Over the Moon at the Big Lizard Diner

by Lisa Wingate

  Gracie wrote furiously on her notepad while I examined the white scar in the trackway. The prints had been carefully lifted out in a section approximately six to eight inches deep and three feet by three and a half feet across. The cut was a neat rectangle, a perfect ornament for the patio or fireplace of some wealthy collector, or a showpiece for a museum overseas, where no one would know or care that the fossil had been indiscriminately removed from context and stolen away in the dark of night.

  Gracie was muttering to herself, guessing at how to spell Acrocanthosaurus.

  “I can e-mail all the technical information to you later, if that would be helpful,” I offered, and she seemed relieved. “Without having seen it, I’d estimate the value of this piece at between forty and sixty thousand dollars. If I can look at some pictures of the actual fossil, I can give you a better estimate.”

  Gracie pursed her lips and whistled, clearly surprised by the valuation, then wagged her pencil toward the road. “We have a pretty clear idea of how they did it. There was some kind of dual-wheel truck—it left pretty deep tracks up there in the grass. They turned around and backed down the hill, as close to the site as they could get. We figure they used a portable generator to run some kind of rock-cutting machinery.”

  “It looks like a pneumatic chisel and a diamond saw, maybe a few other tools. It would have taken some kind of heavy-equipment truck with a hoist to transport a slab this large,” I said, dipping my finger in the powdered limestone. “They probably insulated the equipment as much as they could to cut the noise. Even so, the saw blade would have made a squeal you could hear for a mile. Was there anyone staying in the cabin when it happened?” From the riverbank, I could see the road to the cabin, but not the structure itself. The dense foliage would have cut the sound, but anyone staying there would have heard.

  “Not that week,” Gracie answered. “Unfortunately.” The radio on her belt beeped, and she turned up the volume, listening as a dispatcher relayed a report of an escaped Brahman bull on the highway. “Guess I better get over there,” she said, slipping her notepad into her pocket, then pulling out a business card and handing it to me. “My number’s on there, and so is the office e-mail. As soon as you send me the description of the tracks, I’ll put it on the wire. We’ve got one out already, but yours will be more accurate. So far, we haven’t heard a thing. It’s like this gigantic slab of rock just disappeared.” Another report came over her radio, and she turned down the volume. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “All right,” I said, shaking her hand and slipping the card into my pocket. “I’ll be in touch.” As she walked away, I squatted by the tracks, making a mental sketch of the area. Later I could do a grid and catalog the site, but it was good to note first impressions with a fresh eye. The second or third time through, it was easy to miss things you would have noticed on your first time, like …

  … like the barely visible evidence of smaller prints beside the large ones. Blowing away the white dust, I traced the smaller tracks with my finger. Three little toe prints here, three little toe prints there, the tiny pinprick imprint of claws. Juveniles, traveling with an adult.

  A rush of excitement went through me, followed by a leaden sensation. No wonder someone was willing to risk coming this far onto private property to steal the tracks. They showed the movement of adults with young, lending credence to the most recent theories that the ancient reptiles did not nest, lay eggs, and abandon their offspring, but raised and schooled the young, perhaps for several years until maturity. No doubt, the stolen fossil not only had adult tracks, but some of the juvenile ones, as well. This was the kind of fossil find that would definitely turn up on the black market at a big price. The kind that should have been studied and cataloged in context.

  “Do you have any pictures of the site before the tracks were stolen?” I called up to Collie and Jocelyn.

  “We have some at the house,” Jocelyn answered. “Everyone used to come down here and take pictures of their kids by the tracks. I can look tonight.”

  “Good.” Standing up, I dusted the powdered lime from my hands. “I have a feeling these tracks were more valuable than you thought. Right here, there’s …” Over Jocelyn’s shoulder, a truck was coming up the road.

  Snapping to her feet, Jocelyn peered around the base of the tree as a truck rolled to a stop with a lazy squeal of brakes. “Oh, God, it’s Pop.” She headed toward the clearing where we’d parked.

  Collie stood up and followed, and I started out of the riverbed. Fortunately, Pop was slow, and Jocelyn intercepted him before he could manage to get the door open and come to investigate what we were doing.

