"A blood test isn't stressful. It's pretty easy. It's only stressful if you are afraid of the outcome," Lindsay said. "Here is what I think. Sidney Barrie obviously adores Kathy. He wants to marry her. He doesn't even care if she is pregnant with another man's child. However, he doesn't want the other man in her life at all. So, he and Kathy agree to convince you that the baby is not yours, and because you still love Kathy and believe her, you won't push it." Lindsay paused a moment to allow what she said to sink in.
Sinjin said nothing for several moments. "Do you mind if I take Mandrake out for a ride?" he said at last.
"No, go ahead," she said. A good ride made her think more clearly, too.
Lindsay cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, and went to her bedroom. She had a light table in the corner beside her desk. Its glass top was slanted, like a drafting table, and lit from underneath. On the glass top she placed the enlargement she had made of the newspaper picture of the skull. The light from beneath the glass gave the skull an eerie glow. Placing a white piece of paper over the picture, she began to draw, using the skull as a substructure for the face.
She had seen enough pictures of archaeology workers in the thirties to know what hairstyle to draw. When she finished she lifted the drawing from the table and looked at the face of the man whose skeleton had fallen out of the crate. The face looked back at her with sad eyes. The sad countenance was unconscious on her part, she supposed, but a man who had worked hard all his life at backbreaking labor, had severe injuries that always ached, and was poor probably had a sad face. This was the face she would look for among the photographs taken at her grandfather's digs.
She switched off the light on the table and placed another sheet of paper on the glass and began to draw. This time, the picture was of the man standing in the clothes he wore at the time of his death, standing with one leg shorter than the other.
He was wearing a tie, she thought. The archaeologists wore ties, but not the workers. Workers usually wore overalls and work pants. Church? Was he killed on a Sunday? He had gotten all dressed up to go someplace to die. It was probably supposed to be someplace special. How sad. She shook her head.
Warming to her subject, she drew one more picture. This time, in addition to the man standing, she drew another figure, taller, left-handed, his back to her, stabbing his victim through the ribs with a long knife. It was then, as she examined her work, that she realized that her grandfather was five-foot-eleven and left-handed. She grabbed the picture, started to wad it up, and stopped. A lot of men were that height and left-handed. In 1992 all three men who ran for president were left handed. "Papaw didn't do this," she said to the face of the man.
Lindsay looked at the clock. It was past twelve and she hadn't heard Sinjin come in. She went downstairs and opened the front door and found him sitting on the porch.
"Are you all right?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
He nodded. "Do you believe what you told me? Did she say anything that would make you believe that the baby is mine?"
"Yes, I believe it, and no, she didn't say anything. I can't explain it. It was just seeing them, seeing the way he looked at her, talking to him. I just knew what he would be like. I may be wrong, but I don't think I am."
"Does she love him?"
"I think she feels safe with him."
"And she didn't feel safe with me?"
"Why didn't you marry her sooner and start a family?" asked Lindsay.
"The job I do is dangerous. I know that. I was going to quit sometime and raise a family, but I'd never put a child in danger of losing a parent. I know what that's like."
"You answered your own question then." Lindsay saw car lights through the trees, coming down the long drive. "Who do you suppose that is?" They watched as the car came closer. "I believe it's Sally. I wonder what she's doing here at this time of night."
Chapter 13
SALLY STOPPED THE car in front of Lindsay's cabin and got out. She looked a fright, with bright purple Egyptian eyeshadow and her hair standing wild around her head. She was wearing a short maid's uniform.
Lindsay and Sinjin stared at her for a moment.
Sally answered their stare. "I'm Magenta."
"Sally, are you all right?" Lindsay asked. "Is that makeup or a scrape on your face?"
Sally put a hand to her face. "It's a scrape. Look, I'm sorry to come out here so late, but I need to talk to you. Something happened."
Lindsay took Sally's hand and led her inside. Sinjin followed.
