Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel (11 page)

Tom Foster's face flushed red and his voice rose a level.
"See, there you go. I knew you would start laying the foundation for blaming me. Yes, I looked for her, but not hard. I figured if she wanted to go, more power to her. At least she
left the kids." And part of her money, thought Lindsay. "I
just came out here to tell you to tell Will Patterson to leave
me alone."

"Who do you think killed her?"

"Will might have. Maybe they were planning to leave
together and she changed her mind. Maybe he did it on one
of his drunken binges. I don't know. Could've been anybody did it. As I said, Shirl wasn't as blameless as everyone thought."

"How do you mean?"

"Just what I said. She liked to have her fun."

"Didn't that make you angry?"

Foster snapped back, "Now there you go again. It won't
work." He pointed a finger at Lindsay's face.

"Put your finger down. I think it's time you go," said
Lindsay, thinking that perhaps she had asked one question
too many.

"Not till I've had my say," he said. "I want you to
deliver a message to Will for me."

"You will have to tell him yourself. We aren't working
together."

"That's not what I hear. You tell him-"

"I'm not telling him anything. I'm no longer involved in
this case."

"You sure ask a lot of questions for someone who's not
involved. Why did Shirl's parents come to see you if you
aren't involved?"

"I think you should go now."

"Not until-"

"You heard my sister. I think you ought to stand down."
Sinjin's voice was calm, almost friendly. He walked up on
the porch. A faint aroma of hot leather and horse wafted
through the air.

"I wasn't intending to harm her," said Tom Foster.

"I know. Nevertheless, when she asks you to leave her
property, you must."

"I don't want any trouble, here or anywhere. That's all I
want to say." He turned and walked to his Mercedes and
drove away.

"I must say, baby sister, you're really good-the way
you asked him all those questions and got him to answer.
I'm particularly impressed by the way all the suspects are
coming to you. You do have a talent."

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "How was the ride?"

"Great. Mandrake's a fine horse. Do you get to ride
much?"

"Every chance I get, which is usually a couple times a
week."

They walked into the house together and Sinjin started
for the guest room, stopped, and turned toward Lindsay.

"Seriously," he said. "I eavesdropped for a while. For
someone who is not investigating this case, you sure ask
questions like you are."

Lindsay exhaled. "I suppose so. But people keep
coming to me."

"Do you think that perhaps Derrick may be a little bit
right?" he said.

"No."

"Whatever you say."

"How about dessert and coffee?" Lindsay asked.

"Sounds good. Let me shower."

Lindsay had chocolate cake and hot coffee waiting in
the living room when Sinjin returned from the bathroom,
smelling like shampoo and soap. He wore faded blue jeans
and no shoes. His white T-shirt had large wet patches where
he had not completely dried off. He tried to train his damp
hair by running his fingers through it.

"You look refreshed," Lindsay said, handing him a slice of cake as he sat down in one of the leather chairs by the
empty fireplace.

"The ride on Mandrake and the shower worked the
kinks out. This is a nice place you have here. I like it better
than that apartment you lived in last time I visited."

That was six years ago, and she had lived in another
apartment and a rented house since then, but she didn't tell
him. She simply said, "I like it a lot."

"So, what you been up to, besides finding out Papaw
might've been a pothunter?"

The words stung Lindsay. "He wasn't a pothunter."

"I imagine there's a few Indians who would disagree with
you" He took a bite of cake. 'This is pretty good. You make it?"

"No. It's from a neighbor. I suppose you think I'm a
pothunter, too," Lindsay said, handing him a cup of coffee.

Sinjin eyed her over the cup as he drank. "Sorry, I suppose I shouldn't have said that."

She sat down in the matching chair opposite Sinjin and put
her coffee cup to her lips and blew gently to cool the hot drink.
"I called Derrick to ask him about the artifacts," she said.

"And?"

"He said to hold off on doing anything with them right
now. Said he'll come down when he can and take a look
and we will decide something."

"Decide something?" Sinjin said between bites of cake.

