Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel (14 page)

"And you, Harold." They hung up and Lindsay frowned
at the door. He only called to needle her about the artifacts,
she knew, but was he right about how she had handled
them? Was she more concerned with protecting the image
of her grandfather than doing what was right with the artifacts? What was right? Where did they belong? She began
looking at the pictures and making a list. She would let
Frank deal with the appraisal.

She heard a tentative knock on the door and looked up to
see Bethany, her long red hair tied up in a ponytail, standing in the doorway.

"I have come to do some sorting, Dr. Chamberlain.
Could I have the key to the storage room?"

"You can't go in there until the police finish."

Bethany's eyes widened. "There hasn't been another
body discovered, has there?"

Lindsay smiled. "No, but some artifacts are missing."

"Somebody stole bags of dirt?"

"No. The day before yesterday I stored some other artifacts in the storage room and they're missing. You haven't
seen anybody hanging around have you?"

Bethany shook her head. "Do you have anything for me
to do? I kind of need to get some hours in."

"I don't have anything. I think Dr. Kerwin needs some
copying done."

"Not Dr. Kerwin," Bethany groaned. "He wants all his
staples at exactly a forty-five-degree angle. I can never do
them to suit him."

"I don't suppose you'd like to help Greg with the faunal
specimens?" Lindsay suggested. Bethany wrinkled her nose.

"Ask Dr. Bienvenido if she needs anything."

Sally arrived just as Bethany left. "Have you found the
artifacts?"

"No. I've looked everywhere."

Sally sat down. "Who do you think did it?"

Lindsay shook her head. "I have no idea. The police are
going to dust for fingerprints, but I have a feeling they
won't find anything."

"This is very strange. Who do the artifacts belong to?
You?"

Lindsay shook her head. "Not to me. I suppose my
father could lay claim to them, if he were inclined, but he
wouldn't. Right now, I imagine the Office of State Archae ology in Kentucky-if the artifacts are from Kentucky. We
don't know that for sure."

"Maybe the police will come up with something."

Lindsay patted her on the shoulder. "You're an optimist,
Sally. I hope you're right."

"Thanks for dinner last night. I really enjoyed it. I'm
glad your brother came."

"He and I enjoyed it, too."

"I don't suppose he said anything about me."

"I think he did ask how old you are again," Lindsay
answered.

"Boy, is he hung up on age." She rose and sauntered out
the door. "I guess I'll go see if Andy's finished with the
sandbox. I brought my plastic bucket today."

"Sally," Lindsay called.

"Yes?" she said, turning and leaning into the doorway.

"Would you take this list and these pictures to Frank for
me?" Lindsay rose and handed an envelope to her. "I'm
going to the medical examiner's office and see if they'll let
me look at the bones of our mystery guest. But don't tell
anyone unless they ask."

"You want me to go with you?"

"No. I'm probably not supposed to have access to them,
and I certainly don't want to be accused of contributing to
the delinquency of a minor."

"Cute." Sally took the envelope.

"Eddie, can I look at the bones?" asked Lindsay.

"You can, but may you? That's the question." He
grinned at her from behind the desk in his small office.

"May I?"

"I don't see why not." He rose from his desk and walked
with Lindsay to the morgue. "What's the story on these?
They were in your grandfather's trunk or something?"

"Not exactly. They were in a wooden crate stored in one of my grandfather's outbuildings that's been covered with
kudzu ever since anyone can remember."

"Fascinating-all that time." He shook his head.

"Do you know who's going to examine them?" Lindsay
asked.

"I believe we're supposed to ship them back to Kentucky. But no one said you couldn't look at them first."

Eddie took the box of bones to the autopsy room and
helped Lindsay unpack them and lay them out on the table.
John Booth appeared out of nowhere and assisted them.

"Have you looked at them?" asked Lindsay.

"We collected some insect casings and packed the clothing separately. That's about all."

"A guy," said Lindsay, looking at the pelvis.

"Well, then, we don't have a cross-dresser," said Eddie.

Lindsay smiled at him. She examined the surface of the
pubic symphysis. "Wouldn't you say early twenties?" she
asked, running a thumb across the ridges and furrows of
the bone.

"Works for me," said Eddie.

