Lovely In Her Bones

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DUMMYWEED squirmed uncomfortably in the patrol car, wishing he were a prisoner instead of a deputy. Prisoners got to make a phone call, had lawyers to get them out on bail. But since he was a shanghaied deputy with two murders to contend with, he didn’t see a hope in hell of escaping the long arm of the law. He might not make it to the craft fair, and then Patricia would forget how much tax to charge, and things would be in complete chaos by the time he got back. He glared out the window, noticing for the first time that they were not on the road back to Laurel Cove.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to pay a call on Bevel Harkness,” said Pilot, his eyes on the road.

“Good. Once he takes over, you can give me a lift back to town.” Over his protests, Dr. Putnam had been given the keys to Coltsfoot’s car, and instructed to take the body back to town. Daniel hoped that this fact could be kept from Patricia; trading cars was such a hassle. He realized that Pilot had not responded to his request for a ride to town. “Or I could hitchhike,” he added hopefully.

“’Fraid not,” said Pilot. “Unless Harkness has an outstanding alibi which does not depend on members of his family, you are in it for the duration, son.”

Coltsfoot sighed. He was afraid of that. “Is this Harkness guy a suspect, then?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking no chances.”

Coltsfoot played his last card. “I don’t have any police training, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” nodded Pilot Barnes. “Well, you know those cop shows on the television? “Adam-12” and “Hawaii Five-0,” that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, you forget everything you ever saw on them, and don’t do nothing without I tell you to. You’ll get along fine.”

Coltsfoot slumped farther down in his seat, sighing. He wondered if they shot deputies for trying to escape.

Bevel Harkness lived in an old-style log house, gray logs wedged together with concrete, dating from the turn of the century. Its setting, with spreading oaks and wild mountain laurel, would have been impressive but for Harkness’ unfortunate tendency to use the yard as a museum for old farm equipment.

Dummyweed, who drew the line at picturesque clutter, made a face. “Boy, what a slob!”

“Well,” said Pilot mildly, “I don’t know that it’s all his fault. Seems like when the catalogue people started shipping civilization up here to the hills, they forgot to provide us with a modern garbage service. ’Course, some folks manage better than others.”

Another thought struck the new deputy. “You’re not going to arrest this guy, are you?”

“I’m aiming to question him. But if he confesses, I’ll oblige. Let’s go.”

Pilot got out of the patrol car slowly, looking around. He didn’t see anyone in the garden or near the house, so he headed for the front porch, ambling along as if he had no particular urgency in getting there. He waited until he saw an upstairs curtain stir before mounting the steps, motioning Dummyweed to follow. Two light taps on the door brought an unsmiling woman to answer it.

Pilot mopped his forehead, smiling politely. “You’re going to have to water that garden tonight,” he remarked.

“Unless the clouds move in,” the woman replied.

“Is Bevel around? I figured long as I was out this way, I’d stop in and see him.” He sounded very casual. Pilot knew, and the woman knew, that the visit was official, but they kept to the ritual designed to see that no one panicked and no one got hurt.

“He’s out in the pasture,” the woman replied, her face still expressionless. “One of our cows dropped her calf today, and he went a-hunting it.”

“Well, I reckon we’ll walk on out there,” said Pilot. “Might come across it while we’re out looking for him. How long has he been at it?”

The woman hesitated. “An hour. Before that he was on patrol.”

“Where ’bout?” asked Pilot, a shade too interested.

“Ask him,” she shrugged, closing the door.

“What was that all about?” asked Dummyweed, when they were out of earshot.

“Well, he hasn’t been home all day, which is what I needed to know. Now that I’ve got that, I can question him. You let me do the talking, though. One wrong word could cause more trouble than we’re equipped to handle.”

Dummyweed turned pale. “You think he’d shoot us?” he hissed.

“Coltsfoot, if he’s killed two people, I don’t reckon he’d faint at the thought of killing four.”

After this unwelcome pronouncement, Dummyweed lapsed into silence, spending the rest of the walk scouring the hills for smoke signals, machine gun nests-he knew not what. They found Bevel Harkness past the pond and up the side of the hill, searching through bushes for the missing cow. He scowled at them warily, sensing the magnitude of trouble that would bring them out there.

“What is it?” he growled.

“You mind telling me what you did today?” asked Pilot, carefully polite.

“Did my rounds. Why?”

“Anybody see you?”

“Now and then. It was too hot out there for most folks. You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“Directly,” nodded Pilot. “Would you have any objection to coming down to the office and having your fingerprints taken?”

Harkness’ eyes narrowed. “I believe I would.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Pilot apologetically. “Because you give me no choice but to suspend you for the course of this investigation. Two murders in Sarvice Valley related to this strip-mining business is more than I can overlook. Unless, of course, you’d agree to a polygraph, or-”

“Get off my land,” said Harkness in the softest of voices.

“On our way!” Dummyweed blurted out. “Have a nice day!”

When they reached the patrol car, Dummyweed asked: “What are you going to do now that you didn’t get his fingerprints?”

Pilot smiled. “Get ’em off his coffee cup at the office.”

“Then why did you come out here and ask for them?”

