Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel

by Beverly Connor

  "I have no idea," Lindsay said. "I didn't know her. Wasn't she in the Classics Department?"

  The officer nodded.

  "They do archaeology also. It may have been an archaeology question."

  "If you think of something, let us know."

  "I will. I'll ask the secretary if Miss Rankin called." Lindsay left the Public Safety Building, relieved to get away. She was actually starting to feel guilty.

  Gloria Rankin did call, Lindsay realized, but didn't leave her name. Edwina had said a woman called. Maybe the caller left a message that Edwina hadn't given her.

  Lindsay stopped at the Golden Pantry in Five Points and bought a bottle of Turns before driving back to Baldwin. She chewed a couple before starting the Rover. Now she had to tell Frank that she had already known that the artifacts were missing before she looked at the boxes with him. What a tangled web, she thought.

  "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," said Frank. "You really think I would blame you for the theft of the artifacts?"

  "No, but I thought you would be obliged to tell the police, and they would blame me. I think that's what the person had in mind when they locked me in and called the police."

  Frank was silent a moment. "It does look that way, doesn't it?"

  "Who do you think is behind it?" she asked.

  "I don't know, and I don't like it. How's Sally?"

  "She's doing fine. I told her not to come in today, but I think she probably will anyway."

  "Kerwin will make something of this," Frank said.

  "I know." She rose to go. "Let me know if you hear anything."

  Edwina was sitting at the front desk, working at her computer. She stopped as Lindsay approached and looked at her with a face that said, I have to be polite to you, but I wouldn't if it were my choice. It was an expression that Lindsay had received many times from Edwina. Kerwin had been gossiping again.

  "Edwina, last Thursday, I think it was, you said a young woman called. She said it was important but didn't leave a name. Did she say anything else?"

  "We get many calls here. Once I deliver a message, I put it out of my mind."

  "It's important. I wish you would try."

  Edwina put on the expression of one trying to remember, but Lindsay strongly suspected she was acting. Lindsay's gaze rested on Edwina's monitor screen. She was updating Kerwin's resume. Lindsay noticed one of his publications: Kerwin, K. (1995). "Rayburn Mill site: Post Civil War Industry." Journal of Historical Archaeology 4:17-29. It reminded her of something. She shook her head. There were too many puzzle pieces floating around in there.

  "I just can't remember," Edwina said.

  Lindsay was startled to hear Edwina's voice and, for a second, forgot she had asked her a question. "Thank you for trying, Edwina. I appreciate it."

  Edwina returned to her typing and Lindsay started for her office. She stopped when she heard her name and turned to see Dr. Stevie Saturnin catching up with her in the hallway.

  "It's from a cornfield," Stevie said softly, her blonde hair hanging in her face.

  "The dirt sample is from a cornfield?" Lindsay repeated. Stevie nodded. "Thanks. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

  "None at all," Stevie said and went on her way down the hall, sorting through her mail.

  A cornfield, thought Lindsay. One of the last places the fellow who ended up in an artifact crate stood was a cornfield. A nice, hard fact. Lindsay liked hard facts. She wasn't sure what she could do with it, but it made her feel good to have it.

  Liza Ferris was waiting in front of Lindsay's office when she came down the stairs and turned the corner. "I talked Luke into speaking with you, Dr. Chamberlain. Could you come today?" Liza asked.

  Lindsay looked at her watch. "Would two hours from now be all right?"

  Liza nodded and handed Lindsay a folded piece of paper. "I wrote down the directions for you. It's not far from here."

  Lindsay took the paper. "I'll see you in a couple of hours." She looked at her watch again. She was having lunch with her brother at twelve. Perhaps he would like to do some detective work first.

  She walked back up to the departmental library to look for the volume of Historical Archaeology containing Kerwin's article, the one she had seen Edwina typing on his resume. She ran her finger down the row of neatly shelved journals. The volume was not there. She looked among other volumes, on the tables, under the tables-it was not there. Kerwin would probably have it, but she wasn't going to ask him just yet-not until she had read it to see if it would jog her memory. Whatever it was that it reminded her of may not have to do with anything. She returned to her office and just caught her ringing phone before it rolled over to her voice mail.

