Authors: Beverly Connor
Afton glanced at her watch and sighed. “Gotta go. Good luck with whatever.”
“Thanks again.” Lindsay opened the envelope and peeked in. He’d sent about a half-inch stack of papers.
Looks like I’ll be up late reading tonight
.
Lindsay tucked the envelope under her arm and made her way back to the tent at Feature 2. The nondestructive evaluation team was still testing, and since Lewis had mentioned food, her stomach started growling.
She found baskets of fruit in the mess tent. Taking an apple and a banana, she sat at one of the tables and propped her feet up on a chair. The only person in the tent was someone refilling the iced tea machine. Despite the fact that all the people around made her feel more safe, the solitude was relaxing. Lindsay looked out at Big Branch Creek longingly, wishing she could still hear the sound of the river over the hum of the generators. How nice it would be to just float down the river on a raft like Huckleberry Finn and Jim, escaping the bad guys.
“Taking a rest?” Drew sat down opposite her.
Lindsay tried not to show her annoyance at being disturbed—it might, after all, be a good opportunity. “Hey, Drew. No. I haven’t done a thing all day to have to rest from. Just being lazy. I’m sure you were relieved there was a second coffin.” Lindsay peeled her banana and bit into it.
“It was touchy for a while. That coffin was deeper than the other one, and Joel and Sharon are so slow. I’d have split them up.”
“Why didn’t you?” The question took Drew aback—and embarrassed her. She hadn’t realized she was admitting that she had simply bowed to Lewis’s judgment. A manipulator being manipulated. Lewis had that effect on people. Lindsay saved her from answering by asking her another question. “Have you heard from Claire?” Another question she didn’t like.
That will teach you to interrupt my solitude.
Drew hesitated. “Claire? No, no I haven’t. Like I said—she’s done this before. She’s likely to show up tomorrow, in tears, asking to be forgiven. Tell me, how’s your investigating coming?”
Lindsay bit into her apple with a crunch. “Dead end.”
“What?” Drew looked startled.
“It’s at a dead end. If the Tidwells don’t know what their aunt had, they can’t prove anything was stolen. Both the doctor and the sheriff say Miss Tidwell died of natural causes. That’s the end of it. I’ve made a good-faith effort. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from their lawyer that they’ll be dropping the charges.”
Drew brightened. “You think so?”
“Yes. I haven’t told them yet, but I’m going to strongly suggest they do. No telling what their lawyer is milking them for.”
“I really appreciate that, Lindsay.”
“Nothing else to do. You could do the McBrides a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“You know that Elaine has a line on Hope Foute’s other diaries.” Drew nodded. “Phil said that he felt they saw dollar signs when Elaine contacted them, and I think Elaine is going to be too tempted not to buy them. Could you go talk to Phil and give him an idea of how much they are worth?”
“Sure. They will be worth more together than separated. It’s in the McBrides’ favor that the historical society has one of them. I’ll talk to him and give him a range. I need to make up to him and Elaine anyway. Claire treated them pretty awful.”
“Hi. I’m Luke Youngdeer, Lindsay’s boyfriend’s cousin.” Luke sat down by Drew and held out his hand.
“Hi. I thought you were here protesting.”
“No. I don’t care if you dig your own people up. I’m visiting Lindsay. Being John’s mother’s brother’s son, I have special responsibilities to his girlfriend.”
“Oh, really.” Drew turned in her seat toward him. Lindsay took another bite of her apple to keep from laughing. “I wasn’t aware of that aspect of kinship.”
Luke bobbed his head up and down. “It’s kind of like a godfather.”
“I’d like to hear about it sometime,” said Drew.
Lindsay stood up. “I’m going to see if the coffin passed.”
“I’ll go with you.” Luke stood, and the three of them walked to Feature 2. Lindsay hung back with Luke, allowing Drew to walk ahead.
“You anthropology types are really funny,” Luke told Lindsay when Drew went into the tent and out of sight.
Lindsay laughed. “You aren’t the first to think that.”
“That guy who spooked you,” said Luke. “He’s not a relative of the Laurenses. He came to them. Said he heard they were hiring. They needed a few people to wash dishes and bus tables, so Mr. Laurens took him.”
“I don’t like that,” said Lindsay. “Did they know anything about him?”
