"Thanks ... I think."
"I understand you were supposed to go with Derrick to Atlanta for the weekend?"
"Just taking your advice."
Michelle gave Lindsay a crooked smile. "Marsha will be happy, I'm sure. I just wanted to tell you, I don't intend to give up. You'll have to work hard to keep Derrick if I have anything to say about it."
"Thanks for the warning."
"Everyone at the site is really upset over this. I think several more of the scouts have left. Boy, we sure gave them a distorted view of archaeology, didn't we?"
Lindsay laughed, and her leg hurt. "I can't imagine what they must be thinking."
"Well, I'll go and let you get some rest. I really am sorry this happened to you."
"Thanks, Michelle."
Derrick returned as Michelle was leaving. "I'm glad you had company," he said, smiling at Lindsay. "Michelle's a doll, isn't she."
"Yep," said Lindsay. "A doll."
Derrick stayed the night and most of the next day in Lindsay's hospital room. The doctors wanted to keep her another night, so she talked Derrick into going back to the site where he could get some rest.
After the lights were out and the nurses had made their rounds, the hospital room was quiet. A light left on in the bathroom supplied the room with faint illumination. Lindsay drifted in and out of sleep and strange dreams. In one dream a shadow, slow and menacing, drifted toward her. A face slowly formed on the shadow, a hideous angry face, its dark arms raised above its ugly head. It was then that Lindsay realized it wasn't a dream. She raised up in bed, threw herself over the side, and screamed. The dark form came around the bed, raising the knife again. Lindsay rolled under the bed and screamed as loud as she could. Something clattered on the floor, and she thought she heard running. A few seconds later the night nurse came hurrying into her room.
The nurse turned on the light and helped Lindsay out from under the bed. "What happened`?" she asked.
"Didn't you see him?"
".Who'?"
"Someone attacked me."
"You must have been dreaming," the nurse said as she helped Lindsay back into bed.
"I didn't dream that." She pointed to a large knife lying on the floor.
"Oh, dear," the nurse gasped, looking confused. "Mrs. McGilles was having a rough night, and I was helping her ... I didn't see anyone" She started to pick it up.
"Don't touch it. It may have fingerprints."
"Of course. I'll ... I'll get the sheriff."
Lindsay stared at the knife while waiting for the sheriff. She brought up the face in her memory and tried to recognize it, but it had been too dark and she had been too drowsy.
"Are you all right?" the sheriff asked when he arrived. Lindsay looked up from the knife to the sheriff coming through her door, followed by the nurse.
"No"
He took out his handkerchief and picked up the knife with it. "Did you get a look at the attacker?" he asked as he took out his phone and called one of his deputies. "Andy, you and Ricky get over to the hospital. Now."
"I just saw an ugly face," Lindsay answered.
"I'm sorry, Lindsay," the sheriff said. "I have a man watching Patrick's door. I didn't think you needed anyone here. I was wrong."
"That's all right, Sheriff," Lindsay said, hugging her arms tightly to herself and shivering.
"I'll post Andy at your door for the rest of the night. Do you want me to call someone from the dig to sit with you?" he asked.
Lindsay shook her head. "Would you take me to the site?"
"Now?"
"Yes."
"You can't leave the hospital," the nurse said.
"Yes, I can. I'm scheduled to be released in the morning anyway." Lindsay got out of bed and hobbled over to the closet. She began collecting her things. She didn't bother changing clothes. "If you can't take me, I'll call Derrick or Frank."
"I'll take you if you're determined."
The nurse protested again. "You can't do this. This is most irregular."
"It is most irregular to have someone come into my room and try to kill me"
"We are sorry, but ..."
"Look, I don't blame you. I mean, who knew? And you have taken good care of me here. But let's face it. You aren't given combat training. I'll come by tomorrow to see the doctor and check out."
"But-" the nurse protested.
"I'm going," Lindsay insisted. The nurse looked at her for a moment, then sighed, shrugged, and gave her some extra strength painkiller.
After the deputies arrived and began making a thorough search of the hospital, the sheriff took her back to the site.
"Did you find the bullet he shot me with?"
"Yes. It was from the same gun that shot Plackert, if that is what you're asking."
"And Burial 23?"
"No, the gun is not old enough," said the sheriff.
Lindsay was disappointed.
"I think Patrick shot Plackert. He said some things." Lindsay rubbed her eyes. "Something about things she made him do. How it changed him. Made him able to do things like kill me. I know that is not a lot, but ...
"I'll investigate it. We think we know where Plackert was killed."
"You do?" Lindsay was surprised.
"Yeah, we took the notion that you really did hear the shot that night and estimated a time frame from what you were able to tell us. We know the flow of the river, so we looked for several places along a stretch of bank that might be a good place to dump a body. It turns out there's an old boathouse up the river. Mostly a shack now, but anyone could dump a body without being seen, just drop it through the floor. There was some blood in it. We're having it analyzed."
"I'm impressed," Lindsay said sincerely.
"I guess you've been wondering what we did before you got here" The sheriff chuckled. "Here we are," he said, driving into the parking lot. "You need any help?"
