"She is right about the blood," Ramirez confirmed. "Very observant, Dr. Chamberlain."
"He may have returned to the scene of the crime," said Nate.
"He may have, but the evidence against him was the blood, which they thought he got on him during the crime. To say now that he came back to the scene afterward no longer connects him to the event of the murder itself." She stopped a moment to let it sink in. "I think Sancho took the cross when he found the body. I doubt that a man like Sancho could resist."
"I think we have to give Lindsay this one," conceded Steven. "But to be fair, none of us know anything about blood splatter."
"Yes, Chamberlain," said Trey. "You have such an interesting repertoire of knowledge."
"Okay, Lindsay. Who did do it?" Korey asked.
"Any guesses?" Lindsay asked.
"How about the diarist," Gina said. "He risked his life to get the cross, and Lopez took it from him."
"I hope Valerian didn't do it," remarked Juliana. "But he had those dealings with Lopez, and Lopez wouldn't let him keep his servant in his quarters."
"I never liked that captain," Nate joked. "He was a wuss."
"I think I know who did it, and why," said Lindsay. "But all the evidence is circumstantial."
"Circumstantial evidence is very strong in court, if you have enough of it," said Ramirez.
"Okay, give, Lindsay," Bobbie said. "Who did it?"
"I think that Bellisaro did it."
"Bellisaro?" said Harper. "He hardly ever said anything. Why do you think he did it?"
"Yeah, Doc," said Nate, "how do you figure that poor guy did it?"
"I think he had the most powerful motive. The diarist describes that Bellisaro had a broken arm and leg that he got in battle, and that his injuries had healed well. The diary also describes that when the ship went down, Bellisaro fell through the middle of it."
"So?" said Nate.
"Here I have more evidence than you do. I thought HSkR4 was Valerian because the measurement indices indicated it to be from North Africa. But it has healed breaks in the arm and leg. He was found amidships, and he is left-handed. The diary describes Bellisaro with those former injuries as well as his falling into the well of the ship."
"So what?" repeated Nate.
"So his skull suggests that he is from Morocco," said Lindsay, watching all their faces, waiting for someone to get it. No one said anything. "Bellisaro was not originally in on the plot to change the ship's course. He had to be convinced, and the captain wasn't having any luck. Lopez told the captain not to worry.
"During the dinner that the captain hosted, we learn that Lopez knew a lot of people. The diarist mentions that Lopez knew Bellisaro's grandfather. He also hinted that Bellisaro might be offended by the salted pork, and wasn't it good of the captain to order chicken instead. Lopez also asked if Bellisaro was offended when Valerian and the diarist played chess. Each of those times, Bellisaro either refused to engage in conversation, or left the room."
"I don't get it," said Juliana.
"North Africa was primarily Muslim. Spain was still under the euphoria of the Reconquista, reclaiming Spain for the Christian Spanish and driving out the Muslims who had ruled the country for several hundred years. Military societies arose to award the faithful Christian soldiers who fought for Spain, like the Order of Santiago-one of the most honored and powerful, of which our diarist was a member. He recounted some of the privileges derived from being a member, such as exemption from certain punishments. There were many other more lucrative perks that made membership very important if you were to get along well in a highly stratified bureaucratic society like Spain. Bellisaro was also a member of the Order of Santiago, according to the diarist. There were also strict rules about who could become members."
"Oh," said Bobbie. "You had to have pure Spanish blood."
Lindsay nodded. "In particular, Christian blood."
"But Bellisaro had Muslim heritage," said Bobbie.
"Yes, he did. It was common for men to forge their genealogy. The payoff was big. And the loss for Bellisaro would be equally big were he to be discovered. Lopez knew, and he was blackmailing Bellisaro to get him to change course. He knew Bellisaro's grandfather and said so at dinner, probably for Bellisaro's benefit. He also mentions the pork, which Muslims don't eat, another reference to the fact he knows about Bellisaro's lineage and is rubbing his nose in it. It didn't matter that Bellisaro was Christian himself, it mattered that his grandfather was not."