Sally sat on Lindsay's couch and fingered the buttons on her torn skirt. "I must look awful."
In the light, Lindsay could see the torn hose and smudges on Sally's clothes."You look frightened. What happened?"
Sinjin brought Sally a glass of ice water and sat down at the other end of the couch, his brows knitted together in a puzzled frown.
Sally's hand shook slightly as she took a sip from the glass. "Several of us went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I left early."
"Why?" asked Lindsay.
"It's silly, I guess. Brian and Gerri Chapman were there. I think they're in town for Brian's mother's birthday. Anyway, they weren't dressed up, and I was, and I don't know, it just wasn't fun anymore, so I left."
"That must have been hard," Lindsay said.
Sally shrugged. "I'll get over it. Anyway, I started off toward Baldwin where I'd left my car. I thought someone was following me. I wasn't sure at first, but I felt really spooked. He was dressed like Frank N. Furter. This sounds so stupid."
"I don't understand," Sinjin said. "He was dressed as a hot dog?"
"No," said Lindsay, "like Dr. Frank N. Furter, a character from the movie."
Sally took a deep breath. Lindsay moved to the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. "I wasn't very smart," Sally continued. "I tried to lose him by going between buildings. No one was around, and before I knew it, he grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I thought ... I thought ..." She took her sleeve and wiped the tears that were spilling onto her cheeks. "Some people came around the building, and I called for help. I thought maybe he'd get scared and run off, but they just yelled `elbow sex,' laughed, and went on."
"They yelled what?" Sinjin asked.
"It's something from the movie," Lindsay said. "They didn't realize she was being attacked, apparently." She turned her attention back to Sally. "Can you tell us what happened?"
"All he did was whisper in my ear in this stage voice. Then he left, and I lay there for a while. I guess I was crying, I don't know how long. I finally got up and went to the police. I just came from there. They were very nice. I talked to a Detective Kaufman. He sent someone to look for him right away, but there were so many Frank N. Furters."
"What did he whisper to you?" asked Lindsay.
"It was a warning. He said to tell Dr. Chamberlain if she doesn't stop trying to be a detective, it'll be worse next time."
"Oh, God, Sally." This is my fault, thought Lindsay. "Did he say anything else?"
Sally shook her head.
"Why don't you stay the night with us?" Lindsay said.
"Would you mind? I'd rather not drive back tonight. I'll sleep on the couch."
"You take the guest room," said Sinjin. "I'll take the couch."
"I don't want to put you-" began Sally.
"That way I can guard the door," Sinjin said.
"Thanks. I was really scared. I'll bet I aged ten years at least." She smiled through her tears, and Sinjin laughed out loud. It took Lindsay a second to get it.
"I suppose you did," said Sinjin.
Sally followed Lindsay to her room and sat on the bed while Lindsay searched for a nightgown.
"Would you like to shower?" asked Lindsay.
"That would be great. I came straight here from the police station. I thought you ought to know. What do you make of it?"
"I don't know. It may have something to do with the artifacts. Sally, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault. Pleas
e, if I thought you would blame yourself, I wouldn't have come out here."
Lindsay pulled out a nightshirt, eyeing Sally's small frame. `"This is short on me, so maybe it won't be too long on you. Here's a robe to go with it. They'll be a little big on you, I'm afraid."
"That's okay, I appreciate it and your letting me stay here."
"That's the least I can do, and I'm glad you came here. Are you hurt? Did you see a doctor?"
Sally shook her head. "I'm all right. Just some scrapes. Scared mostly."
"It's over now. You'll be safe with us. There's some stuff in the medicine cabinet to put on your cuts."
"What's Kathy like?" Sally asked.
"I've always thought she was a little self-absorbed, but-" Lindsay shrugged.
"What does she look like?"
"Like Elizabeth Taylor in her Butterfield 8 days." Sally groaned and Lindsay smiled at her. "Take all the time you need. We'll be downstairs."
