***
By the time I got back to Becklea with the four pizzas I’d picked up from Guido’s on the way, the excavation was well underway, and a small crowd had gathered outside Brandon ’s yellow crime scene tape. As the chief of police had predicted, Josh Rasmussen was there, along with Shannon, Paige, and Ricky Swanson. The latter peered furtively out through his curtains of brown hair, just like Venetia Rudolph’s lined face peered out through her lace curtained window next door. Meanwhile, Paige looked solemn and Shannon perky and interested. The small group was standing off to the side while Josh argued with his father.
“… invited me,” he insisted. “To help with the fix-up.”
“M-hm.” Wayne nodded, not even bothering to sound like he believed it. “You’re here to help Derek renovate. Sure.”
“He did offer,” I said over my shoulder, hauling pizza boxes off the front seat of the truck. “Two days ago. Derek said Josh could come, as long he could be useful.”
“And I wield a mean hammer,” Josh said, with a grin. Seeing his chance and seizing it, he moved to relieve me of the pizza boxes. “Let me get those for you, Avery.”
“Fine.” Wayne knew when he was outfoxed and outnumbered. “You can come in and see the house. And have some pizza. But don’t get any ideas about going down into the crawlspace to see what’s going on. And until we’re finished down there, no more work gets done on the house, either.”
“No more work?” I repeated as I followed Josh and the pizza toward the house. Behind me, Shannon lifted the yellow crime scene tape so Paige and Ricky could duck under and into the yard. “For how long?”
“It’ll just be for a day or two,” Wayne explained. “We have to make sure there’s nothing else down there. And we should probably have a look at the house, too, while we’re at it.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find anything in the house,” I said apologetically. “Not unless you look in the Dumpster. We tore out the carpets and the wallpaper the other day, as well as the kitchen and bathroom floor vinyl. The appliances are gone, and all the cabinets and closets are empty. Even the attic. We found a couple of boxes of old papers and books up there that belonged to Peggy Murphy and her little boy, but that’s all. They’re in the master bedroom, if you want to have a look.”
Behind me, Ricky stumbled over the first step of the stairs, and Wayne put out a hand to steady him. The poor kid probably couldn’t see where he was going through all the hair.
Wayne continued our conversation without missing a beat. “I realize it probably won’t be worth the trouble, Avery, but we’re the police; it’s what we do.”
“I suppose.” I opened the door and gestured the rest of them into the house. Josh headed straight for the kitchen counter with the pizza boxes, while Ricky and the two girls stopped in the middle of the living room and looked around.
“Nice place,” Shannon said after a moment. I nodded.
“It will be, once Derek gets finished with it. Nothing like your mom’s B and B,” or Aunt Inga’s house, “but very retro hip. I’ve been looking at some really cool mod light fixtures with colored glass for the living room and dining room. And in this bathroom down here,” I headed for the hallway toward the bedrooms with Shannon and Paige on my heels; Ricky was already in front of us, looking around as he went, “I’m going to incorporate some Mary Quant daisies and maybe some kind of funky sink and sink base. A chest of drawers or an old-fashioned vanity or something, with a freestanding sink on top. Something bright. I’m seeing pink, but that’s probably too much, you know? So I’m thinking maybe yellow or green. Something less girly but still bright and cheerful.”
I led the way to the bathroom, which looked anything but bright and cheerful at the moment. Farther down the hall, Ricky turned into the master bedroom where the second bath was. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do with the tiled brown and navy shower down there yet. The tile work was pristine, so I couldn’t see myself ripping it out, any more than I could see Derek letting me; I’d probably just have to find a way to make the brown and navy work.
Beneath us, in the crawlspace, I could hear muted conversation, and then Wayne ’s voice, calling Brandon and Derek upstairs for pizza. It sounded surprisingly domestic. The activity downstairs ceased, and a moment later, several sets of steps came up the stairs to the back door. Shannon, Paige, and I left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, where Josh had already dug into the top box and was halfway through his second slice of pizza.
