A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery

by Beverly Connor

  "Drugs?" they all said, simultaneously. "Where did he get that notion?"

  "He said he had been getting anonymous calls."

  "That's ridiculous," Lindsay said. "Who would do that? None of us are into drugs"

  "That's what I told him and the contract committee. Has any of the field school been into anything?"

  "The students?" asked Michelle. "No. I'm sure. That Jeremy kid I told you about is a pain in the butt, but I don't think he is into drugs."

  "And none of the professional crew."

  "Us? Of course not," said Lindsay.

  "You don't think the scouts?"

  "I think we can clear them," Derrick answered. "The only thing they get into is repetitious music. Besides they are mostly 14- and 15-year-olds, for heaven's sake. This whole thing is absolutely unfounded."

  "I know," said Frank wearily.

  "The sheriff and his men have been practically living at the site, for heaven's sake," Jane said. "Surely they would have sniffed us out if that had been true."

  "Is that all the reason he gives, drugs?" Lindsay asked.

  "At first he didn't give that. It's as if he just doesn't want us here, period. Fortunately, Marsha has a lot of credibility with the committee, and our work for the sheriff's department hasn't gone unnoticed. Look, folks, I just wanted to suggest that we all keep a low profile for a while until this blows over."

  "What's the attorney's name?" asked Lindsay.

  "Seymour Plackert."

  The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their hones.

  -William Shakespeare

  Julius Caesar

  Chapter 6

  LINDSAY HADN'T NOTICED it when she met Seymour Plackert in the sheriff's office, but Frank was right. Plackert's mouth did look like a butt hole. He had chubby cheeks on either side of a small mouth that was perpetually puckered. He stood in the parking lot with the sheriff and two deputies. They had come to search the crew's tents for drugs.

  Frank was there, looking grim. So was Marsha, who was equally grim. Lindsay could say one good thing about her: she was loyal. Ned stood nearby, looking nervous. The professional crew who lived at the site were there. No one was smiling.

  Responding to a supposed anonymous call to Seymour Plackert, the sheriff and his deputies had been requested by the contract committee to search the site crew's tents and the laboratory. Only the archaeology crew quarters were to be searched, not the scout campsite. The anonymous caller was very specific about where the drugs would be found.

  Derrick walked out of the woods. He was wearing his camouflage headband and aviator glasses.

  "Have you gone into permanent combat mode?" Lindsay whispered. He whispered something back that Lindsay did not hear.

  They searched the lab first. Lindsay and Frank went with them to make sure that no artifacts were disturbed. It took about thirty minutes. After the lab, they searched each tent. It didn't take long. The tents were small and had few possessions in them.

  All the while, Derrick leaned against a tree with his arms folded. Lindsay couldn't tell what he was watching behind his mirrored sunglasses.

  "Nothing." pronounced the sheriff.

  Seymour Plackert's mouth pinched together in an even tighter pucker. "That's impossible!" he insisted in a high squeaky voice. "1 know it's here"

  "How do you know?" the sheriff asked. "Did this anonymous caller tell you exactly where it was'? How did he know?"

  "I don't know. I guess he saw the stuff." Plackert looked down at his feet, studying the ground. Abruptly, he looked up as if an idea occurred to him and pointed to Derrick. "I saw him in town yesterday. He was smoking marijuana in the park."

  Derrick took off his glasses and stepped forward. He was angry. Lindsay had seen him angry only once previously, when a professor made fun of another student's work in class. Lindsay braced herself.

  "If it was only yesterday, it will still be in my system. Let's go pee in a jar." He stepped close to Plackert, staring down at his face. The man retreated a couple of steps, visibly shaking.

  "That won't be necessary," said the sheriff. "Mr. Plackert, come with me to my office"

  "Me? Why? It's them. Filthy degenerates, look at them."

  "I need to ask you a few questions," said the sheriff. "Come with me. A deputy will drive your car back for you." Seymour Plackert's eyes darted around the group of people. It appeared to Lindsay that he was searching for a way out.

