Читать книгу 15 Minutes of Flame - Christin Brecher - Страница 11

Chapter 4

The drive to the Nantucket Field Station gave me time to reflect on Agnes’s story. Although most of the connections between my skeleton and her family’s history were circumstantial, there was something about the similarity between the characters that held my interest. Lost in thought, I pulled into the station’s dune road, my Beetle fighting mightily across the sand, and parked when I didn’t think the car could make it any farther. I took off my sneakers and threw them in the back seat. I rolled up my jeans for the trek down to the beach, and when I reached the sand beyond the dunes, I took a left, toward an inlet where I would find Crab City and Peter. I was glad the sun was warm; otherwise, my bare toes would have frozen in the autumn sand.

When I rounded the beach to the inlet, I gave out a howl of laughter. At the end of wet, slimy sand, through which small rivulets of water ran, I saw Peter. He was wearing knee-high rubber boots, carrying a net, and scribbling notes with the short stub of his number-two pencil. He appeared, from my angle, as if he were trying to interview the little crustaceans. He looked up and gave me a wave with a huge smile.

“Watch your step,” he said.

Indeed, I would have to be careful. Although the sand looked muddy and bleak at first glance, on closer inspection, the ground was in constant motion. This phenomenon was the result of thousands of little crabs, exposed from their snug homes for the period of low tide. They were climbing over each other, ducking in and out of safe spaces, and seemed to exponentially multiply moment by moment. Their activities were warranted too. Above, seagulls flew in droves, looking for a good meal. Fortunately for them, the clams at the shoreline on the other side of the beach were the tastier delicacy.

While the birds made bomb dives into the shallow sea behind me, I skipped from here to there until I reached Peter. By way of greeting, he placed four tiny hermit crabs in my hand.

“They tickle,” I said, feeling them crawl over my palm. “I love it. If I didn’t know they were crabs, I’d feel really spooked by their claws moving so manically over me. Can we bring a few dozen of them over to Halloween Haunts on Friday and return them before they’re in danger? I bet we could use them to make a wonderfully scary spider booth in the Spooks Room. With a blindfold on, they’d feel just like creeping spiders.”

“That would be amazing,” he said. “Speaking of spooky things, what’d you find out about the skeleton?”

“A lot, or maybe nothing at all,” I said.

I told him about my search and Agnes’s family story. Peter turned a page in his notebook as I spoke. I wondered how that book would read from page to page. Crabs on one side, skeletons on another.

The tide had already started to return, and the water was cold on my feet, so Peter and I found a patch of sand closer to the ocean where we took a break. He handed me half of a turkey sandwich, which made me realize how hungry I was. We ate as I finished my story.

“I think there are too many parallels between Agnes’s family history and the skeleton you found to drop the lead,” said Peter when I’d finished. “Agnes was told that the two con artists made up the story of the attack and used it as an excuse to leave town, but maybe Jedediah really left alone.”

“I see you’re coming around to my murder theory, but I’m not following you. Why would Jedediah kill Patience before leaving the island? They had the money.”

“Actually, it’s not a murder theory,” said Peter. “Patience was probably attacked, somehow held on to the money, but then died from her wounds. Jedediah buried her quickly and hit the road, using the excuse of her needing help to avoid suspicion. People are susceptible to stories.”

Peter lay back on the sand, and I joined him, tucking my head into the crook of his arm. For the second time today, I watched the clouds roll by.

“I still think it was murder. Maybe someone else left Nantucket with Jedediah,” I said. “What if they killed Patience and hid her in the fireplace?”

Before we could explore the idea, my phone rang. I looked at the screen to find the words WICK & FLAME.

“It’s Cherry,” said my assistant’s bright voice when I hit ACCEPT. “Everything’s going well today. I sold a Tinker Special. A tourist came in and snapped him up. Said she has a black tabby at home.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“Also, I have a phone message,” said Cherry. “The ghost tour lady, Brenda, called. She said to tell you that she went by the Morton house, hoping you’d be there, but that the police were there and a few people she’d never seen before, so she left. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Cherry went on to tell me a few more details about our days’ sales, but I was focused on one thing only.

“Come on,” I said to Peter when I ended the call. I stood and pulled Peter up behind me. “The forensics people are there already.”

“I can’t,” said Peter. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but my contact at U Mass suggested that I stay here tonight. There will be a waxing gibbous moon, and he said lunar phases affect sea life, especially right before a full moon. He says it’s not to be missed. I thought it was worth investigating.”

I looked at Peter’s gear and noticed that he had brought his sleeping bag.

“You’re crazy about this story,” I said, in the most loving way.

“A little bit. Are you going to be alright in that old house tonight?” he said, pulling me close to him. “We could always have a campout.”

“Not on your life,” I said. “But text me a picture of the moon. Also, you have dried seaweed in your hair.”

“It’s a fashion statement,” he said. “Meant to woo you.”

