The soak in the tub did wonders for her muscles. She was dressed and applying makeup when her phone rang. It was A. K.
“Find any dinosaur bones?” she asked.
“Believe me. It would make the recovery less emotional if that was the subject of our exploration. You wouldn’t believe how many human bones we’ve found. Martha has a theory as to what might have happened there.”
Susan told A. K. about the history of the Chitimacha and the account from that historical tome, the one that claimed they had murdered a priest. She also expressed her doubt as to the veracity of the account.
“Knowing you, you’ll find a way to get to the truth.”
After applying a light spray of perfume, Susan pushed away from her dresser. “Do you have plans for tonight?”
“Jack and I are going to try that new Italian place they opened in Hammond, Sofia’s. I heard it was really good.”
“Why don’t Wesley and I join you? He’s picking me up at seven-thirty. We could meet you there about eight.”
“Great. We’re past due for a night out.”
“Dinner only, friend. I have to be ready to go with Martha in the morning.”
Chapter 17
Susan and Wesley arrived early at Sophia’s. They selected a table and had ordered drinks by the time A. K. and Jack arrived.
As usual, A. K. was fashionably late. “What do you think of the place?” she asked, as she and Jack took a seat.
“If the food is half as good as the décor, we should be in for a real treat,” Susan said.
Off the main dining room, alcoves offered a more intimate dining experience. Overhead, a network of vines and leaves weaved around hanging clusters of grapes. White tablecloths, candles in glass globes, and background Italian music added to the ambiance. One whiff of delicious aromas from nearby tables had Susan salivating.
A. K. and Jack ordered drinks. A few moments later, the waiter returned with their order, along with warm bread and butter. While everyone munched on the bread, they engaged in conversation. Jack had been inundated with surgeries and regretted not having had more time to spend with A. K. Wesley sympathized and said he totally understood.
“What’s the news on the latest murder victim?” A. K. asked. “Any idea as to the killer?”
“I’m afraid not. We seem to have hit a brick wall.” Wesley grabbed Susan’s hand. “I sure could use another of your visions about now. I’m all out of leads.”
“What about Kara?” Susan asked. “Her Tarot cards haven’t pointed to anything?”
“For a while, I thought she was on to something. She said that after Nina’s murder, the cards continued leading her to the letter N. That was in the back of my mind when Charlie and I executed a search warrant on the high school for anything belonging to Dale Burkett. He also worked there as a janitor. As we were leaving, the principal mentioned that another worker, Leonidas Manika, knew Burkett. Then he said the staff had difficulty with Manika’s name, so they decided to call him Nick. Bingo, an N.
“Of course, I wanted to question Manika, but the principal said he had quit and moved to Tennessee. Best I could do was have the Sheriff’s Department in Tennessee question him. I was hoping Kara had finally hit on something, but Charlie got a call from the authorities this afternoon. Manika had an air-tight alibi. Witnesses can place him in Tennessee during the time of those murders.”
“Boy, you are striking out,” A. K. said. “Since Susan and Kara are no help, maybe I should consult my crystal ball.”
“We both know that wouldn’t work,” Jack said, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that gypsy costume again.”
A. K. gave him a big smooch on the cheek.
“Speaking of costumes, I imagine sales have slowed down following Halloween,” Susan said.
“Honey, sales are never down when I’m in charge. If necessary, I’ll invent a holiday between holidays, anything to draw in customers. Right now that won’t be necessary. Thanksgiving is on the horizon. And what’s Thanksgiving without elementary schools re-enacting that first dinner in the new world. I’m delivering pilgrim and Indian costumes all next week. As far as sales at the boutique go, Melanie is still working the pre-Christmas discounts, and the register is smoking.”
“You are a jewel. I have to admit, these last few days have lowered my stress level. I’m really into this archeology thing and plan to go on digs in the future. You should go with me.”
“You gotta be kidding.” A. K. flashed her nails. “And break one of these babies? No way!”
“Well, I shouldn’t be away much longer. When I return, I’ll make it up to all of you.”
Everyone ordered something different—chicken Marsala, eggplant parmesan, lasagna, and chicken fettuccini Alfredo. Forks crisscrossed the table as everyone took a taste of each entrée, all of which were excellent. Afterwards, they all splurged on Gelato. Susan figured she’d work off the extra pounds the next day at the site. As it turned out, Wesley stayed the night, and she got a jump on burning off the calories.
For the next several days, Susan worked alongside Martha, and Wesley continued his investigation into Burkett’s murder. He and Charlie had designated a large area to search. To his dismay, the cadaver dog did not alert on anything. Neither did Susan have any visions that might help Wesley. The only remaining mystery was the person Susan saw near the cabin. Once again, Wesley followed possible escape routes the person could have traveled. He searched for pieces of cloth, hairs, blood, or anything that would confirm someone had passed that way. He found nothing.
Susan offered encouragement, but he and Charlie would have none of it. It was their job to find answers, and they had failed. Susan was at a loss as to how to help him.
