“I wouldn’t count on it,” Meg said. “Normally if this was a modern death they would have their guy take a look at the remains, and a forensic team would come in and pick up what they can from the scene, and then they’d all pack up and go their own way. If this is a really old burial, they may take a quick look and dismiss it. But for you, if this burial has any historic significance, you might want to handle it differently. This is an eighteenth-century building, right? Was the land ever a burial ground?”
“Not that I know about,” Gail said. “But that’s not to say there weren’t family burial plots on individual properties, although often they were marked with some kind of stones, even if they weren’t inscribed. Sometimes the location wasn’t recorded because the family just figured they’d remember where they put great-grandmother. Sorry if that sounds kind of thoughtless, but this has me rattled. As I remember it, the land here was given to the town for the specific purpose of building a meetinghouse, back in seventeen-whatever. The sons of the original landowner donated it after he died—one of them should have known that the body was here, if it was family land. Heck, there may be more bodies under there. I bet the police are really going to love checking that out—it’s not like they can just crawl under there and start digging willy-nilly because the building might fall on their heads. I’d really rather not have to deal with that.”
“Let’s take one problem at a time, Gail,” Meg said, trying to sound reassuring. “Art was here when the body was found, and he’s calling the state police. Nobody has touched anything. You’re here on behalf of the Historical Society, the official owner of this property, so you can explain to the state police exactly what was going on when we found the . . . skull. Maybe you should take some pictures while you still can?”
“Oh yeah, right. Good idea. I’ll do that. What’ve we got?” Gail confronted the bits of skull. Once Jeffrey had noticed the first piece, an unmistakable chunk of cranium, they’d cautiously gone through the rest of the dirt and found some smaller pieces as well. Meg could see Gail shifting into a more analytical mode. “I see some teeth, although I really doubt there were dentists handy when whoever-it-was died, so it’s not like we can use them to match dental records. Nothing to indicate gender from this end, but there may be other bones or personal artifacts still under the building. From the size of the skull pieces, it looks like an adult, which is better than the alternative. Jeffrey, how you holding up?” The boy was still staying close to his find.
“This is so cool! I mean, it’s like CSI meets American history.”
“Speaking of history, we’ll have to look into the history of this site a little more closely—maybe you can help us with that, Jeffrey.”
“I’d love to help. You know, I was watching the soil as it came through the tube pretty closely, and it looked uniform. No changes in texture or color, and I didn’t see any other big pieces of bone fragments. Maybe we were lucky and started at the head end, and the rest is still in there?”
“We really shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves,” Gail said, “but write down what you saw, okay? It might be useful. Anyway, I’m sure the police will ask the right questions.”
Meg wasn’t as sure, but then she’d never seen them in action with an antique body. Would anyone be able to identify it? And whether or not they did, what did you do with a centuries-old body, with no family to claim it? Although, she reminded herself, there were a lot of families in Granford now who bore the surnames of people who had lived in the town from the beginning. Maybe it wasn’t so absurd to think there might still be a local relative around.
“You guys mind if I hang around?” Jeffrey asked. “I mean, I’m kind of the one who found the body, or at least part of it. The police are going to want to talk to me, right? And I bet I’ll learn a lot more here than in class today.”
Oh, to be so young again, Meg thought. For him these bone fragments were an interesting puzzle, not remnants of a human being who’d lived and died here. Of course, Meg had to admit she too was curious about why a body had suddenly turned up in the middle of their routine building project. She was happily surprised not to have found any burial plots on her own property—yet—and she wasn’t about to go looking for any. Besides, she could account for most of the Warrens whose genealogy she knew about, since their tombstones were all lined up in the town cemetery. She’d have to ask Seth if he knew about any Chapin plots scattered around the land he and his mother still held.
Seth made one last comment to the crew still standing around the excavation, then walked over and stood beside the truck, watching for a state police car coming from Northampton. “I told the crew to stop whatever they were doing but to stick around until they could talk to the police,” he told them. “They weren’t exactly happy about it, but they all understood why. You okay?”
“Oh, sure, I’m fine,” Meg said with a false cheeriness. “I take a day off, and the first thing I find is a body. At least I’m just an innocent bystander.”
“That you are,” Seth agreed. “Gail, you holding it together?”
Gail was busy snapping pictures of the remnants of the skull. “I’m staying busy so I don’t have to think about it. Won’t our next newsletter be interesting?”
“This was Moody land originally, wasn’t it?” Seth asked her.
Gail stopped what she was doing and faced him. “Yes, it was. Seth, you consistently embarrass me by knowing as much or more about my town than I do, and I’m the official keeper of its history. How do you do that?”
“I ask him the same question all the time, Gail,” Meg said with a grin as Seth shrugged. “Seth, are there any Moodys around that we could talk to?”
“Um, excuse me,” Jeffrey broke in. “Like I told you, I’m working on my Scout genealogy merit badge. Maybe I could do some research on who gave this land to the town back then? And what descendants are still around?”
