Effigies (22 page)
The image was so real that Faye felt like she was inspecting the work of the roofers who repaired the great hurricane’s damage. She was unlikely to ever get a better look at their work. Now, that wasn’t true. Next year, when the technology improved, she’d get a better look at her roof. And the next year, she’d get a better look again. Soon enough, she’d be able to count every shingle.
Homesickness seized her. She shoved it aside every morning. Every night, when she settled in to sleep, she refused to let it sneak into her heart, but she never stopped wishing she were home. If she’d simply commit herself to one field of study, it could happen. Choosing to earn a doctorate in the specialty that most obviously suited her—racial relations in the pre-Civil-War Southeast—would mean that she could go home and look for enlightenment in her own back yard. Which meant she’d have to turn her back on interesting work on other historical periods, like the work she was doing here.
Faye was born to be a generalist. The thought of choosing a specialty scared her to death.
She stroked the screen, saying good-bye to Joyeuse in her own way, then zoomed out again. Centering the image on east-central Mississippi, she dove again toward the surface. Finding Nanih Waiya took her only seconds. She loomed out of the surrounding pasture like an eternal breast. Faye had no reason for visiting her, other than to pay her respects. The nearby cave mound was invisible beneath its sheath of trees.
She moved her cursor southwest and clicked. Now she was looking down at herself. Not really. These satellite photos weren’t displayed in real time. Still, the roofs of the Nail and Calhoun houses were recognizable, as was the Calhoun mound.
For fun, she took a “ride” up the creek, just to get an aerial perspective on the trip she’d taken the day before. Mr. Judd’s cave was way too small to see at this resolution, but his mound—the one where he’d seen a cemetery all those years ago—was visible through the obscuring trees, if you knew where to look. To Faye’s eye, the earthworks along the creek were almost as obvious, but she knew there were those who would argue the point.
She clicked back over to the Calhoun mound. Were its wings a figment of her imagination?
The answer was an unequivocal “Maybe not.” She thought she saw a suggestive shadow here and another there, even through the underbrush crowding up the mound’s side. Still, she’d never have recognized the shape of a bird without having seen the land shorn of its vegetation.
The fact that Calhoun and his ancestors had avoided plowing a large area around the mound for all these years might have been telling. Land was money, but they’d left a big chunk of it alone. Though Calhoun himself might not have known why, maybe the eagle’s wings were obvious when his ancestors settled the land. Perhaps they had been farsighted enough to preserve them.
Faye zoomed out just a tiny bit and laughed out loud. Maybe there was no eagle effigy to be discovered around that mound. But if there was, then its beak was pointed directly toward the lone mound that remained deep in the woods.
Perhaps it had supported a cemetery in Mr. Judd’s day. Faye believed there had been a time when a long-dead people had seen it as something else entirely.
Faye pondered the missing cemetery. Mr. Judd had seen it, and his memory had not been dimmed by time. He even remembered the cast iron fence and the marble monuments that had replaced the ceremonial temple that would have stood atop the mound in antiquity.
Who besides Mr. Judd would remember that cemetery? Mr. