Beverly Connor - One Grave Too Many

“Thanks. . I. . I can see my way out.” Cindy left through Andie’s office, looking defeated. Diane followed, watching her go out the door.

Andie sat, wide-eyed, at her desk. “Diane, are you all right?”

“I suppose you heard our conversation.”

“I didn’t mean to, but yes. I didn’t know. . ”

Diane took off her locket and opened it. On one side there was a miniature of the photograph of her and her daughter. On the other was a small picture of Ariel’s dimpled pixie face. She handed it to Andie.

“This is my daughter, Ariel. She died a little over a year ago.”

Andie looked at the photograph with tears in her eyes. “She was a pretty little girl. Look at all that black hair.”

“Yes, she was.” Diane took the locket and put it back around her neck. “I would have told you about her, but it’s been hard to talk about.”

“I can understand that. I’m so sorry.” Andie took a Kleenex from her drawer and blew her nose. “I don’t understand why Grayson is so set on selling the museum. What’s that about?”

“Money, apparently.” Diane shrugged. “I have a feeling something else is going on, but I have no idea what it is.” She started for her office, but turned back to Andie. “Do you remember me asking you at the party if you knew who asked for the ‘Hall of the Mountain King’?”

Andie thought for a second. “Yeah, I remember. . It wasn’t on the playlist, you said.”

“No, it wasn’t. Someone left a note for the quartet and signed my name. That piece of music was Ariel’s favorite. She played it all the time on a CD player I gave her.”

Andie’s eyes widened again. “Oh, no. You think someone. .? That’s mean.”

“Yes, it is. It could’ve been a coincidence.”

“But what a coincidence. You want me to try and find out who did it?”

“How?”

“I can kind of ask around. See if anybody saw someone leave a note. I can be discreet.”

“Don’t go out of your way, but if there is an opportunity. .”

“Sure. I’m really sorry about your daughter. That’s so sad.”

“I was hoping to raise her here, occasionally bring her to the museum. I was thinking about asking Milo if we could put in a staff day-care center.” She forced her mind away from that lost possibility. “It’s why I quit forensic work. I couldn’t face the work anymore. But now I find that I need to use my skills to help Frank and his friend’s daughter.” She told Andie about the pit of animal bones and the human talus.

“You’re kidding. You found where that collarbone came from-a clavicle?” She said clavicle carefully, as if she were trying to learn a new word. “What was the other bone you said. A talus?”

“Yes. It’s a bone in the foot. The tibia-the shinbone-sits on top of it. It has a pulleylike structure where the tibia rests that allows you to move your foot back and forth. It’s also called an astragalus.”

Andie swiveled her chair around to look at her feet and moved her foot up and down. “So, wow, you think you’ve found the guy?”

“It seems likely. I’m going to be excavating. Jonas Briggs and Sylvia Mercer will be joining me.”

“Didn’t I tell you he’s a nice guy?”

“Yes, you did, and you were right. I’m going to be in and out for the next few days or weeks, depending. You’ll be able to reach me on the cell phone if you need to.”

“OK. Maybe I could go some time and watch?”

“The process is very slow. It could be boring watching.”

“I’d like to see it anyway.”

“Sure. When we get a substantial portion uncovered, you can come take a look. In the meantime, would you have a table put in. .” Diane thought for a moment. “The room across from the docents’ offices. That’s still empty, isn’t it?”

Andie nodded. “We may have a few things stored there, but not much. You need a place to work?”

“Yes. Better yet, you know that corner room on the third floor, west wing? That’s completely out of the way. Set up something there. And don’t mention this to anyone. I won’t be in tomorrow morning. I’ll be at the Abercrombie farm, excavating the dump site.”

Whit Abercrombie, with the help of the county road crew under the direction of the sheriff, had constructed a small footbridge across the creek at the point of easiest access in the gully. They’d widened the narrow path that led down one side of the gully and up the other, anchoring stepping-stones every few feet. It was serviceable enough to carry equipment from vehicles parked along the roadway that led to Luther Abercrombie’s cow pasture. Whit had also brought in his farm tractor with a brush hog and mowed a better path from the road to the creek crossing.

It was still relatively early when Diane and her crew finished setting up a tent to serve as a field office and had inventoried the cameras, mapping equipment, digging tools and other assorted equipment. But the early-morning Georgia sun had already heated the air to over ninety degrees. It would only get hotter as the day progressed, and the section they were working in had only saplings for shade.

To Diane’s relief, Jonas’ former students were experienced archaeological field crew, just as he’d promised. They’d brought three more people than the promised four-a total of four men and three women, dressed in cutoffs, tee shirts and sneakers. One of the women was interested in examining a model for taphonomic processes-the study of what happens to human and animal remains after death. For archaeologists, the knowledge means finding cultural clues to people’s lives; for forensic anthropologists, understanding the fate of human remains can mean uncovering clues to their death.

In particular, the student was interested in looking at the differences in bone damage from butchering and from wild-animal scavenging. In the archaeological context, her project translated into the ability to tell human activity from natural phenomena. Diane didn’t mind allowing the archaeologists to conduct research on the animal pit. Whatever information they discovered would be useful to her field too.

“We’ll start by making lanes in the search area. The pit will be the center of the area, but we’ll search all around it first, using a line search pattern. Are you familiar with that?” They all nodded, giving her their full attention.

“Isn’t this method also called a strip search?” said one of the guys, to a round of laughter.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Diane, trying not to smile too much. “It’s called the line or strip method. OK. Look for signs of bone and mark them with a flag-red if you suspect it’s human, green if animal. Yellow if it’s some other object.” She’d feared that some might have a don’t-tell-me-what-I-already-know-how-to-do attitude, but their expressions were attentive and interested.

“Like a ground survey,” said a woman.

“Exactly. I’ve been told that a light layer of dirt was used to cover each load of animals that were dumped-or at least, most of the time. So if we can, I’d like to use those dirt layers to mark different strata. Notice that I’ve tagged some of the trees growing in the pit. Excavate around them. I need to know where the roots go. And we may be cross-sectioning the trees when we’re finished.” Diane paused and looked at the pit. “The human remains here may be linked to a recent homicide. The more time that elapses after that crime, the harder it is to solve. It’s important that you work as quickly as you can and still do a thorough job.”

“We’ll do a good job,” said Jonas.

“Thanks. And I appreciate the willingness of all of you to do this.”

Marking the search lanes didn’t take long. The pit, as Diane called it, was a plugged-up erosion ditch about seven by ten feet. Whit said the runoff had been diverted at a place several feet up from the ditch, and as far as he remembered, this area hadn’t seen much washing out. Diane was glad for that. Digging in a soggy pit that had been filled with animal carcasses didn’t bear thinking about.