"What about the chess game?" asked Juliana.
"The chess set had a detailed image of a queen-an image of a woman. Lopez mentioned it as a backhanded reference to the Muslim prohibition against images of women in their art. Just another suggestion to Bellisaro that Lopez knew. I believe Lopez wore Bellisaro down until he agreed to change course.
"Bellisaro was basically an honest and honorable man. He struggled hard to save the ship, and he tried to save the children first when the ship was sinking. But Lopez found his weak spot. Bellisaro didn't take the cross because that was not the motive for the murder and he wasn't a thief. The motive was to save his career and his family's position. It was the difference between wealth and poverty. Lopez could hold Bellisaro's secret over him forever, and that's why Bellisaro killed him-to be free of the extortion."
"Wouldn't Lopez have told someone, like the captain?" asked Sarah.
"To a man like Lopez, secrets are power, and he would only share power when he had to. He didn't have to tell the captain. Bellisaro probably knew that. But, as I said, this part is circumstantial."
Lewis clapped his hands. "You've convinced me, Lindsay."
"Me, too," Steven said. "I didn't think you could do it."
"Good job, Doc. I confess, you got a lot more out of the diary than I did. I'm going to have to read the thing again," said Nate.
Lindsay sat back down. "Good job, Rabbit," John whispered in her ear.
Ramirez made his way through the crowd to where Lindsay was sitting. "You put on quite a show. I enjoyed every minute of it. When the solution to our current problem surfaces in your brain, I hope you will call."
"I will indeed. Thanks again for the flowers. They're lovely. You going to take the cross?"
"Ah, the cross. The police asked me to get it for them. It's supposed to be evidence in an attack. However, there are problems. Is this the cross that was stolen? Who knows? I would have said, how many crosses could there be? But apparently, you have discovered potentially a whole shipful. Then, I wonder, is this the cross in the diary, and therefore an artifact of the Estrella? Who knows that, either?" He grinned mischievously. "You archaeologists present me with nothing but problems, and only solutions to very old crimes. You go get some rest. I would not describe your appearance in so unflattering terms as that fellow, but you do look like sleep would be welcome."
"I think I'll take your advice."
Lindsay went up to Harper's room and lay down, but couldn't sleep. The reality that someone here, an archaeologist, had tried to kill her, weighed on her so heavily she felt she couldn't breathe. She stared into the darkness trying to remember who was on the skeleton crew. It was so dark, the wind made her eyes water and her vision blurred. Trey could tell her who he had selected.
Trey-it wouldn't have been Trey. He was a friend and wouldn't have done this to her. Would he? No. The attacker was probably the murderer. John was there. John loved her. He wouldn't hurt her. Who else? Someone from John's crew? She knew only Luke. Could one of his crew have known about the treasure all along? That was a dead end. She didn't have enough information to even guess.
Who else was there? Sarah and Juliana? She couldn't see either of them doing such a thing. Steven, Nate? Why? What did she know about Nate? He was shot at, and he was looking for the treasure. Two facts, but what had they to do with anything? What had they to do with her? Steven? Steven was on the scene when they found the rifled sea chest. But as she had just demonstrated in the meeting, being there after the f
act proves nothing. Korey was at the dam helping attend the artifacts. He stayed and helped to secure the site. But why would he try to kill her? No reason she could think of.
Lindsay turned over, trying to find a comfortable position to lie. Jones, the person whom she was most suspicious of, wasn't even in contention. Or was she? It was dark. Someone from Jones's crew could have climbed the stairs and secreted themselves in the dam. No. Lindsay hadn't seen any ships on the sea, certainly not Eva Jones's sailing ship. They could swim underwater from the shore-no, the minisub. They could have come in the minisub, come aboard the dam, hid until they saw their opportunity, knocked her out, covered her up, and left the same way they came. But why? Did she know something she didn't think she knew? Did someone think she knew something? Did she let something slip at her meeting with Jones? Was it something so important that Jones would go to all that trouble?