  The old man paused with one foot in the grass and his walking cane caught in the seat belt, which was still fastened around his waist. “Well, hang!” he grumbled, trying to pull the cane loose, but succeeding only in hooking it around the steering wheel. “This blamed seat belt’s all herky-jerked, Josie. I got myself trussed up like a chicken.”

  Sighing patiently, Jocelyn worked to unwind the cane. “Well, Pop, what are you doing down here? Zach was supposed to send you home to rest.”

  Pop shrugged, waiting for Jocelyn to free the cane, then smiling when Collie reached in to unhook the seat belt. “Hi, uhh, Collie.” Craning his neck, he looked over Collie’s shoulder as she steadied his elbow while Jocelyn helped him get his other foot out of the truck. “Where’za baby? Did ya bring her down for a swim?”

  Collie smiled at him fondly. “I didn’t bring her today, Pop. She goes to Mother’s Day Out on Mondays.”

  Pop’s silvery-green eyes—Zach’s color, I noted—twinkled and his thick gray mustache twitched upward. “Well, ye’re in a pretty sad state if comin’ here’s your idear of a day out. Unless, a’course, you come to take me out dancin’.” Laughing at his own joke, he gave Collie a flirty wink that reminded me of Zach.

  Collie seemed properly charmed. “Well, I hear your dancing feet are supposed to be in temporary retirement. True says to tell you to behave yourself.”

  Pop shook a finger at her. “You tell True to keep his nose to hisself.” The petulant look showed that Pop wasn’t all fun and flirtation. “I got enough people fussin’ over me already. Between Josie and Zach, they’re all over me like hens on a grasshopper.”

  Collie patted his arm sympathetically. “Now, Pop, you know they’re just trying to make sure you follow the doctor’s orders.”

  Pop foofed a puff of air past his mustache, then noticed me, and asked, “Who’zis?”

  Collie made introductions. “Pop, this is my friend, Lindsey Attwood. She’s here for Jocelyn’s therapy camp, but we thought we’d do a little touring around the place first. Lindsey, this is Jocelyn’s grandfather, True’s great-uncle Jeeve, but everyone calls him Pop.”

  Elbowing past Jocelyn, Pop shook my hand, saying, “You’re a darned sight prettier than them Japan businessmen Josie had down to the camp yesterday. They’s nice enough, but I couldn’t understand a word they was sayin’.” Still holding my hand, he grinned over his shoulder at Jocelyn. “Yer taste in customers is lookin’ up, Josie.”

  Jocelyn tapped his arm lightly with the cane. “Stop flirting with Lindsey, Pop. And it was last week when you surprised the Incani group while they were out on their nature quest, not yesterday. They left two days ago. And they were from Taiwan, not Japan.”

  Pop seemed momentarily befuddled, then shrugged off the statement and muttered, “Well, that explains why I didn’t understand ’em. I knew some Japanese from when I was in the army, but I never learnt to speak any Taiwan.” Gesturing toward the river with his cane, he changed the subject, “So, did y’all come down here to take the baby swimmin’?”

  A sad look crossed Collie’s face; then she smiled patiently at Pop. “She’s at Mother’s Day Out in town today, Pop.”

  “Oh, that’s right. That’s right.” He snapped his fingers beside his head, his knobby hand trembling. “Y’all down here lookin’ at the dinosaur tracks?”

 
Collie and I glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Jocelyn put on an easy smile and covered like a professional. “Lindsey wanted to see them. She’s into historical things. It’s kind of a hobby of hers. She’s making some notes that Collie might use in her newspaper articles about the ranch.”

  Pop puffed up like a balloon. “Well, we’re sure ’nough proud of our dinosaur tracks. This set here was discovered around 1855, when Jeremiah and Caroline Truitt homesteaded the place.”

  “That’s amazing. That long ago?” I said, gathering that, as Jocelyn said, he didn’t remember that the tracks had been vandalized.

  Jocelyn pressed her lips into a regretful frown as Pop went on.