“Yes and no. He’s worked at the diner up the street washing dishes for about a month. The diner’s owner gave him a good recommendation. He’s not very talkative.”
“Luke, don’t take any risks. I mean it.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I’ve not been taking any risks. They’ve been coming to me. So he’s worked at the diner. How about before that?”
“Baltimore, doing construction work.”
“Do you think that’s true? Does he know anything about construction work?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk much. However, it’s not unusual to find guys who’ve worked in construction who don’t know anything about it.”
“Thank you, Luke. And don’t take any chances.”
“We got all these army guys around. Don’t worry.”
Suddenly loud mechanical sounds erupted from the tent. “Sounds like a hydraulic jack,” said Luke.
“I’d better go in,” said Lindsay.
Another team, from the military, was driving a steel plate under the coffin as Lindsay entered. When it was fully in place, they carefully slid it onto a wooden and metal frame—like a cradle attached to a wench. Each had heavy metal framing inside. Lindsay could see now it was to support the heavy coffins. When the coffin was in the cradle, they secured it and slowly began lifting it out.
Lewis was there. So were Drew, McBride, the crew who dug up the coffin, and several members of the science team. The archaeologists hung back out of the way and craned to see as it cleared the hole. It was mesmerizing, watching the coffin hanging like a pendulum, realizing it weighed almost 1,300 pounds.
“I wonder how the settlers got it in?” whispered Kelsey.
They slowly moved it across to the waiting trolley. It was like watching the tiny Sojourner Rover inch along on Mars. Lindsay let out a breath when it was finally settled securely on its transport.
“Well, who is that?” asked Juliana Skyler, standing on the edge of the pit, looking in. “The grave digger?”
Chapter 32
Is It Human?
LINDSAY THREADED HER way through the onlookers to the edge of the pit and followed Skyler’s gaze. There in the bottom, crushed, displaced, and the color of the surrounding brownish red dirt, looking like a macabre bas-relief Picasso, were the remains of a skeleton.
Were it not for the curve of a rib and the relative length of the femur, it would have been hard to tell they were the bones of a human, having been flattened for two centuries by the heavy weight of the coffin. Lindsay squatted for a closer view.
“Is it human?” asked one of the men who had just hoisted the coffin onto the trolley.
“Yes, it’s human,” answered Lindsay.
Lewis had come up and squatted beside her. “Who is it?” he asked.
Lindsay turned her attention to him for several seconds, a smile playing around her lips. “I don’t know.”
“Could it have fallen out the bottom of the coffin?” asked Kelsey.
“I think I would have detected that kind of breach in integrity,” commented Juliana Skyler.
The inescapable truth was that the coffin had been put in place on top of other remains.
“Is it contemporaneous with the coffin?” asked Lewis.
“Lewis. I’m squatting here looking at the bones for the first time, just like you are. How am I supposed to know?”
Lindsay stood and dusted her hands. She glanced at the pit wall and the black charcoal layer only partially uncovered.
“Probably is contemporaneous,” she said. “We’re still in the trash pit.”
“How about Joel and I start excavating it after dinner?” said Adam.
“Why don’t Kelsey, Erin, and Bill do it tomorrow morning?” said Lewis.
Over dinner, Lindsay outlined how she wanted to proceed with the new remains. “There’s been significant disturbance and damage from the metal sheet sliding under the coffin. Take pictures first. Do a grid and a relatively quick excavation. Put the skeletal pieces and any artifacts in a separate box for each grid. When it’s up, go on down until you reach pit bottom. Sift everything.”
“Is there any chance you can make anything of the bones?” asked Kelsey, pleased to have been put in charge of this particular excavation. “They looked pretty smashed to me.”
“It depends. If there are some diagnostic pieces in good enough condition—maybe.”
“But, you could tell it was human from a distance,” insisted Erin.
“That was because of the rib and femur that are visible. Human ribs have a tighter arc than animals’. Humans also have very long femurs.”
“And you don’t know if it has anything to do with the coffins?” asked Jarman. “I’ve heard of one burial intruding on another one. Might it be, say, an Indian burial?” The entire archaeology crew who sat in proximity to Jarman glared at him. “What?” he asked, puzzled at the stares.
“That opens up a new can of worms they don’t want to deal with,” said Luke.
