She started to put her notebook back when she noticed that the post card she had borrowed from Boote was missing. She remem bered sticking it next to Rosen's list. She searched her desk and around the floor. Nothing. Perhaps it was in the university's SUV. She'd make a note to look. She hated losing something that she said she would return.
Lindsay replaced the Asian bones and took out HSkR4, the skeleton she thought might be Valerian. Odd if it were, with Carolyn conserving his possessions and she analyzing his remains. Unwilling to consign Valerian to an early death, Lindsay thought of the remains simply as skeleton 4. He was about five-six and lefthanded. His left humerus and left tibia had been broken and healed, but probably didn't give him much trouble. Other than the breaks, his bones were healthy, as were his teeth, with the exception of one molar that had abscessed and healed after it was pulled. It must have been painful. His muscle attachments suggested that he was muscular.
She was glad to be back working with bones and wished many more would be found. But it would mean they went down with the ship-a sad thought. Lindsay put the bones back in the tub.
"I have something for you." Korey came from the darkroom waving some eight-by-tens in his hand.
"These are the photos from the warehouse?" Lindsay took them out of his hand. "I appreciate this."
"Anything to help you find whoever did this," he said.
Lindsay put the photographs on her desk and examined them. They showed what she had seen with her own eyes and nothing else, no pattern or clue jumped out at her. The stain she thought might be the toe print of a shoe still looked like one, but it would be impossible to-she took out a magnifying glass and looked at the mark. She went to Carolyn and asked to see the manicure set.
"It's metal. It will be all right won't it?" Lindsay asked.
"Will this somehow help you catch the bastard who did this?"
"Perhaps," Lindsay responded. Carolyn handed her the folding set of grooming tools. "This is beautiful." Lindsay gently caressed them with her fingertips.
"Silver often gets a nice patina like that."
Lindsay placed the silver artifact on the bone board, measured it, and gave it back to Carolyn. Next she measured the same artifact in the picture and figured out the ratio of the two.
Korey looked over her shoulder. "You know, this is like working in a crime lab. I might put it on my resume."
Lindsay took a ruler and measured the toe print from the tip to the side where it began a slight curve before disappearing into the whole of the damp area. She multiplied her ratio by the measurement and looked at the stain under the glass again. It looked bulky like a running shoe. She subtracted for the shoe and did the math for the whole foot.
"Oh, I see what you're doing. That's clever." Korey bobbed his head up and down in appreciation.
"Just standard stuff," Lindsay said.
"What?" said Carolyn, coming to look over her shoulder.
"She's finding out how big his feet are," Korey said.
"What size shoe do you wear?" Lindsay asked Korey, grinning up at him.
"Who, me? Ten."
"I believe this is a guy because the feet are fairly large for a female, and he wears a size eleven to twelve shoe. I'd say he is probably between five-nine and six feet. But that is a very rough estimation, so don't go around measuring people."
"What'd I tell you? Just like a crime lab."
"Lindsay." She looked up at Lewis, who had just walked into the lab. "I wanted to say I appreciated your quick thinking this morning. It short-circuited anything Easterall was thinking about trying."
"I was thinking I behaved rather badly," she said.
"Badly? No, you were great."
Lindsay shrugged. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure, shoot."
"Privately?"
"Let's go to my office."
The corner table was becoming too familiar, and evocative of less than pleasant feelings. It was the place where all serious conversations were held.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" asked Lewis.
"If you have something cold, I'd like that."
He got the two of them cold Coca-Colas in bottles. Lindsay took a long drink.
"While I'm in your good graces, I'd like to ask you some questions," she said.
Chapter 27
"MAYBE I SHOULD have gotten us a stiffer drink," Lewis joked.
"I spoke with Tessa. From what she told me, it appears that Eva Jones wanted copies of a few pages of the original diary to compare with the pages she obtained from Harper's translation."
"Indeed. Then she was trying to construct a key. She has something she's trying to translate, do you think?"
"Yes, I think so, but the stolen diary pages could serve as a key to translating her pages only if whatever she has was written by our diarist. Or-"
"Or what?" asked Lewis.
"Or she saw the articles in the paper that suggested that the diary is written in a kind of code that Harper had to translate. Perhaps to Eva Jones a code is a code is a code. If that's what she thought, then she believed that the key to breaking our code would also break her code."
"Then too bad she didn't get a copy of some original pages. The futile attempt to find the code would have proved very frustrating to her." Lewis stood up and walked over to his desk.
"You know, I quit smoking a year ago, but I'd sure like to have a cigarette." Lewis let out a breath. "So, she must be looking for the silver galleon. I had hoped she was simply in search of the antiquities from the Estrella. Did Eva Jones tell Tessa or Mike about the silver galleon?"
"I don't think so. I think she is as anxious as we are to keep it a secret." Lindsay hesitated a moment. "Who knows about the second ship?"
He turned to her. "What do you mean?"
"Whom did you tell?"
Lewis sat back down and took a long drink of his Coke. "The president of the university, the chancellor, and a couple of businessmen." Lindsay closed her eyes. "I impressed upon them the importance of secrecy," he added.
