“And who are you?”
“I am a volunteer archaeologist. Being a student at the University of Georgia is my regular engagement. A senior come this fall. Majoring in botany.”
Bugs was giving the man way more information than I’d ever volunteer.
“Isn’t that the study of plants?” the officer asked.
“Yep.” He nodded.
“Then why do they call you ‘Bugs?’”
“Just a nickname I carried with me since childhood. Probably started out as a joke, but it stuck.”
“Did you see her – uh, Dr. Dickerson find the body?” the officer asked.
“No. I didn’t.” Bugs looked at Riley. “It was already unearthed when we found her.” He looked at me and nodded. “Not hiding.”
“Hello all.” I looked and saw another man that I didn’t know walking up to our little group. “Miss Sinclair.” He acknowledged Riley.
“Hello, Clive,” the officer called him by name. Riley nodded her greeting. And when “Clive” reached me, he stuck out his hand.
“Dr. Dickerson?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Clive Armsgoode. Ph.D. Early American History.”
Clive Armsgoode looked like a mouse with a moustache. He had a pointed head and short limbs that didn’t go with his long torso. He spoke through his nose and snorted out his words. I didn’t know who he was, but I didn’t like him right off.
And who introduced themselves with letters?
“A lot of mayhem going on around here,” Clive directed his question to the government officer.
“Dead body found over near the stone walls. Right inside of a mound.” He nodded toward me. “She found it.”
“She?” I have a name. Okay. And why was he telling this man all of that information?
“I’m at a loss, Dr. Armsgoode,” I said. “You know my name and who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”
“It seems you were the odd man out, sort to speak.” A smirk spread across his face. “I was supposed to be in charge of this dig.”
He caught me off guard. I hadn’t known I’d had competition in getting the job.
“Well, it would seem that you were the odd man out then,” I said and smiled.
“Touché,” he said then turned to the officer. “They’ll be closing up this dig.” He made it sound more like a statement than a question. “I’m sure Steven feels like he’s been caught with his pants down.” They both laughed.
Steven? I didn’t even call Director McHutchinson by his first name. And I had been chosen to run the dig.
“Couldn’t be good for his run,” the officer said. “It’ll be back to normal soon enough, though.” He eyed me with that comment. “I guess you do what you have to to win.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“The FBI will be taking this over,” the officer closed his notebook and tapped it with his pen. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, or his good friend “Clive.” He turned and looked over his shoulder and then at me. “They’ll be a while. As Clive said, they’ll want to close down the site. You should tell your team, Dr. Dickerson.” He put his hand on the brim of his hat and pretended to tip it. “Probably someone will call you in for a statement.”
I twisted up my face and took in a breath. Didn’t he just take my statement?
He seemed to understand the puzzle look on my face. “Someone from the FBI will call you. They’ll need to hear from you what happened.”
FBI. That didn’t sound like something I would enjoy.
Oh wait! FBI meant Bay! My boyfriend. My new boyfriend. My protector. Although I hadn’t see him – I stood on my toes and looked over the officer’s shoulder – he might just be on this job.
I eyed the police officer. Bay would cut me some slack. Might even stop the site from closing down so I could finish my work.
I just wanted to shout: I know important people, Mr. Government Man. People more important than you!
After everyone left, I sat down in one of my folding chairs outside my trailer and tried to call Director McHutchinson. Twice. Both times I got his voicemail. Each time as I waited for the beep I debated on whether I should call him “Steve” in my message . . .
I needed to talk to him. I wanted to find out what the Forest Service was up to as well as that Clive Armsgoode.
I didn’t like him at all.
As much land as there was at the ruins that, to me, was clear evidence of Maya once occupying the land, I couldn’t see why my team would have to pack up and leave. The body was in one little spot. I could easily excavate in a different one.
When I couldn’t reach the Director, the only person I know who could override the Forest Service officer’s directive to pack up and leave, I did what I had been told to do. I told everyone to leave and I started shutting down my camper to do the same.
I hated leaving like this. I didn’t know how things would be when I got back. If I got back . . .
I was always seconding guess my worth, and something like this didn’t help. I wanted to make a name for myself but every time I tried, something came up.
I just wanted to be as good as my mother.
Better but in a different way, you know?
That’s why even though I’d become an archaeologist like her, I had picked a completely different field. But choosing the same occupation may not have been a good idea. Because then, whenever I got recognition for something, I always wondered was it because of her.
It’s crazy I know. I never thought it was because I was good enough. That it was because I had two Ph.Ds. and had graduated top in my class. Or that I was really good at what I did. I always attributed to either me being black and there was a quota to fill, or because I was young and people thought I was malleable.
I shook myself.
I had to stop thinking like that.
“Hey. You.”
I looked up and it was Bugs. Again.
“Didn’t I tell you to go home?” I said.
“Yeah. I forgot something. Just came back to pick it up. Saw you.” His phone started ringing as he spoke. He looked down at it and put up a finger to me telling me to hold on.
I stuck the folding chair inside the door of the trailer, and put my knapsack over my shoulder. I waited for him to get off the phone.
Longer than I wanted to.