Lindsay took a quick look at his teeth. "Lots of cavities,
few trips to the dentist." She examined a femur and the
sternal end of a couple of ribs. "We'll say between twentytwo and twenty-five."

"I like these quick and dirty methods," said Eddie.
"Saves time."

"When you don't have to write the report, it's fast and
easy," she said. "He was left-handed." Lindsay pointed out
the beveling on the margin of the left glenoid cavity.

"Look between the fifth and sixth ribs," said John,
pointing to his right side. He grinned at Lindsay, showing a
row of white teeth. She raised her eyebrows and picked up
the ribs in question.

"The sixth rib has a cut," said Lindsay.

"From the front," said John.

"Yes," she said, feeling the rough edge of the nick in
back of the rib. "How did you know?"

"Went through the shirt, stained it." John flashed his
white teeth again.

"Well, that was easy," said Eddie. "He was stabbed. With
a knife?"

"Looks like it," Lindsay answered, examining the
v-shaped nick. "Give me a small sliver of paper," she said.

John tore an edge from a piece of paper he took out of
the trash can. Lindsay put the edge in the nick. "Look at the
direction it's oriented," she said.

"Downward and toward the center of the body," Eddie
commented.

Lindsay looked over the other ribs. "Here's a nick on the
anterior surface of the right tenth. It looks like the killer
held the knife in his left hand and stabbed the guy in his
right side. Is that what it looks like to you?"

Eddie nodded. "Killer was taller, too, by several
inches." He took a ruler and walked over to Lydell, an
anatomy skeleton standing in the corner, and pulled him
away from the wall. He dragged a stool next to Lydell and
stepped up onto the stool. "Let's see," he said.

Lindsay watched him as he held the ruler at the proper
angle while bending his knees and moving up and down
until he found a height that would have been natural for
someone wielding a knife. "What would you say that is?"

"'Bout five or six inches taller, I'd say," said John.

"I agree," said Lindsay.

"Couldn't the fellow be sitting down and the killer
come up behind him and stab him over the shoulder?"
John asked. "'Course, I guess he'd have to hold the
knife upside down to make those cuts in the top of the
rib, wouldn't he?"

"I had a case once," Eddie said, "fellow stabbed from
behind, over the shoulder. Cut the bottom of the rib."

"I don't believe the angle would be as steep," said Lindsay.

John Booth rubbed his fingers over the nicks. "Amazing
what you can tell from tiny cuts in the bone."

"Yep, keeps Miss Lindsay here in business," Eddie said,
and as John held the ribs, he measured the distance from
the sixth rib to the inside of the tenth. "I'd say it had to be a
knife about nine inches long."

"Anything else from the clothes?" Eddie asked John.

"Bloodstains. Shirt and pants," John responded. "The
guy bled."

"The crate?" Lindsay asked. "It was stained as I remember. Blood?"

"Maybe. Body fluid certainly," said Eddie. He
shrugged. "They can test it in Kentucky."

"So, he may have been dead when he was put in the
crate," Lindsay commented. "How long might it have taken
him to die?"

"Let's see. It hit the lung, the liver, probably a vessel. I
imagine he bled to death. It'd be quick, probably just a few
minutes."

"The way he was bent, he had to be put in the crate
either before the onset of rigor or after rigor resolved,"
commented Lindsay.

"True. If they put him in the crate after rigor, they might
have had to wait as long as thirty hours."

"Anything else from the clothes?" asked Lindsay. "I
don't suppose there was a driver's license?"

"Nothing at all in his pockets," John said. "Judging from
his clothes, I reckon he was about five foot four and
weighed about 130 pounds."

Lindsay took the bone board and measured the left
femur. "Four hundred and forty-one millimeters," she said.

Eddie searched around in one of the cabinets. "Here we
go," he said, lifting out a thick book. "What's the race?"

Lindsay examined the skull again. "White," she said.

"Five feet, five inches," said Eddie. "Pretty good, John."

"There's a healed break in the right femur," said Lindsay. "And in the right tibia."

"It's hard to break a femur," said Eddie.

"Right tibia didn't heal well. One leg was shorter than
the other. Was he wearing corrective shoes?" Lindsay
asked John.

