Old Bones (3 page)

The clickety-clack of a low-flying helicopter woke Casey. He found he was lying on his back in a bed. Nothing in the room looked even vaguely familiar; in fact, the room was like none he'd ever seen. Fluffy white curtains matched the frilly skirt on a dressing table across the room. A shelf held about fifty stuffed animals. The lamp on the bedside table had a pink shade. His eyes focused on a row of trophies high on a shelf above a large desk. He recognized the biggest trophy. He'd seen Mandy Norman win it two years ago at the provincial championships: first prize for back stroke. What was he doing in Mandy Norman's bedroom?

As he tried to sit up, Casey became conscious that his upper body was bandaged and that there was the smell of some medicine in the air. He tried to remember last night. He'd said hello to the Normans, had eaten supper with Mike, and then? Oh yes; there was the fuss about Mandy and the chicken bone in her throat. He sure hoped she was all right. He hadn't gone to talk to the Normans but had headed straight to the bus, and up to his closet as soon as the bus stopped at the Hoodoo. Yes, he'd gone straight to bed. No. Not exactly. He'd opened the window but he'd been too tired to take off his clothes. He'd just pulled off his pants and laid down on top his sleeping bag. He remembered taking a drink of water; then, nothing. What had happened next, and how had he got here?

Casey swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He was planning to get Mrs. Norman to explain things, but as he took a step, he felt weak, so he flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes.

He heard steps in the hall.
It'll be Mrs. Norman
, he thought,
she'll tell me what's going on
. It was not Mrs. Norman. Casey opened his eyes to see his mother looking down at him with a worried frown.

“Hi, Mom,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“Casey,” said his mother, smiling but shaking her head. “You got yourself in one fine fix. Your poor back has second-degree sunburn, and you've been mostly out of it for two days with sunstroke.”

“Two days!” Casey exclaimed. “You mean I've missed the rest of the field trip?”

“Mr. Deverell took the class back last night,” said Mrs. Templeton.

“But I'm okay now, aren't I?” Casey asked. “Maybe you and I could do the museum tour together, Mom. You haven't seen it, have you?”

“Most of it,” said his mother. “The Normans have been terrific, looking after you and making me feel so at home.”

“How come I'm here?” Casey asked.

“Seems when they checked at breakfast the day after your group got here, you weren't there. Mr. Deverell found you unconscious in your closet and took you right to the hospital. You were in Intensive Care in the same room as Mandy Norman. But the second night there was a bad accident just outside of town and your bed was needed. The rest of the hospital was full, and your doctors said you'd be fine to stay with the Normans because you'd been awake off and on and your recovery was simply a matter of rest. The Normans brought you here, and phoned me.”

“Mandy's still in hospital?” Casey wondered.

“Yes, but not here. A small piece of chicken bone actually tore her larynx. She's been flown to Edmonton for some very delicate surgery.”

“Poor Mandy,” Casey said. “She won't be able to train.”

“Not for a long time,” said his mother. “Now, tell me how you feel.”

“Well,” Casey considered. “I felt a little woozy when I tried to stand a few minutes ago. But my back doesn't burn any more.” He looked around. “Where's all my stuff?”

“Your things are in the closet.” Mrs. Templeton pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “Except for your hat. Didn't you even wear your hat when you were out in the sun for so long?”

“Sure, I wore it,” said Casey. “And it was on the closet floor when I went to sleep. No … Wait a minute. I …”

He lay back. What had he done with his hat?

“Would you like something to eat, Casey?” his mother asked. “Weak tea and toast, or …”

“Food!” said Casey. “That's it. I threw up my supper in my hat and then I …” He stopped a minute. He could see himself with his hat in both hands. What had he done with it? “And then I dropped it into the dumpster under my window.”

“Good thinking,” said his mom. “So, how about it? Want something?”

“Yeah, Mom, that'd be great. Should I just stay here or come with you?”

