A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery

by Beverly Connor

  "Okay," Lindsay said. "I'll do it when we finish today"

  After work Lindsay and Frank went to the sheriff's office and filed charges against Jeremy Reynolds. While they were there, they learned that the person who planted the pot in Derrick and Brian's tents was working for Seymore Plackert, but he did not know who Plackert worked for. He said Plackert just showed up in the bar looking for someone to do a job. It was another depressing bit of information in a thoroughly depressing day for Lindsay.

  She waited in Frank's car with the windows down as he went into the hardware store for supplies. A car pulled into the parking lot beside her, cutting off another car trying to get into the parking space. Lindsay glanced over at the driver. It was Patrick Tyler, and he was grinning at her.

  "Hi, Miss Lindsay. Do you want to go dancing this Saturday?"

  "I have other plans."

  "Why don't you change them?"

  "I don't want to" Lindsay kept her eyes straight ahead.

  "I'll bet we could have a real good time."

  "No."

  "I've been taking dancing lessons."

  Lindsay said nothing. Patrick got out of his car. Lindsay thought he was going into the hardware store. Instead, he came around and got in the driver's side of Frank's car.

  "What are you doing?" Lindsay's hand gripped the door handle. "Get out! Right now!"

  "I just thought if you had the opportunity to get to know me-"

  I don't believe this, thought Lindsay. "Get out, or I'll tell your grandmother!" It sounded foolish. Lindsay had meant to say sheriff, but the threat got the desired effect. Patrick got out of the car and closed the door. He started to say something, but Frank came out of the hardware store and got in the car. "The screen ought to be in next Wednesday," he said.

  "Good," said Lindsay. "I'm ready to go back to the site."

  It was 4:30 when Lindsay got back. The site was vacant and covered, and no one was in the crew village. She thought she heard laughter and splashing down at the dock. Some of the crew apparently were swimming in the river.

  She smiled to herself as she changed into her swimsuit and walked down to the pool in the river. Jane was there, and Brian and Sally, Thomas and Michelle. Suddenly, Derrick broke through the water. Lindsay smiled upon seeing him. Michelle swam toward him, and he picked her up in the air and threw her into the water. Michelle came up laughing and turned to swim away, Derrick chasing her. The feelings-the jealousy, the pain-that Lindsay hadn't seemed to feel at the sight of Marsha and Frank came to her with a gutwrenching force as she watched Derrick and Michelle. She turned and walked back to her tent. It definitely had been a thoroughly depressing day.

  During the night, it rained, a hard driving rain. Lindsay lay awake worrying about the two burials that were half finished and worrying that the black plastic covering was not anchored well enough. She turned over on her bed and thought about how long she had had a crush on Frank, about their few promising dates last year, and now about her feelings for Derrick. Her good friend Derrick. When had her feelings started to change? What exactly were her feelings anyway? She was still awake when her alarm went off.

  "Some rain we had last night," Derrick said when Lindsay came out of her tent.

  "I hope the burials didn't fill up," she replied.

  "Let's go have a look."

  They walked across the site to a burial. The ground was muddy, and pools of water stood everywhere. Derrick shined a flashlight on the burial. It was still covered. They looked under the plastic at the dry bones.

  "That's a relief," Lindsay said. They walked to the other one. "Damn," she said when she saw that the rain had puddled on top of the plastic covering and collapsed it into the burial, filling it with water.

  "I'll get the pump," Derrick said.

  They had drained most of the water by the time Frank and the van arrived.

  "How much damage?" Frank asked.

  "One burial flooded," Lindsay said. "The structures look okay, just small pools of water here and there. It's not too bad, considering how much rain we had"

  "It came down in torrents, didn't it!" he said.

  "Yeah, I'm surprised we didn't have more damage."

  "You all right'?"

  "Sure, my tent stayed dry"

  "That's not what I mean."

  "I'm fine. I just have to salvage this waterlogged burial."

  Frank studied her face for a moment, then went to check the structures.