I gave him a kiss to let him know it had worked and headed back down the beach. By the time I reached the car, I was wondering if the body would be gone from The Shack by the time I got home. I knew Andy was a professional, and that duty called, but I also couldn’t believe he had moved ahead so quickly. I’d hoped to have information for him before he started to take next steps. I really did feel responsible for the mysterious corpse’s well-being.

Fortunately, when I parked in front of the house, Andy’s car was still out front. I marched to the back of the house and across the yard to The Shack.

“Hello!” I said, entering the room as the lady of the house.

I noticed that my candles had been replaced by a small generator and three spotlights that lit the room much better. The lights were clamped onto standing rods, so that they could be directed in different places if need be. Another big change to the room was the addition of some white sheets hanging from stands, which broke the space into different sections. A folding table had also been brought in. On top of it was scientific-looking stuff, like test tubes and a box of latex gloves and magnifying glasses and bottles of liquids. Someone had moved the Cooper’s Candles sign across the room, where it now lay beside the door.

Andy was standing by the hearth with two people, a man and a woman.

Dressed in forgettable attire, the man had a long, skinny neck upon which sat a head marked by thick, dark eyebrows and round spectacles that were too small for his pale face, in my opinion. If the girls had hired him to pose as a vampire for their event, I’d have thought he was the perfect find.

In contrast, the woman was a knockout with straight black hair and perfectly trimmed bangs. Somehow her features were unmistakably of Korean descent, unlike my hodgepodge of features, from my Irish heritage to my dark mane and olive complexion. I don’t know anything about my dad, but I bet he had some kind of Mediterranean background.

Andy took a step toward me.

“Remember, Stella,” he said. “No one near the body until an anthropologist has looked at it.”

“You might as well count me in,” I said. “I’ve been looking into the story at the library all day.”

“We don’t mind an audience,” said the woman.

I immediately liked her.

After a beat, Andy stepped aside so I could greet our newcomers.

“If you two don’t mind, I don’t mind,” Andy said to the couple. “As long as you have something to add, Stella.”

“You know I’m good for it,” I said, hoping I would be.

“This is Dr. Robert Solder and his assistant, Miss Leigh Paik, from Boston University,” Andy said. “They are part of a world-renowned forensic anthropology department. They took the first flight over to help us.”

As Andy spoke, Solder gently leaned his forearm against his partner’s. Leigh returned his nuanced affection by dipping her head toward his shoulder. They were a funny couple, but I got it. She loved his mind; he loved everything about her.

“So glad you both could make it, Dr. Solder, Ms. Paik.” I extended my hand. “I’m Stella Wright. I live in the main house, so you can always reach out to me if you need anything. “

“Don’t worry about us. We have a whole lot of bones to play with. And call me Leigh,” said the woman, shaking my hand while her partner got back to work. Although she was the assistant on their team, she seemed to be the public front for the two. “We’re setting up the lab. Then we’ll examine the body. Your timing is perfect.”

I was impressed. It had only been a few hours since the ME had suggested a forensic anthropologist take over, and here were two professionals, world-renowned, on the case. I smiled at Andy, who rubbed his hands together in anticipation of what would come next. I wished Peter was with us too.

“Knock, knock,” said a new voice, behind us.

It was the second time I’d heard that phrase today. As I expected, I turned to find a corduroy jacket with elbow patches in the doorway.

“Jameson Bellows,” said the historian I’d met at the library.

His introduction was aimed at the scientists, but Solder was now busy instructing Leigh to organize some tools to help him measure the bones.

“I’m the resident curator at the Nantucket Historical Association. Consider me at your service,” he said, trying again for their attention. When he received little more than an indulgent smile from Leigh, he turned to me. “Is that you, Ms. Wright?” I nodded, cognizant of the fact that Jameson Bellows’s sudden arrival was most likely connected to the fact that he’d overheard me talking to Agnes. I surmised that he had learned the Morton’s address from Agnes after I’d left and was eager to get in on the action. I had to admit I respected his ambition to make a name for himself on our island. He definitely wanted to be the Historical Association’s new superstar.

“Mr. Bellows,” said Andy, “although I appreciate that you’ve made time to visit, I will ask that you respect—”

“It’s really OK,” said Leigh, “we’re happy that the island’s community is interested in our work. Please feel free to observe us.”

“But perhaps later,” said Solder, as much to Leigh as to Bellows. “We’ll have to sell tickets at this rate. Right now, the goal is to discover as much as we can, as quickly as we can. Since the bones have been unearthed, it’s important to examine them thoroughly lest the exterior environment contaminate them over time.”

I was fascinated to see who would win. Solder bit his bottom lip and looked as if he was going to hold his ground, but Leigh gave him an equally stubborn stare. She had transformed from a dreamy groupie to a frustrated colleague in the blink of an eye, and I realized she must wear a couple of hats in their relationship. I found I was rooting for her and was happy when Solder took a step aside. As he did, he lowered a pair of glasses with magnifiers for lenses, and flipped on a flashlight attached to them. With his eyes looking four times their size, I once again found myself trying to figure out how we could use him at Halloween Haunts.

“Please don’t assume this is going to be an ongoing partnership, Mr. Bellows,” he said. “This is no more than professional courtesy.”