Sinjin watched Lindsay come down the stairs. "How is she?"
Lindsay sat down heavily on one of the sofas. "She's fine. I feel responsible. It's one thing when what I do affects only me-"
"This isn't your fault."
"It may be. Someone locked me in the basement of Nancy Hart Hall. Apparently, when locking me in the storage room didn't work, whoever it was escalated his attack."
"What? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was getting around to it."
"Well, tell me about it now."
Lindsay told him about the artifacts missing from Nancy Hart, how someone had locked her in, and how she had escaped through the utility duct. "I didn't tell the police. I'm ashamed to say it, but I was afraid. I felt like they would believe I really was there to steal artifacts. But I'll have to tell them now. I can't have my students threatened."
"How did he know Sally was your student?" asked Sinjin.
Lindsay hesitated. "What? I don't know. That's a good question. A stranger wouldn't know that, would he?"
"Unless he'd been casing the place. Sally's picture was in the paper, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure anyone who only knew her from a newspaper picture would have recognized her dressed up like that."
"Perhaps not. It looks to me like someone you know."
Lindsay said nothing, wondering what to do. The shower running upstairs and the ticking of the living room clock sounded loud in her ears. Not knowing what to do scared her. "That was nice of you to give up your bed," she said.
"It's nothing."
"I'm sorry I interfered in your business. I felt I had no choice."
"Why didn't you come to me with all this?"
"You would have tried to stop me. You would have been angry," she said.
"You didn't trust me. If I thought Sid was stealinginvolving Kathy-"
Lindsay bit her lower lip. She wanted to shout at him. Tell him what she thought of his idealized view of Kathy. But what would she say if someone had accused Derrick? She would defend him beyond all reason, but then, Derrick was trustworthy. Kathy was not.
Silence settled between them again for several moments. "Look," said Sinjin. "The thing you said about the baby, about not following through on Sid-" He stopped. "That was decent of you."
"You're more important," she muttered without looking at him. "I'll get you some sheets for the couch."
Lindsay sat up and looked at her clock-2:00 A.M. She wondered what had awakened her, then she heard the stereo. The pleading strains of Lorraine Ellison singing "Stay with Me" drifted up the stairs. She put on a robe and walked down to the living room. Only the desk light was on, barely illuminating the room. Sinjin was on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Sally was curled up in a chair. They were listening to blues, drinking beer, and watching the lights on the stereo.
"You all can't sleep?" Lindsay asked.
Sinjin took another sip and set his bottle on the coffee table. "Did we wake you? I've been teaching Sally how to enjoy wallowing in a broken heart."
"Sitting in the dark, drinking beer, and listening to soul music?" said Lindsay.
"That's it," said Sinjin.
"You should have gotten me up. I need to learn that, too," she told him.
"Go get yourself a beer out of the fridge and join us," he said. Lindsay got a bottle and settled herself in the other chair. "Now, you can't talk about it. You have to listen."
"I can't complain that Derrick hasn't even called to see how I was doing, even as a friend?"
Sinjin sat up. "Oh, Lindsay, he did call. This afternoon. I'm sorry."
"He did? What did he say?"
"He wanted to know how you were and if there was anything he could do."
"And what did you say?"
"I said things were kind of hard for you and he might call back and talk to you. He said he will tomorrow."
"Give me your beer," Sally demanded.
Lindsay smiled and settled back and listened to the music.
Lindsay had specifically asked to see the detective who had talked to Sally and was directed to Detective Davis Kaufman. She knew many of the campus police but had never met him before. From the uncluttered look of his office and desk, she guessed he hadn't been at his job on campus long. Most campus police were young. Captain Grant, head of campus security, liked young people for the job because of their endless energy. This detective, however, was older, perhaps in his late thirties. He had steel-gray hair, matching eyes, and looked as though he wouldn't have any trouble keeping up with the younger officers.