  "Lindsay. Derrick here." Lindsay's stomach churned. "Sinjin said you've had it kind of rough the past few days."

  "I'll weather through it. What have the papers been like up there?"

  "Oh, you know how papers can be."

  "My poor parents."

  "Funny about the skeleton. It could only happen to you."

  "At least he's too old for people to blame that one on me."

  "Is it that bad?"

  "There are artifacts missing from Nancy Hart."

  "Then it's not just the artifacts that were stored with your family. There's something bigger going on. They aren't blaming that on you, are they?"

  "They're trying."

  "You're kidding. Are you investigating it?"

  "Derrick, let's not-"

  "I'm not. I'm just wondering if you found out anything."

  He's not going to like this, thought Lindsay, then realized it probably wouldn't matter to him anymore. They weren't together. She told him about the incident in Nancy Hart and about the attack on Sally. There was a long moment of silence before Derrick said anything.

  "Lindsay, my God, I didn't realize it was that bad. When Sinjin said you were having a hard time, I had no idea-"

  "Sinjin didn't know about all of that when he talked to you. Before that, it was mainly political stuff, fallout from the newspaper articles. Did you know that Francisco Lewis wants to come here?"

  "What? He's alienated half of the U.S., and now he wants to go for the other half?"

  "Unbelievable, I know. I wonder how this fits into Kerwin's plans to become department head. I don't understand any of it. I thought Kerwin was the dean's favorite. Anyway, speaking of Kerwin, I'm looking for an article by him. You take Historical Archaeology, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  Lindsay gave him the volume and page numbers. "Could you fax it to me?"

  "I can do that right now. It should be there in a couple of minutes."

  "Thank you, Derrick."

  "Do you-" he began.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. Later, maybe. Take care. I'll fax the article."

  When she replaced the receiver in its cradle, she realized she was gripping it so tightly her fingers were hurting. She jumped when the phone rang under her hand.

  "Lindsay Chamberlain," she said.

  "This is Sidney Barrie. Kathy called the campus police and explained to them that she thought their call was a prank until she read the paper. She told them that your brother was with her."

  "Thank you. Thank Kathy for us."

  "Ms. Chamberlain. We, I can't give the artifacts back, because I didn't take them. If you report-"

  "Something else has come up that may take this in another direction. If you didn't take the artifacts-and I'm prepared to believe you didn't-I have no desire to have the newspapers find out about your visit. I know what it's like to have suspicion unfairly focused on me, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone." Lindsay thought she heard a sigh of relief.

  "I appreciate that. This isn't going to hang over our heads, is it?"

  "No.

  "Then good day to you. I'm glad this is finished."

  Lindsay breathed her own sigh of relief and rose to go to the main office to get the fax. Her phone rang again.

  "Chamberlain," she sa
id, and when she heard it was Jaleel from the geology lab, she realized she was hoping it was Derrick calling her back. Get over it, she admonished herself. "Jaleel, hi, were you able to find out anything about the soil sample?"

  "Keep in mind the sample was small, but the profile looks like Piedmont and Coastal Plain," he said.

  "So, it's where the two regions meet?" asked Lindsay.

  "I'd say so, right around the Macon area. Does that help?"

  "Yes. Yes, it does. Thanks."

  "No problem. Tell me about it sometime," he said.

  "I will. Thanks again."

  She hung up the phone. A cornfield near Macon-possibly the last place the fellow in the crate had stood. But who was he? Sinjin said Dad was sending the rest of Papaw's papers. There should be tons of old photographs of the excavations from that time. If she looked through them, perhaps she could find a picture of him-if the portrait she drew looked anything like him, and if he was actually at the digs with her grandfather.

  It was almost time for Sinjin to be arriving. She hurried up to the main office to get the fax from Derrick. Nothing was on the machine. She looked in her mailbox. Nothing. Kate, the office manager, walked through, putting a large envelope in one of the mailboxes.

  "Kate, do you know if I had a fax come in?" Lindsay asked.