"Derrick is of the opinion that I should keep a low profile
right now. The guy I would have to deal with in Kentucky is
an archaeologist I kind of embarrassed at an archaeology
conference." Lindsay poked at her cake with her fork.

"What did you do?"

"I only pointed out a mistake in his life's work. I mean,
part of what we do at those meetings is point out one
another's mistakes." Lindsay's effort at humor failed.
Sinjin didn't look amused.

"Is this whole thing with the artifacts really a big deal? I
mean, besides being embarrassing?"

Lindsay shrugged. "Not really. I can just say they were
lost. They were. There may be some talk about what Papaw
was doing with them, but-I just didn't want that. Doesn't
it matter to you?"

"No."

"Why?" Lindsay asked.

"We weren't that close," said Sinjin, looking into his
coffee.

"Yes, you were."

"No, we weren't. You were close to him, but I wasn't. I
liked fishing and playing around in the woods better than I
liked going with him, digging in the dirt, hunting for arrowheads. He had no use for me."

"That's not true."

"Lindsay, you weren't there. You don't know."

"Is that why you don't visit very often?" she said.

"How often do you visit me?" Sinjin set down his empty
plate and cradled his coffee in his hands.

He had a point. She sipped her coffee. It burned her
mouth. "We're both gone a lot," she said.

"Yeah."

"How did you and the folks get along?"

"Pretty good." Sinjin leaned back. "Dad's getting too old
to argue with me, I suppose. He's kind of mellowed out."

They were silent for a while, drinking their coffee, looking into the empty fireplace. Her house seemed suddenly
very quiet.

"I suppose I just never learned to be close to you guys. You,
Ellen, and Dad were always the family. I was an outsider."

"You never were," she said.

"How would you know? You were just a baby."

"It didn't look that way. You-"

"It didn't look that way! Through the eyes of a little kid who everybody-never mind. My mother wasn't supposed
to die. She was having her tonsils out, for Christ's sake. I'd
had mine out and I was fine." He stopped talking and Lindsay couldn't think of anything to say to fill the gap of
silence. Sinjin stared into his coffee cup. "I was seven when
she died. No one would tell me anything. Then Dad married again, and it was as if my mother never existed. Ellen
wasn't my mother. I'm sure she probably tried, but I
wanted my mother. Then you were born and everybody
adored you-including me, by the way. I don't know, it's
like once you get into the habit of not getting along, you
just don't know how to."

"Why were you always mad at me?"

"Because you were an insufferable little twit." He
looked up from his cup and grinned. "Besides, I wasn't
always mad at you."

"Insufferable twit? I wasn't! How?"

"Every time Dad and I had an argument about what
direction my life should be taking, you were right there
telling me what I should be doing and how I shouldn't
upset Dad. My baby sister, lecturing me."

"Did I really?"

"Yes. You were such a proper little kid. The best thing
you ever did was to run away with that Harley fellow and
go down into that cave."

Lindsay smiled at the memory. "It's wasn't easy being
the perfect daughter."

"No, I don't suppose it was. We're both grown up now
and we can act like adults."

"I'm glad you're here. I hope you no longer find me
insufferable."

"You're not too bad."

Lindsay set her empty cup down on the hearth. "Sally's
been putting in a lot of overtime work in the lab, and I'm
taking her out to dinner tomorrow night. Would you like to come along? I'm not matchmaking; I just thought you'd
like to come."

"Sure, why not?"

"I have to warn you. Sally's getting a crush on you."

Sinjin raised his eyebrows. "She's what, sixteen?"

"No, she's twenty-one."

"Still too young." He shook his head. "College students
are looking younger and younger these days. I must be getting old." Sinjin rose from his seat and gathered up his plate
and coffee cup. "I think I'll go to my room and read a while
before going to bed. See you in the morning."

"I'll take these." Lindsay took his dishes from him and
stacked them with her own.

Before he went upstairs, Sinjin went to the front door,
checking to be sure it was locked. It looked automatic, like
something he always did before going to bed.

"Sinjin."

He turned. "What?"

"Can't you tell me what's going on with you?"

He said nothing.

"I want us to be closer. I want to be your friend as well
as your sister."