“Stay put,” she said. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Something was nagging at Casey's mind. He remembered opening the window, remembered dropping his hat. But there was something else. He tried concentrating very hard. But instead of remembering, he fell fast asleep.

“Sit up, Casey.”

As used as he was to obeying his mother's voice, Casey was finding it hard to wake up. It was the smell of warm, buttered toast that finally roused him and he did as she said.

“Now, lean forward and I'll put another pillow behind you.”

“This looks good.” Casey nibbled a piece of toast and then took a sip of tea. “Reminds me of when I got hit by that car when I was five and everyone was so nice to me.”

“Your brothers were really worried about you,” his mother said. “Hank slept on the floor of your room for three nights and Jake and Billy took turns with me sitting by your bed. Your dad was home for a time then; he didn't sleep at all.”

“I didn't know that,” said Casey, pausing before he bit into a third half slice of toast. “He stayed up three nights?” he asked.

That wasn't how Casey remembered his father. Actually, he hardly remembered his father at all from when he was a little kid. It was only after the family had moved to Richford that Casey and his dad began to “connect.” Now, they got along well, and were slowly getting to really know each other.

“Three days and three nights; sitting outside your hospital room door. Wouldn't leave until you'd started talking. First thing you said was, ‘I'm hungry.'”

“And they brought me weak tea and buttered toast.”

“Right. And they brought you buttered toast at the Richford Hospital last year when you almost froze to death trying to get help for Mr. Deverell,” said his mother.

“Yeah.” Casey ate the last bite of toast. “I remember.”

“I'll take these things away now and you can go back to sleep. The Normans say, ‘Hi.' One good thing about your, ah, your condition, is that we're in contact again, and when your father gets home from the Ottawa Conference on a National Anti-Hate Strategy …”

“You haven't told him about me, have you, Mom?” Casey interrupted.

“I told him you'd got too much sun on the class field trip, and were staying at the Normans' for a while.”

“And he asked, ‘How much is too much?' and you told him,” Casey sighed; he could just hear the lecture he was going to get.

“Well, yes,” his mother admitted. “But I also told him there was no need for him to come back, that the doctors at the hospital said you'd be fine in a day or two.”

“Doctors,” groaned Casey. “You told him doctors saw me, in a hospital?”

“Well, yes,” his mother said again. “But he isn't coming home and he's only phoned four times since I got here.”

“Only four times?” Casey groaned as his mother took the pillow from behind him and he eased himself down. “
Only
four times?”

Alone again, Casey grinned as he thought of his dad's remarks as he left for Ottawa.

“You know, Casey, when I retired from the RCMP I sort of imagined a lot of rest and relaxation, but with you stumbling across mysteries right and left, there seem to be as many bad guys in my life as there ever were.”

“Well, like you always say, Dad, ‘an idle mind is a dull mind' — I'm just trying to keep you sharp.”

“Okay, okay, Casey,” his father had said, “but in future would you just pick me up a book of crossword puzzles?”

“Dad'll be glad to learn I'm not involved in any more manhunts,” Casey said aloud before yawning and going back to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Casey saw something that made it impossible for him to go back to sleep: his mother's shadow against the wall of his room as she stopped by his bed. How could he have forgotten it — the shadow of the one-legged man in the room next to his closet at the Hoodoo Hotel? And the face of the man closing the drapes? And the conversation about the planned robbery of the museum? He should have remembered sooner. He had to talk to Dr. Norman right away. He checked his watch: 3 a.m. Too early.

Casey went over in his mind what he'd heard. He figured he'd better put it in point form, the way his dad always insisted on, and he'd better write it down. He turned on the bedside light and looked around for something to write with and write on. Nothing. His backpack was in the closet across the room; he had a pencil and a notebook in it.

Walking slowly to the closet was no problem, but when Casey stooped to pick up his pack from the floor, his head began to spin. He eased down to the floor, got the notebook and pencil out of his pack, closed the closet door, and shuffled back to bed.