"Why did you tell the businessmen?"
"I wanted funding."
Lindsay leaned forward."What do they hope to get out of it?"
"I told them that the contents of the ship are to remain intact. That they are artifacts."
"But you were counting on them thinking about the dollar value and forgetting about the prohibition."
"Of course."
"Whatever items may be found on the galleon, even bars of gold, are artifacts."
"Lindsay, once it's found, the state, the U.S. governmenteveryone is going to want their cut." Lindsay laughed. Lewis frowned at her. "What?"
"Cut. When the Spanish captains took the gold and silver ingots to the House of Trade, the assayer would take a knife and cut a slice off the bar to test for purity. They would keep the slice. That was their 'cut."'
"Ah, interesting-and fitting."
"They're artifacts," Lindsay said again.
Lewis took another drink and looked at the bottle for a long moment, then at Lindsay. "My father was a salesman. He sold a lot of things throughout his career-vacuum cleaners, encyclopedias, cookware, farm equipment. He liked it and was good at it. We had a nice house, he bought me and my brothers all the sports uniforms and equipment we needed for school, we had piano lessons and he sent my sister, me, and two brothers to college on the commissions he made from selling things. He had this maroon notebook in which he wrote down all his appointments, numbers, and contacts. When he came home from a trip, or a day's calls, he'd come in the kitchen and put his billfold, that notebook, his watch, and comb in a tray he kept there for that purpose. Then he'd hang his coat on the back of the kitchen chair and sit down at the table with Mother and they would tell each other about their day. Sometimes we kids would join them. He did this all the time I knew him. I was in college when he died. He came home one day and while he was talking with Mother, he had a stroke and died."
Lewis looked at a painting of an orchid hanging on th
e wall, his eyes out of focus, as if looking into the past. "I came home that day and went into the kitchen. My aunt had put a linen napkin over the tray. I lifted it to look at my father's things, and what struck me was how most of those things went out of use with his death. His billfold had his driver's licence, his social security card, his emergency information, and his maroon notebook had his appointments. No one could use them like they were. They could be keepsakes, but that's all. But not the watch."
Lewis looked back at Lindsay. "Those items were like a Mississippian ceramic bowl. It will never be used to hold corn or acorns or whatever again. Its use died with the people who made it, and now it's studied, or sits in a museum. That's what an artifact is." He held up a hand before Lindsay could protest. "'Any object or observable phenomenon whose properties are the result of human activity.' I know. But there is this quality about artifacts that has to do with their functionality being stuck in the time from whence they came. An ancient carved African face mask can never be a ceremonial object again, but is a work of art to be looked at."
"And gold?"
Lewis took out his pocket watch. "This is my father's watch. I can still use it to tell time. I can use it the same way he did. The gold is the watch."
"You don't think you are rationalizing?"
"I'm sure I am. But I'm not sure I'm wrong to do so. I'm not talking about taking the jewels out of the gold ornaments, I'm talking about the gold and silver ingots. Their use has not timed out."
"Lewis-I don't know what to say."
"Say you disagree. That's fine. But you can't stand against all the officials who are going to want some of the gold for some purpose other than sitting in a museum. Besides, do you know what kind of security would be required to keep a treasure like that together? The university couldn't afford it."
"Nevertheless, I'll work to keep it together-provided we find it-provided it's out there in the first place."
"Fair enough. I'm feeling very kindly toward you at the moment. You gave me enough information to halt Easterall in his tracks. Do you still need time on the supercomputer?"
"No. I got a friend to run my data at her university."
"See, more ammunition. It's not right that our faculty should have to go to another university to analyze their data because Easterall is hogging all the time." Lindsay shook her head. She had a sudden vision of Lewis and her fighting off invaders, him shooting and her reloading his pistols. "What were you doing just before I came up?" he asked. "It looked interesting. It had Korey and Carolyn excited."
"Oh, I found what looks like a toe print of a shoe in the photographs Korey took in the warehouse this morning. I think the thief is a male about"-she shrugged-"five-seven to six feet tall with a size eleven or twelve shoe."
"You're joking. You can do that?"
"There is a regularity of size in bones, that is why we can make stature tables. But, before you get excited-the print may not be from a shoe; small people can have big feet and big people can have small feet. This is a guess, it may be a complete fantasy."
"Still-it's a possibility."
"Yes."
Lindsay showed him a photograph of the lab floor. "Look at these marks here. I think the rectangular one may have been a book. This one"-she pointed to a stain that appeared to be about a foot long and a couple of inches wide-"could be a scroll of some kind-a map maybe. I'm wondering if this is some attempt to-I don't know-"
"Someone is still looking for information about the galleon, and for some reason thought they would find it in this chest?"
"Far-fetched, I know."
"Not as far-fetched as everything else that's been going on around here. You don't think Jones did this because she would have taken the silver and other items of value, but could someone have done it for her? Mike maybe, or Tessa, or one of the other biologists?"
"Maybe. I didn't confront Tessa with this, but I imagine Ramirez will."