  The sheriff and the accuser departed, leaving everyone in a bad mood, especially Derrick. Lindsay didn't like to see his usual calm disposition overcome by anger, nor did she like seeing him unjustly accused, even with so feeble an accusation.

  "I think that will be the end of this nonsense," said Frank. "Let's get back to work" He turned to Derrick. "You all right?"

  "Sure"

  "No one believed him," Frank said.

  "Certainly not the sheriff," Marsha added.

  "I know. I'll get back to work in a little bit. I'm going to chill out a while." He headed for his tent.

  "I'll go talk to him," said Lindsay, following him to his tent.

  "Derrick? Can I come in?"

  "Sure." He was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head.

  "Derrick. What's wrong?"

  "What makes you think something's wrong?"

  "The way you're acting. You're always so ... so tranquil." She sat on his bed and put a hand on his bare chest. She felt his heart beating slowly and steadily. He put a hand over hers.

  "Tell me what's wrong," she repeated.

  "I'm thinking."

  "What about?"

  He raised himself up to a sitting position. "If I tell you, you must keep it a secret, or I'm likely to be in trouble."

  "Trouble? You?"

  "Yes, me"

  "I can't imagine what you could have done that could get you into trouble."

  "Late afternoon yesterday when everyone was gone, I was in a tree, of all places, down by the creek, at the pool."

  "In a tree?"

  "Yeah. I was putting up a rope to swing into the water. Anyway, someone drove up on a motorcycle, carrying something. At first I thought he might be a pothunter, pardon the pun. He went into my tent, then Brian's, and left. I climbed down from the tree and searched the tents and found two small plastic bags of pot.

  "What? What did you do with them?"

  "Destroyed them."

  "Why? Why didn't you tell the sheriff? Or Frank?"

  "I don't know. The packets looked so incriminating, and there was only my word that they had been stashed. I suppose I had an attack of paranoia."

  "Derrick, no one would believe those were yours, or Brian's."

  "I know. I feel really foolish, but it's too late now"

  Lindsay put her arms around Derrick's neck. After a moment, he slipped his arm around her waist

  "Derrick," she whispered. "that was foolish, but I won't tell anyone." She kissed his cheek and disengaged herself.

  "The point is," he said, "why does someone want us off the site?"

  "I don't know."

  Three o'clock came quickly. The crew quietly went about the tasks of covering the area and putting up the equipment. Angry shouts suddenly brought everyone to attention. The raised angry voices carried across the site.

  Lindsay and Derrick ran over to the dock. Frank and Ned were squared off, yelling at each other. Brian and Michelle were standing, watching, uncertain what to do.

  "What's up?" whispered Lindsay.

  Brian shook his head. "Frank came with this letter and started yelling."

  "Damn you, Ned!" The two were oblivious to anyone else present. "All this time when you've been going to your appointments, you've really been going behind my back." Frank was red-faced. "This is the most underhanded thing you have ever done. We have been working hard out here with everything that has been going on, and you've been working against us"

  "Should we do something?" whispered Michelle. "They look very an
gry."

  Lindsay shrugged. They all stood frozen, watching.

  "Someone had to do something. And I haven't been working against the site. I've been trying to save it."

  "Save it? Save it! It has never been in any danger except in your mind. Don't you think I keep track of what's going with the water project'? It's a long way off, Ned"

  "They are going to start testing different water levels..."

  "That's what you keep saying, but you are wrong. I don't know where you have been getting your information. It doesn't even make sense. But you may have single-handedly stopped the digging." Frank slapped the letter he held in his hand. "This says the archaeology department is going to review the proposal."

  "They are going to put me in charge," Ned said.

  "You? Are you some kind of idiot? You may have convinced them the dig is unsalvageable."

  "That's not true!" Ned yelled back.

  Lindsay noticed that Ned almost sounded childlike in his denial.

  "It's true," Frank yelled. "I've got to go defend it. As for putting you in charge, you won't be in charge of the backdirt pile. I'll see to that."