And when his phone conversation got a little heated between he and “Laura,” as he kept saying, I just wanted to leave.
“Sorry about that,” he said when he hung up the phone. “That was my girlfriend, Laura. She’s so demanding.”
He’s got a girlfriend? Then why is he always flirting with me.
“Well. I’ve got to go,” I said instead. “And so do you.”
“Yeah. I am,” he said. “But when I saw you I just wanted to let you know that I’ll help you, Logan.” He nodded his head. “In any way I can.”
“Thanks,” I said kind of hesitantly.
“It’s just that I know how these government people work. They just want to bulldoze over you.” He looked at me. “And that Clive Armsgoode. He’s not a very nice man.”
I laughed. That wasn’t the half of what I thought of him.
“Thanks, Bugs,” I said. “I appreciate your support.”
“Anytime. We have to band together against the establishment.”
“Power to the people,” I said and we both laughed.
Chapter Five
I’d been banished again.
Twice now from the same exact place.
I stuck an old Whitney Houston CD in the car player and turned up the volume as I pulled out of Track Rock Gap. I glanced at the clock. One. Only fifty percent of the day over but I was feeling one hundred percent irritated. I thought about calling my mother. I needed her. This time it was because of the “establishment,” as Bugs put it.
I was heading down I-20 back to Yasamee. Just like I had when I was nearly caught trespassing at Track Rock Gap. Calling myself hiding out from the law, I’d found the Maypop, a qua
int little bed and breakfast. That had been where I met Vivienne Pennywell. The now perpetual thorn in my side. She and her daughters Brie Pennywell, and Renmar Colquett owned the Maypop. Finding refuge there changed my life more than I could have ever dreamed possible.
And oh yeah, how could I forget, it’s where all the murders started. Well for the most part.
But I couldn’t hide for long. As it turned out, the FBI agent on my trail was one Bay Colquett, who also just so happened to be the son of Renmar, proprietor of the Maypop (and a brilliant cook I have to add). And favorite grandson of Miss Vivee, as she’s called by everyone, a five-foot nothing, ninety something Voodoo herbalist. She had a putt-putt course and a greenhouse full of the plants she used for healing in her backyard.
Miss Vivee was strong and she was feisty. She didn’t let old age, anything or anyone get her down. Not that I had seen. And Bay had taken after her. His mother, Renmar, the typical Southern belle – prime, proper, porcelain white skin, every hair in place – had married a black man from Louisiana and Bay had grown up, in a small southern town, the only black kid around.
He faced the same things I had, yet we turned out so differently. I adhere to the science that birth order shapes personality and that the roles siblings assume is what leads to behavioral differences in children, so I figured that was what made the dissimilarity in us. Bay was an only child and I was the youngest of three. He was laid back. Confident. I was always worried. Always feeling like I lived in my mother’s shadow, but always going to her for help.
I’d always been the nerd. Geek in the family. At school. But proud of it. I’d rather have my nose in a book then hang out with friends. It had been my father that encouraged me to start dating and after I’d met Bay, I was glad I’d listened to him.
Just the thought of Bay made my worries melt and at the same time sent chills down my spine. He made a warmth spread through me chocolate pudding oozing out of a molten lava cake. Slow, easy, yummy.
I decided to call him instead of my mother.
It even made me feel more grown-up.
As soon as I heard his voice I knew everything was going to be okay.
He was up in Atlanta at the FBI headquarters. Ours was a long distance relationship, but cell phones, FaceTime and weekends made the distance between us seem more like inches instead of miles. He was the reason I hung around in Georgia. He made sure I got what I needed in our relationship even though I’m sure he hadn’t bargained for such an insecure, whiner, like me.
And he made sure that everyone else treated me good, too.
“I’m glad that you’re going back to Yasamee,” he said before we hung up. “My grandmother will take care of you until I can.”
That put a smile on my face and made it easy to put Gainesville behind me.
Chapter Six
“Well look what the cat drug in,” Miss Vivee said as I walked through the double oak doors of the Maypop.
She was sitting on her tufted, beige bench that sat in the corner of the foyer. Her usual place.
“I missed you too, Miss Vivee,” I said and plopped down next to her. I looked around and sighed. “Didn’t think I’d be back here so soon.”
“Death seems to follow you wherever you go, doesn’t it?” she said with a smirk on her face.
I closed my eyes and took in a breath.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“I heard about what happened up there in Gainesville.”
Bay. He tells his grandmother everything.
“Death doesn’t follow me around,” I said. “But I’m beginning to think that bad luck does.”
She waved her hand down the front of her. “I’m all dressed up with no place to go,” she said. “I was waiting for you to come so you could take me over to Viola Rose’s.”
I looked at her. She looked the same as she always did. Her long gray hair with a few strands still black was braided and hung over her shoulder. She had on a powder blue dress and one of her thin coats with a rounded color that was almost the same color blue. Her purse sat on her lap. She’d swiped her face powder across her wrinkles and had on a coral colored lipstick. The only thing missing was Cat, her Scottish wheaten terrier.
“Where’s Cat?” I asked.
“At the vet’s. Renmar took her. Figured you and I could go and pick her up.”