How had the conversation started? He remembered now that there'd been two conversations.

Point 1. Late on the night of Thursday, June 17, I got up to close the window of my room at the Hoodoo Hotel, Drumheller, Alberta (which was the closet-room adjoining Room 327) because the smell of garbage was so powerful, and heard two men in conversation in the next room, whose open window was at right angles to mine.

Point 2. They were discussing the fact that they had spent a lot of time that day in one special area of the Tyrrell Museum paying particular attention to the artifacts on display there, stuff that one of them had photographed with a small, hidden video camera while the other distracted the guard by falling down.

Point 3. The purpose of these activities was so that they could make a report of their findings to “The Man” somewhere in the United States. “The Man” was to let them know which of the artifacts they had photographed they were to come back and steal.

Point 4. One man said he'd told some security guards from the Tyrrell he was getting a job there and they'd told him that the area he asked about had its own entrance and security system.

That was the first conversation. Did he really have to tell Dr. Norman about throwing up and dropping his hat in the dumpster? No. He'd just say … Casey felt very tired. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. But he willed himself not to go to sleep. He figured he'd better carry on while the memory of the conversation was still fresh in his mind. What was to say he wouldn't forget it by morning like he'd forgotten it before?

Point 5. I saw the shadow of one man: He had only one leg. I saw the face of the other man.

Point 6. …

“Casey? Wake up Casey.”

Casey opened his eyes. Dr. Norman was shaking him gently by the shoulder.

“Your mother called me when she read your notes. Feel up to explaining them for me?”

“Sure, Dr. Norman.” Casey sat up and yawned mightily. “I wrote down pretty well all I remembered.…”

“Well,” Dr. Norman handed Casey his notes, “you didn't finish what you were writing under ‘Point 6.'”

Casey looked at the list. He tried to think what “Point 6” was going to be about. He couldn't and handed back the paper, saying, “If there was more to say, I don't remember what it could have been.”

“Well, if you do remember anything else be sure to tell me.”

Dr. Norman sat down on the chair beside Casey's bed. A large jug of lemonade was on the bedside table. Casey shook his head when Dr. Norman offered to pour him a glass.

“I'm going to tell you what steps have already been taken in light of your report, Casey, and then I have a huge favour to ask of you on behalf of the Tyrrell. The first step, of course, is that the museum's alarm system is being revamped to frustrate the kind of disarming your ‘friends' were going to try.” He poured himself a glass of lemonade and went on.

“The RCMP have checked at the Hoodoo Hotel for information about the two men in the room next to yours. The Regina address the men had given at the registration desk was false, so doubtless the names they gave were false as well. Certainly there is no indication anywhere that they were from the United States. The licence plate number tallied with one stolen from a car in Lethbridge last week. A guard at the museum remembered the incident of a man falling. He didn't realize the man had an artificial leg, though; he just remembered that he limped a little.”

“All this has got done since I went to sleep?” Casey asked.

“Well, it's about four hours since your mother brought me your notes, and museum security and the RCMP got onto it right away.” Dr. Norman took a swallow of lemonade and added, “I'm expecting to hear any minute about another step we're taking … and, by the way, Casey, I must say you really know how to write a report.”

“Yeah, well, Dad likes reports ‘crystal clear.'”

Casey was hoping Dr. Norman would tell his dad how good the report was: maybe he'd not get such heck for the sunburn.

“Dr. Norman, I'm really glad my report has been a help. I have to admit, though, I find all of this a little weird.… I mean, why would robbers and some guy from the States be so interested in the fossils in the museum? Dinosaurs are popular, I know, but I don't really understand why they'd come all the way here to steal some.”

“Casey, do you know of the importance of this area in the realm of international palaeontology?”

“Well.” Casey thought a minute. “Mr. Deverell's given us a whole series of pre-trip lectures. I know different sorts of exploration between Brooks and Drumheller have been going on for over a century. And I know George Dawson first came in 18 … was it 1874?”

