Grave Deeds (22 page)

“I don't think there's room for this,” I said to Hank, pointing to the blanket-wrapped parcel of bones.

“What is it? The skeleton? Leave it.”

“That would be worth something,” Bonnie piped up. “To a collector, I mean. If the whole skeleton is there, that is.”

“I don't care,” Hank said. “I'm not going anywhere with a bunch of bones on my back. It's not respectful.”

“Respectful!” Bonnie hooted. “Aren't you the one to talk.”

“Be quiet,” he ordered her. To me, he added, “Leave those bones on the bed. After we've had time to get away, you can call the police. They'll get them back to the people they belong to.”

“What people?” Bonnie demanded. “Those bones are ages old.”

“More reason to take care of them,” Hank retorted. “Besides, I'm not touching them. No way.”

“That's the lot, then.” I folded the ends of the quilt over the treasure and pulled the drawstring tight. “It's wrong to do this, Hank. These things belong in a museum, or with whatever tribe lived here once.”

“They're all gone, dead, departed. This stuff is no good to anyone but me. I need the money. Now that Grandad's gone, I'm getting out of here. I'm not wasting my life in a two-bit store in the middle of nowhere.”

“He died?” I burst out. “Your grandfather died?”

“Yeah.” Hank tossed his head. “Doesn't matter.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “What happened?”

“Heart attack. That smart-aleck lawyer came around looking for Marilyn and got him all riled up about the survey.”

“Roger Markham is up here?” Bonnie asked. She nodded at Will and me. Markham's presence at the lake confirmed our theory that he had killed Marilyn.

Yeah. Said he was looking for Marilyn, started ribbing the old man. Said she,” and he pointed at me again, “would sell the land to her cousin, no problem, and then they'd be able to go ahead with development. You should of heard Henry curse; that old man had a tongue on him.” Hank allowed a little smile, then sobered. “I got him to the hospital too late.”

“I am sorry,” I repeated.

“None of your business. You should have kept away altogether. All you've done is cause trouble.”

“It's not my fault,” I said, standing. “Beatrice Baker contacted me. I didn't go looking for her.”

“We're wasting time,” Bonnie broke in. “I want Megan back. Why don't you just take those things, all of them, and give her to me.”

“No way,” he shook his head. “Not the bones. I'll leave them for her,” he pointed to me. “She owns the land now, until Marilyn gets her to sell. Where is Marilyn anyway? She should be here by now.”

“Don't you know?” Will asked.

“Know what?”

“Give me Megan,” Bonnie interrupted. “You've got what you want. Now you have to keep your side of the bargain.”

“All right,” he ordered. “This is what we'll do. You three will sit here for two hours. Then Megan will come back.”

“How?” I asked. “Who'll bring her?”

“That's my business,” he said.

“You just sit.”

“Let me come with you,” Bonnie pleaded. “Don't make me wait any longer. I can't bear it.”

Hank put his head on one side, considering. He was grinning again, in control and revelling in the power. “Okay. And you better bring the boy too.”

Bonnie jumped up. “Oh, thank you.” She turned to us.

You'll do as he says, won't you? You'll wait here for a couple of hours?”

“Sure, Bonnie,” I hugged her.

You go and get Megan.”

“Ryan,” Bonnie carolled. “We're going to find Megan. Come on, honey.”

The door opened. Ryan stood there, the bear still under his arm. “Are we going to go home then? To Ottawa?”

Bonnie ruffled his hair. “Let's worry about that later. Don't
you want to see your sister?”

“Yeah.” He pointed at Hank. “Do we have to go with him?”

Bonnie glanced back and forth between the two. “Just till we're with Megan.”

“I don't like him,” Ryan stated. “He's mean.”

Hank grinned.

Bonnie sighed. “It's not a matter of liking. Now, help me with our stuff. You take the sleeping bags and I'll take the packs.”

“Why don't you leave all that here and come and get it later?” I suggested.