  A letter came for Lindsay. Frank handed it to her at lunch. She didn't recognize the handwriting on the envelope. It was a spidery scrawl, and the i's were dotted with small hearts. What in the world, thought Lindsay, as she tore the envelope open:

  Dear Beautiful Lindsay,

  I think if you got to know me you would find we have a lot in common. I know you probably feel self-conscious dating a member of the community, not to mention a member of the Tyler family, but I assure you no one would think anything about it. I have made reservations at Le Jour for us. If I don't hear from you, I'll assume you have accepted my invitation and will pick you up at 6:00 Tuesday evening.

  Sincerely,

  Patrick Tyler

  "I don't believe this!" Lindsay exclaimed.

  "What?" Jane asked.

  "This letter from Patrick Tyler. Read this." She handed the letter to Jane.

  "Cheeky" Jane laughed and shook her head. "What are you going to do?"

  "Nothing. I don't feel obligated to call him. If he wants to get all dressed up for nothing and drive out here, let him."

  "Le Jour is an expensive place. He must be trying to impress you"

  Lindsay threw the letter into the trash with the remains of her lunch and went back to work.

  Tuesday evening, Lindsay and Jane returned from a shopping trip in Cullins. They had stocked up on groceries, toilet paper, soap, and paperback books and were putting soft drinks in the refrigerator when Derrick came up to Lindsay, looking puzzled. "Lindsay, were you supposed to have a date with Patrick Tyler this evening?"

  "He came by at 6:00, all dressed up. Said you and he were supposed to go to Le Jour."

  "He wrote a letter saying he had made reservations, and he would take it for granted that I had accepted if I didn't contact him. I did not feel oblig ated to accommodate his fantasies and just ignored the whole thing."

  "What was it he said, Lindsay?" laughed Jane. "You shouldn't feel self-conscious dating a Tyler."

  "Something like that."

  Lindsay took a sack of supplies and walked toward the storage tent.

  "Wait up," said Derrick, following her. "Isn't he the guy in the picture?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is he bothering you?"

  "Not really," she said as she quickly marched to the supply tent.

  "I'd say he is. You're obviously worried about something."

  Lindsay stopped and looked up at Derrick. His brown eyes were narrowed, and his face was creased in a concerned frown. Lindsay smiled.

  "I'm fine. He is just an annoyance, that's all."

  "You want me to talk to him?"

  "No. If he comes around again, I'll talk to him." She took the groceries into the supply tent, and Derrick helped her put them up.

  Lindsay took a paperback to bed with her. She was deep into a Dick Francis mystery when she noticed the top drawer of her cardboard chest-of-drawers was slightly open. She rose from the bed, taking her battery-powered lamp with her. Setting it on top of the chest, she pulled open the drawer. Her underwear was in disarray, and deep among the panties was a ring box. She opened the lid. It contained a heartshaped locket. Inside the locket was a small picture of herself on one side and Patrick Tyler on the other.

  "Damn little bastard," she swore out loud.

  Lindsay threw the necklace in her trash can and paced around her tent, steaming. She stopped pacing, looked at the necklace among the crumpled paper, and retrieved it. She threw it on the chest and got back into bed. Despite her anger, she fell asleep quickly, but jerked awak
e when her alarm rang. First thing after she dressed, she took the drawer of underwear outside, emptied the lot into a ditch, and set fire to it.

  "What'cha burning, Lindsay?" Brian asked, coming up behind her from the direction of the latrine. He squatted down and looked at the burning apparel. "It looks like your underwear. You don't have lice do you?"

  "No, Brian, I don't have lice. Get lost."

  Brian shrugged, hoisted his shovel over his shoulder, and walked toward the site.

  When the clothes had burned, Lindsay shoveled dirt over the smoldering fire and went looking for Jane. Lindsay found her with Derrick and Sally, who were taking the plastic covering from a structure.

  "Want to go into town with me when the stores open?"

  "We forget something yesterday?" Jane asked.

  "I need to buy new underwear. I just burned mine."

  They all stopped and looked at her with open mouths.

  "Why?" Derrick asked.

  "Because that little creep Patrick Tyler had his hands in my underwear drawer."

  "Oh, gross!" Sally exclaimed.

  "What? How do you know?" Derrick asked.

  "He left me a locket with my picture and his in it. Obviously, he has been hiding and photographing me as well."

