A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery (17 page)

Lindsay dreamed about the horse. It was running,
chased by conquistadors. They didn't want the Indians to have it. They trampled the corn fields, waving
their swords, but the horse was fast. One conquistador
took aim and shot just as the horse jumped safely
inside the palisade. Lindsay woke up. The sounds of
crickets were loud, and outside her window she could
see lightning bugs blinking on and off. In the distance
she heard the river sounds. This was a good site, one
of the best she had worked on. If only all the mysteries were archaeological and not criminal.

The next morning, after the old woman's and the
horse's graves were photographed, Frank and Derrick
came to help Lindsay, Sally, and Thomas take up the
bones.

"Where is Marsha?"Lindsay asked, surprised not
to see her with Frank as usual.

"She said she wasn't feeling well this morning. I
think it's aches and pains from digging. You remember how it is at first"

"Yes," said Lindsay aloud, but she thought to herself that, unlike Marsha, they were required to continue working, aches and pains or not.

"The lab crew floated the contents of the pot from
the horse burial. It contained corn cupules," Frank
said. "How did you know?"

"I just guessed. It's not all that uncommon to find corn in a pot, you know. Don't read anything into it."

"I won't, but I think some of the others are. You're
in danger of becoming famous, Lindsay."

Lindsay just laughed and shook her head.

"Take one last look," she said. "We're going to take
up the bones."

As she reached into the pit and touched the horse's
skull, a piercing scream split the relative silence of
the site. They all froze.

"That was from the flotation dock," said Derrick.
They ran toward the dock.

Carrie, one of the flotation crew, stood on the dock
pointing toward an object floating in the water.

"Good, God," exclaimed Frank. "It's a body."

Lindsay went to Carrie and led her off the dock and
away from the river. She was shaking and started
crying. By then the remainder of the site crew had
gathered and were staring into the water.

"Go back to the site," Frank ordered. "Michelle,
you and Jane take everyone to the picnic area and call
the sheriff."

Lindsay gave Carrie to Jane. "Take her with you
and give her some water or a Coke or whatever she
wants" Lindsay went hack to the river.

"What should we do'?" Brian asked.

"I suppose we should pull it out of the water,"
Frank answered.

"We who'?" asked Derrick.

"Aren't you supposed to leave a dead body where
you find it'?" asked Brian, hopefully.

"Not when it might float away. I know this is not
pleasant, but you, Derrick, and I have on gloves. We
are just going to have to do it."

They pulled the corpse from the water and dragged
it onto the dock, where they turned it over.

It was Seymour Plackert.

They all stared at each other fora moment.

"What do you think happened?" Brian asked. "Do
you think he fell in and drowned?"

"I'm sure the sheriff will sort it out" Frank stayed
with the body and sent the others to wait for the sheriff, who arrived half an hour later. The crew were sitting with their arms folded, grim-faced and quiet.

"Where is the body?" he asked.

"It's down at the river, on the dock," Lindsay said.

"Who found it?"

"I did," Carrie said quietly.

"Can you tell me about it?"

Carrie shrugged. "I dipped the flotation bucket into
the water-the pump is broken-and was bringing it
up when, it ... it just came from under the dock. I
screamed and dropped the bucket. I guess the artifacts
are lost."

"That's all right, Carrie," Derrick comforted her.
"Don't worry about the artifacts."

"What happened then?" asked the sheriff.

"When we heard her scream," said Lindsay, "we
rushed down to the dock and saw the body. Brian,
Derrick, and Frank pulled it out of the water onto the
dock. Frank's with the body now. All of us came here
to wait for you."

"I want all of you to stay here until I examine the
body. I may have some questions"

The sheriff, one of his deputies, and the two men
who drove the ambulance walked to the dock carrying
a stretcher and a body bag.

"What's going to happen now?" asked Jane.

"I don't know," Lindsay answered.

"Will they think we did it?" Jane asked.

"No," answered Lindsay. "Why would we'?"

"Well, he accused us ..." She let the sentence trail
off.

"We were proven innocent," said Lindsay. "We had
no reason to kill him."

"Will the sheriff see it that way, though?" Jane persisted.

"I've found him to be a reasonable man."

Derrick rose and walked away from the others,
stretching his legs. Lindsay walked over to him.

"I'll have to tell the sheriff about the stashed pot,"
he whispered to her.

"It will be all right."

"Sure."

"It will."

He smiled at her. "You sure are pretty."

"Where did that come from?"

Derrick shrugged. "I just notice it sometimes." He
caressed her cheek with the back of his finger tips,
walked back to the tables, and sat with the others.

Before long, the sheriff and his crew came up out
of the woods carrying the body across the site. Frank
directed them around the artifacts and features.

The sheriff let the others go to their quarters and
asked to talk with Derrick. Lindsay, and Frank
alone. He looked at each of them before saying anything. Frank and Lindsay waited for him to begin.
Derrick stared absently at the wooden deck of the
picnic area.

"Was it an accident, you think'?" asked Frank.

The sheriff shook his head. "He was shot" The
sheriff took a breath. He seemed to be weighing his
words. "Plackert was surprised that we found no
drugs," the sheriff said. "Perhaps bewildered would
be a better word. I can think of several reasons he
could be so sure there were drugs. One is that he put
them there himself. Does anyone know anything
about that?"

"I do," said Derrick, not taking his eyes off the
ground. Frank looked over at him in surprise. Lindsay
wanted to take his hand, but he was too far away.

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

Derrick looked at the sheriff and told him what he
had seen from his perch in the tree and what he had
done about it.

