A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery

by Beverly Connor

  Suddenly, Lindsay was being shaken.

  "Come out of it." Derrick's voice was almost angry.

  "Why did you do that?" Lindsay shouted at him.

  "Because you're crying."

  Lindsay put a hand to her face. It was wet with tears. "I didn't even realize it."

  Derrick took out a handkerchief and began wiping her eyes and pulled her to his chest. "I shouldn't have brought you here"

  Lindsay felt the steady thump of Derrick's heart. They said nothing, and after a moment she stopped crying and pulled away from him. Derrick guided her back to the Jeep, and they left the crime scene.

  On the way back to the site, Lindsay told him of the vision she had seen. "He had to have some kind of truck or Jeep to get out there, and it had to be inconspicuous. The little girls knew him, or he couldn't have lured them out there."

  "Then you think they were killed at the crime scene?"

  "Yes, I think so. I'll bet the tripod was knocked over in a struggle. Are you going to look for it tomorrow?"

  "Yeah, I'll do as you suggest, pretend I'm looking for an old broken one for spare parts. But, if you're right about him knowing the little girls and luring them away, he broke his pattern with Jenna-provided it is the same person"

  "That's right," Lindsay agreed. "I didn't add that in as a factor."

  "Your story fits the artifacts, though"

  "Many stories could fit the artifacts. After all, we never know if any of my stories are right." Lindsay was quiet for a moment, staring out the window. "Maybe the killer was compelled to commit the crime again," she said, "but couldn't do it his usual way by luring a child he knew, so he took an opportunity to kidnap a child he found alone."

  "You know, there may be two killers: one who takes the photographs and the other who ..." Derrick let the sentence trail off.

  "Maybe. Who knows? We don't know enough about criminal psychology to be making the assumptions we have been making."

  "I agree. Just let the sheriff find the killer. We've certainly done our part already," Derrick said.

  The sheriff made an arrest. It shocked everyone when Brian came from town with the news.

  "Ned?" Lindsay exclaimed.

  I don't believe it," both Frank and Derrick said.

  "Believe it," Brian said. "From what I hear, the sheriff has a strong case. The folks of Merry Claymoore are none too happy about us either. Talk about guilt by association. All that goodwill that Lindsay built is gone now."

  "Surely not," said Frank. "Ned is sort of a hometown boy."

  "Some of them see us as a bad influence," Brian said. "At least they are not assembling in mobs with torches yet, but between that Plackert guy being found dead here at the site after his run-in with us, and now Ned under arrest for murdering little kids ..."

  Marsha's Lincoln slid to a halt on the gravel. She jumped out of the car and hurried to the small group gathered in the eating area. "I guess Brian told you," she said.

  "Yes," answered Frank. "It's hard to believe. Ned is a first-class ass, but I can't believe he is a murderer. I hope Brian is exaggerating the town's reaction."

  "There is not a ground swell of antagonism, but some people are frightened." "

  "I'll talk to the sheriff," said Lindsay, "and find out what's going on."

  "You want me to drive you?" Frank asked.

  "No, I'd prefer to go alone."

  "I know what you're thinking, Lindsay," the sheriff said as he stood face-to-face with her in his office.

  "No, you don't," she answered.

  "Good, because what I'm thinking you're thinking is that I passed over arresting a resident of Merry Claymoore to get one of yours."

  "I don't make snap judgments. Right now I don't know why you arrested Ned."

  "I don't make snap judgments either. I arrested Ned because Jenna identified him."

  Lindsay's mouth flew open. "What?"

  The sheriff nodded his head. "Sit down, and I'll tell you about it."

  Lindsay sat down in the brown leather chair in front of the sheriff's desk and watched as he sat down in a matching chair across from her.

  "Jenna's mother took her to get ice cream. Ned was there, and Jenna pointed to him and said, `That's him.' Later, I showed her several pictures" He leaned forward for emphasis. "Mickey's among them. She picked out Ned Meyers."

  "I see."

  A doubt you see yet. There's more. Ned fits the profile."

  "Profile?"

  "Yes. You didn't think I was relying only on you archaeology people to find the killer, did you?"

  "No, I didn't assume that," she said stiffly.

  The sheriff frowned. "Both of Ned's parents were alcoholics. Did you know that?"

  "No, but that's hardly-"

  The sheriff held up a hand, and Lindsay did not finish. "He stayed a lot with his mother's parents, who lived in Merry Claymoore until their deaths several years ago. He was here summers and many times during the school year. What with going back and forth between homes and coming from a troubled family the way he did, he didn't make many friends."

  "But still," Lindsay said, "I can't imagine Ned as the killer."

  "Does Ned date?"

  Lindsay shrugged. "I don't know very much about his social life."

  "Has he dated anyone this summer?"

  "He came to the Locomotion with us," Lindsay evaded.

  "Alone?"

  Lindsay looked down at the floor, then back up at the sheriff. "Okay, he had a troubled youth and is shy with women."

  The sheriff raised his hands in a gesture. "You were ready for me to lock up Mickey Lawson because he's a photographer."

  "Lawson took all the pictures of the children."

  "That's true, he did. You do know that Ned is a photographer, too?" The sheriff raised an eyebrow and waited for Lindsay's response.

  "It is not uncommon for archaeologists to have that skill," she evaded again, then added, "Mickey is excessively neat and precise."

  "When you all were looking for housing for your digging crews, Ned didn't volunteer his home, the one he inherited from his grandparents. Have you seen it? It is a very neat place."

  "Well, sheriff," said Lindsay, "if you know students, you would not want them staying in your home either. All this is slim evidence."

  The sheriff smiled. "I agree, and I'm still building a case. But with Jenna pointing him out, I had to arrest him, even if only for his own protection."

  "Have you thought about Patrick Tyler as a possible suspect?" she asked.

  "Sure, but these guys are pretty much one dimensional. They usually have only one variety of obsession. With Patrick, it's females his own age."

  Lindsay sighed. "Brian says people are pretty mad at us"

  "Some are, but you need not worry. I won't allow vigilantes in my county. I'll keep deputies looking in on the site."

  "What about bail for Ned?"

  The sheriff shook his head. "You won't find a judge around here who will give him bail, not with the chance he's a child killer. It's best if he stays here anyway"

  "Can I see him?"

  The sheriff nodded. "Lindsay, I don't like any of this. I have a lot of respect for you, but if this guy's guilty ..."

  "All right, sheriff, I understand."

  The sheriff led Lindsay to the lockup. When she heard the steel door slam behind them, she felt panicked. Ned must be awfully frightened, she thought.

  She had expected the bars on the jail cells to be black. They weren't. They were tan, as were the floor and the walls. As she walked down the cell-lined hallway, Lindsay's loafers made hollow clicking sounds on the polished floor. The odor of chlorine and urine were strong, and she involuntarily put her hand to her nose. Someone shouted at her as she went by. Lindsay kept her eyes straight ahead.

  Ned was in a cell by himself, sitting on the lower bunk and holding his head in his hands. He looked even more lonely than when she and Derrick had seen him leaving by himself from the Locomotion.

  "I
won't be very far," said the sheriff. "Call when you are finished." He opened the cell door and allowed her to enter.

  Ned raised his head and looked at Lindsay. For a moment she thought he didn't recognize her.

  "Hello, Ned. Are you okay?"

  "I'm innocent, Lindsay. I didn't do this."

  "Do you have a lawyer?"

  Ned shook his head. "I imagine the court will appoint one. At least that's what it said on that damn little card they read to me "

  "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

  Chapter 9

  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 °"