Dressed to Die: A Lindsay Chamberlain Novel (23 page)

"You don't miss a thing, do you?"

"I missed telling you where to turn back there. Can you
turn around in that driveway?" Lindsay read the rest of the
directions aloud as he turned around. "It's not far."

Liza met them at the door. Liza's mother and sister were
older versions of her-dark hair, dark eyes, pretty. Her
father looked like a former football player: muscle gone to bulge, light brown hair, and blue eyes like his son.

"Thank you for coming," Mrs. Ferris said. "Liza said
you can help us. I know Luke didn't do this thing he's
accused of. We just don't understand it."

"I'll talk with your son," said Lindsay. "But please don't
get your hopes up that I can work any miracles."

"At least he'll talk to you," Mr. Ferris said. "He won't
say a damned thing to us. He's sitting out there now, alone
in the gazebo."

Lindsay and Sinjin walked down a path bordered by
purple creeping phlox to a small screened-in redwood
gazebo with gingerbread trim. Luke was sitting alone
inside. He looked like a kid. Lindsay tapped on the screen
door.

"Dr. Chamberlain, thanks for coming," he said, rising to
open the door.

"This is my brother, Sinjin. I hope you don't mind him
being with me."

Luke shook his head. "I just can't talk to my parents yet."

They sat on the bench built around the inside of the
gazebo. A small table in the center held a towel, a pack of
cigarettes, matches, and a glass ashtray. "This is nice,"
Lindsay said.

"Dad and I built this last summer. They had one a long
time ago that burned down." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he looked down at his feet and said, "My parents had
to mortgage the house to get me out of jail. I didn't kill her.
I swear I didn't."

"Why did the sheriff come to you?"

"In a minute," he said, nodding toward the house from
where his mother was coming, carrying a tray with a
pitcher of tea and a plate of cookies.Sinjin opened the
screen door for her.

"Just some refreshment," she said, and Lindsay thanked
her.

Sinjin put the tray on the table and got glasses of tea for
himself and Lindsay as Mrs. Ferris walked back toward the
house.

"I used to work in the Chemistry Department doing custodial work. I had a sub-master key that I forgot to turn in.
It must have been in my jacket pocket and fell out the night
Shirley Foster died. The sheriff traced it to Chemistry and
they had a list of people who hadn't turned in their keys. I
don't know why they never called me about it. Anyway,
they found out that I had also worked for Shirley Foster.
Bingo. They came to my apartment. What could I say? I
told them I found her body, but I didn't kill her. They didn't
believe me."

"Did you see anyone else that night?" Lindsay asked,
leaning forward.

Luke shook his head. "When I got there she was ... she
was lying on the bank. She was dead. Burned. That's all I
know."

"I KNOW YOU don't believe me," Luke said. "I don't
blame you. The sheriff doesn't believe me either."

"You just found her lying there? Could you tell how
long she might have been there?"

Luke shook his head, still staring at the floor. "Not long.
She was still ... uh ... there was still smoke."

"Why were you out there?" asked Lindsay.

Luke pursed his lips. "I don't know. She asked me to
come."

"She gave you no indication why?"

Luke shook his head. "She said she had a surprise and
that she would correct her mistake."

"You don't know what she meant?"

"I challenged the grade she gave me on a paper. I figured it was that."

"You didn't think it odd that she wanted to meet you way
out there in the woods to change a grade?" asked Lindsay.

"Well, sort of, but I just thought it was, well, you know-"

"You thought she would change your grade in exchange
for some sexual favor?" asked Sinjin.

"It seemed that way," answered Luke. Luke had quit
looking at the floor, and he now fixed his eyes on the scalloped molding in the gazebo. Lindsay wasn't sure if that
meant he was not telling the truth, or if he was embarrassed.

"Had she ever given you any indication before of those
kinds of intentions?" asked Lindsay.

"No. Not really. I mean, she was friendly, but she was
that way with everybody. I never took it personally before."

"How did she ask it? I mean did she just say meet me at
the lake at midnight?"

"She didn't actually say it in person. She left a note for me"

"Do you have the note?"

He shook his head.

"What did you do after you found her?" Lindsay asked.

