Читать книгу Reading the Bones - Gina McMurchy-Barber - Страница 6

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life throws you a curveball. That’s what my mom, Elizabeth Henderson, said when my dad died seven years ago. And she said it again when she lost her job last winter after Arrow Communications, an advertising firm, went out of business. When she couldn’t find anything close to home, she decided to leave British Columbia and go to Toronto to look for work. Then zing! That’s when life threw me a curveball and I found out I would have to live with Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stuart until Mom found a job and sent for me. But since then I’ve learned that sometimes life’s curveballs actually work out to be more like — well, let’s just say, interesting opportunities. That’s what happened one day when I helped Uncle Stuart in the garden.

I had stopped weeding to come and admire the pond hole he was digging when I noticed what looked like a large round stone emerging from the dark, speckled earth. It was smooth and yellowed with age. I bent down and brushed the dirt off with my hand. Then I dug around the sides with my fingers to make it easier to pull out. But as I was about to pry the object loose, my hand flashed my brain an image and I hesitated.

“Hey, Uncle Stu, I think this thing might be a skull.” It almost felt silly to say, especially after Uncle Stuart grinned and started stomping around the yard, wailing like some lame ghost. But when he finally stooped closer to peer at the thing in the dirt, I watched the smirk melt from his face.

“Peggy, don’t touch it. Get out of there!”

Was he just making more fun of me?

“Go get your aunt right now!”

Okay, maybe not. But now my gaze was mesmerized by the shape in the ground.

“Now, Peggy, now!”

Aunt Margaret and I were back in minutes, standing next to my uncle.

“What do you think it is, Margaret?”

She bent down and examined the object more closely. “My goodness! Is it human?”

Uncle Stuart nervously stroked back his hair. “That’s what it looks like to me.”

Aunt Margaret’s complexion seemed as pasty as uncooked dough. “We’d better call the police, Stuart.”

Twenty minutes later the place was swarming with police cars — well, okay, two police cars. But to the dozen or so people gathered across the street from the house, it must have looked like a major crime scene. When Uncle Stuart opened the front door, one of the four men introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Officer Pratt. I’m a forensics specialist. This is our coroner, Dr. Forsythe. Are you the owner of the house?”

Uncle Stuart nodded anxiously. “Yes ... yes, I’m Stuart Randall. I’m the one who called.”

“I understand you’ve uncovered what appear to be human remains in your backyard. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct, Officer,” Uncle Stuart croaked as he tried to clear his throat. “Come through here and I’ll show you where it is.” Officer Pratt and the other men followed Uncle Stuart through the house to the backyard. I nipped through the living room and out the French doors just in time to see my uncle point to the spot where the skull lay embedded in the earth.

Dr. Forsythe and Officer Pratt knelt and examined the skull without touching it. Then Dr. Forsythe took out two small tools. The first was a tiny paint brush, kind of like the one I had used earlier that morning when I painted a picture of my aunt’s cat, Duff. The second was a sharp metal tool, like the pointy hook a dentist uses for cleaning teeth. He began gently brushing away the dirt with the paint brush. Just when I thought the waiting couldn’t get any worse, he switched to the dental pick and started to remove tiny grains of dirt from the crevices. Finally, he nodded at Officer Pratt and stood.

“It’s just what we thought it would be,” Dr. Forsythe said, speaking casually while Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stuart hung back like crime victims. “What you have here is not a recently deceased individual.”

“Oh, right, so now we’re supposed to be relieved?” Uncle Stuart said. “Good news, honey. It isn’t anyone we know!”

Dr. Forsythe and Officer Pratt smiled. “I take it you haven’t lived in Crescent Beach long,” Dr. Forsythe said. “You see, this entire peninsula was once a prehistoric Coast Salish village. By the looks of this skull, I’d say you have the remains of someone who lived and died on this land more than fifteen hundred years ago.”

“Or even as long as five thousand years ago,” Officer Pratt added. “Unfortunately, accidental disturbances to ancient burials like this one have happened often over the past century in Crescent Beach.”

Aunt Margaret’s face was still ashen, and now Uncle Stuart’s right eye was twitching. While they looked miserable, I felt as if I’d just won a lottery. Finding a dead guy in the backyard — well, that just had to mean something cool was about to happen. About time, too. I was starting to feel like Little Orphan Annie stuck in the middle of nowhere.

“You know, everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, but we’re the only ones that have them in the backyard, too!” I quipped.

Officer Pratt chuckled, but Aunt Margaret wasn’t amused. “Peggy, that’s not an appropriate remark to make at a time like this.”

Actually, I thought it was totally appropriate. Lots of people use humour to release tension at stressful moments.

“Oh, I just had a dreadful thought, Officer,” Aunt Margaret said. “Do you think there are more dead ... ah, bones or skeletons around here?”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s possible there are more prehistoric human or cultural remains in this area. But I hope you’re not planning on digging them up.”

“Certainly not, Officer Pratt.” My aunt looked shocked. “But tell me, just what are we supposed to do now?” Her initial alarm had now turned to irritation.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Randall,” Officer Pratt said. “Now that Dr. Forsythe and I have determined that this matter isn’t a concern for contemporary forensics, we’ll contact the Archaeology Branch in Victoria. They’ll be glad to hear we have your assurance there will be no further disturbance to the remains until they can send someone to deal with all this. I’m sure the Archaeology Branch will also want to contact the nearest First Nations band.”

“Did you say First Nations band? Why do the Indians need to get involved?” Whenever Aunt Margaret’s voice got edgy like that, I made sure to stay out of her way.

“It’s out of respect, ma’am,” Officer Pratt said. “Any accidental discovery of human remains of aboriginal ancestry needs to be reported to the local First Nations people.”

Uncle Stuart’s face had turned red, and as he spoke his voice was a little jittery. “Sounds like we’re getting into a lot of red tape. What happens next?”

“Well, then an archaeologist will come and determine what to do next,” Officer Pratt said. “I guess in the future you might want to think twice before digging up your backyard.” He grinned, but Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stuart didn’t find him funny.

“So what were you making, anyway?” Dr. Forsythe asked.

“A pond,” I blurted. Then I glanced at my aunt and uncle, whose faces were drawn and pale. “Well, look on the bright side. At least we weren’t putting in a swimming pool!”