  “A’ course, the Indians knew about ’em long before then. They had a whole slew of legends about how giant dragons and such had left them tracks here in the ancient days.” Pop gestured down the river like a museum docent handing out the tourist spiel. “The big round tracks downriver was cataloged around 1851 by Caroline. She was a bit of an early-day bone hunter, I guess you’d say. She made a hobby of it, even kept journals and wrote some serials about the tracks. She drew pictures for the newspapers back east about what the dinosaurs might of looked like, and people took to callin’ this part of the river the Big Lizard Bottoms.” Chewing the tail of his mustache thoughtfully, he pointed at me. “I got a Big Lizard box up in the attic to the house. I can get it down if you want.” He chuckled, his cheeks flushing red. “Course, maybe I ought to go through it myself first. As I recall, there’s a picture in there of me as a baby, sittin’ naked as a newborn piglet in one of them big round dinosaur tracks. We liked to play in them things as youngsters. So did the kids and grandkids. Come to think of it, somewhere there’s pictures of Zach and Josie sittin’ there in their birthday suits, too.”

  “Really?” Collie stretched out the word, raising a brow. “I have dibs on the one of Zach. That might come in handy if he gets any ideas about bringing that dog to my house.”

  Jocelyn nodded and Pop frowned, putting a hand up to his ear. “What about the log house?”

  “No, Pop, she was talking about a dog,” Jocelyn said a little louder, turning to face him as she spoke. “They caught that dog today. The one that’s been causing all the trouble around town.”

  “Oh, all right, all right.” Pop’s expression was as blank as the summer sky. Clearly he didn’t remember about the dog. He turned back to me. “If ye’re interested in the Big Lizard, I got some stuff up at the house you ought to look at. There’s a whole box of writings and things was done by Caroline Truitt. A’course, what I got here at the house are just copies. The originals are in the county museum in San Saline, but lots of them writings was done when the ranch was homesteaded back in …” He continued through the story of the journals and old photos of the tracks, not seeming to realize he was repeating himself. Behind him, Jocelyn shrugged apologetically.

  “That sounds fascinating,” I said when he’d finished for the second time. I felt the irresistible tingle of an emerging mystery. “I would love to look at Caroline Truitt’s notes and the old photographs—whatever you have, really. I enjoy studying that kind of thing.”

  Pop seemed pleased. Clearly I was his new favorite person. “Well, all righty, then. You just come on up to the big house when you git a chance, and I’ll have some things for ya about the Big Lizard. I’ll git busy and hunt that stuff up.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied.

  “All righty,” he said again, then peered past me toward the drop-off, as if he were thinking about going to the riverbank. “Guess the tracks are above water, bein’ as the river’s low right now.”

  Jocelyn chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Pop, you’d better get back to the house. You’ve had way too much activity today already.”

  “Oh, for hang’s sake, Josie. I’m fine.”

  Jocelyn nodded, trying to usher him back into the truck. “Yes, and let’s try to keep it that way. You go on back to the house and get some rest, and this evening Zach or I can help you find that box of Caroline’s things.”

  Pop grumbled in his throat, “Oh, all right,” then climbed laboriously into the truck, letting out a long groan as he pulled his legs in. He patted Jocelyn on the head as she handed him his cane. “See ya this evenin’, Josie.”

  “Have a good rest, Pop. I love you.” Kissing him tenderly on the cheek, she stood back and closed the door.

  Pop smiled, leaning out the window. “Collie, you bring that baby by swimmin’ next time.”

  “I will, Pop,” Collie said. “She’s taking toddler swim lessons down at the pool, so maybe she won’t be so afraid of the water this year.”

  “Toddler swim lessons?” Pop repeated, rolling his head back and squinting at us. “Heck, back in my day, we just threw ’em in the river and let ’em figure it out.”

  Collie chuckled. “These days you’d get arrested for that, Pop.”

  Shaking his head, Pop started the truck. “There’s a lot of ’em need to be throwed in the river these days. It’d do them some good.” He punctuated that with a nod, then started the engine, waved good-bye, and coasted off toward home.

