"Ah, a simple syllogism?"
"If my propositions are correct. Look, Agent Ramirez, my boss would like to get to the bottom of this. We don't want a murderer on the loose for many reasons, some altruistic and some selfserving. I have already interviewed several people to that end. I will share with you what I learned from those interviews, no strings attached. I would like you to share with me. I am sometimes able to put clues together in effective ways."
"And modest, too. You didn't happen to get a look at the teeth of the man in the ski mask did you?"
Lindsay grinned. "You've been talking to the D.A. back home."
"He told me about your courtroom testimony in a murder case he prosecuted. He said the murderer was wearing a ski mask, and you were able to identify him based on a five-second look at his teeth."
"That was a lucky break. Teeth are something I analyze. I was unfortunate enough to witness a horrible crime, but the perp showed me a mouth full of teeth having a number of peculiarly distinctive features that allowed me to match him up with some corroborating evidence. I don't do that kind of thing every day."
"It certainly enhances your credibility," Ramirez said. "Tell me what you have found out about this case."
They were interrupted by a spray of water showering up from the ocean. Ramirez shifted uneasily.
"Would you prefer to go back to the island?" Lindsay asked.
"Yes, I would. I don't see how you can work here, fascinating as it is. It doesn't feel safe to me."
Lindsay went to Lewis and borrowed the key to his office.
"Do you think he'll share information with you?" asked Lewis.
"Possibly. Look, I called someone I know at the FBI the other day and sort of asked him about Ramirez."
Lewis smiled as if he appreciated Lindsay's methods.
"Ramirez is a good guy. Conscientious and honest. I think he needs to know about the ship."
Lewis shook his head. "I don't know."
"I'll tell him the importance of keeping it quiet-that it will give the Coast Guard a real headache if word gets out. But I think the possible existence of the ship has a direct bearing on these cases."
"Possible existence? Do you not believe there is a ship?"
"I don't know. What was it doing way up here?"
"Chased by pirates. We know firsthand how relentless they can be."
Lindsay smiled. "How about it? I won't without your say-so."
"Go ahead. I trust your judgment. But we need this resolved. I'm getting inquiries."
Back on the island, Lindsay led Ramirez into Lewis's office where they sat at the corner table. She brought them both coffee from the break room. As he put cream and sugar in his, she told him about her talk with Boote.
"I didn't learn much from him," she said.
"He doesn't trust you university types." He put down his spoon and took a sip of coffee.
"I talked to Isaac Jones." Lindsay related that conversation.
Ramirez confirmed Isaac's alibi. "Isaac was out that evening with Jeff and a couple of guys on the scuba teams. They stayed the night in Savannah and started back to St. Maggie at six o'clock."
"After Isaac, I interviewed the security guard," said Lindsay.
"And did you discover anything important?" asked Ramirez.
"That he is probably a well-meaning, decent man, and probably believes he has been guarding the two buildings well, but, in fact, has done very little. He prides himself on remembering names of people, but in my talk with him, although he knew most of the men's names, he knew none of the women. Both Gretchen from biology and Sarah on our scuba team have red hair. He appears to not be able to tell them apart, even though the red hair is their only common characteristic. He lives with a wife and has four daughters; even so, or perhaps because of it, I suspect that women are alien to him. He considers them frivolous, as I suspect they do him and his love of model trains."
"I think you have sized him up accurately. He seems to have seen nothing."
"I asked him if anyone was here the evening that Denton was murdered; he said no. But I was here until about 11:30, before I went up to Harper's apartment. While I was working that night, Mike Altman came into the lab."
"What were you working on?"
"I was doing a drawing of one of the skeletons and analyzing bones."
"And what was Altman doing?"
Lindsay related the conversation with the biologist.
"So you don't believe he came for graph paper?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"I don't know. At first I was afraid he might destroy some artifacts for spite."
"But?" Ramirez leaned forward encouragingly.
"I don't know."
"You know that places you on the scene at the time of the murder?"
"Yes, and I have no alibi whatsoever. Harper was asleep by the time I got to her apartment-"
"You're sure she was there?" asked Ramirez.
"Yes. She had made up the couch for me in the living room. Her bedroom is off the living room, and the door was open."
"Did you have any reason to kill Denton, other than that he interfered with your dinner?"
"No."
"How about John West?" asked Ramirez.
"What are you asking?"
"Did he have a reason to kill Denton?"
"No."
"Denton was angry at not getting the contract."
"That would be a reason for him to kill John, not the other way around," said Lindsay.
"Denton was making trouble, I understand. Threatening to sue, writing letters to the other bidder about abnormalities in the process. He said that West made dangerous changes in the normal design of the dam."
"Yes, he was making trouble, but in the long run, more for himself. The plans for the dam and proposals for all the bidders are on file. The plans for the cofferdam structure itself were reviewed by independent engineers. The only changes that West made were to add safety features. He didn't change the basic cofferdam design. The changes were in the internal rings that keep the dam from collapsing on itself. The pressures on this dam were going to beare-massive. In addition to the normal rings, he designed extra triangular braces. Things like that. He can tell you more about it. In no way did he make the dam less safe. And anyone, including the other bidder, would be able to see that."