"Do you think that Mike is the murderer?" Lewis asked.
"I don't know."
"Do you think Tessa sent you the warning message?"
"I confronted her, and her surprise seemed genuine. So I don't know that, either," she said.
"I think Ramirez will be focusing on them. I'm glad we have a rapport with him." Lindsay shook her head. "We don't?"
"Don't let his friendliness fool you. He's not our friend. He's not our enemy, either. There's been a murder-two murders, and he has no idea who committed them. Murderers can be as charming as FBI agents. Ramirez is good at his job. He makes you feel like confiding in him, telling him things."
Lewis looked as if his feelings had been hurt. Lindsay almost laughed. "And people call me cynical," he said.
"If it were social, he would be a friend. But this isn't. He suspects everyone."
"Even you?"
"I'm sure it crossed his mind that I may have sent myself that note to throw him off guard. It happens. I don't think he seriously thinks I did, because it doesn't fit the facts as a whole. For one thing, Teal was dead before I arrived on the scene, and I'm sure he tracked my movements before I arrived."
"Mine, too?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, Lewis, yours, too."
"I thought he was on our side."
Lindsay did laugh this time. "Don't tell me that you never operate that way?"
"Does this mean you don't trust me?"
"I never trust anyone who always gets what they want."
Lewis grinned at her.
Debriefing was short and focused on the excavation. Neither Trey, Lewis, nor Steven mentioned the break-in at the warehouse. It was not the finds that got everyone's attention. It was Terry Lyons, the meteorologist.
"It looks like Tropical Storm Harriette has turned into Hurricane Harriette-a category one hurricane. Category one means wind speeds of no more than ninety-five miles an hour. It's heading northward. That's typical. The steering winds are not strong; that means tracking it is difficult. Right now it's far to the south, but we will get some high wind and waves."
"If you can't track it, what are we paying you for?" called Jeff from the back of the room.
"So we can warn you in time to get your butts out of the way."
When John spoke, he had everyone's attention.
"You've all heard us test the alarm a few times. We will be testing once a day from now on at eleven in the morning. The test will be two long signals. The real thing will be the same signal over and over. It won't stop. When you hear the signal, it will be because the waves are getting too high. It doesn't mean the hurricane is upon us. You will have plenty of time."
"If the alarm sounds for real," said Trey, "the evacuation plan will go into effect. You should have had a copy of the evacuation plan in your original packet of materials. I'm handing out additional copies in case you can't find yours. Read it over. The general procedures are as follows: Everyone but the skeleton crew-you know who you are-will leave the dam immediately. The skeleton crew who remain behind will stake screening material over the wreck. Hopefully the screen will hold it in place. And we will flood the site at the last minute. Being drowned in water again won't harm it and the covering of water will protect the excavation from the force of any storm waters. John's crew will be the last to leave. They will remove the roof so that the wind doesn't uproot it and damage the dam. We are very optimistic about the survivability of the dam in high winds. The important thing is not to worry. We have plenty of time. If evacuation of the dam is necessary, you will not go to the island. The boats will take you straight to the mainland, and from there to an inland shelter we have arranged. Now, go have dinner and don't worry. The storm is a long way off, and there's no indication it's coming here."
"Yeah, right," someone muttered. "That makes me feel great. If it's not murders, it's hurricanes."
"And all diving is suspended until further notice. Is that understood? No diving for any purpose-except John's crew," Trey ordered. "The dive teams will either help Carolyn and Korey in the lab, or work on the excav
ation."
"We got a third choice?" asked one of the divers.
"Yeah," said another. "How about we do a little anthropological research on River Street in Savannah."
"Yes, there's a third choice," said Trey. "You can write reports."
The divers groaned.
John made his way to Lindsay. "You going to have dinner with Nate and Sarah on the barge?" he asked.
"Yes, want to join me?"
"Sure, but I can't stay long. There's a lot to do at the dam."
"I can imagine."
Lindsay put her arm through his and walked out with him. Everything will be all right, she said to herself. The hurricane will stay out in the ocean and John's dam will be fine and the ship will be fine. She searched his profile to see what he was feeling, but he wasn't showing any emotion.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He took her hand and squeezed it. "Fine. This is one of the dangers of building in the open ocean. Hurricanes come with the territory. My dam will hold."
"Hey, Lindsay." Bobbie came up behind her. "You staying on the barge or at Harper's tonight?"
"The barge. We're going there to eat. Want to join us?"
"I heard it was macaroni and cheese." She wrinkled her nose. "Luke's taking me to a little restaurant on the mainland."
"You tell Luke to watch the weather," John said.
"We will. Lindsay, I found this diving today." She gave her a long, slender spike tied with fishing line to a quarter with a hole in it. "The rod or whatever was stuck in the sea floor. It looked like a trap of some sort for something. I know you said you found a quarter like this. Thought you'd like to have it."
"How odd. Thanks. Have a good time and watch the weather."
Bobbie trotted off toward the dock.
"You know, after you raise them, they're on their own," John said.
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