  Derrick scowled. "I'll have a word with him."

  "No. I'm going to the sheriff and let him have a word with him."

  "I've heard about people like that. They can be dangerous," Sally said.

  "I'm going to be dangerous if he doesn't leave me alone."

  Lindsay helped them pull the plastic off the excavation of the structure, then went to the flotation dock, taking several of their specially adapted buckets with her. The crew had found five structures so far, and the volume of material needing floating was increasing. She was hooking up the pump when Frank and the field students arrived, flowing onto the site like worker ants. Lindsay glanced up through the trees and saw Patrick Tyler with Frank and Marsha. Dammit, she thought. She left the dock, climbed up the bank, and headed toward Frank, who was starting on Structure 5 with Marsha's help. She saw Patrick making a beeline for the outer trench that Derrick was crosssectioning.

  "What is he doing here?" Lindsay demanded.

  "Who?" asked Frank absently.

  "Patrick Tyler."

  "Oh. He asked me if he could work on the site. I thought it would be good community relations."

  Lindsay watched Patrick sneaking up on Derrick. Only the top of Derrick's head could be seen as he knelt in the deep trench. She started running toward the trench as Patrick knelt down and stretched out his hand to Derrick's head. Lindsay stopped when she saw Patrick run his fingers through Derrick's hair, a wry smile playing on her lips. Derrick turned around, saw Patrick, and jumped from the trench in a fury. Patrick backed away, stuttering.

  "I-It's a m-mistake, really."

  He fell backward, and Derrick pulled him up by the front of his shirt.

  "Do something like that again, you little pervert, and I'll break your neck."

  "It was a mistake. You don't understand"

  "Oh, I understand, all right." Derrick grabbed a piece of satin and lace hanging half out of Patrick's pocket.

  "That's mine."

  "Yours? Yours? Get off the site, you piece of puke. If I ever see your face again, I'll smash it in."

  "But, but I-I don't have a car."

  "Then walk! Now!"

  "Nonsense," said Brian. "I'm the official creep chauffeur around here. I'll take him back to town." Brian grabbed Patrick by the collar and began dragging him toward the parking lot.

  "What the hell is going on?" swore Frank, hurrying to the commotion. "Brian, let him go!" Brian stopped, but still held onto Patrick.

  "He was running his fingers through Derrick's hair," said Marsha, who had watched the incident in puzzled fascination.

  "What?" asked Frank. "Derrick. What is going on'? Do you know who that is? His grandmother is Isabel Tyler."

  "I don't care if his grandmother is Queen Elizabeth. He's a disgusting little creep"

  "Derrick, don't you think he was probably just horsing around?" Frank asked.

  "No," Lindsay answered. "He thought it was me."

  Frank stared at Lindsay. "You? What do you mean?"

  "All he could see was the hair," she said.

  "Am I missing something?" Frank asked.

  "He had this in his pocket" Derrick held out a pair of panties to Lindsay. "Are they yours?"

  "Yes," she said without touching them.

  "What in God's name is going on?" Frank asked.

  "Patrick has been harassing Lindsay," Derrick said. "Apparently, last evening he went through her underwear and stole these"

  "He's lying!" Patrick cried. "He's a dirty liar."

  "Oh, God," Marsha exclaimed.

  "Brian," Frank said. "You can escort Mr. Tyler off the site."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Lindsay," said Frank, "why didn't you tell me?"

  "I haven't had a chance. Besides, I was going to the sheriff's office today to tell him."

  "Well, I'll go with you."

  "So will I," Derrick said.

  "Me, too," said Marsha. "I think I recall him harassing a girl when he was in high school. The sheriff might remember it."

  "What brings you all here? You haven't found another body?" the sheriff asked as he looked up from his desk and grinned.

  "I need you to have a word with Patrick Tyler," Lindsay said. She set the box with the necklace on the desk. Derrick, who had put Lindsay's panties in a plastic bag, lay them on the desk beside the box. The sheriff looked at them in surprise as Lindsay and Derrick detailed the incidents with Patrick. "I didn't save the letter," finished Lindsay.