"You and West see each other, don't you?"
"Yes. But that doesn't change the facts of the dam design," Lindsay replied.
"Do you know he was arrested for attacking a man?"
"Yes. His sister told me about it. I was working on a dig with her. She was there to observe our handling of the skeletal remains. This was a couple of years ago. It was the first time I met John, by the way. Their clan had just won a lawsuit to regain land the clan had purchased back in 1834 but that was taken from them a short time later. The clan had mistakenly thought back then that if they went the white man's route by purchasing the land and getting a deed, at least some of the Cherokee land would be protected from seizure. They were wrong. When gold was found in the area, Andrew Jackson took away all the land of the Cherokee in north Georgia and gave it to the State of Georgia, even though the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the land belonged to the Cherokee. Neither Andrew Jackson nor the State of Georgia honored the deeds held by John's clan."
"Was this part of the Trail of Tears incident?"
"Yes. That happened in 1838."
Lindsay sipped her coffee. It was lukewarm. She pushed it aside.
"Five years ago, John's clan went to court to gain their land back. Because of their original deed and more sympathetic modern attitudes, they won their case. John's sister, Emily, was dating one of the brothers whose family held title to the land prior to the lawsuit and who were being bought out and displaced as a result of the settlement. Another of the brothers, who thought she had used her relationship to spy on them, attacked her, and John came to her rescue. As would have my brother, and as I'm sure you would if you ha
d a sister being attacked. The charges were dismissed, as I'm sure you know."
"But he can get angry enough to attack someone."
Lindsay shook her head. "He didn't attack the man out of the blue. The man was attacking his sister. He'll defend the people he loves. I imagine he doesn't even have to get angry to do that."
"He said he was asleep on his barge all that evening," Ramirez said.
"I'm sure he was. Most of us here were asleep and therefore have no alibi. I know John. He wouldn't do anything like this."
Skepticism slid across Ramirez's face like a mask.
"I know. You hear that all the time. Sometimes it is true. When you mainly deal with the worst of people, it's easy to forget that good and honest people are legion." Lindsay could see she hadn't convinced him.
"He may be perfectly innocent. He probably is, but you, my dear, are in love with him and are biased."
"Consider, then, that I might be the kind of person who falls in love with someone for their goodness. If he were capable of murder, it would show in his behavior, even if subtly," Lindsay replied.
Ramirez grinned broadly. "Dr. Chamberlain, I see a handsome man, a man whom you would admire for his culture as well as his good looks. And I see a beautiful young woman. The kind of love and trust you speak of takes years to nurture. At this time in your life, it is all hormones. Trust me, I was young once."
Lindsay tried not to laugh. "I can't disagree that there is that aspect, but I trust my judgment also."
"And I trust my experience. Now tell me about Lewis. I understand he has run over a lot of people in his career."
"He has that reputation. He also has the reputation of making a lot of people's careers. I don't know him well, but I believe he is a very pragmatic person."
"Do you think he would kill if he deemed it practical?"
Lindsay had wondered the same thing the evening before. Having Ramirez say it aloud made it different from her only thinking about it-harsher, more unthinkable.
"No. I don't believe that everyone is capable of cold-blooded murder. Most of us may be capable of defending ourselves and our family, but to murder someone for gain or convenience, no."
"How about to protect a livelihood? A reputation? Do you believe everyone could be capable of murder for those reasons?" asked Ramirez.
"No. For one thing, I think most people are moral. Beyond that, I think for most people the payoff has to be greater than the consequences of the act. If you are protecting someone you love from being killed, the payoff is big, worth the risk. If, however, you are protecting a job or reputation, there is a good chance the act itself will bring about the consequences you are trying to avoid. Murder is forever. You can't take it back. I believe Lewis is a person who leaves his options open. If for no other reason, I don't think he would do something that couldn't be reversed."
"Interesting theory. How do you analyze those who do resort to murder?"
"Most murderers are people who can't control their temper or who have been socialized so poorly that they have no conscience or judgment. Some lack the ability to see past the short-term solution, and allow themselves to believe that they won't get caught."
"I'm not sure I agree, but-" He shrugged. "You may be right. What about Trey Marcus? What do you call him, the principal investigator?"
"I've worked with Trey before. I can't imagine his killing anyone. Again, there is no reason."
"Going back to your theory again. What if instead of protecting a loved one, you are protecting something you value very highly, like irreplaceable fragments of history or a protected species of plant or animal? Then would the payoff be worth the risk?"
Lindsay was silent for several moments. "You have me there. I suppose we would have to rely on the morality of the person who was tested. But the threat would have to be clear and present," she replied.
"Yes. You see, the problem with motive is that it varies with the individual. People will kill for an inheritance of $10,000 because for them that is a fortune. Others would not kill for less than several million. And there are those who would kill for tennis shoes." He threw up his hands. "Motive is always difficult. It is easier to rely on method, opportunity, and physical evidence, and worry about motive later."
