A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery (23 page)

"Why did Jenna point you out?" she asked.

"I don't know"

Lindsay thought he genuinely looked bewildered.

"Have you ever seen Jenna before?"

Ned shrugged. "I may have. I go in the drugstore a
lot to get ice cream"

"Think back. Have you ever spoken to her?"

Ned shook his head. "I don't know. I don't usually
speak to people. I didn't do this," he said again.

"We don't believe you did it," Lindsay said.

"Really? Even Frank? He's so angry.'

"What you did about the site is far from murder.
No, Frank doesn't think you are guilty."

"I want you to understand about the site."

"That's not important-"

"Please, let me tell you. My parents weren't great,
and they palmed me off on my grandparents whenever they could. When I was here, I spent most of my
time exploring the woods around here."

"I'm sorry," she said.

Ned's face was red from the sun. It never tanned.
Here in the cell it made him look embarrassed. He sat
with his shoulders rounded and hunched over. Defeated, Lindsay thought.

"It wasn't bad," he said. "I enjoyed it. I kept
coming back to that place, the bend in the river where
the site is. Every time after a rain I'd be over there
collecting arrowheads. After a while I learned to recognize other things. And I started keeping a map of
where I found things. I read everything I could about
Indians, and later about archaeology. Do you see what
I'm talking about?"

"I think so."

"Jasper Creek is my site. Ever since I learned that
archaeologists dig up ancient places to learn about
them, I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist and digging up that place at the bend in the river." He seemed
to be looking back to the beginning of that dream.

"You felt it was taken away from you?" Lindsay
understood and felt sympathy for Ned.

"It was. I should have been principal investigator."
He rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans.

"It had to be a Ph.D.," said Lindsay gently.

"I would've been one and not just a graduate student if I could have gone to school full time and not had to
work. I tried. I studied hard."

"You are a good archaeology student," Lindsay
said.

"Humph," he snorted. "I may be a good student,
but to get an assistantship you have to have a high
GRE." He was silent for several moments. "Derrick."

"Derrick?" Lindsay asked.

"He can't decide if he wants to finish his Ph.D. or
not." Ned shook his head. "He can't decide. I sometimes hate him for that. When he does go back, they'll
give him an assistantship, just like before, because of
that high GRE he has. It's not fair."

"No," Lindsay agreed, "it's not always fair."

"And now," he continued as if Lindsay hadn't said
anything, "now, I'll never get to go back. This will
ruin me." He put his head in his hands again. Lindsay
put a hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, as if
surprised that she would touch him. "You know," he
said. "It was the high point of this summer when you
danced with me."

"Well, I guess you hadn't been having a very good
time at the site." Lindsay tried to sound lighthearted.

She stood up, and Ned rose to face her. "Look,
Ned. We'll find out who did this."

"How? Do you think you can?"

Lindsay called for the sheriff, then turned to Ned
and gave him a hug. "Sure, I can," she said as the
sheriff let her out the door. "My GRE score was
higher than Derrick's."

Old hones to carry, old stories to tell ...

-Padraic Colum

WE'VE BEEN INVITED to Tylerwynd for the
annual Fourth of July barbecue this Saturday," Frank
said at lunch the next day. "In view of the unpleasant
things that have been happening, I think it would be a
good gesture to go. In fact, we're lucky to be invited,
so I expect all of you, especially the professional
crew, to be there. And Lindsay, I was assured that
your problem person will not be attending."

"What if we have already made other plans?" Derrick asked.

"Change them. This is important, and I expect all
of you to be on your best behavior. No pranks or
jokes. Lindsay, would you and Sally select an assemblage of artifacts to take? Marsha thought it would be
a good idea to show the townspeople what we are
doing."

"That means someone will have to watch them constantly," Sally said.

"Marsha's seeing to it that a lockable display case
will be there. Write on an index card what each artifact is and what it was used for."

"Perhaps Marsha would help with the cards," Sally
whispered to Lindsay. "I'm sure she must have had
penmanship in finishing school."

