One Grave Too Many by Beverly Connor Page A

contracted out to be processed. They did have a large storage vault controlled for temperature and humidity, a fume hood for handling chemicals, deacidification facilities, a suction table for treating fragile objects that can’t be completely immersed in water, binocular microscopes, and photographic equipment, all managed by a head conservator and five assistants. Diane was negotiating an arrangement with the local technical schools to offer classes for training conservation assistants.
    Most of the items Korey worked with were bones, botanical specimens and objects from nature, but he also had expertise in the conservation of historical objects and paper. All the documents that passed through the museum went through Korey’s hands first, before going to the archivist.
    Signy was leaning over a table looking at water-stained documents, Korey’s jacket over her shoulders.
    “We found these in an old trunk in a corner of the basement,” Korey was telling her. “They contain some of the history of the place. Once I test the ink, I’ll know how to clean the paper and separate the pages that are stuck together. I think they’ll eventually make a terrific exhibit.”
    “There’s certainly a lot more to this museum business than one would first guess,” said Madge.
    As they discussed the documents, Diane noticed boxes of supplies, three layers high stacked against the wall. “What’s this?” she asked Korey.
    He laughed. “Enough supplies to last me into the next millennium. I don’t know what’s going on. I suddenly started receiving a triple order of everything. I called the supplier and they said we’d ordered it.”
    “Send me the paperwork that came with it,” said Diane. “I’ll take care of it. We’ll send back all the extras that have a shelf life.”
    Madge rubbed her bare arms. “How can you stand it so cool in here? I’d turn up the temperature.”
    “It’s best for the stuff we work on if the room is kept a little cool,” said Korey. “We get used to it.”
    “Would you give Miss Stewart a box and some wrapping tissue? She wants to store a quilt.”
    “Sure thing.” Korey went to collect the items.
    “I suppose the meeting’s broken up, then.” Signy took the jacket off and laid it on the table.
    “Yes, it has. I imagine Mark will be looking for you in the lounge. I’ll show you the way, if you like.”
    “Thanks, Korey,” she yelled after him. “I appreciate the tour.”
    “No problem, Mrs. G.”
    “Korey will take care of you, Madge,” said Diane. “He can give you advice on cleaning your quilt, if it needs it.”
    Diane left Madge looking at a tray of resin casts of dinosaur eggs and walked Signy out of the lab to the elevators that led to the staff lounge on the second floor.
    “How did the meeting go?” Signy looked at her watch. “You couldn’t have gotten much done.”
    “No. We didn’t get much done. Just small business. Did you enjoy your tour of the conservation lab?”
    “I did,” said Signy. She sounded surprised that she could actually enjoy herself in a museum laboratory. “Korey’s a good teacher. Very enthusiastic about his work.”
    “Mark said you’ve been taking cold medication. I’m sorry you had to spend the night in the conference room. I’ll have to ask the cleaning staff why they didn’t notice you.”
    “It’s just as well. I didn’t need to be driving, and Mark was going to be at his office half the night talking to Japan.”
    “I would have been glad to drive you home.”
    “The couch was very comfortable.”
    Diane didn’t press further, but she found the whole thing very odd. They met Mark just outside the staff lounge. He was frowning and didn’t automatically light up when he saw his wife. When he finally did smile, it looked forced.
    “I’d better get you home,” he said. “You must be exhausted.” He nodded to Diane, took Signy by the arm and led her across the emerald green tile floors toward the elevators.
    Diane