Bonnie hesitated. “We might go straight on,” she said. “Once Megan's safe.” She shivered. “I don't think I can stand to spend one more minute in this place. I'm sorry, Rosie.”

“You can't just leave me in suspense like this,” I protested. “I have to know that Megan's safe.”

“I'll leave a message on your machine, okay? You can phone home for it in a couple of hours.”

“Promise?” I pleaded.

“Sure. Don't worry. Everything will be fine now.”

Before I could add anything else, she darted into the bedroom and came back out with her arms full of sleeping bags and packs.

“Come on, Ryan,” she pushed him towards the back door.

He refused to move. “I won't go out there. Not by that car.”

“It's all right,” Will quickly assured him. “It's covered up. You won't see anything.”

“What's to see?” Hank asked. “A couple of old cars.”

“Come on,” Bonnie said. “Megan's waiting.” She hustled the boy out the door.

Hank waved his gun at us one more time. “You listen to Bonnie,” he said. “You wait right here. Two hours.”

Then he followed them out the door, banging the screen behind him.

“Well,” said Will.

“Yes. Well.” I crossed the room. He stood and we hugged. I could hear his heart beat, sure and steady.

We heard two car engines start up, one right after the other.

“Did you give Bonnie the keys to our car?” I asked Will.

He patted his pocket, shook his head no.

“That's funny,” I said. “She couldn't get her car started earlier.”

“Hank must have had a jug of gas in his car or truck. He helps run a service station, remember.”

“How would he know to bring it?”

“Could be just standard out here in the country to carry an extra five gallons of gas. That would be enough to get her to the highway and the station.”

“Or maybe Mrs. Smith told him Bonnie'd had to walk to the store.”

“You know what was funny? Hank didn't seem to recognize that name when Bonnie mentioned it.”

“I noticed that too.”

We listened to the diminishing whine of car engines.

“Where do you think Megan is?” I continued. “Do you think he left her alone all this time or with that friend he says did the kidnapping? I can't figure out why she'd go with a stranger. She's so shy; she must be frightened half to death.”

“He could have tranquillized her.”

I shivered. “Poor little kid. I don't think he hurt her, though, do you?”

“He wouldn't dare take Bonnie with him, if he had.” “How long do we have to wait?”

“They've just left.”

“I wish we knew for sure that Megan was all right. I think it's really selfish for Bonnie not to bring her back here.”

“Bonnie's pretty upset.” Will tapped his watch face. “Stopped again. I'm going to have to get a new battery.”

“Not as upset as I'd be, though, if it was my little girl gone missing.”

“What would you have done? If you called the police, you might never see her again. Besides which, Bonnie isn't exactly free of kidnapping charges herself.”

“She said she'd think about taking them home.”

“Yeah, well… You say she's always complaining about money. How in the world does she think she's going to support those kids on the run?”

I flopped down on the sofa. “I don't know. She said she had
some money coming in. She's been doing a lot of contract work lately, word processing and stuff like that at home.”

“Wouldn't think there'd be enough money from that.”

“You'd be surprised.” I sighed. “To change the subject, what are we going to do about Marilyn?”

“Not much we can do for a while. She'll keep.”

“How can you be so flippant?”

He smiled at me. “How can you not be? This whole day has been beyond bizarre. What time is it? Only four o'clock? It ought to be midnight.”

“Do you know what I just realized? I'm hungry. I can't believe it. You'd think food would be the last thing on my mind.”

“Want some chili?”

We both burst out laughing. Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. I could feel tears seeping from my eyes. Will hugged me again as the crying began.

“It's all over now, Rosie,” he murmured. “Bonnie will be with Megan soon and then she'll work out with the kids what to do. Hank's gone. The police are looking for Markham and once we tell them about Marilyn, they'll lock him up for good.”

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I wish Bonnie had left Ryan with us and brought Megan back here. He didn't want to go with Hank. I could see how reluctant he was, couldn't you?”

“Almost as if he knew him.”

We were both silent, thinking. Will went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and began to hand out cheese, butter, and a round of paté.

