"Meanwhile, there was a woman in the village. She was approaching old age, but she was not yet old. Her husband was dead. He had no brothers, and she had no family, so taking care of herself was very hard. She was a medicine woman, and she traded her cures for food and hides. One day she was in the woods looking for herbs when she happened on a wondrous being. He must be a spirit, she thought, for she had never seen such a beautiful being. He was large, bigger than a deer or a bear, with a broad chest and long back. His fur was black and shiny. He had long hair flowing from a gracefully arched neck, and he had a beautiful long tail that touched the ground. The spirit had hooves-not split like a deer's, but a single pieceand they were very large. He had large, dark eyes and a white patch of fur in the middle of his forehead. Large, sleek muscles moved easily under the shiny coat. The spirit was powerful, but he was injured.
"The woman drew her doeskin skirt up to make a container and poured water into it. The spirit smelled the water and let the woman come to him. He bent his head and drank from her skirt. She searched her pouch for the right herbs and made a poultice. She took her most valuable possession, an obsidian knife that her husband had traded several of her pots for, and cut a strip of leather from her skirt. She put the poultice on the broken leg and wound the strip of leather around it.
"The woman walked back to her village, and the spirit followed, walking slowly on his three good legs. The other people in the village were frightened of the spirit when they saw him and would not let her bring him into the palisade, so she made her home outside where she could care for him. She discovered he liked grass, corn, grain, nuts, and berries. She fed the spirit well, and he healed, though he always walked with a limp.
"The woman found that the animal could pull a travois, so when she went to the woods to gather food and herbs, she could bring back much more than she did when she had to carry it herself. The spirit could drag trees and do the work of many braves, and the people became less afraid of him. He allowed children to sit on his back and ride when he pulled logs or the travois laden with food. He would take nuts, berries, and corn from their hands, gently caressing their palms with his soft lips.
"In the winter, the spirit's coat became shaggy and he could work, no matter how cold or harsh the weather. In the summer, his coat was slick and shiny, and he was very beautiful.
"The spirit lived with the old woman for many years, and both grew very old. One day the spirit died and, because he had done so much work over the years, the men in the village helped the old woman bury him. They dug a large grave for the spirit, and the old woman made a special pot and put corn in it. She set it beside his head.
"The woman was very old and lonely without the spirit, and though the people in the village took care of her, she was so sad she died soon after her friend. The people buried her beside the spirit and put her best possessions in her grave with her, and she was happy."
"I'll bet they were impressed with horses when they first saw them," said Sally. "I remember when I saw a real live horse for the first time. I was five, and it was running in a field. I thought it was the most beautiful creature in the world."
Lindsay was delighted with Thomas's find. So much of the time, archaeology is about looking for the patterns of a people that define and separate them as a culture distinct from other cultures. Rarely did they uncover an example of idiosyncratic behavior. She was looking forward to analyzing the bones.
Lindsay dreamed about the horse. It was running, chased by conquistadors. They didn't want the Indians to have it. They trampled the corn fields, waving their swords, but the horse was fast. One conquistador took aim and shot just as the horse jumped safely inside the palisade. Lindsay woke up. The sounds of crickets were loud, and outside her window she could see lightning bugs blinking on and off. In the distance she heard the river sounds. This was a good site, one of the best she had worked on. If only all the mysteries were archaeological and not criminal.
The next morning, after the old woman's and the horse's graves were photographed, Frank and Derrick came to help Lindsay, Sally, and Thomas take up the bones.
"Where is Marsha?"Lindsay asked, surprised not to see her with Frank as usual.
"She said she wasn't feeling well this morning. I think it's aches and pains from digging. You remember how it is at first"
"Yes," said Lindsay aloud, but she thought to herself that, unlike Marsha, they were required to continue working, aches and pains or not.
"The lab crew floated the contents of the pot from the horse burial. It contained corn cupules," Frank said. "How did you know?"
"I just guessed. It's not all that uncommon to find corn in a pot, you know. Don't read anything into it."
"I won't, but I think some of the others are. You're in danger of becoming famous, Lindsay."
Lindsay just laughed and shook her head.
"Take one last look," she said. "We're going to take up the bones."
As she reached into the pit and touched the horse's skull, a piercing scream split the relative silence of the site. They all froze.
"That was from the flotation dock," said Derrick. They ran toward the dock.
Carrie, one of the flotation crew, stood on the dock pointing toward an object floating in the water.
"Good, God," exclaimed Frank. "It's a body."
Lindsay went to Carrie and led her off the dock and away from the river. She was shaking and started crying. By then the remainder of the site crew had gathered and were staring into the water.
"Go back to the site," Frank ordered. "Michelle, you and Jane take everyone to the picnic area and call the sheriff."
Lindsay gave Carrie to Jane. "Take her with you and give her some water or a Coke or whatever she wants" Lindsay went hack to the river.
"What should we do'?" Brian asked.
"I suppose we should pull it out of the water," Frank answered.
"We who'?" asked Derrick.
"Aren't you supposed to leave a dead body where you find it'?" asked Brian, hopefully.