"I know it was stupid, but at the time it seemed like
the right thing to do"

"If I had known this when I interrogated Plackert,
it would have been a great help," said the sheriff.

"Yeah, I know."

"Would you recognize the fellow if you saw him
again?"

"I doubt it. He had on a helmet, and I wasn't that
close."

"How about the bike? Would you recognize it?"

"Maybe."

"A little later you can drive around with me to
some hang-outs, and we'll look for the bike."

Derrick nodded.

"Why?" Frank replied. "What could anyone gain
from running us off the site?"

"Perhaps they didn't want you to find a body?"
said the sheriff, and they all looked at him in astonish ment. Burial 23. It had not occurred to any of them.
No one off the site knew they had found Burial 23.

"Then you think it has to do with Burial 23?" asked
Frank.

"I think it highly likely," said the sheriff. "Lindsay,
you said the burial could have been in the ground anywhere from 25 to 100 years. For example, say it was
25 years and the perpetrator committed the crime
when he was 20. He would be 45 now."

"Or it could have been Plackert," said Lindsay. "He
was what? Sixty-five?"

"That was my first idea. After questioning him at
length, I finally told him we had found the body and he
should come clean. He appeared genuinely shocked,
but he stuck to the story that he had received several
anonymous calls about the people at the dig. I had my
deputies follow him. He went straight home. The next
day they lost track of him."

"You think he was working for someone else but
didn't know why they wanted the crew off the site?"
asked Frank.

"I believe that is a reasonable explanation," the
sheriff replied.

"Why do you think the murderer dumped Plackert's body here?" asked Frank. "To scare us?"

"I'm not sure they knew you would find it. There
are many remote places up river to dump a body."

"I think he was killed near here," Lindsay said
abruptly.

They stared at her. "How do you know?" the sheriff asked.

"I heard the shot. At least I think I did. I was
dreaming, but you know how dreams are. They incor porate outside sounds into the plot. I heard a shot in
my dream"

"Do you have any idea what time it was?"

"I don't know. I think I woke up shortly after the
shot, but I didn't look at the clock. I didn't hear anything suspicious when I was awake. Maybe it was
nothing."

"Maybe and maybe not. Derrick, did you hear anything?"

"No, but I sleep like the dead."

"I'll ask the others before I leave. They may have
heard something and not realized it. I also think Lindsay should move into town or someplace more protected. Everyone knows she is the one who identifies
bones."

"Are you saying someone may come after her?"
Frank asked.

"It's a possibility I can't discount," answered the
sheriff.

"You can move into my house," said Frank. "The
doors all have good locks. You can sleep on the
second floor, and I'll be there in case-"

"I think you're overreacting a bit," Lindsay declared.

"Frank and the sheriff are right," Derrick said.
"You should move to a safer place. Perhaps with the
field students. We could be talking about a person
who has killed twice already and would not hesitate
to kill again."

"There is no room with the field students," Frank
said. "There is plenty of room where I'm staying."
Frank and Derrick eyed each other for a moment.

"Look," said Lindsay, "I have Derrick, Brian, Jane,
Allen, Jim, and Sally living here. I should be safe."

"Tents are too easy to get into, and someone could
easily shoot through the tent at you." said Frank.

"Listen to yourselves," said Lindsay. "Aren't you
going overboard just a little? If someone wants to kill
me, I don't think they would march into camp where
they would likely be seen. Besides, there are many
bone experts in the United States. Killing me would
only delay things."

"They may not rationalize things that way. And as
far as not wanting to be recognized, they could send
the fellow who planted the pot," said Derrick. "Or
they could send someone else. It is best if you stay at
Frank's."

"What about you and the others?" Lindsay argued.
"He could make a mistake and get Jane or Sally. He
could see only your hair, Derrick, and think it was
me. '

"Jane and Sally should stay at the house, too," Derrick said. "Brian, Jim, Alan, and I can take care of
ourselves."

"Look, this is just supposition, and I'm not going
to move my quarters based on it." They started to
protest again when Lindsay turned to the sheriff. "I
made a cast of the Burial 23 skull and am reconstructing her face. Would you like to see it'?"

The sheriff looked surprised. "Yes, by all means"

They followed Lindsay to her tent, and she pulled
the box from under the table. She took the reconstruction, set it on her table, and uncovered it.

"Nice job." said Frank.

"That's her'?" asked the sheriff.

"Pretty much." said Lindsay. "There are things like
the exact shape of the nose and lips that I may not have captured. I have no way of knowing her eye and hair
color. The face is still rough. I'm still working on it.

The sheriff stared at the face. "That's pretty good.
If it's been in the ground around 60 or 70 years like
you said in your report, there may be some old missing persons report. When I can spare someone, I'll
have them look in the morgue at the newspaper office
and see if there are any articles. I have to go now. I
don't have to tell all of you to keep an eye out." He
left, and Frank turned to Lindsay.

"Come stay at the house. The sheriff is right.
Everyone knows you identified the skeletons of the
children."

"Do it," said Derrick. "I want you to be safe"

"I'll think about it." She smiled at him.

-Rudyard Kipling

The Vampire

THE THOUGHT OF the digging season coming to
an abrupt and ignominious end distressed Lindsay, for
she expected the students from the field school and
the scouts to flee in terror from the site. However,
they did not take the discovery of Plackert's body
with the same gravity as everyone else. They were, in
fact, fascinated by it. They were in the middle of a
mystery, and they reveled in the gory details, even
made up worse particulars on their own.