Beverly Connor - Dead Secret

“Yes,” said Neva. “It’ll give him something to talk about-for months, maybe years.”

Diane decided that she would take the lead out of the tunnel and Mike would bring up the rear. She went through, pulling both her and Jin’s backpacks. The metal frame on Jin’s pack scraped the rock wall all the way through the tight tunnel. She emerged almost in MacGregor’s lap.

“Hi! Need help getting the stuff out?” Dick MacGregor was sitting outside the narrow tunnel eating an apple. He stuffed the unfinished snack in his backpack.

“Yes. We could use your help,” said Diane.

Neva’s headlamp was visible as she squirmed through the narrow passage, dragging the crime scene kit and her backpack behind her.

Diane tried to tune out the scraping sounds of the hard metal crime scene case.

“Is the deputy outside?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Me and him have been talking. He said the sheriff wasn’t going to like the coroner giving you the body. But, heck, what was he going to do with it anyway? I mean, I think the coroner was right-finders keepers. You going to put him on show with the other mummy at the museum?”

“We’re going to find out who he is. He may have relatives from around here. You ever heard stories about anyone getting lost in a cave?” asked Diane as she helped Neva out of the tunnel with her load.

MacGregor scratched his scruffy dark beard. “No. . come to think of it, I never did. I’ll ask my cousin. It’s his family’s land. They might know.”

Jin came tumbling out, pulling Caver Doe in the body bag behind him. They were in a small room devoid of any formations. It had an irregular dome shape and walls a light color similar to the big tunnel where Diane had found the button. It was a cozy room, almost like a bubble between the narrow crack they just came through and the twisting passage they were about to enter.

They waited several minutes for Mike.

“What’s keeping him?” asked Jin.

“He’s getting the rope,” said Diane.

“Oh, yeah. Isn’t it heavy carrying around all that rope?”

“Can be, but it’s good to have it when you need it.”

Finally Mike came through, pulling Jin’s duffel bag and his backpack with his coils of rope tied to it.

“Why don’t MacGregor and Jin carry the body bag?” Mike said to Diane. “I can take the crime scene kit and Jin’s backpack. Neva can carry your pack, and you can carry the duffel bag.”

Diane nodded in agreement. She and Mike were the most experienced cavers, and he had given the heaviest loads to himself and her.

“Can’t believe there’s a dead body in this bag,” said MacGregor. “You don’t think it’s anybody we know, do you?” His voice had a sudden tone of concern in it.

Diane shook her head. “No, this guy’s been here a long time.”

It took them three times as long to get out of the cave as it had to get in, loaded down as they were. Several times they had to stop and negotiate through squeezes, taking off their load and pulling it behind them or pushing it in front of them.

A loaded caravan through a cave wasn’t as much fun as simple caving. Diane felt relieved when they first emerged into the outdoors, but she quickly wished she were back in the cave. It was hot, especially compared to the cool cave. With her long-sleeved caving attire, it wouldn’t take long to get uncomfortably hot. But there was the deputy to talk to first.

He sat on the bumper of his Lumpkin County patrol car with his arms folded in a manner that Diane had seen young children do when they were in full pout mode. Dressed in navy-blue pants and a short-sleeved shirt, the deputy looked to be in his early forties and had wavy blond hair and the beginnings of a potbelly.

“You know, I have other things to do than sit around here all day. Which one of you is Diane Fallon?” His gaze took in all of them, as if one of the males might have been named Diane.

“I’m Diane Fallon.”

“You could have come out and signed this paper and I could have been on my way.”

“I’m sorry, Deputy”-she looked at his nameplate above his shirt pocket-“Deputy Singer. I would have if I could. But I’m here now and I’ll be glad to sign the coroner’s papers.” Diane smiled at him, hoping she wasn’t showing the amusement she felt at listening to him complain.

The deputy shoved some wrinkled papers at her.

“Got a pen?” asked Diane.

The deputy breathed a heavy sigh and handed her the pen from his shirt pocket.

Diane took the papers and laid them out on the hood of his car.

“Now just a minute.” The deputy sprang toward his car and grabbed a notebook from the backseat. “Use this. I don’t want you scratching my car.”

As she wrote, Deputy Singer looked over her shoulder and told her what the sheriff was going to think of all this. His breath smelled of garlic and onions.

Mike opened the back of his SUV, took soft drinks from his cooler and passed them around, handing the deputy a Coke. Deputy Singer took it and muttered a thanks and went on with his harangue between sips. Diane had a feeling he’d been mentally rehearsing it while he was waiting. Mike gave her a 7-UP and popped the tab for her. It was cold and felt good going down her throat.

Diane took several long gulps before retuning her attention to the paperwork. She glanced up and saw Mike leaning against his vehicle with an arm around Neva’s neck, sharing a Coke with her, the two of them sporting amused expressions as they watched her deal with the deputy.

“Yes, sirree, Sheriff Burns is going to have a talk with Pilgrim. I don’t know what he was thinking, giving all this to Rosewood, like we can’t take care of our own. Who does Rosewood think they are anyway? Atlanta? Too big for your britches, I’d say.”

Diane let the deputy get the ire out of his system. She’d learned from her former boss, who was a career diplomat, that sometimes letting people have their say defused their hard feelings.

“I’m sure he thought the sheriff had more important things to do than fool with some incident that happened maybe fifty or sixty years ago,” said Diane.

“Fifty or sixty years ago? That long, huh? You’re right about that. Probably don’t even have a next of kin still living. Just be a waste of time. I guess ol’ Pilgrim thought you all had the time to waste, with your fancy equipment doing everything for you.”

“I imagine so.” Diane smiled and handed him the papers. “Tell Sheriff Burns I’ll give him a call, and thank you for waiting for us. I know it was an inconvenience, but I appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job. It’s what they pay me for.” He slumped toward his patrol car, got in, and drove off with a spin of his wheels, kicking a cloud of dirt and grass on them.

“Pleasant fellow,” Neva said, turning to MacGregor. “Bet you had a good time with him out here, Mac.”

“Oh, that’s just him. My cousin said he was like that as a kid-like everything puts him out. I tried to get him in a good mood for you guys, but I guess I failed.”

Diane couldn’t suppress a chuckle; neither could Mike or Neva. Diane looked at her watch. It was almost three o’clock. If she hurried she’d have time for an extra-long soak in the tub before her date with Frank. She and the others got their clean clothes out of the car. The guys went behind Mike’s SUV to change.

Dick MacGregor had built a blind just into the woods for Neva and Diane to change behind. The blind was at the base of a hillside with thick woods all around, and it included a bench. For all his annoying habits-talking incessantly, humming The Twilight Zone theme song every time they passed through the twilight zone of a cave, telling bad jokes-MacGregor was actually a kind and considerate person. She and Neva both appreciated the place he had built for them.