Signy must have slept on the leather couch at the end of the room. It stood against the wall with two companion stuffed leather chairs arranged in a conversation group. A small glass-and-wood coffee table held an overturned wineglass. It was a comfortable sofa. Signy should have gotten a good night’s sleep on it.

They filed around the long mahogany table with Diane at the head. She stared down the length of it as the board members found their seats. Mark Grayson sat to her immediate right. His eyes darted from his watch to the door. As they waited, several board members took quick glances in his direction. They were probably wondering the same thing she was-how come he didn’t know his wife hadn’t come home last night?

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his chair again as Craig Amberson sat down to Diane’s left. She knew that Mark had made the most headway with Craig in his quest to sell the museum and property. They could have been taking up battle positions, surrounding the enemy, the way they seized possession of the chairs and drew them up to the table.

Diane tossed down her papers and glanced at each member of the board. She had decided against bringing up the duplicate orders until she had a chance to question the staff.

The conference room door opened and Gordon Atwell rushed into the room. “Sorry to be late, folks. I didn’t get the message about the changed meeting time until a short while ago.” He took a seat at the table.

“You’re denying you sent the E-mail?” Craig Amberson asked Diane.

“Craig, I didn’t send the E-mail.”

“I did get it,” said Donald. He clamped his mouth shut and stared at her like a bulldog.

“I don’t doubt it. Forward me the E-mail when the meeting’s over. I’ll check my computer to see if that’s where it came from.”

“All right,” said Mark. “I’d like to open up the discussion to moving the museum and selling the property. The monetary gain for the museum would be enormous.”

“And what would that be?” said Diane.

“What?” Mark stared at her in surprise.

“What is the monetary gain? Presumably, you’ve worked out the figures. May I see them?”

“We’re talking several million added to the museum’s holdings.”

“This is a million-or more-left over after we either build or refit another suitable building with the correct spacial, environmental, electrical and security requirements to house the collections, and including relandscaping the nature trails? I think we need to examine your figures line by line before we’re even prepared to discuss a change this radical.”

“Look, Diane, I called this meeting to discuss the concept. This is a great opportunity to increase the museum’s holdings.”

“I’ll set aside for a moment your odd use of the word increase , since all I’ve heard up to now will decrease the holdings. If we discuss this idea in theory and the figures don’t work out, we will have wasted a lot of time.”

“I agree,” said Kenneth Meyers, fingering his Palm Pilot. “Mark, what’s this obsession you have about moving the museum? I can’t see how it could work out in the museum’s favor. I don’t think the land here is going to be as valuable as you seem to believe, and we just remodeled this place, for God’s sake.”

“With all due respect, Ken, what do you know about real estate?”

“I haven’t made any bad real estate investments lately, and I can balance a checkbook. I know we’d have to be getting downtown-Manhattan prices in order for it to pay off for the museum in the way you’re suggesting.”

“I move we table this until Mark develops a line-by-line detailed budget for the sale of the property and building and moving the museum compared with the current figures for the renovated museum.” Laura was smooth and casual in stating her motion. Diane wondered if Mark noticed how detailed it was.

“I second,” said Kenneth.

“All in agreement with Laura’s motion raise your hands.” Laura, Kenneth Meyers, and Harvey Phelps raised their hands. Three votes out of the seven board members present. Mark looked around the room and smirked. His gaze shifted to Diane, whose hand was also raised.

“You can only vote to break a tie,” said Madge.

“You’re forgetting, I have Vanessa Van Ross’ proxy. All those against Laura’s motion.”

Mark Grayson, Gordon Atwell, Craig Amberson and Madge Stewart all raised their hands, producing a tie vote.

“I vote for Laura’s motion,” said Diane. “We’ll table this discussion until Mark has his figures together.”

“Why don’t we all just send you a rubber stamp with our signatures, and we won’t have to waste our time showing up for these meetings?” said Mark. “I don’t know why we even have a board, since you will do what you want anyway.”

“Milo intended the board members to offer their expertise for the good of the museum,” said Diane. “Why do you consider having to get your facts and figures together a defeat?”