“I’ve seen numerous intrusive burials,” Lindsay said. “Usually only a part of one intrudes on another. I haven’t run across one burial exactly on top of another. That’s interesting in itself. Besides, Indians didn’t bury their dead in white settlers’ trash pits. You got any glue among your supplies?”
“Glue?” asked Jarman. “You’re going to glue it back together? All those pieces?”
“Not the whole thing, but if I find enough pieces of skull, I’ll try to put some of the larger pieces together.”
* * *
Agent Parker McGillis had faxed an entire book on document forgery. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long book. Lindsay settled into bed, propped up with a pillow at her back against the wall, and her door safely locked. The book echoed what Parker had told her about the psychology of forgers. Everyone here could be made to fit some of the characteristics—including herself. Lindsay had noticed years ago that a great many archaeologists can draw, many quite well. How many artistic people were there at the site? Erin, Marina, Joel, Bill—to name the ones she knew.
How many of them felt a need to prove something? Claire—perhaps she ran away for fear of being caught. But, if Claire had any artistic tendencies, she hadn’t shown them. Perhaps she knew someone who did. Claire could use a computer. Well enough to create documents? Surely, one couldn’t forge a historic document with a computer. How was it done?
A sharp knock on the door startled her. “Lindsay, telephone.”
Lindsay tucked the fax pages under her pillow and opened her door. It was Dillon, holding a beer, still moving to the tune on the radio playing downstairs.
“Cool about the extra skeleton, huh?” he said as she followed him down the stairs.
“A surprise, for sure.”
“Think you can do anything with shattered bones?”
“Maybe. We’ll see. I like your guitar playing. I hope you do more of it.”
“Thanks. I will, now that Claire’s gone.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“Nope. Don’t care.”
Dillon took the radio out on the porch so Lindsay could hear the phone. Several of the guys from the science team were on the porch with Dillon, Adam, and Byron, drinking beer and exchanging stories.
Lindsay sat down on the couch with the telephone. “Hello?”
“Hi, babe. It’s John. You doing okay?”
“John. It’s good to hear your voice. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for Luke.”
“He’s enjoying it. I’m sorry I can’t be there myself.”
“I’m pretty well covered.”
“I know. I talked to Lewis last night. We’re all looking out for you. Found out what’s in those coffins yet?”
“Not yet. We’re opening one tomorrow. We did find someone extra under one of the coffins.”
“He must have been mashed flat.”
“The crew’s calling him H.D. for Humpty Dumpty.”
“I miss you. How about when I’m finished here, I come visit you at your place? Just you, me, and the horse?”
“I’d like that. How’s the aquarium coming?”
They shared tales of their work for almost an hour. It was good to listen to him talk. It was normal. She wanted to grab every normal part of her life and keep it surrounding her until her existence was comfortable again. She hated saying good-bye, hated hearing the click of the phone. She sighed and started for her room. As she was about to go up the stairs, she heard one of the guys talking through the open door. The voice sounded like Peter Willis.
“What’s the story on the bone broad?”
She stopped still and strained to hear over the radio.
“Who?” asked Adam.
“The tall, good-looking bossy woman with the long hair.”
“You talking about Lindsay?” asked Adam. “What about her?”
“Your guy Lewis says she has to be protected. The army’s not only watching out for the cobalt 60, but for her, too. Seems that somebody’s stalking her.”
“Stalking Lindsay? You serious? First we’ve heard.”
A loud piece of music came on the radio, drowning out their conversation. Lindsay continued up the stairs, smiling to herself. Good old Lewis. Maybe if it got out that she was being watched, whoever it was would give up.
It was well into the early hours of the morning before Lindsay went to sleep. But she had learned a bit about forgery. She learned that many forgeries have been detected because the forger didn’t know that different eras had different styles of handwriting. One forgery of a Daniel Boone letter was discovered by looking only at a photocopy of the letter because the writing was a modern style. You have to be educated to be a successful forger.
She remembered Mrs. Laurens’ story about Miss Tidwell bringing in an old letter to show her class, and Mrs. Laurens doubting its authenticity because it was in better condition than much younger documents she’d seen. Lindsay would have to tell her that paper in the 1700s was made from rag and could last a long time, whereas later nineteenth-century paper was made from wood, a process that produced a more fragile paper.