"At first I thought it was an accident," said Lindsay, carefully choosing her words. "I thought someone had locked the door as they left the building, not knowing I was inside. I didn't know how long I would be stuck down there, so I found a way out. I feel now that the attack on my assistant might have something to do with the missing artifacts, and thought I'd better report what happened to me. It may not have been an accident."
"You think someone is trying to stop you from investigating the artifact theft? Why would they do that?" he asked. She imagined he got many a confession with his steely, unblinking gaze.
"I only think that because of the message delivered to Sally."
"And are you investigating?"
"The artifacts stolen from Baldwin were in my family's possession until my father discovered them and sent them to me. I naturally am making every effort to get them back."
"They're yours?"
"No. The question of rightful ownership is uncertain. They probably belong in Kentucky, and if so, will eventually be repatriated to their Native American tribal affiliation."
"You think someone is impressed with your detective skills enough to believe that you are likely to discover who stole the artifacts, and whoever that is wants you stopped?"
Lindsay didn't know if he was trying to make her defensive on purpose or there was some reason he resented her, but she definitely felt his hostility. "I know, it doesn't sound plausible, but there it is."
"You have no idea who locked you in the building?"
"No."
"How did you know to escape through the utility conduits?" he asked.
"I didn't really. I knew they were probably there. I wanted to get out. The episode may mean nothing. I just thought I should tell you, in view of what happened to Sally Flynn."
"All right. Do you have any other information that you have forgotten to tell us?"
Lindsay met his gaze with hers and declined to be either defensive or hostile. "I'm sure you have already thought of it, but the person who attacked Sally knew she worked for me. It's definitely not a secret, but a stranger wouldn't know it." Lindsay saw a slight waver in his eyes. He hadn't thought of it and it was rather obvious. She rose and held out her hand. "Thank you for seeing me."
He rose and took it. His grip was firm but not rudely hard. "Let us know if you think of anything else." Lindsay felt relieved that he asked her no more questions. She got to the door when he spoke again. "Dr. Chamberlain. Did you discover the a
rtifacts were missing when you were down in the basement the first time?"
That was the question she had been dreading. It would lead to all sorts of questions as to why she hadn't reported it immediately. To tell them that she was afraid of being blamed, her real thought at the time, now sounded sillyand guilty. She turned around and faced him, and looked him in the eyes.
"I suspected it. That's why I went down there to begin with. None of the boxes, however, were completely empty, and we do research with them all the time. It was not out of the realm of possibility that someone had checked them out or had repacked some of the artifacts to make them more convenient to study. Frank Carter, the department head, and I confirmed that they were missing."
"You know, don't you, that the person who locked you in reported that a theft was in progress?"
"I have heard that, but it doesn't make sense, does it?" said Lindsay. She realized that he indeed suspected her of being the thief.
"How is that?" he asked.
"What would they see in the short time and narrow view they had? The door was mostly closed while I was there. The faculty who have offices in the building know me. It is not an uncommon occurrence that I work with the artifacts. Neither is it uncommon that I take sample artifacts to show my archaeology classes. What would this mysterious Good Samaritan see that would make them suspect I was stealing these artifacts and not working with them? No one has ever reported it before when I or any of the students have carried artifacts out of the building. Isn't it odd that they would do so now and throw suspicion on me, then not a day later, one of my students is attacked and given that cryptic message? But I'm sure you've already thought of all that."
"Good day, Dr. Chamberlain."
"Good day." Lindsay left his office and started out of the building. Another of the campus police stopped her. Now what, she thought.
"Dr. Chamberlain," said the young man. "Just tying up some loose ends. Can you tell me why Gloria Rankin, the student who was hit by the bus, was coming to see you?"
Chapter 14
"GLORIA RANKIN WANTED to see me?"
"That's what she said when she left Park Hall, just before being struck and killed," said the officer.
Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel Page 15
