Beverly Connor - Dead Secret

“That’s the one, only this is the real one.”

Neva was busy working on the face of the Moonhater Cave skeleton when Diane got back to the lab. She’d finished with the skull and had replaced it on the table.

“Neva, pick up your things. We have to get out of the museum.”

Neva turned around in her seat. “Oh, no, they found something?” She looked more disappointed than frightened.

“No. They just don’t want anyone here while they search. Frank brought an RV.”

She looked up at Frank. “You think of everything. I’ll gather up my stuff and go out to the parking lot. I guess they’re running David out too.”

“Yes, everyone.”

Diane packed up the bones, her measuring devices and her field computer. When she had everything, she left the building, with Frank helping her carry her things. It would be like doing forensic anthropology out in the bush again. They met David and Garnett at the door.

“Remington seems like a really competent officer,” said Diane.

“He is,” said Garnett. “Very serious and safe. He’s also my godson, so I’m partial.”

“We’ll be in the RV at the edge of the woods if you need me,” said Diane. Garnett nodded. He still wasn’t pleased about her suspicions of Emery.

David helped them carry their boxes of equipment and bones.

Diane looked at the huge RV as they approached. This would be much more comfortable than camping in the jungle, she thought.

“Thanks, Frank. This is great.”

“I knew you would want to stay, and I knew they would run you out of the building.”

Diane looked around the grounds and saw the distant flashlights of her museum guards as they patrolled the grounds, two at a time, watching for anyone who might be sneaking up to set fire to the museum. She looked back at the huge Gothic structure and tried to think whether she had done everything she could do to protect it. She wished she didn’t feel so guilty for putting it in danger.

Diane invited Garnett to share the RV with them, but he said he needed to go to the office and that he might drop by later. David, Neva, Frank and Diane climbed into the luxury vehicle and settled in for the evening.

The inside was a combination of oak cabinets and gray and blue textiles. Everything was compact and efficient. On one side was a small kitchen, on the other side a dining table and couch. The motor home had a small bedroom and a bathroom on one end and a bunk over the cab on the other. All the comforts of home.

“This is great,” said David. “You Atlanta guys know how to do a stakeout.”

“I wish,” said Frank. “This belongs to my neighbor. He’s trying to sell it, and I’m thinking about buying it. I thought it’d be good to take my son Kevin and Star on vacation sometime.”

“You can take me too,” said David. “I don’t suppose it came with food?”

“I’m sure Frank brought enough for a week,” said Diane.

“We can start with Chinese and go from there,” said Frank.

Diane didn’t realize she was so hungry until she smelled the hot food. After they ate, she claimed the bedroom, spread butcher paper on the bed and laid the bones out. Neva sat at the table and worked on the drawings. David sat in the cab, watching the museum and listening to music. Frank watched Diane work with the bones. She showed him the sword wound.

“Poor girl,” said Frank.

“Girl is right. She was young. No wisdom teeth; her epiphyses have just started to unite. Some have been glued on by the people who’ve had the bones. The pattern pubis symphysis is very rough, sternal end of the ribs barely scalloped-everything points to between fourteen and eighteen.”

“How old are the bones?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to sample a piece of bone and have it dated.”

“Her teeth look pretty good,” he said.

“They are. I see only one cavity and it’s very small. Not like our poor mummy, who probably died of bad teeth. Our girl was healthy too. I don’t see any sign in her bones that she was undernourished or suffered from any disease, at least none that affects the bones.”

Diane began the measurements of the skull. She liked this part, particularly feeding the data into the computer. She set her laptop up on a tiny table in the corner of the bedroom.

When the measuring started, Frank lost interest and went in to watch Neva draw.

Diane finished all her measurements, and repacked the skeleton before putting the data into the computer. “Okay, let’s see what the database says about where she’s from,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

Frank and Neva came to watch. Neva perched on the bed; Frank stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

“What you doing now?” he asked.

“I’ve got a couple of databases that I can plug information into, and it will give me a probability of her ancestry, among other things.”

“Really, it’ll tell you where she’s from in the world?”

“To a point. It’s only as good as the sample contained in the database, but yes, it’s pretty good. I back it up with other kinds of tests-oxygen and strontium isotope analysis, for example. Different regions of the world have various oxygen isotope ratios in the water. That same ratio will be in the teeth and bones of a person who grew up there.”

Frank looked at Neva and grinned.

“I know,” said Neva. “Mike talks like that too-only about rocks. You know you can use the same damn test to find out where rocks come from? Who knew?”

Diane gave them a look that was halfway between a grimace and a smile. “Let’s see what it says.” She looked at the data that showed up on the screen. “Female. That’s good. Five feet tall, that’s what I estimated. Caucasoid, that’s good. Okay, now this is interesting-good thing I’m backing this up with other tests.”

“What does it say?” asked Neva.

“Mediterranean. I was expecting England.” Diane thought a moment, picturing a map of the Mediterranean countries in her head. “I bet she’s Roman.”

“Roman?” said Neva.

“I’ll have to look at the other tests, including dating the bones, but she could be. Romans were in England for a time. I don’t think Mr. Rose was expecting this.” Diane liked the unexpected-at least in bones. Unexpectedness in the museum was another matter.

“Interesting,” said Frank. “A young Roman girl stabbed through with a sword. I wonder what her story is.”

“Do you have a drawing?” Diane asked Neva.

“I just finished building the computer face when we left the building. I’ve been working on the drawing.” She went back to the dinette table and grabbed the picture and handed it to Diane. “I didn’t know what to do with her hair, so I made it dark and long. If it turns out she was Roman, I could look up how they wore their hair back then.”

Diane looked into the heart-shaped face of a young girl with wide-spaced eyes and a small, straight nose. She looked so young.

“Did I hear you say she was killed with a sword?” asked Neva.

“A rather large sword.”

Neva grimaced. “Well, didn’t the story say that her husband killed her with a sword after luring her to the cave? I guess that part of the story is true.”

“According to Charlotte Hawkins. John Rose’s version has her being killed by the boyfriend of the maiden whom she turned to salt.”

“So she was either the good witch of the north or the wicked witch of the east,” said Neva.

Diane shook her head. “She was such a small thing, I can’t see her being a threat. Her bones don’t show that she was particularly muscular. And the thrust came from the back.”

“So you’re thinking they called her a witch to cover up a murder?” said Neva.