  "I think I heard one come in a few minutes ago. It's not there?"

  "No. Do you know who was in the office?"

  She stopped and thought for a moment. "Edwina was just here. She went out to lunch. Dr. Marcus and Dr. Kerwin, and I think Liza and Brandon were up here. Maybe one of them got it and is going to bring it down to you. I'll ask around."

  "Thanks, Kate."

  Kenneth Kerwin's office was across the hall from the main office. Lindsay glanced in as she walked by. Kerwin sat at his desk, surrounded on three sides by floor-to-ceiling shelves jammed with books, journals, and papers. He never used the overhead light, relying instead on a green banker's lamp on his desk. He raised his head from his work and fixed his gaze on Lindsay. He looked like a wizard in a cave, and he looked frightened of her. She left him sitting there and went downstairs.

  As she turned the corner into her office, she found Gerri Chapman sitting in her chair.

  "Trying it on for size?" Lindsay said. Gerri looked up and jumped.

  "You startled me. I was just looking for something to write on."

  "There's a pad of paper by your left hand."

  "Oh. If it had been a snake it would have bitten me." Gerri took a piece of paper and started writing. "You've been getting a lot of press lately," she said.

  "Yes, I have." Lindsay still stood in the doorway, wondering when it would occur to Gerri to get up.

  "Bad luck, huh?" said Gerri, smiling.

  "Strange luck, at any rate."

  "Lindsay, how are you!"

  Lindsay turned and greeted blond, suntanned Brian and gave him a hug. "I'm fine, Brian. You look good. Been out in the sun, I see."

  Gerri relinquished Lindsay's chair and came out to join them. "We saw Sally last night. She didn't look too good," she said.

  "Does anyone look good after being mugged?" asked Lindsay, watching Brian.

  "What? Mugged?" he said. "Sally was mugged?"

  "Yes, I thought you knew, from what Gem said."

  "No," said Gerri, "I just meant she didn't look like she felt well. I saw her leave."

  "When she left the Tate Center, she was attacked behind the Psychology Building. She wasn't hurt, but she was very frightened."

  "I didn't know about it," said Brian. "You sure she's all right?"

  "Yes. She spent the night at my place."

  "Did they catch who did it?" Brian asked.

  "No."

  The door swung open and Sally came in with her bicycle. The red scrape across her cheek looked tender and inflamed. She stopped when she saw Brian and Gerri. "Hi, Brian. How've you been?"

  "I'm fine. Lindsay said that you-"

  Sinjin came in, and Sally seemed glad for the interruption as Lindsay introduced him to Gem and Brian.

  "Ready for lunch?" he said to Lindsay.

  "Sure. I've got an errand to run first. I hope you don't mind."

  Lindsay got her purse from her office, closed and locked her door, and started to leave. Sinjin walked over to Sally and kissed her lips.

  "We're still on for tonight, right?" he asked.

  Sally stuttered, "Well, uh, yeah."

  "Good, I'll pick you up at seven."

  As they went out the door, Lindsay saw Brian staring at Sally and Gerri staring at Brian. Sally was staring after Sinjin, looking surprised-and smiling.

  "That was nice," said Lindsay as she climbed into Sinjin's Jeep.

  "Well, I thought it might be nice to take Sally out to dinner, maybe a movie. It'd also give of Brian something to think about."

  "Well, it was sweet."

  "That's me, a sweet guy. Where do you want to go for lunch?"

  "Do you mind going with me to interview Luke Ferris first?" asked Lindsay.

  "You're kidding, aren't you?"

  "No. Liza asked me to come by."

  "Jesus, Lindsay. Are you sure Derrick isn't right? Why are you doing this?"

  "Liza's a student. She needs help."

  "Come on, that's not an answer," Sinjin said.

  "I don't know. I suppose it's because I'm not supposed to. I guess all those years of growing up doing as I was told have taken their toll."

  "That's not an answer, either."

  "I don't have an answer, other than that I feel like if I could just answer all the unanswered questions, my life would straighten out. Here are the directions. Turn right up here on Lumpkin." Lindsay saw a large package on the back seat from Stearns, Kentucky. "Is that Papaw's papers?"

