‘‘Since everyone is here, I’ll go ahead and start early. I wanted to bring you up-to-date on the progress so far with the Egyptian artifacts,’’ she said. ‘‘The artifacts that arrived here do not match the artifacts we purchased and do not match the documentation. The documentation does match what we were buying, and those items, wherever they are, are legitimate.’’
‘‘So this was a mistake?’’ said Harvey Phelps.
‘‘I don’t know if it was simply a mistake. One of the pieces turned up in the National Stolen Art File as being stolen from Egypt fifty years ago. We don’t yet know where the rest are from. One shows signs of perhaps being recently looted, but that’s not confirmed.’’
‘‘Where does that leave us?’’ asked Anne Pascal. She had a quiet voice and a kind face. She hadn’t said much in the last meeting. Perhaps she felt she could get a word in during this one. But then, Diane was being cynical.
‘‘It leaves us without the artifacts we were in the process of purchasing and for which we made a partial payment,’’ she said. ‘‘I think the FBI agent will help us locate them. There is a chance they were burned in a fire that consumed the antiquities dealer we purchased them from.’’
‘‘Did you check out this place before you bought from them?’’ Apparently Barclay couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. Still has to scold. It must be embedded in his personal makeup. Must scold every day.
‘‘Golden Antiquities is—was—one of the most reputable dealers in the state. However, it just passed from father to son when the elder Cunningham retired. The younger Cunningham might not have been as honest as his father. However, he died in the fire. And the FBI is having a hard time finding witnesses.’’
‘‘What has the FBI person said about Kendel?’’ asked Laura.
‘‘He has interviewed her. He hasn’t indicated to me that he is interested in her as the culprit who did this.’’ Diane looked around the table at each of them.
‘‘One thing; I did discover who called the Lanie LaRu radio program and asked if we were laundering stolen antiquities,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Who?’’ said Vanessa.
‘‘My source tells me DA Riddmann asked someone in his office to make the call. He wanted to poke Vanessa in the eye, and he thought trashing the museum on the radio was just too good an opportunity to pass up,’’ said Diane.
‘‘That runt,’’ said Vanessa. ‘‘I should have known.’’
‘‘What can we do about it?’’ asked the history professor.
‘‘Nothing,’’ said Diane. ‘‘We just have to absorb some fallout.’’
‘‘We need to discuss the damage all this will do to the museum,’’ said Vanessa.
‘‘I don’t think it will do any damage,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Not in the long run. We have gotten a couple of calls from people who don’t want to contribute any longer, but I think all that will change as soon as this is straightened out.’’
‘‘Well, I think you are doing a terrific job,’’ said Kenneth Meyerson. ‘‘You seem to have won the FBI agent over to our side.’’
‘‘That’s hard to tell with law enforcement agents. The best thing right now is to be as straightforward as we can with him.’’
‘‘What about you?’’ said Harvey. ‘‘I’ve been reading in the paper that your home was invaded and you were attacked. Are you all right?’’ His white bushy eyebrows were brought together in a frown.
‘‘I’m fine, thank you. It’s an ongoing investigation so I’m not free to talk about it,’’ she said.
‘‘Is all this publicity going to affect the museum?’’ said Barclay.
‘‘It hasn’t yet,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You seem to have too many irons in the fire. I think we need to think about a new director,’’ he said.
They were all startled by the loud slap on the table. It was Vanessa.
‘‘That is not a topic for the board,’’ she said.
Her voice was up a few decibels and had such an I-mean-business quality to it that no one spoke. Not even Diane.
‘‘I’m just saying we should think—’’ began Barclay after a moment.
‘‘Diane is running the museum exactly as Milo would have it. That is why he gave the director so much power—to cut out nonsense. We are supposed to advise and assist. That’s the way it is.’’
‘‘Okay, Vanessa. I realize this is your museum, but things must be done right,’’ he said.
‘‘They are done right,’’ said Anne Pascal. ‘‘This is just the best place. If you will allow yourself time to go to each room and look, really look at the exhibits, I think you will see that. This is a repository of knowledge. You can’t run it like a bank.’’
‘‘Well said, Anne,’’ Kenneth said.
‘‘I agree,’’ said Vanessa. ‘‘That is what Milo envisioned—a repository of knowledge. If Diane will adjourn the meeting, we can let her get on with her work.’’
‘‘Okay, the meeting is adjourned. I’ll update you with e-mail as I find out more about the disposition of the artifacts.’’
Her cell rang and she fished it out of her pocket. It was Andie. Diane had a phone call from an estate attorney.
Chapter 38
Diane hurried to her osteology office on the third floor of the west wing. It was a quick trip from the thirdfloor boardroom. She sat down and took a deep breath before she picked up the phone.
‘‘Thank you for waiting,’’ she said into the phone. ‘‘I want you to know that was a wholly inappropriate message you left on the Estate Attorneys Listserv. That list is for discussing professional issues. It is not there to do your job for you.’’
‘‘Excuse me, and you are?’’ said Diane. Disappointment stung her throat. She thought it was the first hit in the search for Clymene. It was someone else who wanted to scold her.
‘‘I’m Attorney Emma T. Lorimer, and I want to know what right you have to plaster this woman’s photograph all over the Web saying she’s a criminal.’’
‘‘She is a criminal,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Has she been convicted?’’
‘‘Did you read the message? Yes, she has. Convicted, imprisoned for murder, and now she’s escaped from prison. This is a dangerous woman who preys on wealthy families. Do you know her?’’ said Diane. ‘‘No, I don’t know her. I called because I am incensed that you would use a private list in this way.’’
It was strange to Diane that someone would take the time to call her about what they felt was an unauthorized e-mail. There had to be something else going on.
‘‘The woman who is now going by the name Clymene O’Riley is very adept at getting people to trust her. Do you know who she is?’’
‘‘No. Why do you keep asking me?’’
‘‘Because you took the time to call. I appreciate your championing the innocent. There are more innocents accused of crimes than people realize, but this woman is not one of them. Do you know her or someone who looks like her? Her sisters look very much like her.’’
‘‘For the last time, no, I don’t know her. I’m just infuriated that you would spam my list and fill my mailbox with crap like this. It isn’t what estate law is about.’’