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Andie’s Toyota and Donald’s Lexus, and walked across the pavement to the museum entrance.
    The string quartet had just arrived. Diane held open the door for the four college-student musicians. They looked elegant in their long black dresses, carrying their instrument cases.
    “Thanks, Dr. Fallon,” said the cellist.
    “We really appreciate your asking us here,” tall, willowy Alix, the first violinist, added.
    From the music to the caterers, Diane had used people from the surrounding community. She wanted local support, and thought that giving it in turn would make her job easier.
    “My pleasure. Thank you for coming.”
    Diane peeked into the Pleistocene room on her way to the kitchen. The large vaulted room was now transformed from a work in progress to a rather wonderful exhibit. To make room for a long table of party food, Diane had omitted some of the animals and Paleo-Indian dioramas that would eventually appear in the exhibit. She included only the megafauna, the spectacular big guys, the ancient giant species who always impressed.
    The caterers had laid out an appetizing array of finger food on a table decorated with leafy long-blade plants, hard plastic museum-quality replicas of dinosaurs and a magnificent ice sculpture centerpiece of a mammoth with long curved tusks.
    The head caterer, a woman in her late fifties, stood back smiling and folded her arms. “I think it looks rather good.” She leaned and whispered to Diane, “We found a mold for the ice sculpture. We were quite pleased.”
    “Well, I like it very much. And the food looks wonderful.”
    The first of the guests had started flowing through the doors. Among them were real estate agent Mark Grayson and his wife, Signy. As Diane approached to greet them, she overheard Mark Grayson telling board member Craig Amberson that the museum would be better served if they would sell this piece of prime real estate and move into a building closer to Atlanta. Diane greeted him with a smile anyway. Tonight was not the night for fighting.
    “Good to see you, Mark. Signy. I’m glad you could make it.”
    “Wouldn’t miss it.” His lips stretched into a thin smile.
    Model-thin Signy, in a red shiny dress, muttered something and gave Diane a smile that looked more mocking than polite. Diane shifted her attention to the other guests. Kenneth Meyers, CEO of NetSoft, and his wife, Katherine, edged in beside the Graysons.
    “Looks like quite a crowd.” Kenneth gave Diane’s hand a firm shake. He was lean and tan, a contrast to his soft, pale wife. “Tell me, did CyberUniverse do a good job for us?” It was no secret that Kenneth was thinking about buying the budding company.
    “They did a wonderful job. I’m very pleased,” Diane told him. “You’ll have to see their animations.”
    She welcomed each guest—board members, contributors, the cream of Rosewood society, fashionably arrayed in black, white and diamonds, rich greens, deep blues and dark maroons. Signy stood out like a bright ruby among them. The quartet began to play a Brahms violin concerto.
    Frank, looking handsome in his tux, arrived with his son, Kevin, his ex-wife, Cindy, and her husband, David Reynolds.
    “I’m sorry,” Frank apologized. “I was late getting back from Columbus.”
    “That’s all right.” She was actually surprised, and pleased, that he had made it.
    Frank’s ex-wife was blond, petite and very pretty in a plain, long black gown with a string of pearls. David—tall, handsome and friendly—pumped Diane’s hand up and down, telling her how very happy he was that she had invited them.
    “My pleasure.”
    Kevin, sporting a tux and a fresh haircut, shook Diane’s hand solemnly.
    “Frank told me you’re interested in forensic anthropology,” she said.
    “I’m interested in bones and detective work. Is that what you do?”
    “It’s what I used to do.”
    “And damn fine at it.” Diane felt a heavy arm wrap around her shoulder.
    “Harvey Phelps, how are