“That’s a great idea!” Gail said. “I’d be happy to sponsor that, or oversee it, or whatever you need. I know the town has some of the original documents right up there in the town hall,” Gail said. “But I don’t want it to interfere with your schoolwork. Or get you in trouble with your parents if it takes up too much of your time.”
“I’m sure they’d want me to assist the police,” Jeffrey said, trying to look serious. Meg suppressed a smile and avoided looking at Seth. Knowing what she did about some of Jeffrey’s uncle Rick’s activities, the family could hardly object to a few innocent inquiries into Granford’s past. And from the way Jeffrey looked, it might be hard to stop him. He’d caught the history bug.
“I think once the state police take a look at this, they’ll decide it’s not a crime scene pretty fast,” Seth said. “Besides, it’s going to be hard to find evidence over two hundred years old.”
Jeffrey looked disappointed. “Well, I’ll stick around for today, anyway.”
“Fair enough.” Seth nodded toward the road. “Looks like the state police have arrived.”
The state car pulled up alongside the green, and Meg immediately recognized Detective William Marcus, whom she’d met before. More than once. Their current relationship might best be defined as a bit prickly. But this time around, he really couldn’t accuse her of any illegal involvement. Meg watched as Art went to meet him; they paused out of earshot, and Meg assumed Art was bringing him up to speed on what had been uncovered so far. Then they walked over to the truck, where the pieces of skull still lay.
“Who’s this?” Detective Marcus looked at Jeffrey.
Jeffrey stepped forward quickly, his right hand outstretched. “I’m Jeffrey Green, sir. I’m working on a Scout merit badge in archaeology, so I was here to participate in the excavation of this historic building. I was the one who first saw the, uh, victim.”
Detective Marcus looked taken aback by Jeffrey’s speech, but he shook his hand cordially enough.
Then Gail stepped forward. “De
tective, I’m Gail Selden. I’m the director of the Historical Society, and I’m representing our board at the construction process here.”
“Not quite what you were expecting, was it?” Marcus said with what might be considered a smile.
“No, of course not. This building was erected sometime around 1762, before the town of Granford even officially existed. We had no reason to think there might be any kind of burial on the site.”
“I see. Seth, what are you doing here?” Marcus turned his attention to Seth.
“I’m serving more or less as general contractor for the Historical Society. I brought in the excavation crew here.”
“Fill me in on the project, one of you? You planning to move the building or something?”
Gail spoke quickly. “No. We need room to house our collections. We looked at our options, and digging out beneath the building and creating climate-controlled storage space there seemed to be the best solution. That way we could preserve the historic integrity of the building’s profile.”
“Huh. Never heard of anything like that, but it sounds interesting. How far did you get before you found . . . this?” He waved at the skull fragments.
“We’d just started. There may be more bones under there,” Gail said.
“The crew stopped digging as soon as we saw the skull fragments,” Seth added. “Is the ME on his way?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Hey, wait a minute, please, Detective,” Gail said quickly. “You can’t just grab the bones and whatever else you find and haul it off to Northampton. This could yield important information about the town’s earliest years.”
“You have an alternate suggestion?” Marcus countered. “Because if you don’t, it’s the ME’s call.”
“Yes, I do.” Gail exchanged a look with Meg. “I can make some calls, see if I can find a forensic archaeologist nearby.”
Marcus sighed. “So you’re going to tell me this is an historic site and this should be treated as an archaeological dig? Good luck with that.” Then he added, “Let’s see if you can make that happen today, unless you want your project to stall while we analyze the, uh, remains.”
“Right away,” Gail said. “I know someone I can talk to right now.” She pulled out her cell phone and walked to the middle of the green to call. She was back in three minutes. “Got her!” she crowed. “I’ve got a friend who teaches at UMass who’s an archaeological anthropologist. She’s on her way!”
7
As if there hadn’t been enough people crowded around before—between the excavation crew, the construction crew that had planned to shore up the building, and onlookers Seth, Meg, Gail, Art, and Jeffrey—now the state police had joined the fray, soon followed by the medical examiner’s van. When the ME, Dr. Elijah Bartlett, parked and climbed out, Gail set off at a brisk trot to intercept him before Detective Marcus could get there. She snagged Bartlett in conversation even as he tried to walk toward the group. When they were a few yards away, Meg could hear Gail pleading, “. . . and if you could just wait a little longer before you disturb the body . . .” Gail looked up to find Marcus blocking her path.
“Ms. Selden, let the man do his job, will you?”
“But he could be destroying valuable historic evidence!” Gail protested.
“I strongly suspect that he will concur with your preliminary assessment that the body has been in the ground for a very long time, and therefore how it got there is not a concern of ours. Although the ultimate disposal of the remains might be.”
“Oh,” Gail replied, losing steam. “Okay. I can live with that. But my anthropologist friend is on her way over from Amherst now. Can you wait a few minutes? Please?”
Detective Marcus looked reluctant but did not protest. Meg wondered if he had nothing more pressing to do and simply couldn’t bring himself to make up an excuse. It was, in fact, only around five minutes before yet another car pulled up and a slender woman about Meg’s age climbed out. If this was the expert from UMass, she must have broken a lot of speed regulations to arrive so quickly. Meg wondered if the woman hoped that there were more skeletons waiting to be uncovered.
