A Corpse for Yew (22 page)

“I was . . . cleaning, remember?”

“What did you
think
I did with it? Why didn’t you ask me about it?”

“After asking you about your family, it was hardly the time to bring anything else up.”

Steve turned off his flashlight and set it down in the duffel. He took Peggy in his arms and kissed her. “I get dirty sometimes going out into the field and treating animals. It’s a simple explanation, nothing too deep or dramatic.”

“I suppose.” Really, she would’ve been happy just to stand there with him in the dark and not talk about the duffel bag or any of the other doubts that had plagued her for the past two days.

He rummaged around in the bag and brought out a few more things. “These are dart guns. I use them to tranquilize animals I can’t approach while they’re conscious. The GPS is for walking around in the woods at the horse farm. Does that make you feel any better?”

Peggy wanted to put the whole thing aside. She felt ridiculous enough that she’d had so many doubts about him over one picture and a pistol on his bedside table. She could even be philosophical about it: How well did anyone know the person they fell in love with?

They heard a sound from the general area of the dry lake, but the trees and shrubs muffled the noise. Steve pulled Peggy behind him and took the pistol out of the duffel bag. “Shh! You stay here and let me check this out.”

She knew he couldn’t see her face, but she stuck her tongue out at him anyway. “I’m not staying anywhere. If you’re going down there, so am I.”

He didn’t respond, and she followed him away from the SUV. There was a bright light, hidden by heavy red cedar trees. As they came around the thick stand of trees, Peggy could tell the light was focused on the area where the historical society had been gathering bones and artifacts. She took careful steps as they wove their way closer and closer to the light, thinking of bone thieves working in the dark.

Of course, the police were long done with the crime scene and nowhere to be found. The security guard the museum had hired to watch the site had quit after they’d found Lois. The police had learned he hadn’t been at his post the night before Lois died.

The situation was making her nervous. Maybe she should’ve stayed behind and called 911. The trees and bushes swayed in the light breeze that chased the clouds from the sky, allowing some starlight to penetrate the night. Peggy could hear someone whistling, but still couldn’t see anything beyond the underbrush that surrounded the lake.

As she and Steve rounded a point between the brush where the police and the historical society had accessed the lake bed, she saw a figure standing in the deep mud. It appeared to be a man in high boots and a T-shirt. He was sifting through the bones he’d found, tossing what he wanted to the edge of the lake. A sizable pile of bones and artifacts had formed, the bright light gleaming on them.

“Let me call the police,” she whispered to Steve. Neither one of them was trained to confront someone who might use deadly force to defend himself.

“He’ll be gone by the time anyone can get out here.” Steve nodded toward the man, who was already climbing out of the mud to look at his haul. “You said this was illegal and bad for your historical society. You call the police. I’ll hold him until they get here.”

PEGGY WOULD’VE ARGUED THE POINT, but Steve was already creeping toward the man, and she didn’t want to give him away. Filled with terrible visions of the bone thief shooting Steve, she took out her cell phone and whispered into it when the 911 operator answered.

The darkness seemed terribly quiet. She couldn’t even hear cars going by on the main road.

“What is your address?” the operator asked.

Peggy wanted to shush her. The woman’s voice sounded very loud in the night. “I don’t have an address. I mean, I have my home address, but I’m not at home. I’m at Lake Whitley, and a man is out here stealing bones and artifacts. Can you send someone?”

“We can’t send someone without an address,” the operator told her. “Lake Whitley is a big place. I’m sure you wouldn’t want officers wandering around out there until they find you.”

“All right,” Peggy said. “I’m at the scene of Lois Mullis’s death.”

“Why are you there? That area is off-limits. You should leave immediately.”

“I’ll leave if you’ll send help,” she whispered back. “My . . . boyfriend . . . is confronting the thief. He needs help.”

“You should both leave right away,” the operator persisted. “That’s no place for you and your boyfriend to hang out.”

It was all Peggy could do not to scream at the woman. She took a deep breath and calmly said, “My name is Dr. Margaret Lee. I work with the medical examiner’s office. I’m out here collecting samples, and this man appeared. Can you send someone?”

“Why didn’t you say so?” the operator responded. “I have someone on the way.”

Peggy closed her phone and turned back to try to locate Steve. The bone thief was sitting on the ground. He carelessly tossed a few leg and arm bones aside and rubbed an old skull on his shirt to clean it. He held several artifacts up to the bright light. One looked like a ceramic chamber pot.

Peggy couldn’t see Steve in the darkness but knew he was out there somewhere. Her heart was racing as she clenched her hands into fists, feeling powerless to prevent something terrible from happening. She wanted to do something—she certainly couldn’t stand there and let Steve get hurt.

All of her was focused on the scene in front of her. It was like being caught in a living nightmare as she relived those awful moments when Al had come to her door to tell her that John was dead. For weeks, she’d imagined what it had been like when John was killed. She’d walked by the house where he’d been shot, wondering about it and visualizing the scene from start to finish. Surely this couldn’t happen twice in her life.

Finding a heavy piece of wood she could use as a club, Peggy advanced on the bone thief with every intention of hitting him if necessary. She’d never really hurt another human being in her life, but this was different. She had to be strong.

Her ears strained for any sound of Steve advancing on the man. She couldn’t hear anything except a few crickets. How could he walk through the leaves and brush without making any noise?