Lindsay again flipped over on her back. What could she know? Or, what had she seen? As she puzzled over the question, she thought she saw a form coming toward her in the dimness of the room. Lindsay didn't think very long, she flipped over and off the bed and scrambled under it, feeling around for a weapon. The lights went on.
"Lindsay, it's me, John. Are you all right?"
Lindsay crawled out from under the bed, hoping the redness in her face wouldn't show up under her bruises. "I'm fine."
John helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But I'll have to say, hurt or not, your reflexes are fast."
Standing up in the bright light, Lindsay realized that under the bed was not the best of hiding places.
"I suppose I'm a little skittish."
"More than a little, but I can't say as I blame you. I came up to tell you that Bobbie and Luke are going to pick up some dinner. Harper thought you might want some time to get dressed."
Lindsay looked at herself in the dresser mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was black and blue, and she had put on her baggiest nightshirt.
"Are you sure you want to go off somewhere with me?"
"Well, when the bruises go away, you comb your hair and put on some nice clothes, you won't look too bad." Lindsay picked up a pillow and threw it at him as she went into the bathroom.
"Are you sure you feel up to this?" Harper asked, as she set up TV trays around the room for everyone.
"If I get to feeling bad, I'll just go back to bed. But I wasn't getting very much rest. My mind is too restless. And I ache so many places, I can't find a comfortable sleeping position."
"Want a sleeping pill?"
Lindsay shook her head. "No. I'm trying to get my brain back. It doesn't seem to be working too well."
"It was going pretty strong during debriefing," Harper said. "That was fun. I was thinking, for the book, why don't you write up your scenario and let me put it in as an appendix?"
"I'll do that."
Bobbie and Luke brought back a bucket of fried chicken, shrimp, french fries, slaw, fried apples, mashed potatoes, and more varied desserts than they could possibly eat. Lindsay curled up on the corner of the couch and nibbled at her food, listening to the others talk.
"Aren't you hungry?" asked Harper.
"Not much. I wish I were."
"You feeling nauseated?" Harper asked. John looked up, concerned.
"No, I'm just not hungry. I'll just sit here and listen to you guys." She wanted to ask them not to monitor her, but they were being kind, and that would be ungrateful. "My front teeth are a little loose, too," she said. "Hitting the ship face-first knocked the regulator out of my mouth."
"Oh, no," said Bobbie. "And we got fried chicken."
"That's fine. I've enjoyed the shrimp. Please, I've enjoyed what I've eaten. I just don't feel like eating very much. Lewis, tell us about the museum."
Lewis was not a man who planned small things. Really, his plans sounded fun-they also sounded as though he would have to do a tremendous selling job to the Board of Regents.
"Why don't you build a replica?" asked Lindsay.
"What?" asked Lewis.
"A full-size replica of one of the galleons, filled with reproductions of the things in it. One that people could go in and look around-turn the capstan and work the pumps."
Lewis didn't say anything for a long time. "I like that idea. After I talk them into the museum, that may be my next project. What made you think of that?"
"Standing on the deck of the Concepcion. As decayed as she was, there was something, I don't know-it was an exciting feeling, as brief as it was."
"Good idea, Chamberlain." Even Trey was catching Lewis's enthusiasm.
"I doubt the university will go along with it," said Lindsay.
"Maybe and maybe not," Lewis said, with just a hint of a twinkle in his eye.
Lindsay lapsed into listening mode again as Lewis told John about Nate's project. "We found the ship before we got a chance to plug in the data for the gold coins Lindsay found on the beach."
Lindsay was curious how the program worked. He "found" the Estrella in experimental trials using data for the cannons and other items. But those items were thrown from the ship. How could his program predict which way the storm carried the Estrella after the crew ditched the cargo? Meteorologists couldn't predict the last storm. Artifacts that were thrown overboard before the wreck should be treated differently from artifacts that washed away after the wreck. She imagined that Nate accounted for that in defining his variables. He'd have to. She asked Lewis about it.