  "Yes. I thought I'd go through them. Maybe find out where those crates came from."

  "I'd like to have a look at the photographs. Did I show you the portrait I drew of the skeleton?"

  "No. What? From the skull? You think you can recognize this guy?"

  "Maybe. I'd like to try. I did find out that the dirt in his crate and from his shoes was from a cornfield in the Macon area. Though I don't know what good knowing that will do me."

  "That's impressive. How did you determine that?"

  Lindsay told him about the soil analysis she had the palynology and geology labs do for her. "He may have been killed on a Sunday or on some special occasion or maybe at a meeting he thought was important."

  "OK, Sherlock. How did you arrive at that?"

  "He wore a shirt and tie."

  "So did Papaw."

  "Workers didn't, and this fellow was a worker. It showed in his bones and his teeth. The shirt and tie were for a special occasion."

  "Better tell me which way to turn."

  "Oh, sorry. Turn left at the stop sign. Derrick called," she said.

  "And?"

  "And nothing. He called. Funny, though. I asked him to fax me an article written by Kenneth Kerwin. He did, I'm sure, but someone took the fax before I got to the machine. I think it was Kerwin. The article is missing from the departmental library, too."

  "What's the article about?"

  "I don't know. I saw the title in his resume and it reminded me of something, but I can't put my finger on what. Kerwin is hiding something. He knew Shirley Foster well. He said he didn't, but I think he had a thing for her. That's the way it looked in that picture on the Pryors' mantel."

  "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

  "I missed telling you where to turn back there. Can you turn around in that driveway?" Lindsay read the rest of the directions aloud as he turned around. "It's not far."

  Liza met them at the door. Liza's mother and sister were older versions of her-dark hair, dark eyes, pretty. Her father looked like a former football player: muscle gone to bulge, light brown hair, and blue eyes like his son.

  "Thank you for coming," Mrs. Ferris said. "Liza said you can help us. I know Luke didn't do this t
hing he's accused of. We just don't understand it."

  "I'll talk with your son," said Lindsay. "But please don't get your hopes up that I can work any miracles."

  "At least he'll talk to you," Mr. Ferris said. "He won't say a damned thing to us. He's sitting out there now, alone in the gazebo."

  Lindsay and Sinjin walked down a path bordered by purple creeping phlox to a small screened-in redwood gazebo with gingerbread trim. Luke was sitting alone inside. He looked like a kid. Lindsay tapped on the screen door.

  "Dr. Chamberlain, thanks for coming," he said, rising to open the door.

  "This is my brother, Sinjin. I hope you don't mind him being with me."

  Luke shook his head. "I just can't talk to my parents yet."

  They sat on the bench built around the inside of the gazebo. A small table in the center held a towel, a pack of cigarettes, matches, and a glass ashtray. "This is nice," Lindsay said.

  "Dad and I built this last summer. They had one a long time ago that burned down." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he looked down at his feet and said, "My parents had to mortgage the house to get me out of jail. I didn't kill her. I swear I didn't."

  "Why did the sheriff come to you?"

  "In a minute," he said, nodding toward the house from where his mother was coming, carrying a tray with a pitcher of tea and a plate of cookies.Sinjin opened the screen door for her.

  "Just some refreshment," she said, and Lindsay thanked her.

  Sinjin put the tray on the table and got glasses of tea for himself and Lindsay as Mrs. Ferris walked back toward the house.

  "I used to work in the Chemistry Department doing custodial work. I had a sub-master key that I forgot to turn in. It must have been in my jacket pocket and fell out the night Shirley Foster died. The sheriff traced it to Chemistry and they had a list of people who hadn't turned in their keys. I don't know why they never called me about it. Anyway, they found out that I had also worked for Shirley Foster. Bingo. They came to my apartment. What could I say? I told them I found her body, but I didn't kill her. They didn't believe me."

  "Did you see anyone else that night?" Lindsay asked, leaning forward.

  Luke shook his head. "When I got there she was ... she was lying on the bank. She was dead. Burned. That's all I know."