Lindsay grinned.

"I think it sounds like fun," Michelle said. "Will
you give me a ride, Derrick?"

"Sure," he muttered.

After lunch, Derrick found Lindsay looking at a
cache of animal bones that had been discovered in a
pit. "You have photographed this, haven't you, Derrick?"

"Yes, before lunch. I can't believe Frank is insisting we go to that 4th of July thing-in spite of the fact
that some of us have made other plans."

Lindsay told Sally she could take up the bones.
Then she and Derrick moved away from the other
diggers. "We can go dancing some other time," she
said.

"You need a break, and so do I. I've seen you, how
down you've been lately."

"Just all these things happening," she said. "We
must all have done some bad shit in a previous life."

"We'll figure something out about Ned," Derrick
offered. "The sheriff has the Patrick thing under control, and you took care of Jeremy. You're finished with
the skeletal identifications for the sheriff, and Burial
23 is probably too old to worry about"

"There are still too many unanswered questions,"
Lindsay said. "The guy who planted the pot didn't
know who Plackert was working for, so we don't know why he wants us off the site. And we don't
know who killed Plackert." She shook her head. "It
must be someone from the power company, something to do with the dam. But why? It doesn't make
sense."

"Plackert had lots of clients," Derrick said. "I'm
sure the sheriff is talking to all of them. He was the
Tylers' lawyer, too, wasn't he? Maybe Mickey
Lawson's putting pressure on us, thinking he can
somehow keep you from investigating the deaths of
the children."

Lindsay shook her head. "The problems with the
contract and the harassment of the site started before I
was asked to identify the bones ... before the bones
were found, even. It's something else."

Derrick massaged her shoulder. "Let me tell Frank
that we can't go to his PR picnic."

"I think that would probably disappoint Michelle.
You promised to take her."

"I promised to give her a ride."

"We might have an opportunity to look for the
tripod," Lindsay continued. "Besides, I understand
Tylerwynd is really a showplace. It might be fun."

"We could have more fun together."

"You, me, and Michelle?"

"Michelle?" Derrick sounded surprised and bewildered.

Lindsay regretted the words as soon as she had
said them. She felt embarrassed. "I see Brian gesturing, I think he needs to talk to you." Lindsay walked
back to the cache of animal bones. Derrick stared
after her, then reluctantly went to see what Brian
wanted.

What in the world's wrong with you? Lindsay
chided herself. Derrick's a good friend, and you're
treating him like ... like what? Like a lover who has
jilted you, she told herself. She made up her mind to
apologize to him.

Just as it was nearly time to close the site for the
day, Lindsay observed the sheriff's car, followed by a
large bronze-colored Mercedes, wind down the dirt
road into the parking lot. She decided to let him
come to her. She wasn't going to greet any more bad
news. Frank met the cars, and she watched the sheriff
introduce him to the man from the Mercedes, who
looked angry as he gestured furiously with both
hands. She looked back down at her burial and
ignored them. When she looked up again, Frank was
coming over to her.

"Lindsay, someone is here who wants to talk to
you. But you don't have to, unless you want to"

"Who is it?"

"Jeremy Reynolds' father."

"Oh."

"I'll tell him to get lost."

"No, I'll talk to him. I have a few pointers on child
rearing I'd like to share with him."

As Lindsay approached the picnic tables, Frank
and the sheriff seemed to close ranks around her. The
man glared at her.

"Who is this ... this woman?"

"Mr. Reynolds," said Frank, "I have a site to dig,
and we are behind schedule. I don't have time to play
whatever game you are playing. You said you wanted
to see Lindsay Chamberlain, and here she is."

"This is a woman. I understood Lindsay was a man. My son said he was attacked, and that is how he
got his leg so seriously mangled."