Lindsay took a deep breath. "You won't feel that way when I tell you what I think the motive for these murders and the attack on Boote is connected to."
"Ah, you have something?"
"Yes, and please, it must be kept secret. If it isn't, not only us, but the Coast Guard will have their hands full."
Ramirez raised his eyebrows.
"There is rumor of another galleon-a silver galleon that sank in this area with hundreds of millions of dollars worth of treasure."
Ramirez set his cup down with a splash. "How long have you known this?"
"I don't know it for sure. It's a possibility, one that I have a tendency not to believe. I heard about it shortly after I got here."
"When I talked to Lewis, he knew the cross may have come from that ship?"
"Possibly from that ship, and possibly from the ship we're excavating. He didn't see the cross. As suggestive as it is, we don't know it is even an artifact. If it is, it's unprovenanced. That's a big deal to an archaeologist."
"Lewis could have told me."
"I'm telling you now, only thirty minutes later in this room with the door closed. Look, we really don't want this to get out. It would be like a gold rush. This part of the ocean is accessible even to people without the sophisticated equipment that we have or Evangeline Jones has. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like out here and how dangerous it would be for everyone if word got out that there may be a fortune in Spanish bullion here waiting to be found."
"Is that what the Jones woman is looking for?"
"I'm sure. She's using a minisub. We saw it the other evening."
Lindsay told him about the visit she and John had made to the Painted Lady. She also told Ramirez she believed that Denton wanted to win the bid because he and Jones probably thought the Estrella was the silver galleon they were looking for and they wanted an inside man.
"That's why Denton was so angry," she said. "It had nothing to do with his losing the bid for the dam construction. It was something much bigger."
"Well, this puts a different spin on it altogether. What was it you said-the payoff has to be big? This is the kind of motive worth the risk."
"When was Denton killed?" asked Lindsay.
"Between three and four in the morning."
"He had a bruise across his midsection from the rim of the sink?"
"Yes."
"Boote said Keith was stabbed."
"Yes, we think he was in water, perhaps diving, when he was stabbed."
"When do you think he was killed?"
"Boote first missed him fifteen days ago. We figure a few days before that."
"Was he moved sometime after death?"
"Yes, why do you say that?"
"Having been buried in quicksand, it seems like he should have decayed much more slowly. He was coming apart when we met him. If he had been dead only fifteen days or so, it suggests that the body must have been in an environment that promotes decay before he ended up in the quicksand."
"We think he was weighted down with chains and dumped in the quicksand perhaps a week or more after death."
"How did he end up on St. Maggie?" Lindsay asked.
"That's a good question, isn't it? Perhaps he washed up," Ramirez suggested.
"And to save Boote funeral expenses, someone put him in the pit?"
Ramirez shrugged. "If we knew that, we might know who did it."
"Who do you think attacked Boote? Could it have been one of the same individuals who attacked Nate?" Lindsay asked.
"I don't know the answers to those questions," Ramirez replied.
"Were these people killed because they knew where the galleon is, or to keep them from finding it, or for some other reason entirely?"
&n
bsp; "I don't know the answers to those questions, either. Is there anything else you know?" Ramirez asked.
"I interviewed William Kuzniak, one of the meteorologists. He was on duty that evening. He didn't hear or see anything, either."
"I talked to him, too. Whoever killed Denton was quiet and invisible." Ramirez rose to go. "If you discover anything else, let me know."
"Wait."
"Already?" he said.
"Keith had the peculiar habit of punching holes in quarters."
"He did? Why?"
"I don't know. But the first day I arrived on St. Magdalena, just after Keith disappeared, Boote came here drunk, looking for Keith, and fell into the alligator pond. Apparently, one of the railings was loose. After he was fished out and taken home, I found one of those quarters with a hole in it wedged in between the wood slats in the walkway. What if Keith was killed there and he dropped the coin? He could have gotten in a fight with someone and one of them fell against the railing, loosening it. Then, Boote came along drunk, leaned on it, and fell into the alligator pond?"
Ramirez nodded his head. "I like that. Yes. I like that. Then what?"
"They took him out to the ocean and dumped his body," said Lindsay.
"Yes, and-" Ramirez gestured his hands in encouragement.
Lindsay stood for a moment thinking. "Okay, they hauled him out to the ocean and dumped him, but he washed back up onshore, and-who found him and put him in the pit?" she asked.
"Maybe whoever it was thought they had gotten rid of him, so they tried an alternate method," Ramirez suggested.
"It was a lucky break for the killer to be the one to discover the body when it washed up."
"Maybe someone else-someone who didn't want the body found."
Lindsay wrinkled up her face. "Why would someone else not want the body found?"
"It had to be someone who knew the quicksand pit was there," Ramirez said. "Who knew?"
"The biologists ... or one of us who had become familiar with the island ... I'm sure Boote and Keith knew; they practically lived on the island before they were run off, I'm told. They could have told any number of people about it. For all I know, it may be on a map of St. Magdalena. That scenario kind of fits Denton, too," Lindsay said.
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