“Right.” Dr. Norman nodded. “He found bones along the Milk River. Joseph Burr Tyrrell came in 1884, ten years later. He accidentally came across the first skull found of an
Albertosauros
. Then came Weston.”

“I've heard of Weston,” Casey said. “Wasn't he the first guy to boat down the Red Deer looking for beds of bones?”

“He was,” said Dr. Norman. “In the 1890s he floated south on the Red Deer, from north of Drumheller to where Dinosaur Provincial Park is today.”

“And the
Lambeosaurus
,” Casey said. “It was named after somebody, Lambe.”

“Lawrence Lambe, a palaeontologist who came after Weston.”

“Then came that Mr. Brown.” Casey was pleased to remember. “Barnum Brown, from the American Museum of Natural History in New York.”

Dr. Norman's cellphone rang and he nodded to Casey as he answered it.

“Yes. Yes. That's right. Okay. Ask him.” He closed his phone. “Where were we?”

“Barnum Brown,” said Casey.

“Right. Here's his story. Well, he was working for a time in Montana and came up in 1909. He found thousands and thousands of specimens. For years he shipped as many as four boxcars of bones back to the United States every summer for reconstruction in American museums.”

“How come he could do that?” Casey asked. “Take all ‘our' bones?”

“No laws to prevent it,” Dr. Norman told him. “But the Geological Survey of Canada got wise and hired Charles H. Sternberg from Kansas to make a record of what the whole area held. Sternberg did some collecting for Canadian museums, but his focus was more on locating and siting the richer bonebeds.”

“Mr. Deverell told us palaeontologists still use Sternberg's photos and geographical notes to re-explore sites he didn't have time to fully dig.”

“Right again,” Dr. Norman looked impressed.

He poured himself more lemonade, and this time Casey asked for a glass as well and took a cookie from a plate within his reach.

Dr. Norman continued. “You can appreciate what an immense and wonderful variety of fossils there are in Alberta, and that brings us back to the theft problem. Twenty years ago, there wasn't all that much interest in fossils; the fossil world was small. Now, fossils of every sort, but especially dinosaur fossils, are in hot demand.”

“I'll bet old Barney played a part in their being popular,” Casey suggested.

“Some people think he did.” Dr. Norman smiled. “Some say it started with Michael Crichton's book
Jurassic Park
and the movie made from it. However it was sparked, it's a huge, unstoppable, worldwide mania, with private collectors playing the biggest part.”

“So, how come the governments just can't say, ‘All the fossils are for everybody'?”

“Oh, it's a real can of worms.” Dr. Norman poured out the last of the lemonade. “In the States, there's a real battle going on. The amateur collectors are getting all sorts of support in their demands for their constitutional right to search any land, public or private, and to take and sell just about anything; and the scientists are trying to study and preserve important specimens.”

“Sounds like the same kind of fights they had down there over government forests.” Casey frowned. How do I know that, he wondered? Then it came to him. “I know how I know that,” he said. “My grandma is a great Gene Autrey fan — she's got every film he ever made, and her favourite is
Riders of the Whistling Pines
— it's got to be fifty years old and I've seen it four times. The villains in it are destroying all the timber on a government forest preserve and the good guys are trying to stop them.”

“Same sort of battle, but while you can plant more trees you can't grow more dinosaurs,” Dr. Norman observed. “Palaeontologists just hate the thought of significant fossils disappearing into somebody's living room.” He added, “Museums and academic institutions want to keep them for the public at large. But people do steal from museums as well as from public lands. A few years ago a
Tyrannosaurus
jaw disappeared from a big museum. Sometime later, it turned up after passing through the hands of a dealer in Germany.”

“Are things like that jaw worth a lot?” Casey wanted to know.

“Every sort of fossil you can think of is sold all over the place: on the web; at auctions; and through what's called the black market. There, a single
T. rex
tooth can bring $20,000 U.S.”

