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has targeted museum board members?” It would be a daunting
     task to review that board—the list of current trustees went on for pages and looked
     like a mini Philadelphia Social Register. And that didn’t even take into account former
     trustees.
    Marty shrugged. “I don’t know. We only just started looking at this problem. We’d
     have to go back a few years to see if our three victims have been on the museum board
     anytime recently.”
    “I can do that,” Shelby said. “But none of this makes any sense. What’s the motive?
     Somebody’s got it in for patrons of the arts? High-profile society figures? I thought
     Philadelphia was pretty laid-back these days about that kind of thing. And I’ve never
     heard a bad word about the museum. What’s there to complain about? Is there some guerrilla
     group that thinks it should be free for the public?”
    “It
is
pricey, unless you’re a member,” I admitted. “They do open for free one day a month.”
    “How nice of them,” Shelby said with a trace of bitterness.
    “I know what you’re saying, Shelby, but they must have massive expenses to cover.
     It costs about half as much for someone to use our library, and still our members
     and visitors complain if we try to raise admission by a dollar—and you know how much
     we need the income.”
    We were all silent for a moment, contemplating the irony of trying to juggle our admission
     prices to both cover costs and allow more people to enjoy what we had.
    Finally I said, “So, next steps. Marty, give Shelby whatever notes you’ve made, or
     set up a time to sit down with her and go over the rest of the list. Then maybe you
     can take a harder look at the Art Museum list. Shelby, dig up what we’ve got in the
     Society files on the Forrest Trust. As for me, I guess I’ll take the Society list.
     If I don’t know all the people on the list, I should, so it will be a good exercise
     for me. I’d hate to think the Society figures in this problem.”
    “Not
all
the victims have been associated with the Society,” Shelby said.
    “
If
we are looking at victims rather than coincidences, or suicides,” Marty responded
     promptly. “Maybe there are other connections. Maybe Benton and Freddy were working
     behind the scenes to close us down, without our knowing it, and the killer thinks
     he’s doing us a favor by shutting them up, permanently.” Marty folded her arms and
     sat back in her chair, challenging me. Shelby just looked distressed, as though she
     was a child watching her parents argue.
    I chose my words carefully. “Marty, I recognize the validity of your arguments, and
     I’m appalled at how easy it is for you to come up with a variety of possible explanations.
     But I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’ve been looking at this for only
     a day, and we’ve barely scratched the surface. Let’s fill in some more of the blanks
     before we start weaving together pretty theories. It may turn out to be nothing, after
     all.” I hoped. But somehow I didn’t believe myself. Maybe James’s bad feeling was
     contagious.
    “Are we done here?” Shelby said. “Because I can see I’ve got a lot of catching up
     to do.”
    I nodded. “We all have our assignments. Let’s plan on getting together like this again
     tomorrow morning.”
    Marty and Shelby stood up and headed off together toward Shelby’s office, leaving
     me sitting alone at the table.
    I hadn’t been raised in Philadelphia or even its suburbs, so I hadn’t been absorbing
     this kind of who’s who knowledge through osmosis since childhood, the way Marty had.
     As development director for the Society, I had done enough research to know who the
     power brokers and players were these days, and a bit about the elite citizens of the
     past. For a long time in the twentieth century, Philadelphia had looked like a dowdy
     cousin compared to its nearest competitor, New York. Part of that might have been
     due to the lingering