"How the artifact was lost figures into the program. He's adapted his own model from other models explaining how different objects travel through a cultural system and become a part of the archaeological record-adding natural underwater current activity as a component in the model. Of course, he has to also take into consideration the shape and mass of the object. It's very complex."
So is bullshit, thought Lindsay. But she didn't say it.
"Looks like he'd need a lot of data on small-current vectors." Luke had his forehead wrinkled as if he was trying to think of how much data that would be.
"He has notebooks full of data he's been collecting and keying into the system," said Lewis. "I'm almost sorry we found the wreck before he could try it. Almost. It is a relief to know that we have it and not Jones. I've sent several notebooks of his unrecorded data to be keyed in by graduate students. It ought to be done in a couple of weeks. We can test his program on the coins Lindsay found. If he turns up the site, we're in the money, so to speak."
"Did you ever figure out what that thing was I found?" Bobbie asked Lindsay.
"No. I asked Steven Nemo if it could be used to catch fish or anything and I'm afraid I've let myself in for a lifetime of fishing jokes." Lindsay paused. "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to go to bed. Please don't leave. You won't bother me at all. In fact, it will be comforting to hear your voices out here. Besides, it looks like we still have food left."
Lindsay crawled into bed, sleepier than when she napped earlier. She wouldn't tell Lewis that, he might take offense. She smiled as her head hit the pillow. She almost drifted off to sleep, but awoke with a start.
She knew what the coins were for. Keith was staking the coins out on the ocean bottom on a length of fishing line and letting them drift with the current. He'd go back later, measure and record the place where the coin drifted, put the stake in the new spot and start over. He would repeat that until he had a description of the path the coin took reaching the shore. And he had done this for years. It probably worked. He had found at least three ships that we know of. Maybe more. He probably wouldn't have told his father, afraid Boote would give out his secret. All he had to do was to take all the data and work an average approximation of how the coins moved through the water. That's why he searched the beaches, especially after a storm. Looking for coins from shipwrecks. If he could find coins, he could find the ship. He didn't need to go all the way back 440 years ago. Just the last storm would do.
It was really a better experiment than Nat
e's convoluted program because he was taking a direct measure of an object and applying the conclusions to that same object. Keith Teal, in effect, had taken Occam's razor to Nate's program-variables shouldn't be multiplied needlessly. Keith used only coins-he only needed coins. And he didn't need all the other data, just his average vectors. He didn't need all Nate's fancy complex variables.
Lindsay sat up in bed, struggling to remember all those things in her head that made shadows but would not show themselves. She got out of bed quickly and dressed. Harper was asleep on the couch. She took her key and tiptoed to the door and locked it behind her on the way out. As she descended the stairs, she thought she heard voices. It sounded as though Dale the security guard and William the meteorologist were talking by the front desk.
She went down to the lab to her desk to search for Keith's post card that Boote had loaned her. It must have fallen out of her notebook. She searched every drawer. She went to Carolyn's and Korey's desks, thinking that perhaps the card had fallen on the floor and either Korey or Carolyn might have picked it up. Nothing in Korey's drawers or around his workplace. Carolyn had a phone message from the Smithsonian weighted down with a book about the Chinese box. Lindsay gave it a brief glance"lacquer's main ingredient from Oriental lacquer tree is urushiol. Ha ..."-the rest was covered up. Lindsay searched the desk drawers. Nothing. She looked on the floor.
"Hi. Dr. Chamberlain, isn't it?"
Lindsay started and looked up. It was one of the new security guards. "Hi. Yes, I'm Dr. Chamberlain. I'm sorry. I forgot your name."
"Tom Bowers. Shouldn't you be in bed? The last time I saw you-
"I know, I looked half dead. I lost a post card and felt the need to find it. How is everything here?"
"Fine. Our friend Dale is manning the front desk just fine; Robert is at the warehouse. It's all very quiet."
LC 04 - Skeleton Crew Page 34