“Black market. I've read about that,” Casey said.

“Yes. A market where things are sold illegally. With such big money at stake, current laws on both sides of the Canada–U.S. border haven't been enough to curb smuggling, except out of Alberta.”

“What's different about us?” Casey asked.

Dr. Norman's cell rang again. “Yes,” he said. “He'll do it?” After a long pause he repeated, “He'll do it? Good.” He closed his phone.

“I'll be back in a few minutes, Casey. We'll finish our talk later. In the meantime, try to remember anything else you can tell us.”

Casey lay back on his pillows, wondering what the heck was going on. He tried, but couldn't think of anything about the planned robbery apart from what he'd already reported.

In less than five minutes Dr. Norman was back in Casey's room.

“I'll fill you in about what's going on later, Casey.” Dr. Norman sat down again. “Where were we?” he asked.

“You were about to tell me how come it's only in Alberta that it's against the law to remove fossils,” Casey told him.

Dr. Norman nodded. “Right. Well, here our Historical Resources Act makes clear that ‘all fossil material whether on public or private lands belongs to the public trust.'”

“What happens in the rest of Canada and in the U.S.?” Casey wondered. He was getting tired again, but he wanted to know.

“In the United States, all fossils on public land belong to the American people, but collectors often ignore the law. Many times, agents have found holes as big as ten feet deep dug on public land, and there are reports of flatbed trucks seen, again on public land, carting off huge amounts of valuable fossils. In most of Canada, fossils are formally protected only in national parks. In both countries, fossils on private land belong to the landowners, except again for Alberta, and in the last while, Nova Scotia.”

“Pretty complicated.” Casey tried not to yawn.

“It gets more complicated,” Dr. Norman said, “because, while collecting vertebrate fossils on public land is strictly forbidden in Alberta, authorized scientists may excavate and study fossils under permit from the Tyrrell. On private lands, only surface-collected vertebrate fossils may be kept, but these must be photographed and registered with the Tyrrell and can't be removed from the province.”

“Pretty strict,” said Casey.

“But not perfect.” Dr. Norman shook his head. “Anyway, whether your men are trying to steal for a private collector or for a dealer, we've got to stop them.”

“We?” asked Casey. “Like in the museum and me?”

“Exactly,” Dr. Norman replied. “Now, here comes the favour: Since you're the only person who can identify the two men in question, and since we've no idea when they might be back to steal the artifacts, the Tyrrell would like to hire you for the summer to keep an eye out for them. You can stay with us. Mandy will be back here next week but we've another room we've been planning to make into a guest room.”

“I'll have to ask Mom and Dad,” Casey said, “but I think it would be great!”

“Your mother has already been in touch with Ottawa, and they're tracking down your father. She says it would be fine with her and should be okay with him. Apparently, they're planning some big renovations on your house, and think it would be easier on everybody if you weren't there. We should have the word from your dad by this evening.”

“If it's all right with Dad, when would I start?” Casey wanted to know.

“Well, you've only one week more of school, right?”

“Right.” Casey nodded. “Exam week.”

“How about coming the Monday after. In the meantime, we're going to have Trevor Treadwell, who manages our Museum Gift and Souvenir Shop, take over the table where you will be sitting and watching. He'll have a description of the men and will report anything suspicious. His helper will run the gift shop for that week, and Trevor will be handy if any questions about the shop come up. Now, back to you. I'm not sure yet what your job description will be, but you'll be paid double the minimum wage; you'll be doing cataloguing work for us as well as watching.” Dr. Norman stood up. He turned as he headed for the door and said, “everyone is so grateful for your information.”

“That's okay.” Casey waved as Dr. Norman went out and closed Casey's door.

“Okay? It's great!” Casey whispered to himself. He got out another piece of paper and started writing down all the things he was going to spend his money on.

A new wide-brimmed hat

A
… he was fast asleep.