"No, thanks," she said, getting out. "I'll be fine"
"I'm not sure this is the right thing to do," he said.
"I am"
Lindsay limped over to the living area with the help of a cane the hospital staff had found for her, then hobbled to her tent. She stopped in the doorway. Someone was in her bed. Her first instinct was to run, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she saw the form more clearly.
"Derrick," she whispered. He moved in his sleep. "Derrick," she said, a little louder.
"What`? Lindsay?" He rose to a sitting position and switched on the battery-powered lamp. "Lindsay, what are you doing here?" He got up and put his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to a chair where she sat down. "You are going back to the hospital right now. What did you do, sneak out? How did you get out here?"
"The sheriff brought me"
"Has he lost his mind'?" Derrick looked around for his clothes.
"I'm not going back. What are you doing in my bed?"
"You are going back, and I just wanted to sleep here"
"No, I'm not. I'm not staying in that hospital with Patrick and whatever crazy maniac tried to stab me. No telling who will come after me next."
Derrick stopped, one leg in his pants. "What are you talking about?"
"Someone paid me a visit in my hospital room with a really long knife."
"What?" Derrick stared at her. "Are you hurt'? I knew I should have stayed."
"I'm all right. I'm just not going to stay in the hospital."
Derrick looked confused for a moment. "Okay. You were going to be released tomorrow anyway."
"Would you get me something to drink?"
"Sure. Stay here" Derrick slipped on his jeans and went out. He came back with a ginger ale. Lindsay took a couple of painkillers.
"Are you in pain?"
"A little. But I'm all right."
Derrick stripped Lindsay's bed, took the mattress from his tent and put it on top of hers, and made up the bed. He picked Lindsay up and laid her in the bed, then slipped in beside her, putting his arms around her.
&
nbsp; "What are you doing?"
"I won't bother you. I just want to make sure you're safe."
"I feel very safe," she said. She closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep. In the morning Derrick took Lindsay back to the hospital where the doctor examined her and pronounced her fit. He admonished her for leaving the hospital but apologized for the incident, as he called it. While Derrick and Lindsay were there, they learned that Patrick had died during the night, shortly before the attack on Lindsay.
Outside on the hospital steps, Lindsay stopped and looked up at Derrick. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. I wouldn't be if something had happened to you „
"I don't think I have ever had a digging season quite like this one," she declared.
"No. And I don't think I want another one like it," he exclaimed.
"Who do you think attacked me last night?"
"One of the Tyler family, I imagine. Let's not think of that right now. It won't happen again. I don't intend to let you out of my sight."
As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation o.1 'a single hone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after.
-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sherlock Holmes in Five Orange Pips
Chapter 13
LINDSAY WORKED IN the lab while her leg healed. Marsha occasionally worked beside her, sorting and labeling artifacts with other members of the crew.
"I haven't thanked you for sending Derrick and the others to rescue me," Lindsay told Marsha.
"I'm awfully glad I did. I really didn't know Patrick had kidnapped you. I just had a bad feeling about him driving off into the woods like that."
"I'm glad you saw it and followed through on your feelings."
"Me, too." Marsha returned to her work, which was painting a small stripe of white-out on artifacts and writing an identifying number on them.
"You're in danger of becoming a serious archaeologist," Lindsay told her.
"That is what Frank said, too." Marsha smiled slightly. "He said I should go to college, but I don't think I would do very well. I was never good in school "
"It gets easier when you're older."
"Is that true? I've always heard the opposite."
"I think it is." It suddenly occurred to Lindsay that Marsha was afraid Frank was trying to make her over into a scholar and that she could not measure up. Michelle's words rang in her ears.
Derrick came in just as Lindsay was about to say something to Marsha. "There is someone here who would like to talk to you," he said.
"Who?" Lindsay asked.
"None other than the queen herself, Isabel Tyler," Derrick said.
Lindsay looked shocked.
"My God!" exclaimed Marsha. "She came here?"
"Limousine and all," Derrick replied. "Lindsay, do you want me to tell her you're resting?"
"Is anyone with her?"
"The sheriff and Frank"
"I'll see her."
Lindsay grabbed her cane, and she, Derrick and Marsha went outside to face the grand lady of Tylerwynd.
Isabel Tyler sat straight-backed on a bench at a picnic table. Her diamond-studded hands rested on the silver knob of her cane. She eyed Lindsay for a moment, looking at her as if she were a lizard that had been turned into a human.
"The sheriff tells me you found a skeleton out here and have identified it as my sister, Augustine."
"It is not a positive identification, but I believe the bones we found are hers. Would you like to see the reconstruction I made of her face?"
"No. I know what she looked like."
"Then you believe that the bones are hers?"
"I fear they might be."
"Do you know what happened to her?" Lindsay asked.
"I have been afraid that my departed husband Edward, God rest his soul, killed her. She was a troublemaker, and she was interfering with our-what do you call it these days-relationship? We were in love, you see, and Augustine was insanely jealous. I have not wanted to believe Edward capable of anything so heinous, but he feared she had gotten herself pregnant and was going to blame it on him and force him to marry her." She hesitated, glancing at the sheriff for a moment, and shifted her austere gaze back to Lindsay. "The sheriff tells me that Augustine was shot"
"Did he?"