She moved to the right of the light and hefted her piece of wood to her shoulder, hoping she looked menacing. She also hoped Steve wasn’t coming from the left. He might accidentally shoot her if he was aiming for the thief and was startled when she jumped out. There was no way of knowing. She’d have to take her chances.

Suddenly Steve came out from behind what looked to be a large staghorn sumac bush, its bright red leaves almost gleaming in the weird lighting. He leveled his gun, using two hands. “Don’t move! You’re under arrest!”

The man fell facedown and put his hands behind his head. Steve seemed uncertain what to do next. Peggy jumped out with her piece of wood. “And don’t look up!” She turned to Steve. “I have my nitric gloves. We can tie his hands together.”

Steve looked amazed to see her. “I don’t think we should do that. What are you doing out here? You were supposed to stay by the Saturn. You could’ve been hurt.”

“So could you,” she countered. “I can’t believe you’d come down here like this. What were you thinking?”

“ ’Scuse me,” the man on the ground said, “what’re you doin’ here? You’re not cops. I’ll just get up now and be on my way.”

“I don’t think so!” Steve moved a little closer to the thief. Peggy raised her club.

“Okay. Okay.” The man lay back on the ground. “If you’re gonna rob me, take what you want and get out. I’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” Peggy demanded. “Undoing years of preserved history! People have died here. You could at least show some respect.”

“Respect?” His laughter cackled in the silence. “These people don’t know if you respect them anymore or not, lady. My wallet respects them enough for both of us.”

“I don’t think you can reason with him,” Steve told her. “Did you call the police?”

“Yes. They should be here soon.”

The light skimmed another article that didn’t look old or dirty. It was a woman’s pocketbook. “Watch him.” Peggy put on another pair of plastic gloves. She leaned down and grabbed the purse, holding it up to the light so she could look at it.

It was a burgundy Louis Vuitton bag. Very fashionable and expensive. Definitely leather, and still shiny and new. She opened it carefully and began sorting through the contents without removing them. There was a spray flask of White Diamonds perfume. Obviously an older woman’s bag. Her heart beat a little faster. Could this belong to Lois?

“What is it?” Steve swatted at a mosquito.

“I think it might be something important.” She didn’t want to speculate until she knew for sure.

As soon as her gloved hands located the wallet, she opened it and gasped. “This
is
Lois’s pocketbook. It’s not full of mud, so it had to have been on the shore. Her car keys are in here. She must’ve lost it when she fell into the lake.”

“Which may or may not have anything to do with her death,” Steve said.

“Yes. Although it seems odd that it wasn’t found right away. If she’d dropped it before she fell in the mud—”

“—it would’ve been found during the initial search of the area,” Steve concluded. “It couldn’t have happened that way.”

“Which means we need to know where this man found the pocketbook.” Peggy inched closer to the man on the ground. “I really am with the police department. Where did you find this pocketbook?”

“Like I’m going to tell you.”

“Why not? You’re already caught here. You don’t have anything to lose, and you might help our investigation.”

He turned his muddy face toward her, the shadows making it look like a mask. “What’s in it for me? Are we cutting a deal here or what? If I have valuable information, I expect to be rewarded for it.”

“What do you want?” She thought about how much money she had in her purse. “I think I have twenty dollars. Steve, how much do you have?”

“I don’t think that’s what he means, Peggy.” Steve shifted closer to the man.

“No, that’s not what I mean,
Peggy
,” the thief mimicked. “I mean, I’ve already been in prison for this once. I don’t want to go back again.”

“Then why were you doing it again?” she demanded.

“Because it’s easy money.” He shrugged. “If you’re with the police, you can cut me a deal for the information. Then I’ll take whatever you and Stevie have in your wallets, too.”

Before Peggy could agree to any deal, the sound of sirens pierced the night. Blue lights flashed from the parking lot, making the play of light and dark on the dry lake and trees even more bizarre.

“You better go up and explain,” Steve said. “I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

Peggy stared at the contents of the purse again. She hated to leave it without knowing everything that was inside. But Steve was right. The police probably wouldn’t look favorably on coming down there and finding them with a man on the ground between them while they held a gun and a club.

She walked up the hill with only one backward glance to be sure Steve was all right. Police officers were gathered in a large group pointing at the lighted area. They challenged her as soon as they spotted her. Peggy put up her hands as a defensive response. “I’m with the ME’s office. I have ID.”

“Take it out slowly so we can see it.” The officer in charge looked at it with his flashlight. “I think we’re here to rescue you, Dr. Lee. Is everything all right?”

Peggy relaxed. She knew him. He’d worked with John several times. “Sergeant Fletcher! Good to see you. How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s fine. The boys are still keeping her busy. What are you doing out here?”

Peggy explained that she was involved in the Mullis case and was there to collect yew samples. “We saw the man stealing the bones when we came up,” she explained. “They’ve had a lot of trouble out here with people stealing bones and artifacts from the old Whitley Village now that the lake is dry.”

“That’s right.” He glanced around in the darkness. “That used to be out here, didn’t it? They say weird stuff goes on out here at night. I had officers refuse to work out here during the investigation. Funny how it can show itself after all these years.”

“My . . .
colleague
. . .”—she wasn’t going to say boyfriend again—“is down there with the thief. We caught him red-handed. Not just with the historic artifacts and bones, either. I think he might have something from the Mullis investigation.”