Now, if it had been me downstairs, digging up bones and scraps of hair and clothing, I wouldn’t have had much appetite. In fact, the idea that such digging was going on, even if I hadn’t been a part of it, was enough to put me off my feed. I found myself nibbling daintily on a piece of crust while I watched the others tuck in.
Derek and Brandon seemed to have no adverse reaction to what they’d been doing. If anything, the digging had built up their appetites.
“So what’s the news?” Josh wanted to know as soon as Brandon had polished off a piece of pie and was reaching for another slice. “What have you found?”
Brandon rattled off, “Scapula, humerus, radius, five metacarpals, fourteen phalanges, a handful of carpal bones…”
“Sounds like you’ve found rather a lot of bones.”
Derek shook his head. “Not really. The human hand has twenty-six bones in it. Brandon has uncovered the bones in one hand and an arm, up to the shoulder. And he has just started finding leg bones. A femur-that’s the thigh bone-and a tibia and fibula.”
I nodded.
“No head?” Wayne asked.
Brandon shook his own.
“Did you look? Or is it missing?”
I put my crust down. A headless skeleton? Worse and worse.
“I’m sure it’s there,” Derek said reassuringly. “When Brandon got to the shoulder, he decided to go in the other direction. And leave the head for last.”
“As long as we get it out today.” Wayne bit into a piece of pepperoni pizza. Tomato sauce oozed unpleasantly. “The dental records are our best shot at getting an identification. Unless some benevolent higher power has seen fit to gift us with a wallet or a wedding ring with an inscription or something like that?”
He didn’t sound optimistic, nor did he look surprised when Brandon shook his head. “Sorry, boss. Not yet, anyway.”
“Of course not,” Wayne said. “That would have been too easy.”
Derek picked up another piece of pizza. “Don’t worry,” he said to Wayne between bites, “you’ll figure out who she is.”
“She?” Wayne glanced over at Brandon, who rolled his eyes.
“Dr. Ellis here thinks we’re looking at a female.”
“Really?” Wayne looked at him.
Derek nodded. “I can’t say for sure until I see the pelvis-the hip cradle is a dead giveaway-but it’s either a woman or a very young man. The bones are less heavy than you’d find in a full-grown male skeleton, and they also look shorter. Judging from the length of the femur, the tibia, and fibula, you’re looking at someone who was well under six feet in height. Because some people are long-waisted and short-legged, while others are the opposite, it’s hard to determine without the entire skeleton, but from what you’ve got right now, I’d say you’re looking at a person who was somewhere around five and a half feet tall at the time of death.” He bit into the pizza again.
“Interesting,” Wayne said. He pulled out his trusty notebook and pencil and made a notation.
Derek swallowed and added, “Also someone youngish. The bones are brittle now, but there’s no evidence of any arthritis or other bone disease prior to death. Also no fractures in what we’ve found so far.”
“So a young and healthy person, possibly a female, approximately five and a half feet tall. It’s not much, but it’s something. Anything else?”
Derek indicated Brandon, who cleared his throat. “We found a couple of little metal thingamajigs-grommets or something-that we think may have
come from a pair of jeans.”
“Thingamajigs,” Wayne repeated, straight-faced, his pencil poised. “That’s the technical term, is it? Not much help there, I’m afraid. Everybody in the world wears jeans these days.”
Including the chief of police, when off duty. I’ve seen him. A quick look around the kitchen showed me that every one of us, except for the two policemen in their uniforms, were dressed in denim, from Derek’s comfortably threadbare Levi’s to Shannon’s seemingly brand-new hip-huggers, which fit her like a second skin.
“Where’s Ricky?” Josh said, and it wasn’t until then that it occurred to me that Ricky Swanson hadn’t been standing here with us, partaking of the pizza and gruesome conversation.
“The last time I saw him, he went into the master bedroom.” I gestured down the hall. “That’s a few minutes ago, though.”
“I’ll go,” Paige said quickly as Josh made to push off from the counter where he was leaning. She gave him a pat on the arm on the way past, and he smiled at her. Shannon quirked a brow, and Josh shrugged.