"He did. Then I suppose it might have been Edward. He was trying to save us from her wickedness, of course."
"Your husband was a tall man, wasn't he? Over six feet?" Lindsay asked.
"Six foot one. Very tall in those days."
"Then I can put your mind at ease. Augustine was killed by someone her own height."
Isabel was silent. Her blue eyes bore into Lindsay like icy shafts. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as her eyes. "How can you possibly know that?"
"Quite easily. Had her killer been taller, the bullet would have traveled in a downward path. The path it traveled in Augustine's skull was slightly upward."
"I suppose Edward could have been on his knees pleading for her to leave us alone."
"The angle is not that great. No, Mrs. Tyler, they both were standing. Augustine saw what was coming," Lindsay said, staring back at Mrs. Tyler with equal nerve. "She raised her hand." Lindsay put her left hand in front of her face. "And her killer shot her through the eye. She would have died instantly."
Lindsay saw a crack in the mask that Mrs. Tyler had developed over the years. The sheriff may never be able to prove it, but Lindsay knew Isabel had killed her sister. It was not Lindsay's frankness that made Isabel shudder, but the accurate reenactment of a deeply held secret.
"I see," Isabel said at last. She rose and spoke to the sheriff. "I will go home now." She turned to Lindsay. "Thank you for putting my mind at rest." But she did not look grateful.
Lindsay watched the limousine drive off, followed by the sheriff's car.
"Kind of tough on her, weren't you, Lindsay?" Frank commented.
Lindsay shook her head. "I don't think I have ever seen an individual so devoid of conscience."
"She has always been a strange woman," Marsha said.
"It looked to me," Derrick observed, "that she was trying to pin a murder she committed on her dead husband. I think the sheriff got that impression, too"
After several days of working in the lab, Lindsay told Frank she wanted to be outside.
"All right, but rest when you need to," he said.
"This will be a rest"
While Lindsay was taking up burial goods from a grave, an idea came to her. She stared at the artifacts. The items were important to the person they were buried with. In one way or another they defined their lives. She unconsciously rubbed her sore leg and looked at her watch. It wasn't yet 8:00, but the sheriff would probably be in his office. She walked to Frank's car, limping only slightly, got in, and dialed the sheriff's number.
"Sheriff Duggan," said the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Sheriff, this is Lindsay."
"Lindsay. I hope you haven't found any more bodies."
"No. It was just an idea. It just occurred to me where the photographs of the children might be "
"Really? Where?"
"This is based on the presumption that Jacob Tyler is the murderer, you understand. It seems to me that a magician might think the best place to hide something of value would be in his magician's paraphernalia. You know, in a secret drawer or something like that. You could get someone familiar with magic equipment to help you search his."
There was a long pause before the sheriff spoke. "I talked to Mickey about Jacob. I showed him a picture of Ned and one of Jacob in his magician's costume so he could see how similar they were and how a scared little girl might mistake Ned for Jacob"
"Really," exclaimed Lindsay. "What did he say?"
"Mickey is pretty tired of being the prime suspect in Peggy's murder and is opening up a bit. I think the idea that Jacob migh
t have murdered little Peggy got to him. Mickey said that when Jacob was 17, he was accused of molesting the daughter of one of the maids at the estate. The maid was paid off and dismissed, and nothing came of it. I have yet to find any incidents in Mickey's past, and I've been looking."
"Does that mean you think it might be Jacob and not Ned or Mickey?" Lindsay asked.
"It means I give your theory a lot of credibility. Magician's equipment." He seemed to muse over the idea. "I have seen Jacob perform. He has lots of fancy cabinets. I'll talk to you later." He hung up the phone, and Lindsay walked back to the site.
Derrick was at a picnic table drinking a large glass of water. Lindsay went over to him.
"You've been detecting again," he said when he saw her face.
"Just an idea. I called the sheriff about it."
"Tell me," he said.
Lindsay sat down next to him. "How are Michelle's dancing lessons going?"
"Pretty good. She's very enthusiastic. I think she'll make a good dancer. But not as good as you," he added. "I'd like to plan another trip for us as soon as you are all healed and free of pain."
Lindsay smiled broadly and took a big drink of Derrick's water. "I'm feeling better all the time."
"What is the idea you had for the sheriff?"
"It's not that much" She told Derrick what she had said to the sheriff.
Derrick nodded his head. "That's a good idea. You sure are smart, Lindsay."
"If I were so smart, I wouldn't have gotten in so much trouble this season."
"You have a point there"
"I guess I should get back to my burials," she said. Derrick and she walked back over to the site together. Derrick went to the structure he was helping Michelle with, and Lindsay went to her burial.
"Quitting time."
Lindsay looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. Derrick stood over her and the cache of bones Sally had uncovered. "Take me to a movie," she said. "I would like to sit in a cool theater."
"Sure." He picked up the black plastic sheet that was used at night to cover the pit Lindsay had been working on. Lindsay helped him anchor it down with large rocks.
A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery Page 22