Gail hurried over to greet, and no doubt warn, her friend about where she might find herself in the pecking order for access to the bones. But the newcomer was smiling as she approached the detective. “Well, if it isn’t Bill Marcus!” she said. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of years. Most of your recent cases have been far too young for me to worry about.”
He smiled reluctantly. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to entertain you lately, Miranda. But it appears there are others to do that for me.”
Miranda turned to the rest of the small group. “Hi, I’m Miranda Melvin. What’ve we got here? Gail didn’t have time to give me all the details—just told me to get my butt over here ASAP. Who are all of you?” She beamed at everyone, and Gail hurriedly made introductions, ending with Jeffrey. “And this is the young man who first spotted the skull. Maybe you should include him on your next dig. He has a sharp eye!”
Miranda looked him over. “You must, young man, if you can pick human remains out of a mass of flying dirt.”
“I guess,” Jeffrey said. “Can I talk with you, whenever we’re done here? See, I’m working on a Boy Scout merit badge and—”
Miranda laughed, but not unkindly. “One step at a time—Jeffrey, is it? Let’s figure out who our mystery guest is, and then we can make a plan. Well, well, Elijah,” she said, turning to the ME, “where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
The medical examiner responded, “Down among the dead men, of course, Miranda. I’m glad you’re here. We should have fun looking at this one.”
“Then let’s get started,” Miranda said quickly. “Okay, what’ve we got? Most of one skull, in pieces, check. I see a few teeth, too, but no major bones—yet. Sucked out from under that building over there? What is this, a vacuum excavation system? I haven’t seen one in action before. Of course, it would wreak havoc on any scientific dig, but you weren’t expecting to find anything here, now, were you, Gail?”
Gail shook her head. “Nope. Just dirt. This was a complete surprise.”
“Surprises are what make life fun. So, young Jeffrey, did you see any other bits of bone?”
“I don’t think so, but we shut things down quick, and we found a few bits and pieces since. But we haven’t gone near the building.” That last statement was accompanied by a look at Detective Marcus.
“Is it safe to crawl under there? Is the building stabilized?” Miranda asked no one in particular.
“We’d barely started,” Seth told her. “But if you want to check with the excavation crew, they’re all right over there.” He pointed.
“Mind if I join you?” Detective Marcus drawled.
Miranda swatted his arm. “Now, Bill, you know this is your show. I’m just here to make sure you don’t break anything. You other good people mind staying back here for a bit? Because it looks pretty crowded already. Thanks!” Without waiting for a response, Miranda set off at a brisk clip toward the Historical Society building, and Marcus and the ME had to hurry to keep up.
“She’s a bundle of energy, isn’t she?” Meg said to Gail. “How did you happen to meet her?”
“She teaches at the university, and I attended a lecture she gave on Indian burial grounds a couple of years ago. Not too many of those in Granford, but you never know. Anyway, we got talking, and now we’re friends, more or less. She’s pretty well known in her field, I gather. We’re lucky that she was in the country at all—she’s just back from a sabbatical—but I guess she had classes starting up.”
Seth wasn’t about to leave, since he had a responsibility to the construction crew. Meg didn’t have that excuse, but she was certainly curious. She looked at her watch and felt a pang of guilt, and decided to call Bree.
“Where are you?” Bree demande
d, and she didn’t sound happy.
“I came over to the center of town to watch a little of the excavation under the Historical Society, but we ran into a bit of a snag.”
“What excavation? Oh, right, that thing Seth got dragged into. What kind of snag are you talking about?”
Meg sighed. “There was a body buried under the building.”
Bree greeted that with a long moment of silence—and then she burst out laughing. “Well, of course there is! What was I thinking? If you and Seth are there, there must be a body. Anybody we know?”
“No, thank goodness. It appears to be a few centuries old, and we’re pretty sure it’s been there since before the building went up. All we’ve seen is parts of the skull so far, but the experts are on the scene. Did you know the Historical Society building used to be a church?”
Bree was still laughing. “Aw, heck, digging up bodies is a lot more interesting than picking apples any day. We’ll manage without you okay, so long as you can make up for it tomorrow.”
“Will do. Thanks. Are we all good with the pickers for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah, they’re coming. I guess I’ll do the food shopping for everyone.”
“Thank you. I’ll pay you back. I told you we can keep it simple. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Would it be wrong to offer beer? I want them to relax.”
“They’d probably appreciate it, I guess. Well, you go back to your bones and I’ll head over to the supermarket. See you in a bit!”
Meg hung up to find Seth watching with a smile. “What?”
“Just noticing how you always need to get Bree’s permission to stay. I know, don’t bite my head off. She’s on top of things, and she’s doing a great job.”
“I just wanted to let her know what was going on—and be sure she knew I wasn’t just slacking off,” Meg defended herself. “Anyway, I think I forgot to tell you that we’re planning to have a cookout with the pickers tonight.”
Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) Page 6