“I went to the newspaper archives while I was out,” I said, wondering what the byplay was all about.
“Yeah?” Wayne turned to me.
“I couldn’t find anything about any missing persons any time in the past twenty years, though.”
He shook his head. “Before Professor Wentworth disappeared this spring, we hadn’t lost anybody for a long time. The few people who went missing always turned up within a couple of days. Some of them were dead, but we always found them.”
I nodded, but before I could bring out my other booty-the prom photographs of Derek and Brandon-Paige came trotting into the kitchen again. “He’s locked himself in the bathroom,” she said, her soft, little-girlish voice even softer than usual. “I don’t think he’s feeling well. There were…” she hesitated delicately, “noises.”
Wayne hid a grin. “We should probably get back to work. If you think you’ve had enough to eat?” He glanced pointedly at Brandon, who was still chewing, but who thought it best to nod.
“See you, Tink.” Derek bent and gave me a quick peck on the lips before he followed the others toward the back door. I watched him walk away then flushed and started transferring slices of pizza into a single box when I caught Shannon ’s eye. She grinned.
No sooner had the back door closed and the crawlspace door creaked open outside, than we heard a door close inside the house, as well. A moment later, Ricky shuffled around the corner and into the kitchen. And although it was difficult to see his face behind all the hair, he did seem a little pale. Shannon and Paige exclaimed when they saw him and started flitting around to see what they could do for him, which must have served to make poor Ricky feel even more uncomfortable and embarrassed.
I turned to Josh. “I came across your prom photos in the Weekly when I was in town just now.”
“My prom photos?” He reached for the pieces of copy paper I pulled out of my bag and unfolded them while he continued, “Why would you want to see my prom photos?”
“I wasn’t really looking for them. Venetia Rudolph, our next-door neighbor, told us there were squatters in the crawlspace two years ago. I was looking for information about that, and then I came across the article about the prom.”
Josh nodded, grinning at the photographs. “The Weekly does an article about the prom every year. Hey, Shannon, do you ever hear from Alan Whitaker? What’s he up to these days?”
“The University of Kentucky,” Shannon said over her shoulder, still busy ministering to Ricky. “Baseball scholarship.”
“Ri-i-i-ght.” Josh drew the word out, sarcastically. I could tell he didn’t really like Alan Whitaker. Josh, while adorable in his lanky, bespectacled, brainy way, didn’t quite have the golden-boy appeal of the blonde and athletic pseudo-Norse god in the photograph. Shannon rolled her eyes but didn’t answer. Josh flipped through the stack of other articles while he was at it.
“More prom photos? Who’s this? Oh, wait; that’s Brandon, isn’t it? And she’s quite a knockout, isn’t she? Wow!”
If he had hoped that Shannon would take an interest and come over to see who he thought was hot, Josh must have been disappointed when she just shook her head sadly, like a mother over the antics of her little boy. Josh’s cheeks flushed, but he continued gamely. “And is this Derek? Whoa! How long ago was this?”
“Seventeen years, give or take,” I said as Shannon abandoned Ricky to lean on Josh’s shoulder. He handed the page to her. Paige looked worried, and she kept her hand under Ricky’s elbow as they came closer. Just in case he toppled, I guess. Although I don’t know what she’d be able to do if he did; he was approximately twice her size.
“Who’s this?” Josh asked. I looked back to him and what he was looking at.
“Oh, that’s Brian Murphy. The man who used to live in this house. The one who killed his family. That’s his wife Peggy, in the bonnet. The Murphys had a son, as well…”
I broke off to watch Ricky turn away with a muttered apology. He blundered toward the front door and almost fell over a big can of spackling paste on the way. The kid really needed a haircut, bad. Paige started after him, her elfin face worried. We heard the front door open and then close behind them both before anyone spoke.
“What’s wrong with him?” Josh asked. Shannon shrugged, a tiny wrinkle between her brows.