He put his hands to his face. They were shaking. He
seemed to have tears in his eyes. "What could I do? She
was dead. I just left."

"Why didn't you call the police?" asked Lindsay.

"I was afraid. I didn't want to be involved. She was past
any help."

"But what about her family? Didn't you think they'd
want to know what happened to her?"

"I thought they would find her. It was her property. Her
car was there. We had departmental picnics there. It wasn't
like it was in the middle of nowhere."

"Do you mind if I have one of those cigarettes?" asked
Sinjin.

"What? No. Go ahead. They're my sister's. She comes
out here to smoke sometimes."

Sinjin took a cigarette from the pack and a match from
the box. He flicked the match with his thumbnail and it
ignited with a hiss. Sinjin lit the cigarette and put the flaming match in the ashtray. Lindsay was surprised. She didn't
know Sinjin smoked. Luke watched the ashtray as the
match turned to a thin piece of charcoal and burned out.

"But when they didn't find her-" began Lindsay.

"What? Oh." Luke looked at her and shrugged. "I didn't
understand it."

"You didn't go back and look?" she asked.

"No! No, I couldn't. God, no, I couldn't. I just thoughtI don't know what I thought. I just wanted to forget it."

"Is that why you quit school?" Lindsay asked. Luke
nodded.

Sinjin put out the cigarette. "Not my brand," he muttered.

"Did you make the anonymous call to Will Patterson?"
asked Lindsay.

Luke shook his head. "I don't know who he is."

"What do you think?" Lindsay asked as Sinjin drove out of
the Ferrises' drive and onto the street.

"He's lying," said Sinjin.

"Why do you think so?" she asked.

Sinjin shrugged. "He's not a good liar. He couldn't look
at either one of us. Surely you saw that. Where do you want
to eat?"

"There's a place in Five Points where we can get a sandwich, or there's a little Mexican place down the street, if you
prefer. I wonder why he didn't just report it?" asked Lindsay.

"How about Mexican? He was afraid they would blame
him, because he's a firebug. Probably set things on fire as a
kid. May still do it occasionally."

"How do you know that?" Lindsay asked.

"The gazebo burned down. There's no electricity in it,"
said Sinjin.

"Couldn't it have been struck by lightning?" she asked.

"Could have. But lightning more often hits the tallest
object. It would've probably hit one of the pines. I didn't see
any evidence of it. I think he set it on fire."

"That's kind of a jump. Going from a burned gazebo to
him setting things on fire."

"He likes fire. Did you see his eyes when I lit the match?"
Sinjin asked.

"Is that why you lit the cigarette? I didn't think you
smoked."

"I don't, and yes, that's why. I wanted to see his face. I've
seen that look before. He's fascinated by fire."

Lindsay groaned. "I feel bad for Liza and her family."

Sinjin pulled in the parking lot of the restaurant. They
ordered their food and took it to one of the outside tables.

"A strange thing happened today as I was leaving the
police station," Lindsay said. "A policeman asked me if I
knew why Gloria Rankin was coming to see me. She was the
student hit and killed by the bus that Luke Ferris was driving."

"That is odd," said Sinjin. "A coincidence?"

"I don't know," Lindsay answered.

"Did you know her?"

"No, I didn't."

"Do you think her death was an accident?"

"The police think it was," she said.

"Yeah, but the police think you and I are the Bonnie and
Clyde of the archaeology world. I have another angle on
the artifacts," Sinjin said over his beef burrito. "But it isn't
good, either."

"What's that?" asked Lindsay.

"I talked to Dad again. Steven and Anne are pitching a
fit about Dad sending the artifacts to you in the first place."

"Maggie's Steven and Anne?" asked Lindsay. "Dad's
cousins?"

"Yes. The ones who are always putting a price tag on
everything. They seem to think the artifacts are part of the
family inheritance, and because they were found behind the
house their mother lives in, they want their share of them."

"They could only profit from the artifacts if they were
sold to collectors," Lindsay said, trying to take a bite of
taco without spilling the filling out the end.

"That wouldn't bother them. Dad reminded them that he
owns the house and property where Maggie lives. He
thinks that shut them up, but I don't know."