“And why can’t Renmar just pick her up, Miss Vivee?” I said with more of a whine than I’d ever care to admit. “I just want to fall into my bed and cover up my head.”
“I wanted go to the Jellybean Café. Get an early supper,” Miss Vivee said and put her hand on my knee. “I’ll treat you to one of those bacon cheeseburgers you like so much. I’ve called Viola Rose and told her we were coming.”
I looked at Miss Vivee. She already had the rest of my day planned for me and I had only just walked in the door. She was trying to be nice I know. And going over to the Jellybean Café wasn’t so bad. It was bright and cheery. I always thought of it as the Technicolor part of the Wizard of Oz. Yellow, purple, red and green striped booths. Shiny white floors and aluminum stools. Viola Rose was always sparkly, she reminded me of Glenda and her munchkin husband, short stocky Gus with the permanent scowl on his face did make phenomenal burgers.
I shook my head. There was no getting out of this and I knew it.
So much for locking myself up in my room and wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the day.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s go. We can get you some of that ‘horrid’ egg salad you love to hate.”
“I was thinking today I’d have tuna.” She stood up and looped her hand over my arm. “And I was thinking on the way we could pick up Mac.”
Chapter Seven
“We’ve got a new murder, Mac,” Miss Vivee said with a nod of her head. “We’ve got to put our heads together and get it solved.”
My head jerked around at her comment. It was the first thing she’d said since we left the house. I had called Mac, Miss Vivee’s one time man and current suitor, and told him we were coming to pick him up. Miss Vivee had said “hello” to him with a silent nod. The same way she acknowledged Viola Rose when we entered the diner. Now that we were seated, her eyes lit up and she had become excited. I was sure I almost saw her salivating.
“What?” I said.
Not another one.
“Do tell,” Mac said. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t heard of anyone else dying off.” He was as old as Miss Vivee and had just as many wrinkles. Short with a limp caused by Miss Vivee and her automobile twenty years earlier. He had gray hair that sprouted from his head like a porcupine that he was constantly trying to smooth down.
“It was up in Gainesville,” Miss Vivee answered. “At Logan’s work area.”
“Oh no, Miss Vivee.” I realized the murder she was talking about. “You can’t solve that murder.”
“After all I’ve showed you, you have that little faith in me to think I can’t solve a murder?”
“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you-”
“Y’all here to eat, or did you just come for one of your murder solving sessions?” Viola Rose interrupted before I could finish my sentence. She pulled a pen out of the top of her bouffant strawberry nest of hair, her dozens of bangles clanking as she retrieved it, and an order pad from her pocket. She clicked the top of the pen and looked around the table.
I raised an eyebrow.
It was where we met to talk about all things murder. Miss Vivee seemed to like to discuss her insights – which she was full of – at the Jellybean Cafe. By full of them, I also meant she was good at it. She had just looked at Gemma Burke and Oliver and knew instantly what they’d died from. But who knew Viola Rose had an inkling that her diner was where Miss Vivee came to put her clues together. Maybe she really was the Good Witch, Glenda and could see what we were up to by gazing into her crystal ball.
“For cryin’ out loud. Didn’t you think I knew what ya’ll were doing when you come in here?” She waved he
r hand in the air, her arm of shiny bangles kicking up a ruckus. “Somebody dies. You three meet. Case solved. Murder used to be rare as hen’s teeth around here, but after Logan blew into town, and you and Mac reconciled, it’s all that seems to happen anymore.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Viola Rose,” Miss Vivee said and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “It’s just easier to eat here sometimes than at the Maypop. Can’t always stomach Renmar’s food. Although your husband, Gus’ food isn’t that much better.”
“I declare, Miss Vivee I weren’t just born yesterday. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say ya’ll had something to do with the murders. Only ways I know you can solve them so easy.”
“It’s not easy, Viola Rose.” Miss Vivee waved her hand in the air. “But I must say, you may have hit the nail on the head with that estimation,” Miss Vivee said. “Looks like Logan may have committed murder while she was up in Gainesville.”
Ohmigosh!
“Miss Vivee!” I said. “Why would you say that?” I looked over at Viola Rose. “It isn’t true. I haven’t murdered anyone.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Miss Vivee said. “I’m going to help you. Just like I did Renmar.” She nodded her head. “Same rules apply for you as they did when my own daughter was a murder suspect. We’ll find out who did it, and if it was you, we’ll help you get out of town and hide. Right, Mac?”
“You can count on us, Logan. We’ve got your back.”
“Lord have mercy,” Viola Rose said. “That’s all you need is these two old goats, Sweetie Pie. They’re better than your FBI boyfriend, I’d say. With these two, getting you outta a murder wrap should be as easy as sliding off a greasy log backwards.”
“I’d thank you to be careful about what you say about my grandson, Viola Rose. Best just bring us all some iced tea before something gets said we can’t take back.”
“What you say?” Viola Rose put her hands on her hips and looked at Miss Vivee “I love that boy like he was my own. You know it. Only saying that the three of you make a good murder solving team, is all.”
Maya Mound Mayhem (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 2
