Authors: Beverly Connor
“Do you see anything missing?” asked Lindsay.
“Over here,” said Sugar. She led them to one of the rooms. “This is where she had some of the stuff she collected from real old places that had gone out of business. Like old soda fountains. I like these glasses.”
“Now don’t you go claiming things, Sugar,” said Bonnie.
“They’re just glasses, Mother.”
“You think something is missing?” asked Lindsay.
“She liked old newspaper and printing companies. She had stacks and rolls of old unused paper and some ledgers. They aren’t here, and I know I saw them just a few days before she died.”
“I told you about the ledgers,” said Bonnie. “They can’t be worth anything.”
“Were they written in?” asked Lindsay.
“No,” said Sugar. “It was mostly unused stuff.”
“She must have thrown it away,” said Bonnie. “Why would anyone steal worthless items like that?”
“Was there anything that looked like rubber stamps, with pictures or designs on them?”
Sugar nodded. “Now that you mention it, there was. I don’t know about rubber, but she had a bunch of them that looked like they were made out of wood, and some looked copper. She kept them in boxes. They aren’t here, either.”
“You know something?” asked Bonnie.
“Maybe,” said Lindsay.
“What? Tell us,” she demanded.
“Now, just you wait, Bonnie,” said Alfred. “Be patient. I think Miss Lindsay has found something. You believe us about the documents, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Lindsay. “Yes, I do.”
Chapter 30
A Flat Tire
LINDSAY WAS ALONE in her room that evening, the door locked, only one lamp on. She looked out the window over at the lit tent city. Luke, her protector sent by John, was downstairs with the guys. Drew and Eric had taken a motel room. She felt safe. She could think.
She opened a drink from her cooler and propped herself up on her bed with her back against the wall. What did it mean when valuable objects were left and worthless ones were missing? Were they worthless? They had to be. Surely there wasn’t a collector’s market for old unused ledgers. Who could she call and ask? Did she know any dealers in collectibles?
Alfred Tidwell had confidence in her, so did Lewis.
Why?
she wondered. She certainly must look more confident than she felt.
What did she know about the stolen documents? Not much at all. The words
Beau
and
Turkeyville
. The story about the man sick in a log cabin. And that she had something that would make Erin famous as an archaeologist. Not as a lawyer, but as an archaeologist. What kind of documents would make an archaeologist famous—at least in Miss Tidwell’s eye? Famous to whom—the whole world, or only to fellow archaeologists?
Lindsay felt that sensation of something familiar lurking in her brain trying to make it to the surface. What? What was familiar? She was an archaeologist—what papers could she come across that would make her famous for finding them? It could be a multitude of things. History was full of lost documents. But they had a connection specifically to archaeology—not simply history.
You’re an archaeologist, dammit, think
.
Lindsay took a long drink. Sleep on it. Maybe her brain would sort it out during the night.
* * *
Lindsay wasn’t awakened by any blinding revelations, but by banging on her door and Lewis calling her name.
“Yes?” She jumped out of bed. “Is the house on fire, Lewis?”
“No. Just making sure everyone is up. It’s going to be a long day today.”
Lindsay glanced at her clock—set to go off in two minutes. Lewis was probably already fashionably dressed and ready to go. She pulled on her jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt jacket over a T-shirt. She ran a brush through her hair before pulling it up into a ponytail, pulling the tail through the back of her West Construction cap. It was the first morning in a long time she felt completely rested.
Breakfast that morning was at the site. Inside the mess tent, Mrs. Laurens and her family set up a steam table with huge trays of bacon, eggs, ham, sausage, biscuits, french toast, pancakes, and orange juice. Lindsay couldn’t imagine cooking this much food. After this site, Mrs. Laurens would either open a restaurant or never cook another meal in her life.
Lindsay made herself a ham and biscuit, got a glass of orange juice, and went to find someone she knew.
“Lindsay.” Lewis was standing with Jarman, Posnansky, and Peter Willis near the tent exit. Breakfast in hand, she went over.
“Lindsay will be doing the analysis of the bones,” Lewis told them.
“Have you ever done anything like this before? I’m going to need certain samples.” Peter Willis shoved his glasses up on his nose.