Martha, on the other hand, was ecstatic with the team’s progress. Most of the areas had been fully explored and the remains recovered. The dig was successful and nearing completion. Susan and Martha continued to excavate the assumed creek bed. That location, however, proved fruitless for human remains.
All the while, Susan kept waiting for the Indian to appear, but he didn’t, not since that first day when he had pointed to the location of numerous remains. Susan could only attribute his absence to the presence of the excavation team. Then again, he had appeared at the fun run. But that was different. There, he had blended in, even to Susan. She had not realized he was an illusion until he appeared to her in broad daylight.
“I’d thought by now we would have had a visit from your invisible friend,” Martha said.
“I was thinking the same thing. Guess he doesn’t like your friends. I tell you what. Tomorrow, after everyone leaves, I’ll try and summon him.”
The last day of the dig arrived. It consisted mostly of cleaning up the site. The team removed the lines of the grid, and returned the landscape, as best they could, to its original state. A scattering of leaves over the newly turned ground helped to hide evidence of their digging. Martha collected all the notebooks, which contained descriptions and locations of specific items. She had already collected all the remains. She thanked everyone for their help and hoped she could count on them in the future. By noon, the last of the team had left. Martha and Susan were alone.
“Did you bring the arrowhead?”
Susan patted her fanny pack. “Of course.”
“Then let’s see if you can get the Indian to appear. It would be nice to say goodbye, let him know his people will have a proper burial.”
“I hope I can do more than that, maybe I can get to the truth. I finally realized what was bugging me. Something was wrong with the story you told me about the priest.”
“What do you mean? My account was based on early records. That’s the only thing we have to go on.”
“Yes, but it didn’t make sense, not with what you told me earlier about the lifestyle and dress of the Chitimacha. Why would any Chitimacha want the priest’s rosary? They had no use for beads or any adornment except body paint.”
“I didn’t think about that.”
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“What if the other tribe intentionally accused the Chitimacha? Or what if some renegade braves killed the priest? The search party could have been so blinded by rage that they attacked the first Chitimacha village they found.”
“So, do you plan to find out if that’s what happened?”
“You’ll see.”
Susan reached into the fanny pack and pulled out the arrowhead. As she closed her hand around the stone, it grew warm. “Are you here? I don’t see you. Please, I have much to tell you.” As she stared at the woods, a mist appeared then dissipated. In its place, the Indian came into focus.
“He’s here,” she said to Martha. “No more than five feet away and next to that Sycamore tree.”
Martha stared in that direction, her eyes moving back and forth, looking for what she could not see.
There was no doubt in Susan’s mind that Tasha saw him. She lay down, but kept her eyes trained where the Indian stood.
Susan noticed something different about him. The look of sadness he had worn every time she had seen him had vanished. His lackluster eyes now sparkled. There was a glow about him. “We’ve finished our work here. All of the remains have been recovered.”
Something close to a smile crossed his lips.
“I take it you are pleased. Am I correct in assuming you can understand me, even though you cannot speak with me?”
He nodded.
“Then listen carefully. I have something important to tell you.” She pointed to Martha. “My friend has a book that contains records about your people and the history of this area. We don’t agree with what it said. Only you can tell me the truth.”
Once again, Susan reached into her fanny pack and pulled out a piece of paper. She held the paper so the Indian could see what it revealed—a photograph of a French priest, dressed as he would have been in 1706.
A frown crossed his brow, and his eyes narrowed.
“The book said that the Chitimacha killed such a priest somewhere along the Mississippi River. Did you ever hear such a story?”
The Indian indicated that he had.
“The book went on to say that a group of settlers searched for the Chitimacha. When they found the village, they massacred the inhabitants.” Susan waved her hand over the excavation site. “Is that what happened here?”
The Indian dropped to his knees, and tears filled his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked skyward, as if praying.
“Did men from your village kill the priest?”
He shook his head hard, and clenched his hands into fists.
“Legend has it that whoever killed the priest also stole his rosary.” She pulled her grandmother’s rosary from the fanny pack and held it out to him. The large cross at the end swung back and forth.
He sprang to his feet. Anger flashed in his eyes. He held out his arms, palms facing her, as if to push the item away.
“The sight of this upsets you? Is it because you know who stole the rosary from the priest?”
He gave one sharp nod.
“Was he a Chitimacha?”
Again, he indicated that it was.
“Was he a member of your village?”
He glared at Susan as he shook his head.
Before Susan could say anything else, the Indian pounded his chest with his fist, then he opened his hand and quickly drew it across his neck.
Susan got the message. “You killed him?”
He didn’t have to answer. She could read it in his eyes. Susan turned to Martha. “A Chitimacha killed the priest, but the Brave was not from his village. He knew who stole the rosary, and he killed him.”
“Oh my goodness,” Martha said. “You were right. How sad the truth will never be known.”
“At least, we’ll know. I believe this was his mission all along. And by the truth being revealed, his people will once again be united and at peace.” Susan put her hand on Martha’s arm. Looking at the Indian, she said, “Martha wants you to know that your people will be given a proper burial. They will not be forgotten.”
