Dead Secret by Beverly Connor Page A

the phone.
    “Well, hello, Diane Fallon. What can I do for you?”
    As soon as she spoke in her deep South Georgia accent Diane visualized Lynn’s dark, well-coiffed hair and manicured nails. Lynn didn’t look like a medical examiner until you saw her elbow-deep in the bowels of a cadaver.
    “I have a special situation here, and your expertise immediately came to mind.”
    “Flattery usually works with me, but this sounds like a problem.”
    “No, really, this could be a welcome break from what we usually see.” She explained the circumstances and the condition of Caver Doe to Lynn.
    “You have the most experience with mummified remains of anyone in the area, so I’d like you to do the autopsy,” Diane said. “And the entrance to the cave is in Hall County, so technically, it could have been your body—sort of.”
    “I looked at the MRI of the Egyptian mummy for your museum. That is the extent of my experience.”
    “Yes, and that gives you much more experience than anyone else around.”
    “A fifty-year-old mummy?”
    Mike blew his horn as he passed her on the road. He was a much faster driver than Diane.
    “Fifty, sixty, seventy. We don’t know the exact age. But his Moon Pie wrappers look pretty old.”
    Lynn laughed. “This isn’t a joke, is it? Did that Brewster Pilgrim tell you to call me?”
    “No, this is legit.”
    “Okay, send him over. You want your mummy stripped when I’m finished, I guess?”
    “Yes, please. And . . . thanks, Lynn.”
    “You tell Brewster that if this is a joke, payback’s a bitch.”
    It took about twenty minutes for Diane to deliver the body to the hospital morgue where Lynn worked, and another twenty minutes to check it in with the attendant on duty. By the time the mummy was safely inside his drawer Diane was more than ready to be in her small Rosewood apartment soaking in her large claw-footed tub.

    Just as Diane had anticipated, the bubble bath was soothing and relaxing. She would have preferred warm water, but with the bruises on her midsection, she opted for a cooler soak. She was leaning back in the tub when she heard Frank’s knock on the front door. He had a rhythmic knock he did with his knuckles before he let himself in with the key Diane had given him. And he always called out when he entered.
    “Diane, it’s me.”
    “I’m in the tub.”
    “That sounds nice. Let me put the food down and I’ll join you.”
    She smiled to herself as she heard him rattling around in the kitchen and then his footfalls coming toward the bathroom.
    “You look all relaxed. Hard day at the cave?” He sat on the edge of the tub and dipped his hand in the water. “A little cool. How long you been soaking?” He shook the bubbles off his sleeve.
    “I’m about ready to get out.”
    Frank Duncan was a detective in the Metro Atlanta Fraud and Computer Forensics Unit, where he investigated everything from white-collar and computer crimes to identity theft. They had dated before she went to South America to work for World Accord International looking for and excavating mass graves. When she returned to take over directorship of the museum, she had been surprised to discover that his blue-green eyes still made her quiver when his smile made them crinkle at the corners and sparkle—like they did now.
    “We have the rest of the evening and two full weeks,” he said.
    “I am so looking forward to being in a mountain cabin with you, and no dead bodies, blood spatter, or fussy board members.” Diane relaxed back in the tub, feeling content and peaceful in the cool water, glad Frank was here.
    “I brought some Thai food for dinner. Thought we could eat in the living room, look out your picture window, listen to music and . . . ” He let his words drift off as he sloshed the water back and forth with his hand. Diane sat up in the tub and smoothed the water out of her hair with her hands. Frank took the towel she had folded and laid on the counter and opened it up. “I can