“I couldn’t lay him off without an excuse, could I? He maneuvered the car down the driveway. “You see, Coltsfoot, the sheriff doesn’t much like the Harknesses, especially since his nephew disappeared about ten years ago after taking on the deputy job in Sarvice Valley. That job had kinda been in their family awhile, and it looked mighty suspicious when Carver Johnson disappeared two weeks after replacing a Harkness.”

“What did they do to him?” asked Coltsfoot hoarsely, realizing who the present Sarvice Valley replacement was.

“Never found him,” grunted Pilot. “No evidence against them. But now that we have two fresh bodies in a situation that Harkess is mixed up in, why, I’ll see if I can’t find a connection.”

“He just disappeared?” murmured Coltsfoot, still thinking of the last non-Cullowhee deputy.

“Without a trace,” said Pilot Barnes solemnly. Catching sight of Dummyweed’s green and anxious face, it was all he could do not to laugh.

“You don’t suppose they’d mind my having skulls in the church do you?” asked Elizabeth, peering into the box.

Jake shrugged. “They were all members, probably.”

“I guess. It was nice of Mr. Barnes to bring them back this morning, wasn’t it? Do you think we should have gone to the inquest?”

“Nope. It’s just a formality, anyway. They’re going to announce that Alex died of a blow to the head, and that it was done by some person unknown. We already know that. I think it’s enough that Milo is representing our group.”

“You’re right.” Elizabeth unwrapped the measuring tools.

“Besides, you’ll have to go to the inquest on Victor since you found the body. You might as well stay and get some work done while you can.”

“Don’t you think someone ought to be with Milo?”

Jake sighed. “I think we ought to leave him alone for a while. I get the feeling that he’s alone even when he’s here.”

“He wants to finish the project. For Alex. I wish I hadn’t made a mess of it.”

Jake stared at her. “Will you snap out of it? You put him behind by maybe one day. That’s not such a big deal. On my first dig, I troweled through three soil layers, two black and one red clay, without noticing the difference.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Are you going to stay up here while I work?” She had decided to stay in the common room to do the measurements so that there would be no distractions from heat or insects.

“I’m not going up to the site alone,” he replied. “In fact, I wish I had told the day crew to come back today. I don’t feel very safe out here with just the two of us.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth absently, intent upon her measuring. “Especially if I find who I’m looking for here.”

Jake nodded, glancing down at his book. A few moments later, her words set off an alarm in his mind. “What did you say?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Don’t distract me.” Elizabeth scribbled down a number in her notebook.

“No, wait a minute. What was that about ‘if I find who I’m looking for’?”

“I’m not supposed to tell,” said Elizabeth in a small voice.

“Look, if you know something that’s going to get both of us killed, the least you could do is let me in on it!”

Elizabeth looked around nervously, expecting to see faces leering at them from the windows. “We’ll be fine,” she said nervously. “Everybody is at the inquest.”

“Which adjourns in about five minutes,” said Jake, consulting his watch.

“All right,” she sighed. “I guess I can trust you.”

Jake laughed. “Considering that you are alone in this church with me in the middle of nowhere, you might as well.”

“Don’t!” Elizabeth shivered. “I don’t want to think about it.” She put the skull back in the box. “Milo thinks one of these skulls is a ringer.”

“One of them isn’t a Cullowhee?”

“That’s what we think. Remember that story you told me about the Moonshine Massacre, and how the sheriff’s nephew disappeared?” Her voice sank to a whisper. “What if it’s him?”

“Of course! What better place to hide a murder victim than in with a bunch of old bones?”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s what we figured. But so far I haven’t been able to prove it.”

“So far they’re all Cullowhees, huh?”

“Oh, Jake, I don’t know!” wailed Elizabeth. “I messed up all the measurements the first time, and now this one has come out the same as before!”

“I’m distracting you,” said Jake quickly. “No wonder you can’t concentrate. Now, don’t cry! I’ll just sit here and read, and you start over. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Elizabeth, wiping her eyes.

The next hour passed in silence. Jake settled back with his book, occasionally peeping over the top of it at Elizabeth. She was intent upon her work: measuring, writing down the result, shaking her head, and measuring again. Finally he could stand it no longer. “How’s it going? You look worried.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Did you find the ringer? It isn’t that tiny one, is it?”

“No. I’ve been concentrating on the skull measurements, and I don’t understand it. I came out with the same numbers I got the first time.”

“So?”

“Milo says they’re all wrong. They don’t fit the chart.”

“Have you checked your instruments?” asked Jake thoughtfully.

“No. I wouldn’t know how to go about it. Do you think something is wrong with them?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it? If somebody put your tools about of alignment, you’re not going to get any helpful results, are you?”

“I guess not. I’ll ask Milo if-Did you hear a car?”

Jake peered out the window. “It isn’t Milo. It’s the sheriff’s car.”

“Milo isn’t here,” Elizabeth told the deputy.

“No, I know he isn’t. I left him back in town,” Pilot told her. “Like you to meet Ron Garrett, FBI agent. He’s helping us on the case.” He turned to Jake. “We’d like to talk to you.”