  Letting out a long breath, Jocelyn massaged the base of her neck as we climbed into her truck and followed Pop’s dust trail. “That was close. Sometimes he forgets about the tracks being stolen, and then when he does remember, he’s upset all over again. He hasn’t come down here and actually seen the damage since his heart attack, and I think it’s better that he doesn’t, for now.” Glancing at her watch, she started. “My gosh, look at the time. I’ve got an introductory session with this week’s group in thirty minutes. If it’s all right with you, Lindsey, I’ll just point out the cabin as we pass, and you can drive back out here in your car, unpack, settle in, rest and relax for the evening.”

  “That sounds good.” I envisioned taking my things to the cabin, falling down on the bed, and passing out for a while. Later, I could send an e-mail to Sydney, as I did every evening—my way of electronically being with her when bedtime came and she was lonely. She would read it when she wandered off to her room for the night, then stay up late answering, hoping her father would come home before she fell asleep.

  “So where is this top-secret place I can go to use the cell phone? I try to e-mail my daughter every morning and evening, at least. She’s visiting her father for the first time this summer. In Mexico.” My stomach twisted into the usual knot as I painted the picture of Sydney so far away in a strange house, strange country, strange life.

  “The cabin is right up there.” Jocelyn pointed through the trees. “Just keep going on this road instead of turning off at the river. You can barely see the roof from here. Out back, there’s a trail that leads up the hill. There’s an observation spot at the top, with a little picnic bench under a tree. From there you’ll be able to pick up a cell tower. Your cell phone won’t work down in the cabin.”

  Leaning close to the window, I peered toward the cabin roof, considering the steep slope behind it. “This will be an adventure,” I commented. “E-mail with a view. I should also call Laura and tell her I’ll be staying here a few days.”

  “I told her you might be,” Collie said as we turned the corner and the river disappeared from sight. “Staying, I mean. I called her when I had the idea of your staying here and helping me on the horse therapy story. She said that was fine, that she’d see you in a few days. It sounded like she and your dad had kind of a busy week coming up, anyway. They were getting ready for some barbecue cook-off there in Keatonville. Laura’s husband is the event chairman.Your dad was going to be helping them get the grounds ready this week.”

  I squinted at the back of her head, again getting the feeling that people were having long conversations about me behind my back. “Hmm … Laura didn’t mention that.” Obviously I was the patsy in some kind of grand plot to … to what, exactly? Maybe they thought that the remote location and difficulty with e-mail would keep me from sneaking online and buying tickets to Mexico. Ma
ybe this was some grand save-Lindsey-from-herself plan they had cooked up. Then again, maybe I needed a friendly intervention.

  Collie put on a falsely casual air. “Well, you know, it came up suddenly. The whole idea of having you help on the articles, I mean. Laura thinks it’s great, though.”

  “Laura thinks I’m neurotic,” I muttered, and Collie glanced over her shoulder.

  “You are neurotic,” Collie said in a way that only a really good friend could get away with. “But we love you.”

  Clasping a hand over my eyes, I rested my head against the seat, bouncing up and down with the bumps in the road. “I’m sorry. I feel like such a loser, interfering with everyone’s summer.You’re all down here in never-never land, falling in love, and getting married, and having babies, and then along comes Lindsey raining on the parade. I don’t want to dump on you this way. I should have waited to visit until after Sydney was back and I had my head together again.” I was suddenly aware that I was speaking in front of Jocelyn. No telling what the psychologist in her was thinking. Here is a woman who needs therapy… .

  “Are you kidding?” Reaching over the seat, Collie laid her hand over my knee, her fingers a warm circle of comfort. “Laura and I have been waiting forever for you to fall apart. You’re the Miss Together who’s made the rest of us look bad all these years. We couldn’t be more thrilled that you’re having a breakdown.”

  “Thanks,” I said miserably, swallowing a lump of emotion and smiling wanly at her. My best girlfriend, who’d stood by me through everything.

  Jocelyn gave me a sympathetic look in the rearview. “You know, the feelings you’re experiencing are perfectly normal. Of course you’d have separation anxiety and concern in a situation like that. How old is Sydney?”