  Ned lunged at Frank, pushing him backward. Frank started forward, fists ready to pummel Ned. Derrick, Brian, and Lindsay ran to them. Brian grabbed Ned, while Derrick and Lindsay stepped in front of Frank.

  "Stop this." Derrick ordered. "It's scaring the field crew"

  Frank looked at Derrick as if he were the enemy. "Do you know what he has done'?"

  "I think we're getting the picture."

  "I suppose you are behind the so-called pothunters and everything else that has been going on," Frank yelled at Ned. "And the anonymous calls about the pot. Was that your doing as well'?"

  "That's right, blame everything on me" Ned pulled back from Brian's grasp.

  "Hold on, guys," said Brian.

  "Why don't you two go to opposite sides of the site for a while?" Lindsay suggested. "Frank, can I read the letter?"

  Frank handed Lindsay the letter, and she began reading. "It says here that due to the number of irregularities and sampling errors ... Sampling errors?" reiterated Lindsay, then continued reading, "... we find it necessary to review the research design and its execution." Lindsay looked up. "I don't understand."

  "It's simple," said Frank. "I got this letter when I picked up the mail at lunch. Ned's been reporting to the contracting agent and the archaeology department that we're doing a piss-poor job of excavating the site, and they may just shut it down. And the stupid little beggar thinks they are going to put him in charge"

  Ned started to lunge toward Frank, and Brian held him back again.

  "Well, Frank," said Lindsay, "I think you and I can convince them otherwise. We are all doing a good job." Frank had a stubborn set to his jaw. He said nothing. "Besides, look at the date they set for the review. It's not for several months. You know what that means. This letter is just to satisfy some bureaucrat that they are addressing the issue." She looked to see who got copies: the board members of the power company. "Frank," she said in a low voice, "I'll talk to Ned and find out who else is involved in this. I don't think this is just his doing." Frank relaxed a little and nodded. "Derrick is right," she continued. "The crew are a little taken aback by all this yelling."

  Brian talked Ned into going to the house. Lindsay and Derrick stayed with Frank down by the dock.

  "I just don't understand him," said Frank. "I know he has his little theories, and he thinks he won't be able to prove them unless the whole site is finished. But it will be finished. This is one of the better planned sites I've worked on."

  "OK," said Lindsay. "You know most of the archaeology department will back us up, and I know several people on the contract committee. Everything's going to be fine. We'll just convince them they have the wrong impression. I'll talk Ned into helping."

  "Over my dead body-"

  "We get him to convince the committee at the department that they misunderstood what he was talking about. They won't want to make a big deal out of this anyway."

  "Lindsay's right, Frank," Derrick said. "Besides, they aren't going to ditch the whole site after this much is done. You know that."

  "Yes, I know all of that. It's just that he was betraying me ... us ... behind our backs."

  "I know," said Lindsay. "Ned's paranoid. I don't know why, but he is. He's just gone a little overboard. It may be that someone else is pushing his buttons. Someone at the power company."

  It took until lunchtime the next day for the camp to get back to normal. Derrick was back in stride. Ned and Frank didn't speak, and Frank put Derrick in charge of overseeing Ned's work. The site was quiet again. Most of the crew were eating when Ronald the Radio came up shyly to Derrick, who was sitting with Lindsay.

  "Some of the scouts are saying I called the sheriff and told him lies about you, and now we won't be able to dig anymore. I didn't. I wouldn't do anything like that, honest. Sure, I was mad at you, but I wouldn't have done anything like lie about you to the sheriff."

  "That's all right. I believe you, kid. And nothing's going to happen to the dig."

  Ronald relaxed, then became solemn again. "I did cut your bow string."

  Derrick's sandwich was halfway to his mouth. "You what!" he cried. Ronald stepped back with renewed anxiety. "My bow string. You cut my bow string? Do you know how hard it is to make a bow string? Now I have to go kill a deer, and it isn't even hunting season. Then I have to dress it and strip and cure the sinew. I hate that"

  "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry"

  "Well then, I guess I can go to Wal-Mart, instead." Derrick grinned at him, and Ronald grinned back. Lindsay rolled her eyes at the two of them, picked up the remains of her lunch, and tossed them in the trash can.