  The sheriff looked dumbfounded for a moment. He picked up the plastic bag that held Lindsay's panties, then put it down again. "I'll have a talk with him." he said. "It is probably just an infatuation."

  "Do you remember how he was fixated on Wilma Harrison's daughter in high school?" put in Marsha. "They finally had to send her to live with her aunt in Michigan, he was so persistent."

  "Yeah, I remember, but that was a long time ago." Marsha started to protest, but the sheriff raised his hand to cut her off. "Leave it to me. I'll talk to him. He has no business sneaking around in Lindsay's personal things and taking her underwear."

  Later Derrick and Lindsay sat in the diner drinking coffee while they waited for Frank and Marsha to join them after Frank paid the bill at the hardware store for the last order of screens and shovels.

  "Calm down," Derrick said. "The sheriff said he would sort everything out."

  "What are you talking about?" Lindsay asked, with sudden unexplainable exasperation.

  "Look at yourself. Your shoulders are hunched up. Your expression looks like you're ready to kill the next person who walks in the door."

  Lindsay smiled. "If it's Patrick, maybe I will. Let's not talk about murderers and perverts anymore."

  "Suits me. Let's talk about you. What's going on in your head?"

  "All those things I don't want to talk about. Give me a diversion, Derrick."

  He smiled and reached for her hand. "I would love to divert you if you would let me. When we go to Savannah..."

  A clever reply played on Lindsay's lips, but it was lost as she looked up and saw Frank and Marsha pull into a parking space in front of the diner. She took back her hand.

  It was hot and humid at the site the next day as Lindsay worked on excavating a structure. She knelt between the strings that marked off a grid on the structure floor, putting the dirt from each square into a bag labeled with the number of its square. As she finished each bag, a scout took it to the dock to have the dirt and debris separated from the small artifacts by use of the floatation screens. She looked up through strands of sweat-dampened hair to see the sheriff coming toward her. Not today, she thought. Please, not ever again. No more death. Lindsay had a strong urge to run in the opposite direction.

  The sherif
f waved to her. "Good news," he said. "Patrick Tyler has been sent out of town for an extended stay."

  "How did you manage that?" Lindsay asked, stepping out of the grid strings to stand with him.

  "I went to see his grandmother, Isabel Tyler, and took the locket, your underwear, the bill for the flowers he ordered for your `date,' and the bill for the locket. I laid them out on her coffee table and told her that he was harassing you and would not stop. I reminded her of Linda Harrison and how her parents had to send her out of the state to get away from Patrick. I told her that because of Patrick's past and present behavior, he had attracted the attention of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation's psychologist as a suspect in the child murders. I admit I stretched it a bit there, but it had the desired effect."

  "What did she do?"

  "She sat in her high-backed chair as rigid as could be, without saying a word. Occasionally, her mouth would twitch. The old lady thought I should leave the locket, since her money had bought it. I told her that since it was found in your underwear drawer, it was evidence. Believe me, she did not like that one bit. Yesterday evening I got word that Patrick and his mother, Ruth, left on a trip to an undisclosed location for an undetermined amount of time." He laughed.

  "That means he'll stay gone? He'll do what she says?" Lindsay asked.

  "Isabel Tyler controls all the money, and she rules with an iron hand. I imagine she tore into his butt real good."

  Lindsay suddenly put her arms around the sheriff's neck and kissed him. "Thank you so much!"

  "No problem," he said, blushing. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  Lindsay smiled. "No. This really takes a big load off my mind."

  "I doubt you'll hear from him again. I don't believe Patrick is dangerous, just a damn nuisance. But you never know."

  "I really appreciate all you've done to help."

  "Actually, I rather enjoyed mortifying the old lady. But don't let that get out"

  The day was beautiful. The weatherman said there would be no rain. Indeed, the bright sun and cloudless sky confirmed the accuracy of his prediction. It was a perfect day. Lindsay went from burial to burial, checking her diggers. Satisfied with the progress, she helped Sally with the mapping.

  Derrick and Brian had gone into town to pick up supplies at the hardware store. As Lindsay was drawing a corner posthole of a small outbuilding on Derrick's map, she saw Brian and Derrick drive into the parking area.