Tasha broke her fixation on the Indian and looked somewhere beyond the excavation site. Her ears lay back, and she crawled, whimpering, next to Martha.
“What is it, girl?” Martha asked.
Susan looked at Tasha and smiled. “It’s all right, Martha. She’s aware of their presence.”
“Whose presence? I don’t have your gift, remember?”
“Give me your hand. This might not work, but it’s worth a try.” Susan placed the arrowhead in Martha’s palm and closed her own hand around Martha’s.
“Oh,” Martha said. “I hear laughter...children’s laughter.”
“I wish you could see them. They’re coming from everywhere and gathering near the site. The little ones are skipping around the adults. There are so many, I can’t count them all.”
“Is your Indian friend still here?”
“He is, and a woman and small child have joined him. He has his arm around her shoulders, and she’s hugging his waist. Oh, Martha, for the first time, he’s really smiling. Now, all of them are walking away, heading deeper into the woods.” Susan strained to keep them in sight. “Wait. My Indian friend has stopped. He’s turned back and is looking at me. His hand is over his heart, and now he extends it toward me. I suppose it’s his way of saying, ‘Goodbye’.”
“I can barely hear the children,” Martha said.
“A mist is drifting downward through the trees, engulfing the group, swallowing up the sounds. I’m having a hard time distinguishing the people. I know I’ll never see my visitor again.” Susan wiped the tears from her eyes. “Goodbye, my friend.”
Susan released Martha’s hand.
“Are they gone?” Martha asked, as she returned the arrowhead to Susan.
“They vanished with the mist.”
Martha reached down and patted the Doberman. “It seems Tasha also has a special gift. Next time I catch her staring into space, I won’t be so quick to say, ‘It’s nothing, girl.’ But it’ll scare the hell out of me wondering what’s there.” Martha took a deep, long breath. “We’re not crazy, are we? I mean, no one would ever believe what we just experienced.”
Susan laughed through her tears. She put her arm around Martha and gave her a hug. “No, we’re not crazy, but you might want to keep this to yourself.”
As they made their way back to Martha’s truck, Susan kept thinking how the arrowhead had channeled the sounds of the children. She was curious to see if it still had any residual magic. After they loaded the ATV into the truck’s bed, Susan removed the stone from the fanny pack. Squeezing her hand around it, she waited for it to grow warm. It didn’t. The arrowhead remained as cold as any stone. Susan had surmised as much. Her viable conduit was now merely a reminder of the past.
Since most of her latest vision had been resolved, she looked forward to getting back to the boutique and into a normal routine. Only the figure by the cabin remained a mystery. Was it possible that person was also an illusion, a part of the Indian’s past? She supposed anything was possible. One thing was sure, Wesley would never give up until he solved that last piece of the puzzle.
Susan arrived home happy and revitalized. She was especially thrilled that the Indians had finally found peace. Pulling the arrowhead from the fanny pack, she gave it a kiss and placed it on her dresser. From now on, it would serve as her good luck charm.
After a long, luxurious soak in the tub, she slipped into a pair of black slacks and a black-and-white sweater. A necklace of gold and black baubles and matching earrings topped off her outfit. She looked in the mirror, satisfied with what she saw. All dressed up and no place to go, she thought. That didn’t matter. After several days in jeans and tee shirts, she felt the need to get back into something fashionable. So what if she didn’t have any plans. She had had enough excitement for one day.
She wiggled her toes and slipped her feet into a pair of flats. Tomorrow and a pair of high heels would come soon enough. Thinking about tha
t, she picked up the phone and called A. K. “We finished the excavation. I’ll be back at the boutique in the morning.”
“So, did you ever find out why the Indian was appearing to you?”
Susan told A. K. everything—the history about the Chitimacha, the story about the priest, and how she managed to get the real story from the Indian. “It was all so beautiful, and yet, so sad. I cried when they walked away and vanished into a mist.”
“Wow, that’s some story. You should write a novel about it. Of course, you’d have to claim it as fiction. If you claimed it was the truth, the little men in white jackets would come and cart you away.” She giggled. “Girlfriend, I’m glad it’s over, and you’ll be back at the boutique.”
“Well, it’s not all over. The person I saw by the cabin still remains a mystery.”
“Hey, if the Indian left, it’s over. That person probably has something to do with Wesley’s case. Let him solve that.”
“You might be right. Uh, speaking of Wesley, he’s at my front door. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You in there?” Wesley called again for the second time.
“Coming,” Susan replied, hurrying down the hall. “I was on the phone with A. K.,” she said as she opened the door. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, and that’s the problem.”
“Come in. I’ll get us something to drink.”
Wesley took a seat on the couch, and Susan brought him a cold beer. She poured herself a glass of wine.
“Wow, you look terrific. Were you going somewhere?”
“Nope, just wanted to leave the woods behind me and feel something luscious and soft against my skin.”
He ran his hand down her sweater. “Mission accomplished.” He took a swallow of beer and settled back on the couch. “I’m disgusted with the way things are going on my case, but before I talk about that, how’d it go with you today?”
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