  After lunch, Lindsay helped Jane with a burial. It had been a while since she could relax and excavate a burial herself. She was brushing dirt away from a long bone when a shadow suddenly blocked out the light. She looked up to see Thomas.

  "I have something," he said, calmly. "Really, this time. I know I have hollered wolf many times before, but this looks really neat."

  "Have you finally been taking your medicine, Thomas?" Lindsay asked.

  "No, ma'am. I'm just working on a new image." She followed him across the site. When they arrived, Sally was standing beside the excavation looking down into it and beaming with a smile. "There," he said.

  Lindsay was astonished. The smaller feature had indeed been a burial. The skeleton was in a flexed position facing the larger feature. It was the larger feature that was astonishing. It was a horse.

  It was not completely excavated yet, but Sally and Thomas had done a good job so far. The finished portions stood out in clear relief. She noticed the horse's teeth were worn down, indicating advanced age at death, but the most surprising attributes were a clay pot by its head and a healed break in one foreleg. An identical looking clay pot was in the burial with the human bones.

  "I've never seen anything like this," Lindsay said.

  "We thought it was rare," said Sally.

  "It's unique," Lindsay observed. "Have you shown it to Frank?"

  "Not yet."

  "I'll go get him," Sally said.

  "This is really nice," Lindsay told Thomas. "You've found something significant here."

  "Yeah, Sally and I thought so, too"

  Lindsay lay down on her stomach and peered into the excavated pit to get a closer look at the bones.

  Frank came with Marsha, who was now working at the site.

  "Look what Thomas and Sally found," Lindsay said.

  "I'll be damned," said Frank.

  Derrick came to see what was going on. He leaned over the edge and examined the horse. "It has a healed break," he said.

  "I know," said Lindsay.

  Others drifted over to have a look at what the excitement was about.

  "Are you sure this belongs with the site?" Ned asked.

  "Look at the pots buried with them," answered Sally, who w
as not going to allow her find to be reduced in any way.

  "Were the man and the horse buried together`?" Marsha asked.

  Sally shook her head. "These were two discrete holes."

  "It's a woman," Lindsay said. "She was old when she died. She may have had arthritis." Lindsay pointed to features of the skeleton as she talked. She examined the burial goods: a single pot and an obsidian knife.

  "Aren't stone tools rare in a woman's burial?" Thomas asked.

  "This kind is," Lindsay replied, turning the knife over in her hand.

  "Is there any other evidence of horses at this site?" Thomas asked.

  "No," Frank said. "None."

  "The space between the graves makes it unclear whether they were buried together, or even at the same time," Derrick said. "But Sally's right. The presence of grave goods with the horse definitely places it contiguous in time with Indian habitation."

  Lindsay lifted out the pot in the woman's burial and examined it.

  "Let me see the other one," she said.

  Thomas gently lifted the ancient pot out of the horse burial and gave it to Lindsay.

  "I think they were made by the same person. Or at least the same tool was used to stamp in the design. Look, it had a nick in the bottom that is repeated in the design of both pots."

  "The pots look identical," said Thomas. "Maybe they were both made by her."

  "This certainly raises as many questions as it answers," Frank said. "Quite a set of mysteries."

  Lindsay sat rubbing her fingers across the design on the pot, lost in thought.

  "Tell us what happened, Lindsay," asked Derrick.

  "Yes, tell us what happened." Frank smiled at her.

  Lindsay sat beside the burial. Derrick sat beside her. All the others sat, too, and Lindsay began her story.

  "The conquistadors were riding in the distant woods looking for a village that could tell them where to find gold. One man was riding too fast on the uneven ground, and his horse stepped in a hole and fractured its leg. The man abandoned the horse and rode one of the pack animals. The conquistadors continued their search for the gold and gave no thought to the injured animal. The horse hobbled on three legs looking for water and comfort.