Lindsay placed the skull in another tank. "We've been disappointed not to find any remnants of brain tissue," she said. "It would have been a long shot, but not unheard of."
"Really, after over four hundred years?"
"Yes. You can get some amazing preservation in an anaerobic environment."
"I'm learning a lot on this case. Even if I don't solve it, I will have become better educated."
Lindsay stripped off her gloves and washed her hands. "What is it that's puzzling you?"
"Hardy Denton was moved. We know that from the bruising." He paused, but Lindsay was silent, waiting. "You know about forensics. In drowning cases you get wet or dry drownings."
"He was drowned, then?"
"Oh, yes. He was drowned, but someplace other than where he was found. The medical examiner tells me that in drowning situations, it's a matter of ruling out everything else. Not very precise, to my thinking, but"-he shrugged-"what can you do? Anyway, in a dry drowning the laryngeal airway closes, water doesn't enter the lungs, and the victim suffocates."
Lindsay nodded.
"In a wet drowning the victim gets liquid in the lungs and he suffocates. Hardy Denton's was a wet drowning. And I thought, now that will be helpful. Salt water, he drowned in the oceanbrackish water, he drowned in the marsh-fresh water, he drowned in a stream. It's a small island, that will narrow it down. I feel good. So you can imagine my surprise and puzzlement when the medical examiner told me he had sugar water in his lungs."
Agent Ramirez threw up his hands. "I don't know where to look fora river of sucrose. So I thought we could brainstorm together."
Lindsay had dried her hands and was rubbing lotion into them, still silent.
"You have an idea," Ramirez said. "I can see it in your face."
"And he had carbonized plant remains in his mouth," Lindsay said. It was a statement and not a question.
"That was one of the things we were holding back."
Lindsay sighed. "Come with me." She led him down to the dock warehouse. Isaac wasn't there. It was probably his day off. The sink was empty and clean.
"This is where we do chemical flotation," she said. "It's how we separate carbon material from other heavier fractions in dirt samples taken from the site. In the past we have used Calgon; it breaks up the mud and allows the lightweight particles to float to the surface. Here on the island we are using sugar to change the specific gravity of the water." She pointed to the trash barrel containing empty sugar bags.
Ramirez put a hand close to the thin edge of the sink, almost touching it. "Yes," he said. "This is where he died. I thank you. You have taken what for me was a confounding puzzle and solved it. Dare I ask who has access to this place?"
"Everybody." She explained how the barge came every day to store the heavier artifacts here. "Isaac Jones does the chemical flotation. He may be close by, or he may be taking a day off. We also have a night watchman. I don't know who he is."
"Is it locked at night?"
"Yes."
"Who has a key?"
"Most of us. A lot of us, anyway." Ramirez frowned. "That's how a university works," said Lindsay. "We lock everything up and give everybody a key."
"Why," asked Lewis, "did you tell him about the chemical flotation?"
He sat behind his desk with his elbows on the polished wood. They had the door closed this time, in case Ramirez was lurking outside. Trey and Lindsay sat at the table in the corner.
"Because he would have discovered it on his own after a while and it would look suspicious to keep it from him," said Lindsay.
"Look," said Trey, The obviously was killed here. This makes no difference."
Lewis rubbed his fingers through his hair, unmollified. "You should have come to me first."
Lindsay shook her head. "No. That's information that directly connects to the case he's working. We can't keep that kind of information from the FBI."
"How are you coming on the case?" asked Lewis.
"Me?"
"I asked you to look into it for us."
"I've been doing other things. I can't just barge in on their case. I suspect there is bruising on his neck or chest from the edge of the sink where his head was held in the water," Lindsay replied. Lewis made a face.
"The bruising is why they suspected he was moved. Then the sugar in his lungs confused them."
"You should have allowed them to stay confused."
"No, he asked me something that I knew. He would have found out I knew it. If I hadn't told him, he could have charged me with obstruction in a federal investigation. Besides, it's not a good thing at all to have a killer running loose."
"What else do you know?"
"Mostly, what I told you before. Denton was moved shortly after he was killed. We know that because livor mortis set in while he was in the pond."
"Livor mortis?"
"Lividity."
Lewis nodded his head. "I'm glad you know these terms."
"What the FBI doesn't have a clue about is motive. What I did not tell him is that there is a great big motive somewhere on the bottom of the ocean."
"You think that's involved?" asked Lewis.
"That'd be my guess. I can't think of a more compelling reason for murder." She told them about her theory that Hardy Denton's bid was so low because he wanted to get inside the dig to find out about the other galleon.
Lewis and Trey both looked at her wide-eyed. "I hadn't thought of that," said Lewis. "I should have. It makes perfect sense."
"That's why he was so mad," said Trey. "I couldn't really figure out why he should be so angry. He has other projects. But, of course, he's been hanging around Eva Jones instead of tending to his business."
"So, it's safe to say the Jones woman knows about the galleon. Damn!" Lewis pounded his fist on the desk.
"It was hopeless to think a secret like that could be kept," said Lindsay.
"Why didn't you tell Ramirez?" Lewis asked. "You are right, that provides a big motive."