“Should we go after them now?”

Will shook his head. “We said we'd wait. If they're still at the store and they see us, it could mean trouble for Megan.”

“I'm not very good at waiting,” I complained. “I keep thinking about that poor little kid…”

“I think we should wait at least one hour, if not the two.” He put the food on the table. “Why don't you slice up that loaf?”

I got the bread and went to work on it. Will popped open two cans of beer and handed me one.

“Okay, let's go through the whole thing,” he said. He began to number points on his fingers. “First, Markham and Marilyn
assumed she would inherit the property and made plans to subdivide it for cottages. Then, they found the grave site.”

“You're assuming it was Marilyn and not Hank who found it?”

“For the moment. Marilyn knew what the artifacts were worth, and she knew who to sell them to. They plunder the field as soon as the frost is out of the ground.”

“I can't imagine Roger Markham with dirt on his hands.”

“Let's say they made a deal with Hank. He obviously wants to get away from here. Maybe they said they'd split the profit from the sale with him. Or that he could have the artifacts and they'd get the land.”

“Okay. Then what?”

“Beatrice dies and they find out that you inherit the land, not Marilyn. Markham tries to buy it from you, in her name, but you won't sell until we've had a chance to come up here.”

“And when we decide to come right away, they have to hide the artifacts instead of selling them.”

“Right. Marilyn arranges to meet you here, and gets rid of me by saying that she wants to get to know you. Markham would turn up 'by chance.' Between the two of them, they figure they can persuade you to sell them the land. Then they'd be home free.”

“So why did Markham kill Marilyn? Without her, he has no claim on the land at all. I might sell the land to my cousin, but I'd have no reason to share the profits from development with him.”

“That's true.” He scratched his beard.

“I wish you wouldn't do that,” I said. “It really bugs me.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away.

“You always scratch your beard when you're thinking. It sounds like sandpaper on plywood.”

“Sorry. I'll try not to do it any more.”

“Sure. Until the next time.” I grinned at him.

“You have your little annoying habits too,” he countered.

“Like what?”

“Twirling a lock of hair until it's wound tight, then letting it spring open. Over and over and over.”

“I do not.” I dropped a strand of hair that my fingers somehow had got tangled in.

It was Will's turn to grin. “Maybe we're going at this from the wrong angle,” he suggested. “Maybe it wasn't Markham who killed Marilyn. What if Marilyn didn't know about the site until she found the relics already dug up? What if she took them from the shed and hid them here? The looter came after her and killed her.”

“Hank? From the way he was talking, he doesn't know she's dead.”

“Who else knows the value of native artifacts? Who else needs money?” Will paused. “Did you notice that Bonnie kept trying to change the subject every time we got close to telling Hank about finding Marilyn's body?”

“That was because she didn't want to remind Ryan of what he'd seen.”

“Maybe.”

I buttered a slice of bread. “We're supposing two crimes here,” I said. “That Hank or a friend of his took Megan to force us to give him the artifacts; and that Markham killed Marilyn in a fight over the land.”

“Right.” Will began to put a sandwich together.

“We take as given that Hank doesn't know Marilyn's dead?”

His mouth full, Will nodded.

“And he himself couldn't have taken Megan because you saw him up at the store on his way to the hospital. So she went with a stranger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I drank some beer. “Bonnie knew what the artifacts were worth.”

“Bonnie?” Will repeated. He put down his sandwich.

“It makes sense. A sick sense, but this whole thing is sick. Look at it this way: we both got the impression that Ryan knew Hank. What if Hank was one of Robin's street kids? Maybe the one Harold objected to being there at the house when Megan and Ryan came for Thanksgiving last year? What if Hank told Bonnie and Robin about the site? She knew about this place because she'd been here with her brother-in-law years ago, so she knew that Mrs. Baker was old and unlikely to come north before summer. There'd be time to dig and get away before anyone came. She knew what the relics were worth and she probably could find out who was buying. She had those magazine
articles I told you about, remember?”