"No," said John, "but his shoes were scuffed pretty bad
and the heel of the right shoe was wore down on the inside."

"You should be a detective, John," said Eddie.

John showed Lindsay the shoes inside the plastic bag. She
dug in the pocket of her jeans for her hand lens and examined the sides and bottoms of the soles through the plastic.

"Can you tell where the dirt's from?" asked Eddie.

Lindsay gave him a sideways glance. "Sure," she said,
and he grinned at her.

"They ought to be able to do something with that up
there in Kentucky," said Eddie.

"You come from Kentucky, don't you, Dr. Chamberlain?" asked John Booth.

"Yes, I do."

"I thought so. Where 'bouts? I have some people up
there."

"Stearns."

"Pennyroyal," said Booth. "Mine are up in the Bluegrass."

"Actually, Eastern Mountains, but it's up against Pennyroyal," said Lindsay.

"I know what Bluegrass is, but what's Pennyroyal?"
Eddie asked.

"Geographic regions," Lindsay said, "like Piedmont or
Coastal Plains here in Georgia."

"Where'd you go to school?" asked Eddie.

"UT."

"Tennessee, Kentucky. You're a little mountain girl,
aren't you?"

"Pretty much. Look at this," she said, turning the humerus over in her hand. "Femur's the same."

"Those groves down the bone?" asked Eddie.

"Yes, the poor fellow had to do some very hard, backbreaking labor in his short life." She quickly looked at the
vertebrae. "He had back problems, too. His vertebrae are a
little too worn for his age."

"Poor guy," said Eddie. "What do you think?"

Lindsay shook her head. "I don't have a clue."

"You think they can find out who he is?" asked Booth.

"Not without some miracle," said Lindsay. "You'd
better pack him back up and ship him off. Thanks for letting me take a look."

"Sure. You think your grandfather had something to do
with this guy?"

"He was stored behind his workshop. I just don't know,
and..."

Eddie's cell phone rang. He searched his pockets for it,
finally locating it in the front pocket of his lab coat. "Yes?"
Pause. "Lindsay, it's for you. Sally."

Lindsay took the phone. "Yes?"

"Lindsay, you need to come back. The police took your
brother to the police station."

"Sinjin? Why?"

"Just come back."

SALLY WAS STANDING outside waiting when Lindsay
pulled up behind Baldwin. As soon as the Rover stopped,
Sally jumped in the passenger side.

"What's this about?" asked Lindsay.

"Some student said they saw Sinjin's black Jeep parked
out back last night."

"His Jeep, or one like it?" Lindsay drove out onto Jackson Street.

"They said his, but every other Jeep on campus is a lot
like his."

"That can't be all," said Lindsay.

Sally looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her
lap. "They found some stuff in his Jeep."

Lindsay was silent a moment. "What stuff?" she asked.

"One of those tripod jars and a few points."

"I see." Lindsay remembered his being surprised at the
artifacts' value, then banished the thought from her mind.

"He didn't do it," Sally said.

"No, he didn't," Lindsay said, turning on Lumpkin.
"How did you find out about it?"

"He came by your office looking for you just as the police
showed up. It was really bad timing. Frank was there, too."

Neither said anything as Lindsay drove the rest of the
way to the Public Safety Building. Sinjin was coming out
the door when Lindsay drove up. He looked angry.

She stopped the Rover, got out, and smiled at him,
hoping it looked natural and not forced. "Hi, need a ride?"

"Yeah."

Sally climbed into the back seat, leaving the passenger
seat for Sinjin.

"What was that about?" asked Lindsay.

"They think I took the artifacts."

"That's ridiculous. If you wanted to make off with
them, you could have done it anywhere between here and
Kentucky."

"Yes, if I had known their value."

Lindsay wanted to ask him if he had any idea how the
artifacts got in his Jeep, but she didn't know how to not
make it sound like an accusation.

"My Jeep is parked behind your building," he said. "If
you'll take me there, I'll meet you at your house-if you
can go home."

"Sure. You told them where you were when your Jeep
was supposed to be parked outside Baldwin? Didn't they
check it out?" said Lindsay.

Sinjin was silent for a long time. "I went to see Kathy."