"Several reasons. I don't know if the silver galleon is related to Denton's murder. However, I am certain there is only one place he could have drowned in sugar water and gotten charcoal in his mouth." Lewis gestured his head toward Lindsay, conceding that point. "I don't want to give away company secrets and I don't want to have the dam circled by even more pirates. And as far as I know, the silver galleon is a rumor at this point. We aren't looking for it to my knowledge ... are we?"
Both Trey and Lewis kept silent.
"Are we?"
Silence.
"Great, stealth archaeology."
Lewis gave her a rueful smile. "Nate's team is looking. His divers don't know it, but their surveying is for that purpose."
That's why his team doesn't find many artifacts, thought Lindsay. They aren't looking for Estrella artifacts. "Is Nate the only person who knows?"
"Sarah," said Trey. "She and Nate have worked together a long time."
"Is Nate using his computer program to search for it?" asked Lindsay.
"You know about that?" asked Lewis. "Yes, he is. But the problem is, we don't know where the ship went down exactly. We only know it was somewhere off the coast of Georgia, or Florida, or even South Carolina. We're hoping Georgia, but that covers a lot of acres of ocean."
"You don't have any clues?" asked Lindsay.
"A few minor clues," answered Trey. "And Nate has plugged those into the program. But we have no confidence in them. He's mainly using this site to test his software."
"They've found nothing in the survey?" Lindsay asked. Trey shook his head. "Where do Boote and Keith Teal fit into this?"
"Who says they do?" asked Lewis.
"Keith was murdered also. It would be quite a coincidence for the two murders not to be related. Some of the crew knew both of them. Did they know each other?"
"Did Ramirez say Keith was murdered?" asked Lewis. "Couldn't he have gotten drunk and fallen in the quicksand and drowned, or whatever it is you do in quicksand?"
"Quicksand has a bad rap. It's not like it is in the movies. Harper is what, about five-five? She sank up to her chest and said she could feel the bottom."
Trey made a painful grimace.
"How tall was Keith?" asked Lindsay.
"Six feet, I'd say."
"Okay, then. Normally the pits aren't deep. In any case, they don't suck you in. Getting out is not impossible. Besides, what would he be doing drinking in the middle of St. Magdalena? It's not exactly a social spot."
"Great, another murder," said Lewis.
"I don't know if Keith knew Denton or Jones," said Trey.
"Both Jones and Keith Teal were treasure hunters. I'll bet they knew each other," said Lindsay.
Trey shook his head. "Jones is what you might call world-class. She's got the fancy equipment." Lewis laughed and Trey joined him. Lindsay just shook her head. "Keith was just a beach bum who got lucky with a couple of ships he found."
"Did he find anything that could be linked to the silver galleon?"
"No," said Trey. "Nate and I looked at everything he and his father had collected."
"He might not have shown you everything. Especially if it had significant value or he thought it might lead to something of value."
"Maybe. But ... I don't know," said Trey.
"What is it you know about the galleon?" asked Lindsay. "When did she sink?"
"In 1556 or 1566. We don't know for sure. The source we looked at was not in good condition. Not that much evidence really," said Lewis. "The archives said she went way off course and was lost in a storm. The records make mention of them being chased by pirates."
"But, surely, you could connect her to a fleet? The House of Trade was nothing if not merciless bureaucrats. Wouldn't they have had meticulous records? And, at that time, wasn't there a law against lone galleons traveling with gold?"
"Yes, to both of those observations," said Trey. "But we couldn't find the fleet she sailed with. What we found was in a letter to one of the members of the House of Trade. The letter didn't mention the fleet. And we didn't find a reference in any of the silver galleon fleets that sailed during that time."
"Could she have been a Pacific Manila galleon?" asked Lindsay. "Did you look in those records?"
"The Manila route wasn't discovered until about 1565," said Trey, "right on the edge of the last date we have. We looked, but didn't find anything. The only real clue was a fleet sailing from Havana in 1556, the first date. The records show a fleet of seven ships leaving Havana for Spain. All of them made it, but it looks like the original number was eight, and that was marked out. There was no mention of a shipwreck. Like you said-the House of Trade loved paperwork. If there was a wreck, it should have been mentioned. It may be a mistake, or that may be the missing ship."
"That's not much. I wonder what Jones has?"
"You think she has something?" asked Lewis.
"I don't think she's working only on a leak from us. She must have other information. Maybe she heard the rumor and did some research herself and found something," said Lindsay.
"Perhaps," said Trey. "But I don't know what that could be."
"Could there be any link between our ship and the silver galleon?" asked Lindsay.
"There's no indication of that," said Trey.
"I tend to think that Jones is after artifacts from the Estrella," said Lewis. "I just don't see how she could know anything about the silver galleon. Now, what I'd like you to do, Lindsay, is find out who killed Denton. We don't need the kind of publicity his murder is bringing. So far, we've been lucky. Have you seen the papers?" He retrieved several from his desk, laid them on the table, and sat down with Lindsay and Trey.
