One Grave Less by Beverly Connor Page A

horrified. “Star? The girl with the fuchsia hair?”
    Frank adopted Star when her parents, his best friends, were murdered. At the time she was a troubled teen with hot-pink hair and an attitude to match.
    “It hasn’t been fuchsia in a long time.” Frank grinned at Diane. “Besides, since you bought her the new wardrobe in Paris, her tastes in clothing have undergone a radical change for the better.”
    “I’m glad she decided she liked school,” said Diane.
    Frank put his hand over hers. “I wasn’t making any headway trying to convince her to go to the university. If you hadn’t made your astounding offer to buy her a Paris wardrobe if she tried school out, she’d be working flipping burgers, and not in prelaw. Thank you for that.”
    “I’ve discovered that bribery often works very well,” said Diane. “Anyway, she had such strong feelings when she was wrongly accused of her parents’ murders that I think she would have eventually found her way to law school or some justice-oriented program.”
    “I’m not so sure. Doing it right now was important for her,” he said, “before bills, babies, and bad boyfriends.”
    “So this is how she repays me, going in with them to plan our wedding,” said Diane.
    Frank smiled and rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “Just think how much you will like it when it’s over. Besides, ceremonies are important to people.”
    It was important to Frank. She could see it in the way he acted. He was a traditional guy. He always had been. Sometimes she didn’t know what he saw in her, they were so different on many things. On the other hand, it was easy to see what she saw in him. If she had to make a list, the words intelligent , kind , rational would be at the top. She was doing the right thing by getting married. She believed that, she did, but she still felt edgy about it, like she had forgotten something. Except that she hadn’t forgotten. It was Ariel. Ariel should be here with her, but Diane had lost her and it still hurt.
    “I will make it though the ceremony,” she said.
    “I have no doubt. Everyone involved has good taste, so don’t worry,” he said, eating the last of his spaghetti. “How about coffee in the living room and you can tell me about the drama at the museum? Someone said there was a fire?”
    Diane had told him little over the phone about the break-in. Only that there was one and she would fill him in later. It was now later.
     
    Diane sat cross-legged on the sofa. She took several sips of the hot coffee he handed to her before she started.
    “Are you bolstering your courage,” he said, “or trying to scorch your throat so you won’t have to talk about it?”
    Frank was sitting on a stuffed chair opposite her. They had a coffee table between them.
    “Neither,” she said. “Just savoring your good coffee.” She set the hot cup down on a coaster that looked like a disk of polished wood.
    She started not to tell him why she was at the exhibit at that particular time. Saying that she was trying to get over her dread of the new exhibit would sound foolish. But she blurted it out—the way the look of the exhibit reminded her of the ancient ruin and how she had searched there in vain for Ariel.
    “I needed to be able to feel comfortable around the exhibit. It’s silly, I know.”
    “Not silly. You’ve been thinking a lot about Ariel lately, haven’t you?”
    “Yes. But it’s not thoughts of her I want to get rid of. It’s the . . .” Diane trailed off, unable to explain. She felt hot, as if the tree of life design on the fireplace were a flame. She was afraid tears would well up in her eyes.
    “I know,” he said.
    “I was sitting looking up at the facade when I heard a groan.” Diane went on to tell him the whole story of the body on the floor, the false paramedics, and the fire. “I should have been suspicious when I didn’t recognize the second security guard. But we have a couple of new hires I hadn’t yet seen in