“I guess maybe he got too close to the pizza?”
We looked at the pizza, a few feet away on the counter. Could be.
“I guess we’d better go, too.” Josh folded the papers again and handed them back to me. “I’ll go tell Dad we’re outta here. You’d better try to catch up with them, see what’s wrong.”
Shannon nodded, and with a polite good-bye to me, left.
She went out the front door, while Josh undoubtedly sneaked a peek at the excavations in the crawlspace while he told his father that the four of them were leaving. I folded the papers back into my bag and finished cleaning up the pizza before I headed out the back door and down to the crawlspace, too.
8
“What now?!”
Wayne turned with a bark when he heard me come through the door, and then he calmed down when he saw me. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Sorry,” I said, straightening up. Unlike the tall chief of police, who had to stand hunched over, with his shoulders curled and his head retracted like a turtle’s, I had plenty of headroom downstairs. “Your son left and took his friends with him.”
Wayne nodded. “He told me.”
“There’s still a crowd outside the crime scene tape, and if it gets any bigger, you’ll probably have to call in reinforcements.”
“I’ll go out there and keep the peace in a minute. I just hope the newspapers don’t get wind of this.”
“I didn’t say anything to them,” I said, trying hard not to peer past him to the excavation. It drew me, even as I didn’t want to look at it.
“You want to see?” Wayne asked. “From a safe distance?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“You sure?” Derek asked. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, watching, as Brandon labored on his hands and knees in the dirt. “They’re just bones. And it’ll probably be the only chance you’ll ever have to see a human skeleton in situ.”
“Let’s hope.” But I minced closer and glanced into the shallow pit Brandon had excavated, catching a glimpse of the discolored bones of an arm and a leg, before turning away. “Lovely.”
And then I stopped and turned back. “Is that a button or something?”
“Something,” Derek agreed, watching Brandon brush at the small, round object with what looked like a big paintbrush.
“Can I see it?” I glanced at Wayne, who hesitated for a few seconds before he nodded.
Brandon, who was not only digging, but also working on a schematic drawing of the excavation, complete with numbered and labeled grids, marked the location of the button before grabbing it with a pair
of tweezers, putting it into a small plastic box, and handing that to me. “Don’t touch.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, peering into the box. “Thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“Cherokee.”
“Indian?” Wayne asked, his eyes big.
I shook my head. “Cherokee is a brand name for a line of ready-made clothing-pants and blouses and such-sold at Target stores.”
“No kidding?” Wayne was scribbling in his notebook again. “There’s a Target in Topsham, and one in South Portland, too. If we can’t get an identification any other way, I guess we can go back through the sales receipts.”
“Unless she paid cash,” I said. Wayne grimaced.
“There’s that. Still, good catch, Avery. Thank you.” He took the box back. “I guess it’s becoming more and more certain that we’re looking at a female. Seeing as the button is pink and all.”
I nodded. “There’s a Target store in Brooklyn. I went there once to look at the Isaac Mizrahi line.”
“Did he do this Cherokee thing, too?”
I shook my head. “That’s someone else. I don’t know who. I actually came down here to ask what I should do now. You don’t want me to do any work upstairs, right? That’s what you said?”
“I’d prefer it,” Wayne agreed. “At least for the rest of the day.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow we may still be digging. We’ll have to dig up every square inch of this basement to make sure there are no more skeletons buried down here.”
“What are you expecting?” Derek asked, “A mass grave?”
“I’m not expecting anything,” Wayne answered. “It’s just something that has to be done. I’ll be very surprised if we find any more bones after today. I don’t think anyone has used your crawlspace as a dumping ground for murder victims, if that’s what you’re concerned about. We haven’t lost that many people, for one thing. And if someone kept showing up, dragging things into the basement, sooner or later the neighbors would notice. Miss Rudolph has been living next door for over twenty years, and not much gets past her. She noticed the squatters and the kids coming to make out. She called us about them. She’d have noticed someone else hanging around, too.”
Spackled and Spooked Page 9