Lindsay stared a moment and took a sip of her orange juice to keep from smiling. “No, but I have a chart that tells me how all the bones are connected. How hard can it be?”
Peter put his hands to his head and turned as if to walk off. “Oh, man I don’t believe this.” He looked at his watch. “Okay. It’s early. It’ll take a while to excavate the coffins. We won’t be ready to open the coffins today anyway. We can get Crow or Lipsig here. . . .”
“Peter . . . Peter . . . ,” said Jarman. “Calm down. She’s putting you on.”
“Dr. Chamberlain is a forensic anthropologist,” said Lewis. “She’s done this many times, she’s conducted workshops for the FBI and the GBI on recovering skeletal remains; she knows what she’s doing and will do a good job.”
“Provided you let me handle the equipment,” Lindsay said.
Peter’s cheeks turned red. “Sorry, I didn’t know.” He looked at his feet for a moment before casting his gaze back up to Lindsay. “I need samples . . .”
“I’ve collected many a sample for pollen, entomology, soil. If there’s a special kind of sample you need, you are welcome to tell me what you need, or collect it yourself.”
“It’s just that collecting accurate information is important to us.”
“To us, too,” replied Lindsay. She turned to Jarman. “Where do I go to get a special pass? One of the local physicians is observing the analysis of the remains.”
“Sergeant Stagmeyer.” Jarman looked out over the crowd eating breakfast. “There he is, second row, halfway down.”
Lindsay spotted him. She also saw Drew and her husband coming into the tent and heading for the food. She excused herself to go tell Stagmeyer what she needed.
“No problem. I’ll have one made up.” He took the name down on a notepad. “I’ll do it after I’m finished here. By the way, whoever’s cooking the food’s doing a great job.”
“Mrs. Laurens and her family. I’ll tell her.”
Someone pushed past Lindsay and she leaned forward, holding a chair to keep from falling into the table.
“Sorry.” A man in his late twenties was going between the tables filling a plastic garbage bag with paper plates, napkins, plastic utensils. “You guys enjoy your breakfast?” His dark eyes sparkled as he looked at Lindsay.
“Yes, Sergeant Stagmeyer was just complimenting the food,” said Lindsay.
Lindsay thanked Stagmeyer and left to find Luke. He wasn’t far, just outside the tent discussing baseball with Adam. She was surprised at how much relief she felt getting out of the crowded tent into the open. She hadn’t really realized she was feeling so confined.
“Luke,” she said. “Sleep well, I hope?”
“Pretty good. Food’s not bad, either. Nice job you have here if you didn’t have to get up before the crack of dawn.” Adam caught sight of Joel and trotted off to meet him. “You doing okay? You look a little winded.”
“I’m fine. Luke, you see how many people are here. I’m sure you must have other things you’d rather be doing?”
“Trying to run me off?”
“No. Just feeling guilty.”
“Don’t. John’s been working my butt off. This is like vacation. Adam tells me you’re digging up the bodies today.”
“That’s the plan.”
Luke laughed as he looked around at the people, tents, the generators, the lights. You guys sure make a big deal out of it.”
“Thanks for being here, Luke.” Lindsay pointed out Drew and Eric getting up from breakfast. “I suspect those two are involved in some way. I don’t have any concrete proof whatsoever.”
Luke scrutinized them through the door of the tent. “Want me to keep an eye on them?”
“Stealthily.”
“You got it.”
It occurred to Lindsay as she watched Drew and Eric that perhaps she didn’t need to find an expert in collectibles to talk to, but an expert in crime. After all, it was the theft of the items that she was curious about. As soon as it reached a decent hour, Lindsay knew who to call.
“We are going to start the excavation,” said Lewis, coming up behind Lindsay. “Want to watch?”
“A little while. It’s likely to get crowded in there, and I’m not really needed. You got Peter calmed down yet?”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. He’s been hoping for something like this to come along, and now he’s depending on it for his dissertation.” They started walking toward the tents covering Features 2 and 3 along with a crowd of other people. “Tell me, Luke, what kind of project is John working on?”
“He’s building an aquarium in South Carolina—one of those where you watch the fish through glass. You’ll have to come down for the opening. Lindsay, I’m going to hang around out here.”