"Not when it might float away. I know this is not pleasant, but you, Derrick, and I have on gloves. We are just going to have to do it."
They pulled the corpse from the water and dragged it onto the dock, where they turned it over.
It was Seymour Plackert.
They all stared at each other fora moment.
"What do you think happened?" Brian asked. "Do you think he fell in and drowned?"
"I'm sure the sheriff will sort it out" Frank stayed with the body and sent the others to wait for the sheriff, who arrived half an hour later. The crew were sitting with their arms folded, grim-faced and quiet.
"Where is the body?" he asked.
"It's down at the river, on the dock," Lindsay said.
"Who found it?"
"I did," Carrie said quietly.
"Can you tell me about it?"
Carrie shrugged. "I dipped the flotation bucket into the water-the pump is broken-and was bringing it up when, it ... it just came from under the dock. I screamed and dropped the bucket. I guess the artifacts are lost."
"That's all right, Carrie," Derrick comforted her. "Don't worry about the artifacts."
"What happened then?" asked the sheriff.
"When we heard her scream," said Lindsay, "we rushed down to the dock and saw the body. Brian, Derrick, and Frank pulled it out of the water onto the dock. Frank's with the body now. All of us came here to wait for you."
"I want all of you to stay here until I examine the body. I may have some questions"
The sheriff, one of his deputies, and the two men who drove the ambulance walked to the dock carrying a stretcher and a body bag.
"What's going to happen now?" asked Jane.
"I don't know," Lindsay answered.
"Will they think we did it?" Jane asked.
"No," answered Lindsay. "Why would we'?"
"Well, he accused us ..." She let the sentence trail off.
"We were proven innocent," said Lind
say. "We had no reason to kill him."
"Will the sheriff see it that way, though?" Jane persisted.
"I've found him to be a reasonable man."
Derrick rose and walked away from the others, stretching his legs. Lindsay walked over to him.
"I'll have to tell the sheriff about the stashed pot," he whispered to her.
"It will be all right."
"Sure."
"It will."
He smiled at her. "You sure are pretty."
"Where did that come from?"
Derrick shrugged. "I just notice it sometimes." He caressed her cheek with the back of his finger tips, walked back to the tables, and sat with the others.
Before long, the sheriff and his crew came up out of the woods carrying the body across the site. Frank directed them around the artifacts and features.
The sheriff let the others go to their quarters and asked to talk with Derrick. Lindsay, and Frank alone. He looked at each of them before saying anything. Frank and Lindsay waited for him to begin. Derrick stared absently at the wooden deck of the picnic area.
"Was it an accident, you think'?" asked Frank.
The sheriff shook his head. "He was shot" The sheriff took a breath. He seemed to be weighing his words. "Plackert was surprised that we found no drugs," the sheriff said. "Perhaps bewildered would be a better word. I can think of several reasons he could be so sure there were drugs. One is that he put them there himself. Does anyone know anything about that?"
"I do," said Derrick, not taking his eyes off the ground. Frank looked over at him in surprise. Lindsay wanted to take his hand, but he was too far away.
"Why don't you tell me about it?"
Derrick looked at the sheriff and told him what he had seen from his perch in the tree and what he had done about it.
"I know it was stupid, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do"
"If I had known this when I interrogated Plackert, it would have been a great help," said the sheriff.
"Yeah, I know."
"Would you recognize the fellow if you saw him again?"
"I doubt it. He had on a helmet, and I wasn't that close."
"How about the bike? Would you recognize it?"
"Maybe."
"A little later you can drive around with me to some hang-outs, and we'll look for the bike."
Derrick nodded.
"Why?" Frank replied. "What could anyone gain from running us off the site?"
"Perhaps they didn't want you to find a body?" said the sheriff, and they all looked at him in astonish ment. Burial 23. It had not occurred to any of them. No one off the site knew they had found Burial 23.
"Then you think it has to do with Burial 23?" asked Frank.
"I think it highly likely," said the sheriff. "Lindsay, you said the burial could have been in the ground anywhere from 25 to 100 years. For example, say it was 25 years and the perpetrator committed the crime when he was 20. He would be 45 now."
"Or it could have been Plackert," said Lindsay. "He was what? Sixty-five?"
"That was my first idea. After questioning him at length, I finally told him we had found the body and he should come clean. He appeared genuinely shocked, but he stuck to the story that he had received several anonymous calls about the people at the dig. I had my deputies follow him. He went straight home. The next day they lost track of him."
"You think he was working for someone else but didn't know why they wanted the crew off the site?" asked Frank.
"I believe that is a reasonable explanation," the sheriff replied.
"Why do you think the murderer dumped Plackert's body here?" asked Frank. "To scare us?"
"I'm not sure they knew you would find it. There are many remote places up river to dump a body."
"I think he was killed near here," Lindsay said abruptly.
They stared at her. "How do you know?" the sheriff asked.
"I heard the shot. At least I think I did. I was dreaming, but you know how dreams are. They incor porate outside sounds into the plot. I heard a shot in my dream"
"Do you have any idea what time it was?"
