Evolve or Die! 1.

The Natural History Museum in Kensington is one of London's great tourist attractions. Because of the dinosaurs. I know lots of other things are there, but I also know that people go there because of the dinosaur skeletons. Well, most people do. I was there on a wet day in May because I'd been invited to a reception. Scruff was freeloading as my secretary, though her jeans and sweater were decidedly out of place in a room full of well-dressed men and women. I think they'd have turned her away at the door if someone had remembered to set a dress code for the event. They hadn't, which was all to our advantage. Of course I dressed as a wealthy young lady is expected to.
I have an architect friend who says tht the Natural History Museum is a disaster, a sort of Lombardic-Romanesque-Gothic concoction by Alfred Waterhouse, an architect whose other great London buildings, the Prudential building in Holborn and the Kings Weigh House chapel in Mayfair, are further evidence of the horrors of his style. I rather like them, but my friend's sensitive. One complaint that can be made about the Natural History Museum is that it's a real headache to floodlight because of the colour of the place.
But that day I was just glad of the great cast-iron roof above us keeping the rain out.

"You think the Deacons would approve of us being here?" Scruff asked mischeviously.
"Probably not, but we're not promoting evolution or anything, are we?" I laughed.
"I guess not," Scruff agreed. "Why can't I have champagne?"
"I don't want you falling over drunk."
"Okay. Is it really like that?"
"Especially since you've never had it before."
"So why are we here?"
"Diana Dickson, an old university friend of mine, invited me. And now I can't see her."
"Jane!"
I whirled. There behind me was Diana Dickson, well-dressed - which is why I hadn't spotted her, she's usually almost as untidy as Scruff. She's an ecologist and usually spends her time in far-flung parts of the globe.
"Diana! I was looking for your hat!"
"I was told not to wear it today. Well, you're still the same Jane. And Scruff! What do you do now, Scruff?"
"I'm Jane's secretary."
"Nice work if you can get it! Listen..."
Suddenly someone at the door screamed. I dashed over to find a young woman, apparently a homeless drug-addict, slumped on the floor. Blood flowed from her mouth and she was rather obviously dead.