Beverly Connor - Dust to Dust

“I hope so,” said Paloma. “Unless they find out who did all of it, Mother will never feel safe in that house again, and she loves her house. She said it needs to be on If Walls Could Talk , you know, that home-and-garden show about old houses.”

“I’m sure Dr. Fallon is right,” said Mark. “The detective has to understand her world before he can understand what happened to her. When he sees she’s not a woman who brings enemies around her, he’ll look outside her circle.” His wife smiled at him.

Diane asked Jonas, “Did you ask Paloma what her mother’s words that night might have meant?”

Jonas looked blankly at Diane for a moment. “Oh, I clean forgot. There’s just so much going on,” he said.

“What?” asked Paloma.

“When I found… While we were waiting for the ambulance, Marcella was conscious for a few moments. She said what sounded like ‘tiger after all loose moment.’ I don’t know if I heard it right. Her voice was faint,” said Jonas. “We couldn’t make anything out of it.”

“She said, ‘Tiger after all. Lewis moment,’ ” said Paloma, nodding her head. She looked over at her husband, who agreed. “If she could make sense right after she was hurt, then there’s a chance she’ll not be permanently damaged. Don’t you think?” She gazed at all of them, as if looking for agreement.

Mark nodded. “I think you’re right.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s hopeful.”

Diane and Jonas glanced at each other, shrugged slightly, and focused back on Paloma.

“That makes sense to you?” asked Jonas.

“Lewis Blaire is one of her colleagues at Arizona. He’s a cognitive archaeologist. His work is about-”

“Perception,” said Jonas, nodding.

“He has the idea we perceive things subconsciously before we do consciously, and that ability gave early man an edge to deal with fast predators like the sabertoothed tiger,” said Paloma.

Diane cocked an eyebrow and looked at Jonas.

“The idea is that you perceive a predator subconsciously and act instinctively before it has a chance to jump you. Kind of an early-warning system.” Jonas wiggled his hand. “I have my doubts, but the idea is supported by some brain-function research. I just don’t think it could help you outrun a sabertooth.”

“Mother liked the concept because it happened to her,” said Paloma. “She was surface collecting in an overgrown field-I was with her-and suddenly out of the blue, she jumped way to the side and almost knocked me down. She scared me. I asked her what was wrong, why had she done that, and she said she didn’t know. Well, we looked down and saw there was a rattlesnake lying in the grass, and if she had taken another step forward, she would have stepped on it. If you believe Lewis’ concept, her subconscious perception had caused an instinctive involuntary physical reaction that saved her from the snake before she could even think about it. She calls those kind of phenomena ‘Lewis moments.’ ”

“Interesting,” said Diane. “That means she probably had one of those moments before she was attacked.”

Paloma nodded. “But the sabertooth got her anyway.”

“So what does this mean, really?” asked Diane.“Marcella saw or heard something that didn’t register, but caused her to react in some way and-what?”

They were silent for a minute, looking at each other in turn. Jonas spoke first.

“I think that’s exactly what happened. She subconsciously detected some threat and reacted in some way, but no threat appeared immediately. That’s what she meant by ‘tiger after all.’ There was a sabertooth in the bushes after all and it attacked her.”

Diane suggested they all go to the museum restaurant for lunch. As they stepped into the elevator just outside Jonas’ office, Paloma wrapped her sweater tight around her and gave a little shiver. She looked fragile and frightened and very young. Mark put an arm around her shoulders.

“I had to buy a sweater when I got here,” she told Diane. “I’m not used to it being so chilly this time of year.”

“It’s a little colder than normal here,” said Diane. But what she thought was how vulnerable the young couple looked. He in his loafers and jeans and blue T-shirt, and she in her sandals and jeans and peasant blouse, they were innocents.

“I’ve been trying not to turn my heat on at night,” said Jonas, “but in a few days, I’m going to have to give in.”

The restaurant had a medieval atmosphere with its vaulted ceilings and rough-hewn wood tables. It was cozy, especially in the evenings when each table was lit by can dlelight. At the time of day they were there, it had sunlight streaming in from the wall of windows and French doors leading to the trellis garden. The restaurant was full of diners. The waitress showed them to a booth in the corner and left them with tall menus written in calligraphy.

“Suddenly, I’m hungry,” said Paloma, her eyes darting over the menu.

“If you like steak, I suggest the filet,” said Diane.

She was convinced that high-protein foods and chocolate were medicine, and the two of them looked as if they needed some strong medicine. The very idea of losing someone you love is the scariest, most helpless feeling in the world. She hoped Paloma wouldn’t have to face the loss of her mother, especially to such a mean cause.

“I agree,” said Jonas, “the steaks here are great.” He closed his menu without looking at it. “You’ve talked me into it.”

They all ordered steak, salad, and baked potato, with Paloma ordering a baked sweet potato with her meal.

While they waited for their food, Diane talked about the museum and its holdings, inviting them to take a look around when they had the time. Mark commented that he wasn’t used to so much green and it would be fun to bring his students there on a field trip if the school ever got a windfall for traveling.

“We won’t hold our breath,” said Paloma, smiling.

The waitress brought their food and the four of them were well into their lunch before anyone brought up Marcella. Diane told Paloma about the beautiful work her mother did and described the reconstructed mask-pitcher in Marcella’s workroom.

“That was one of the pieces she dug up in the backyard,” said Paloma.

“I’m not that well versed on pottery,” said Diane, “but to me it didn’t look Native American.”

“It isn’t,” said Paloma. “It’s modern, but Mother didn’t know how old. One of the things that excited Mother about the house is all the stuff she found. One of the previous owners must have been an artist and a potter. Best of all, whoever it was used a bonfire kiln, like Mother uses. Mother found a pit in the backyard where the pots were fired. She excavated hundreds of broken sherds from the fire pit. For my mother, that was like finding a yard full of gold. Whoever the potter was, he used natural clays and tempers like she uses.”

“I wonder if the artist could have been someone from the university?” said Diane.

“Mother thought they might have been an archaeologist,” said Paloma. “But she knows practically every archaeologist who’s ever worked with pottery and she said there isn’t anyone from Bartrum in the literature. Mother told me a lot more about all the pottery finds, but I have to confess, at a certain point I kind of glaze over.” Paloma smiled. “I didn’t get bit by the archaeology bug the way she did.”

“The mask she was reconstructing in her workroom is so beautiful. Did she have any clue who the artist might be?” said Diane.

Paloma shook her head. “She’s been trying to find out. The house was empty for several years. You may have noticed it got a little run-down. The guy she bought it from had inherited it from an uncle. He didn’t know any owners before that. She talked to some of her neighbors. They didn’t know anything either. Evidently there is a large turnover in the area because of all the students from Bartrum.”