He stared past Lindsay for a long moment, lost in
thought. When he spoke, the look of pain on his face made
Lindsay hold her breath. "Kathy left me for someone else.
She's pregnant ... says it's his. She said I should know it's
not mine, because I was never around. But I have to be
sure. I've had lawyers working on forcing a paternity test
after the baby is born. Kathy and her ... this guy ... live in
Atlanta. I came to talk to lawyers here. I wanted her to do
it voluntarily. Anyway, that's it. Common little problem, I
know, but ... well, there it is."

"Oh, Sinjin, I'm sorry." Lindsay walked over to him. She
wanted to hug him, but she didn't. She just stood there hold-

ing the empty dishes. "Please stay as long as you need."

"Thanks."

The next morning Lindsay did not look forward to opening
the last crate. She had lain awake half the night trying to
think of different reasons her grandfather might have stored
the artifacts in a shed and forgotten about them-but these
were not forgettable artifacts. The other half of the night,
she stayed awake worrying about Sinjin. The look on his
face was so full of hurt.

Sinjin drove her to the campus because she had left her
Land Rover there. Her Rover-she looked at it as Sinjin
pulled in beside it. Now, with everything else, the monthly
payments were going to be a big drain. She rubbed her
forehead. Something else she would have to deal with.

"You all right?" Sinjin asked.

"Fine. Why don't you come in and have a look at the
artifacts?" He followed her into the lab and to the back
storeroom. "I'll inventory them and decide how to handle
them later," she said, as she showed him the shelves filled
with the orphaned artifacts.

"I think you're worrying about this too much. It probably has some simple explanation," Sinjin said.

"You're probably right," agreed Lindsay, locking the
door behind her and walking down the hallway to the lab.

"Where you taking me to dinner?" asked Sally. She was
standing over the last crate with a crowbar.

"Where would you like to go?" asked Lindsay.

"How about Rafferty's?" Sally turned to Sinjin. "You
can come with us."

"Thank you, I'll do that," he said.

Sally grinned, took the crowbar, and with one swift
motion pried the lid up on the crate. As the top came loose,
the front of the crate fell open. A skeleton tumbled out onto the floor. The skull rolling across the hardwood sounded
like a bowling ball. It stopped at Sinjin's feet.

But it was not the rolling skull that caught Lindsay's
eye. It was the fact that the skeleton was wearing a shirt
and tie.

SINJIN BENT DOWN and picked up the skull. Sally stood
with her mouth open. Lindsay searched for something to say.
None of them noticed the door opening onto the stairs leading to the Archaeology Department.

"Lindsay?" Lindsay looked up to see Dr. Frank Carter,
head of the Archaeology Department. With him was Associate Dean Ellis Einer, one of the administrators on North
Campus who viewed archaeology the way some view rotting
fish-with a wrinkled nose and a wave of the hand and wondering what value it could possibly have.

"My God!" Einer said. "Isn't it enough that you store
those things here ... I thought you were supposed to repatriate them, or whatever you call it, and why in the world is it
dressed that way?"

"Lindsay?" repeated Frank, staring at the remains.

"We have to call the police," she said in the most authoritative voice she could muster.

"The police?" said Einer. "Whatever for?"

"Aboriginal remains," said Frank, clearing his throat, "are
not found in modern clothing."

Einer looked puzzled for a moment. "My God. Oh, my
God. You mean ... that this ... this thing is a body?" He
pointed to it as though he were afraid they would mistake
what he referred to.

"Yes," replied Lindsay.

"Well, where did it come from?"

"I'll call campus police," said Frank, excusing himself
and walking into Lindsay's office.

"It just arrived," said Lindsay, hoping he wouldn't ask
any more questions.

"Then it isn't ours?" said Dr. Einer.

"No," said Lindsay.

"Good. Then, while we are waiting for the police, perhaps
we can have a little talk." Lindsay raised her eyebrows. "Is
there somewhere, ah, private?" he said.

Frank was getting off the phone with the police as Lindsay and Einer entered her office.

"They'll be right over," Frank said, and left the two of
them alone.