Leigh raised her chin but graciously said nothing more.

In the four or five steps it took the historian to head victoriously to the hearth, he pulled out a small case from his breast pocket. He unzipped it and removed a pair of glasses with a magnifying glass and light attached to them, similar to Solder’s own glasses, and took a place beside Solder at the hearth.

“I can already see,” said Bellows after only a moment’s silence, “that the weave of cloth of the woman’s dress places her in an early-nineteenth-century time period.”

The two men, with their four collective eyes magnified by their glasses, looked up and gave each other a good, long stare.

“Obviously,” said Solder, not breaking eye contact.

“Obviously,” said Bellows with equal intensity.

The two men turned and faced the hearth again with the precision of synchronized swimmers. Without speaking to each other, Bellows took the bottom of the skeleton, and Solder took the top. I noticed Leigh shaking her head as she opened a cardboard box at the table.

“The teeth are worn at the incisor,” said Solder, perhaps to Bellows, perhaps to himself. “I believe she sewed a lot.”

I stepped toward the area of the room where the investigators were examining the skeleton, fascinated by the suggestion that she was a seamstress. I supposed all women sewed back then, but I was reminded that the Cooper Thieves had stolen from Petticoat Row women, many of whom were seamstresses.

After about a minute, the two gentlemen switched places and continued their scan of the body. I felt like we were watching paint dry, but finally there was some action up front. Bellows reached into the woman’s dress sleeve. Solder reached out to stop him, but Bellows had already extracted what looked like a small piece of linen.

“What is it?” I said.

Without a word, Bellows walked to the table with Solder right behind him. Andy and I craned our necks to see, but Leigh was there as well and we couldn’t make out much over their shoulders.

“I’d say eighteen thirties or forties, from the embroidery,” said Leigh.

“The color choice of the thread is in keeping with that time,” said Bellows with a condescending air.

Solder nodded, focused on the linen. While Bellows looked pleased with himself for having had the opportunity to display his knowledge, Solder was in his zone, finding clues from an old piece of cloth. I knew how he must feel. There was a puzzle to be solved, and he had found a solid clue. I’m like that when I’m designing new candles.

“It’s in good condition. Aside from the blood,” said Solder.

“Did you find many wounds on the body? Other fractures anywhere?” I asked, thinking of Peter’s idea that Patience Cooper had been attacked by thieves and had died from her wounds, leaving Jedediah free to leave with the money she’d protected with her life.

Solder shook his head.

“Only the wound to her rib cage,” he said.

The seamstress connection had led me to think that the body might actually be Agnes’s relative, but the discrepancy in the wounds left me stumped.

Solder took what looked like a pen from his pocket, clicked it, and then began to speak into it.

“From a cursory observational examination, I believe the body to be female, from the mid-nineteenth century,” said Solder. “Rib number five on the right side is shattered, indicating death by blunt force. The size and rotational fracture suggest a rounded object, inflicted at close range. Handkerchief—contaminated by modern handling—has minute blood splatter in upper left corner. Initials PC embroidered into linen. Tooth erosion suggests a trade in sewing.”

“Did you say PC?” I said, almost shouting.

Solder clicked off his recording device and raised the handkerchief gently, holding it by tweezers, for us to view. Embroidered neatly in the corner of the simple linen were two initials: PC.

There was now no doubt in my mind. The skeleton I’d found of a young woman who had once been a candle maker was Agnes’s relative, Patience Cooper. And given the discrepancy between Agnes’s story that Patience had skipped town and the cold hard truth that she was lying here with a single stab wound as her cause of death, something very foul indeed had happened to the woman.

“If I may, I believe the body is Patience Cooper,” said Bellows with great authority. “Married to Jedediah Cooper in eighteen forty-seven.”

Andy, Solder, and even Leigh looked impressed. Me? I held my tongue, knowing that the only way Bellows had this information was because he’d listened in on my conversation with Agnes. He was certainly trying hard to establish his authority. Luckily for him, I was still too stunned to quibble.

“Your theory is an interesting one, but our focus is on scientific facts, Mr. Bellows,” said Solder. “The linen is illuminating, but we may only ever be able to theorize, not prove, that this is someone named Patience Cooper. That’s an important distinction.”

“Excuse me?” said a voice from behind us.

We turned, startled, to find Agnes.

“I’m related to the Coopers. I came to see if you have found Patience.”

“Agnes? How’d you know to come here? And what made you think we’d find Patience Cooper?” Andy asked. Then he looked at me. “Never mind.”

Agnes stopped and stared at the skeleton like a deer caught in headlights. Before she could faint, Andy walked briskly to the door, grabbing a folding chair while he did. Reaching her, he opened the chair and led her to it.

“What are you doing here, Agnes?” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said, taking a deep breath and composing herself. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. And to think she could be family.”

I joined them and rubbed her back.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I said.

“But I wanted to help,” Agnes said, and looked at me.

Agnes absently touched the glasses that were perched on top of her head as she took a breath.

“I remembered something more about the story of Patience Cooper,” she said.