"I don't know. I think I woke up shortly after the shot, but I didn't look at the clock. I didn't hear anything suspicious when I was awake. Maybe it was nothing."
"Maybe and maybe not. Derrick, did you hear anything?"
"No, but I sleep like the dead."
"I'll ask the others before I leave. They may have heard something and not realized it. I also think Lindsay should move into town or someplace more protected. Everyone knows she is the one who identifies bones."
"Are you saying someone may come after her?" Frank asked.
"It's a possibility I can't discount," answered the sheriff.
"You can move into my house," said Frank. "The doors all have good locks. You can sleep on the second floor, and I'll be there in case-"
"I think you're overreacting a bit," Lindsay declared.
"Frank and the sheriff are right," Derrick said. "You should move to a safer place. Perhaps with the field students. We could be talking about a person who has killed twice already and would not hesitate to kill again."
"There is no room with the field students," Frank said. "There is plenty of room where I'm staying." Frank and Derrick eyed each other for a moment.
"Look," said Lindsay, "I have Derrick, Brian, Jane, Allen, Jim, and Sally living here. I should be safe."
"Tents are too easy to get into, and someone could easily shoot through the tent at you." said Frank.
"Listen to yourselves," said Lindsay. "Aren't you going overboard just a little? If someone wants to kill me, I don't think they would march into camp where they would likely be seen. Besides, there are many bone experts in the United States. Killing me would only delay things."
"They may not rationalize things that way. And as far as not wanting to be recognized, they could send the fellow who planted the pot," said Derrick. "Or they could send someone else. It is best if you stay at Frank's."
"What about you and the others?" Lindsay argued. "He could make a mistake and get Jane or Sally. He could see only your hair, Derrick, and think it was me. '
"Jane and Sally should stay at the house, too," Derrick said. "Brian, Jim, Alan, and I can take care of ourselves."
"Look, this is just supposition, and I'm not going to move my quarters based on it." They started to protest again when Lindsay turned to the sheriff. "I made a cast of the Burial 23 skull and am reconstructing her face. Would you like to see it'?"
The sheriff looked surprised. "Yes, by all means"
They followed Lindsay to her tent, and she pulled the box from under the table. She took the reconstruction, set it on her table, and uncovered it.
"Nice job." said Frank.
"That's her'?" asked the sheriff.
"Pretty much." said Lindsay. "There are things like the exact shape of the nose and lips that I may not have captured. I have no way of knowing her eye and hair color. The face is still rough. I'm still working on it.
The sheriff stared at the face. "That's pretty good. If it's been in the ground around 60 or 70 years like you said in your report, there may be some old missing persons report. When I can spare someone, I'll have them look in the morgue at the newspaper office and see if there are any articles. I have to go now. I don't have to tell all of you to keep an eye out." He left, and Frank turned to Lindsay.
"Come stay at the house. The sheriff is right. Everyone knows you identified the skeletons of the children."
"Do it," said Derrick. "I want you to be safe"
"I'll think about it." She smiled at him.
-Rudyard Kipling
The Vampire
Chapter 7
THE THOUGHT OF the digging season coming to an abrupt and ignominious end distressed Lindsay, for she expected the students from the field school and the scouts to flee in terror from the site. However, they did not take the discovery of Plackert's body with the same gravity as everyone else.
They were, in fact, fascinated by it. They were in the middle of a mystery, and they reveled in the gory details, even made up worse particulars on their own.
Things started taking an upturn when the sheriff and Derrick found the motorcycle that had been used to deliver the pot at a local hang-out. The sheriff took the owner in for questioning, and they all believed the solution was near. Lindsay felt safe and pushed the events to the back of her mind.
Marsha Latimore had undergone a transformation. The metamorphosis had happened gradually, but now it was complete. Her hair, no longer the bright blonde, lacquered bouffant style that all Merry Claymoore Garden Club members wore, was now a chin-length, subtle golden blonde with bangs that stopped just above her eyebrows. Nowadays, she often wore it pulled behind her ears and covered with an Atlanta Braves baseball cap. The nails, too, had changed. The once long, bright pink talons were short and polished with clear polish. Marsha was more relaxed, and she no longer followed Frank around the site, nor did she make a lot of small talk while she worked.
She stood in front of Lindsay in shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers, a trowel in her hand. Marsha was good at assimilating.
"Frank said to ask you if I could work on a burial."
"Okay. I have one here I was about to open up " Lindsay indicated a dark tan stain on the lighter tan surface of the site floor. "The way we excavate a burial is one end at a time so we can map the crosssection of the burial fill. I'll start until I find bone, then let you work."
Lindsay began digging gently into the burial, taking shallow shovelfuls and putting the dirt in a pile near the burial. She stopped frequently and tested the burial with her trowel.
"I'll get a crew member to screen your dirt for artifacts." Lindsay tested the burial again with the trowel. "I've found bone." She shoveled as much dirt from the top of the bones as she could without endangering them. Marsha sat beside the hole and looked into the burial, staring at the yellow brown shaft.
A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery Page 12
