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didn’t make sense, did it? It was one of us. That doesn’t make sense.”
    “If she was referring to the massacre, we know it was Ivan Santos who carried it out. But she meant something,” said David. He rubbed his hands over his face. “She meant something.”
    “And who was the us she was talking about?” said Diane. “Simone and me? The three of us? The three of us and someone else? Who? She was in very serious condition from a head injury. She probably didn’t know what she was saying. It might be nonsense.”
    “Maybe. But we need to investigate this. Garnett doesn’t know the people we know. He doesn’t know Gregory. We need to call him.”
    “Maybe. Let’s see how Simone is doing tomorrow. Perhaps she’ll straighten it out. If not, I’ll call Gregory tomorrow evening, or whatever time corresponds to a decent hour in England. Now I have to tell Vanessa I allowed the special exhibit to get torched.”

Chapter 7
    Telling Vanessa about the fire at the museum had gone better than Diane expected—mainly because of the long silences on Vanessa’s end of the phone line. Diane told Vanessa she was calling a meeting of the board for the next day to tell them the news and to tell them to refer any reporters to her. Vanessa agreed but suggested that Diane leave out certain information. Diane agreed. Until she knew why Simone Brooks was in the museum, it would do no good to tell the board about her and her connection to Diane. Some members of the board had great temptation to gossip.
    So here she stood in front of them in the boardroom on the third floor of the museum. Diane hated meetings in the best of times. She wasn’t looking forward to this one. She had dressed in what Andie Layne, her assistant, said was her power outfit. Diane wasn’t sure why the suit had power, but she bowed to Andie’s superior knowledge of clothes. The linen navy pantsuit with its long fitted blazer looked good with the blue silk blouse she usually paired with it, and it was comfortable. She stood at the head of the long mahogany table and finished giving the board members a brief description of the events of the previous evening, hoping Andie was right about the power thing.
    “Do you have an estimate on the damage from the fire?” asked Harvey Phelps.
    Harvey was usually Diane’s ally, but he was clearly disturbed by this turn of events. Diane didn’t blame him. He had gone to Mexico with Kendel to work out the details for the loan of the artifacts. Now the Mexican treasure’s temporary home had been firebombed.
    “The exhibit designers are working on that right now. They and Korey from Conservation are looking at how much can be restored and how much must be rebuilt. There’s not much fire damage and the water damage is minimal. The smoke left stains that will require some repainting, refinishing, and cleaning. The real damage is to the partnership with the museum in Mexico. They will need to be convinced that their artifacts will be safe here.”
    “Do we have to tell them?” said Madge Stewart.
    “Of course we have to tell them,” said Diane.
    She tried to keep her face straight and not show annoyance at Madge, who often seemed clueless about ordinary protocol and had a child’s view of candor in the face of calamity.
    Thomas Barclay, the banker member of the board, was usually at odds with everything Diane did, but only because he didn’t like anyone but himself to be in charge. The governance of the museum was set up so the board was only advisory and the director held all the power. Only in the most extraordinary conditions could her decisions be overridden, and that rankled his sense of self-importance. Barclay had been silent. Diane could see he was building up for something. But when he spoke it was a simple question.
    “What do the police think happened?” he asked.
    “That it was an attempted theft that went wrong,” said Diane.
    “And you’re saying they just waltzed in and took over,” said