“Sure, Luke.” She took his hand and squeezed it, then continued on toward the tent. On the way, she saw Eric Van Horne in deep conversation with the guy bussing the tables. There was something about him that Lindsay couldn’t put her finger on. She was staring at him when he looked up and caught her eye for a moment and smiled.
An argument was already under way when they arrived at the first tent, the one over Feature 3, the cemetery, assigned to Joel, Sharon, and Powell.
“You’re not digging with that shovel,” said Joel. “In fact, you’re not digging at all. You’re the one that’s been worried about punching a hole in the coffins, and you bring along a pointed shovel.”
“You can’t dig with those flat things,” insisted Peter, holding his shovel with the tip in the ground.
“We are not digging a hole. We are excavating,” said Joel. “And we’re taking it down a layer at a time. We have to get a profile once we’ve uncovered half.”
Lewis was about to say something when the geologist stepped in. “Joel’s right, Peter. Let them work.”
Powell leaned over to Sharon and whispered, “I think something happened to Claire, and she came back as this guy. Did we do some kind of shit in a past life, or what?”
Lindsay tried to ignore the dissension and study the contents of the tent—alien machines, cylinders, and all manner of containers. Several of the other graduate students were busy setting up, testing, and calibrating. As she looked at the tubing associated with the machines, Lindsay realized that these were the mechanisms they would use to capture the antique air. She wanted to go over and ask them about the process, but they looked very focused.
She spotted a chart posted on the side of the tent, just inside the entrance, and went over to have a look. It was a diagram of the extraction system. It was complex, but essentially a sharp stylus, similar to a drill bit, imbedded in a boxlike structure with flexible tubing leading from it. Following its path was like working one of those maze puzzles. Lindsay put a finger on the start—where the stylus would fit into the coffin and traced the diagram to a container cooled in a tank of liquid nitrogen. Apparently, once the air was sampled, they were going to pump cold argon gas into the coffins—to keep the remains stabilized, Lindsay guessed.
“Impressive, huh,” said Marina over her shoulder.
“I’ll say.”
“I still don’t understand how they are going to penetrate the coffins and not let any outside air in.”
“I think it has something to do with the design of this stylus and the box attached to it,” said Lindsay.
“I guess.”
Lindsay heard Lewis suggest to Peter that he go to the Feature 2 tent. “It will be going faster. Half has already been excavated once, and a profile already done.”
Peter agreed, and Lindsay, Marina, and Drew walked with Lewis to the Feature 2 tent where Adam, Byron, and Dillon were already under way with the excavation.
“Won’t the decaying body have contaminated the air?” Lindsay asked.
“There’ll be a lot of gases we’ll have to sift through for sure. But, we know what to expect from the decaying process.” He grinned as though looking forward to the tedious procedure. “If this works, it will be one of the oldest air samples to date. Do you know what a find that is?”
* * *
It didn’t take long to reach the part of the coffin that had already been excavated. Peter’s eyes glowed with excitement.
“Now be careful.”
“They will,” said Drew, smiling at him. “Don’t worry. We are going to take it back a little farther. You said you don’t want it completely uncovered?”
“That’s right. The dirt covering will help keep it stable,” said Peter.
Lewis and Drew determined that sifting the fill could wait until after the project was completed. The dirt went on a pile beside the pit. It had just grown light outside when they got the coffin about halfway uncovered. They took whiskbrooms and swept the surface, examining it for writing or any kind of symbols.
“Look at this,” said Adam.
Peter jumped down into the hole with him. “Damn. We’re not going to get any air from this one.”
Lindsay squatted by the edge of the pit. Lewis and Jarman were on either side of her. Jarman shook his head.
“Same thing on the other side,” said Drew.
Peter looked at Lindsay. “I hope you’re right and there is another one, or we’ve all come down here for nothing.”
Lindsay barely heard his complaints. She was trying to figure out what the holes punched into the side of the coffin meant.
Chapter 31
The Grave Digger
THE SIX OF them, Jarman, Posnansky, Peter, Lewis, Drew, and Lindsay stood outside the tent discussing how to proceed.
Posnansky puffed on a brown cigarette. “Is there any need to x-ray the damn thing? Why don’t we check it for weaknesses, haul it out of the ground, and concentrate on the second coffin.”