"Mr. Reynolds," Lindsay said, "I assure you I don't
go around attacking boys. It would be reckless and
dangerous. I fired your son for throwing away artifacts after I specifically told him not to. He got mad
and attacked me in the dark. My father taught me how
to defend myself if a guy ever attacked me, and I did
exactly what he said. We have several witnesses who
saw Jeremy in his ski mask whining that he only
meant to scare me. We also have witnesses who say
he was planning something against me °"

Mr. Reynolds was a man who clearly did not like
being made a fool, and Lindsay almost felt sorry for
his son. After angrily searching for something to say,
he turned and walked back to his car. He burned up a
significant amount of rubber leaving the site.

Lindsay looked over at the sheriff, who was smiling. "You knew he thought I was a guy?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just thought it would be fun to see his
face when he found out the truth."

"I don't suppose he'll take legal action now,"
Frank said. "I don't imagine he wants the humiliation of having the world know his son was beat up
by a girl." Frank walked back to the section under
excavation.

"That was a good trick your father taught you,"
the sheriff said.

"That was the first time I have ever had to use it."

"It was certainly effective. You know, I have a
daughter in college. She's off campus, as she calls it,
this semester. I've tried to teach her a few things, but
she doesn't take me seriously."

"I didn't take my father seriously either, but I
remembered what he taught me"

"What does your father do?"

"He teaches Shakespeare at a community college
in Kentucky. My mother breeds and trains Arabians."

"Not thoroughbreds?"

"No. They are quite expensive."

"Sounds like you have a nice family."

"I do. How is Ned?"

"He's holding up all right."

Lindsay didn't ask him any more about the investigation, and he didn't offer any information. He took
his leave, and Lindsay went back to her burial.

"What on earth!" Frank exclaimed, looking into the
back of the Jeep that Derrick had just driven into the
parking lot.

Lindsay grinned. "Derrick, you're the best scavenger I know."

"Yeah, the good people of Merry Claymoore were
very generous in giving me their old camera tripods."

"Why do you want all these tripods?" asked Frank.

"I found a pan lock and just can't rest until I find
the tripod it goes to"

Frank frowned at Derrick, and Lindsay explained to
him about the broken pan lock found at the crime
scene.

"You know the probability is very low that you will
find the right tripod," Frank said.

"Right now," Lindsay said, "this is the only clue.
We need to find something to help Ned"

"You're right, of course," Frank agreed, "but the
site has sure been quiet since he's been in jail."

"It's not only for Ned," Lindsay said. "It's for us,
too. We've lost about a third of our scouts and a lot of
goodwill from the townspeople since his arrest"

"True," Frank said. "Carry on" He left them with
their cache of tripods.

"He's probably right," Derrick said. "Even if the
tripod the pan lock came from is one of these, it could
have been repaired and we would never be able to
make a positive match"

"I know."

Derrick smiled and kissed her cheek. "But we will
look. Who knows? We might get lucky."

"Derrick?"

"Yes?" he asked, stacking the tripods out on the
ground.

"I'm sorry about the other day."

"What about?"

"About what I said."

Derrick stopped hoisting the tripods out of the Jeep
and looked into Lindsay's eyes. He touched her
cheek with his finger tips, then caressed her lips with
his thumb. "After the Fourth of July thing, let me take
you away for a weekend. I'll make you forget about
all this for a little while anyway"

Lindsay reached up and took his hand. "I would
like to forget about all this for a little while."

Derrick gave her lips a quick kiss, and she helped
him carry the tripods into the laboratory tent. Most of
the lab workers cataloging the artifacts took no
notice of them as they laid out the tripods on the
floor. Derrick set about examining each one. None
had its pan lock missing, but several looked as if they
had had their pan lock replaced. One was from Adam Bancroft's studio, and one was given to Derrick by
the owner of the hardware store where the site did all
its business. "Glad to get rid of the thing," he had
said. "Been laying around for years." One was given
to Derrick by a school teacher requesting that instead
of using it for parts, perhaps he could fix it, and she
and her students could use it.

"This got you into some work," Lindsay commented. "Can you fix it for them?"

"No, it looks like the center post is pretty well
busted, but I imagine I can fix one of the others for
them."