Elizabeth’s stomach lurched. Surely not Jake, she thought. A moment later she found she didn’t believe it. “Would you like me to leave?” she asked Jake. “Shall I call Milo?”

“No, it’s okay. What would you like to know, gentlemen?”

“Is your name Jake Adair?” asked Pilot, consulting a printed card.

“Yep,” said Jake calmly. He didn’t seem surprised at being questioned.

“And your home is in Swain County, North Carolina.”

“Right. Route 1, Box 109, Cherokee.”

Pilot eyed him sternly. “That is the Cherokee Indian reservation, ain’t it?”

“It sure is,” Jake agreed cheerfully.

“That’s neat!” exclaimed Elizabeth, forgetting the interrogation. “How did you come to live there?”

“Because I’m a full-blooded Cherokee,” said Jake, smiling gently.

“But-you-but…” Elizabeth realized that all the things she had been about to say were equally stupid, so she hushed and mulled over this turn of events while the officers resumed their questioning.

“Are you aware of the weapon used to kill Dr. Alex Lerche?” the deputy demanded.

“A tomahawk,” said Jake wearily.

“A souvenir tomahawk from the Cherokee reservation,” Garrett corrected him.

“Those things are shipped over by the carload from Taiwan. Shouldn’t you be questioning Chinese suspects, sir?”

“Have you ever had such a weapon in your possession?” barked Pilot, ignoring this sally.

“Not since I was eight years old.”

“Do you have any objection to having your fingerprints taken?”

“Help yourself.”

“This is silly!” cried Elizabeth. “Why should he kill Alex? The Cherokees have nothing to do with all this!”

Jake smiled. “Well, I’d say this was our land about six hundred years ago, but I’m not here to foreclose on it.”

The officers were not amused. “Is there any way the Cherokees could get this land back?” Pilot murmured to the FBI agent.

“About the same odds as you winning the Irish Sweepstakes,” said Jake cheerfully.

“Have you connected him to the tomahawk?” Elizabeth demanded.

Pilot looked pained. “Ma’am, unless you are his attorney of record, would you please stay out of this?”

Elizabeth scowled. “My brother is in law school.”

“It’s all right,” said Jake soothingly. “These gentlemen just want my fingerprints because they’re being thorough. You aren’t going to haul me away in handcuffs, are you?”

Pilot Barnes and Ron Garrett exchanged exasperated glances. They had expected their surprise questioning to elicit frightened cooperation, but it wasn’t working. Garrett shrugged. “We’ll take your prints, run them through our computer, and see what we get. Don’t plan on going anywhere.”

After a few more minutes’ questioning, the officers took Jake’s fingerprints and left. When the door closed behind them, Elizabeth put the last skull back in the box and smiled up at Jake. “Hey, can I measure your jawline?”

Jake laughed. “You didn’t know, did you? Out at the site when you told me I looked like an Apache, I thought you must have guessed.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You don’t… uh… you’re not what I expected.”

“No long hair and feathers, huh? Sorry to disappoint you. The coroner knew, though, the first time he saw me.”

“How?”

“He asked if I was a Cullowhee, and when I said no, he wanted to know my last name. I told him Adair, and he said: ‘So that’s it!’ Adair is a very famous Cherokee name.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jake smiled. “Dr. Lerche knew. So did Milo. But I don’t usually broadcast it. I get tired of the dumb questions: ‘Do you live in a tepee?’ And the stale jokes: ‘How! You see, I speak your language.’ I didn’t want to hear any more of it.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Like Victor, saying his great-grandmother was a Cherokee princess.”

“Oh, God,” groaned Jake. “That one is the worst. All of you unakas claim your grandmother was a Cherokee. Why can’t you pick on the Shawnee? And why is it always a great-grandmother?”

Elizabeth frowned. “What was that word you used?”

“Unaka? That’s the Cherokee word for honky. Understand, I’m proud of my heritage. I just get tired of people getting so hung up with it that they can’t see me.”

“What?” murmured Elizabeth. She didn’t seem to be listening.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Elizabeth blinked. “Sorry. I guess it’s the heat. I was wondering what we were going to have for lunch.”

“And I thought you were getting nervous about being here with me,” Jake grumbled.

“No. I know you didn’t do it,” she replied.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

But it isn’t a matter of faith, she thought, it’s just that I know who did it. Now how am I going to get rid of you so that I can find out why? Elizabeth assumed her most simpering smile, the one usually reserved for flat tires on interstates. “Jake, do you think you could go to Comfrey’s house and get some tomatoes from his garden? He said we could help ourselves, and I want to make tomato sandwiches for lunch.”

“Why don’t we both go?” asked Jake, getting up.

“Okay,” said Elizabeth.

When they reached the door, she stopped, as if something had just occurred to her. “You know, we’re almost out of iced tea. Why don’t I stay here and make some while you’re getting the tomatoes. You won’t be gone long, will you?” She asked anxiously.

“Ten or fifteen minutes,” said Jake. “Don’t let anybody in while I’m gone, okay?”

“I promise,” said Elizabeth solemnly. She stood on the porch and watched him walk out of sight. A moment later she was gone.