Lindsay picked up a copy of the Savannah Morning News containing a feature section about the dig, complete with a drawing of a galleon. It also had Lindsay's drawing of HSkR1 and a description of its injuries, with the lurid title of "Murder on the High Seas." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution had the drawings of three of the four skeletons Lindsay had done and the story she had told from their bones. Steven Nemo had drawn a cross section of the ship and placed some of the artifacts they had discovered, along with photographs of them. Again the murder victim was the star with top billing-"Murder in the Hold" was the title. It didn't matter that he was found two decks up.
"The people love murder when it's in the past," said Trey. "They hate modern murder. I don't want these deaths to take anything away from the wonder of this dig."
"Lewis, I'll do what I can. But the FBI isn't going to give me information just because I ask. They won't like me being a private detective. And you've not thought of one important point."
"What's that?"
"What if one of our crew is guilty?"
"Do you believe that?"
"In my heart of hearts? No. But it's a possibility."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"I'll have to tell you right now straight. I won't withhold a murderer from the FBI."
"That wasn't what I meant. I just mean we'll figure out something."
Lindsay wasn't comforted.
"I've got another skeleton to analyze and a murderer to find, so I'd better get busy."
Lewis grabbed her hand as she got up to leave. "I'm sorry I came down so hard about the Denton thing. You did the right thing, of course."
Of course, thought Lindsay. She just hoped nothing would come up in the future that he wanted kept from the authorities.
Carolyn wasn't finished with the fourth skeleton, so Lindsay gathered up her drawing tools.
"I'd like to make some extra copies of these skull photographs-"
"There's a copy machine in the main office," said Carolyn. "Be careful of the other guys."
Lindsay took the digital photographs to what was referred to as the main office. A woman was there that Lindsay had seen, but not met. As she started to speak, Lindsay braced herself.
"Hi, I'm Gretchen."
"Lindsay Chamberlain. I came to use the copy machine." She held up her photographs.
"Skulls?"
"These are two of the human remains we've found. I use photographs of the skulls to draw a picture of what they may have looked like in the flesh."
"Oh, how interesting. I saw the first one in the newspaper. You actually use the skull?"
"Yes, I like being able to put a face on the remains. When they've been skeletonized, it's sometimes easy to forget that they were people." As Lindsay spoke, she listened to the hum of the copier. It was the same sound she had heard coming from the room the evening she encountered Mike Altman in the lab.
"What are you doing here?" The voice was so sudden and harsh, it was almost as though Lindsay had conjured him up from her thoughts.
"She's using the copier, Mike. Chill out."
"It won't take long." Lindsay tried to sound cheerful. "It was locked up the other night," she said, "and I didn't have a key. I thought I'd use it in the daytime." She smiled sweetly at him before turning to make her copies.
"I'll be glad when you people are gone. The lot of you are mean-spirited, disruptive, ill-adapted for this environment, and inclined toward hysteria. The sooner-"
Lindsay whirled around at Mike with such vigor, he was startled.
"You were there. You heard us yelling when Harper fell in the quicksand and you didn't come to help."
Mike recovered quickly. "You didn't need it. Like you said. Quicksand isn't like the stories written about it."
"You didn't know that she wasn't hurt and you had to know we were missing. You didn't think you should tell someone where we were?"
"Mike," said Gretchen, "you knew where they were, all that time?"
"Not all the time. Look, I'm not their keeper. If they can't take care of themselves, they should get off the island."
"And you call us mean-spirited." Lindsay took her copies. "Nice meeting you, Gretchen. Thanks for your help." She walked out the door, down the hallway, and downstairs to the lab.
"You ha
d a run-in with one of them, didn't you?" Carolyn stood staring at Lindsay as she took her seat at her desk.
"Does it show?"
"Yeah. We've all had experience with them-Mike and Tessa, anyway."
"It's getting out of hand. That Mike guy is so bitter."
She took out some paper, went to the light table, and began drawing. After an hour she looked at her watch. It was about time for the crew to come in. Maybe she could get John to take her to visit Boote.
Chapter 20
"'No," SAID JOHN, "I won't allow it. Boote sabotaged your boat. I'll not risk you going there."
Lindsay stared at John for a long moment. The wind-driven ocean waves sprayed fine mist on her bare legs as she stood at the edge of the dock.
"I understand. I'll get someone else to take me over." She turned to go, but he held her arm and turned her to face him.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked.
"Lewis asked me to."
"Maybe I need to talk to Lewis."
"Maybe you don't."
"Lindsay, Boote blamed us for the disappearance of his son even before he knew he was dead. What do you think he'll be like now?"
"Boote's a grieving old man. He's no danger. Ramirez isn't even sure he's the one who cut the oil line. And if he did, he thinks he only meant to inconvenience someone from the university-not to strand anyone in the ocean."
"You're going anyway, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And if I asked you not to, for me?"
"I'd fold my arms and tell you I don't play emotional games with men I'm involved with."
John sighed and looked over at the other dock where the barge was anchored. The timber crew was offloading the artifacts of the day and storing them in the warehouse. His face was set in a grim frown. Lindsay was sure he was trying to think of words he could say that would stop her.
"What was it you called me when you first met me-a highmaintenance girlfriend?"
His frown melted a little. "Yeah, and I was right. You worry a man to death."
LC 04 - Skeleton Crew Page 17