"They're what, Dad's age? I can't imagine them driving down here, breaking into the storage room, and stealing the
artifacts. I don't think they even know where I work,"
Lindsay said.

"Their kids might have come-with enough incentive,"
said Sinjin. "I agree, it's a long shot. But-" He shrugged.
"I just thought I'd throw it out."

"Poor Dad."

"He wanted to come down and help," Sinjin said.

"You told him everything is all right, didn't you?" said
Lindsay.

"Yeah. I told him I'd stick around until it's solved."

"When do you have to be back to work, or on duty, or
whatever?" Lindsay asked.

"I've got another two weeks, provided there are no major
forest fires. And there probably won't be. Fall is the big
season for fires-after the summer has dried everything out."

"I'm glad you're staying. I hope you're not too bored."

"That's one thing about you, baby sister, life around you
isn't boring."

Lindsay went to the library to look for Kerwin's article. The
bound volume containing the Historical Archaeology journals from 1994 and 1995 was not in its place, nor was it on
any of the library tables, the sorting shelf, or in the copy
room. Journals didn't leave the library for more than one
night, and then only in the hands of faculty members who
had broad library privileges. Unless it had been stolen, it had
to be in the library. She asked a staff member if it was
checked out.

"Journals aren't usually checked out," the student worker
told her.

"I can't find it anywhere. Could a faculty member have it?"

"It's not in the computer, but it could have been done by
hand. It's probably in a carrel. I'll put a search on it."

Lindsay left the library and walked to her office, won dering who on campus might subscribe to the journal.
Probably not the classical archaeologists. She'd ask Derrick to fax the article to her again. This time, she'd stand
over the fax machine until it came in. But Derrick didn't
answer when she called him, and she hung up without leaving a message. She sighed and walked out into the lab.
Robin was working with the bones.

"Amy hasn't come by my office," Lindsay said.

"She quit," said Robin, punching numbers into her calculator. "Getting married."

Lindsay sat down and helped Robin sort through the
animal bones. She went through several boxes almost automatically. All the mysteries in her life at the moment were
swimming around in her head, frantically trying to arrange
themselves into some order she could understand. She
couldn't even decide which event went with which mystery. After a while she stood up. She needed to talk with
Eddie Peck.

"I hope I've helped some," she said to Robin. "I have
something I must do now."

"Yeah, thanks, Dr. Chamberlain. You've helped a lot. Dr.
Bienvenido got a time extension on the analysis."

"Would you like me to find another student to help you?"

"Brandon said he would like to. Is that all right?" Robin
asked.

"Sure. Have him go to Kate or Edwina and get the paperwork filled out so I can pay him."

Lindsay went into her office, closed the door, and called
the medical examiner, Eddie Peck, who always seemed to
know the details about the cases of the people he autopsied.

"Yo, Lindsay," he said, "been reading about you."

"You and everyone else in the Southeast," she said.

"Not that bad, is it?"

"Mostly embarrassing," she said.

"What can I do for you?"

"Maybe nothing. I have a question that's none of my business to ask."

"Okay, shoot," he said.

"I found out that the student Gloria Rankin was on her
way to see me when she was hit by the bus. She was enrolled
in the Classics Department, so she may have simply wanted
to see me about some archaeology question. But that strikes
me as odd, since it was Luke Ferris's bus that hit her, and
Luke's the brother of one of my students-and he's been
arrested for the murder of Shirley Foster. I don't know what
any of this has to do with anything. But I wanted to ask you
if there was anything unusual or suspicious about Gloria
Rankin's accident that you could tell me."

"Whew, let me see. All that's interesting-and could
mean nothing, as you say. There weren't many witnesses. It
happened during classes and it was raining, not hard, but
enough that not many people were outside. One guy
observed the accident from the parking lot next to the Psychology Building, and a couple saw it from across the street
as they were coming out of Baldwin. All said the driver
couldn't have prevented hitting her. The guy in the parking
lot said she almost jumped in front of the bus. The couple at
Baldwin didn't see her until she was knocked down in the
street. Just before that, they said she was standing on the
curb. The bus was virtually empty, and no passengers saw
anything."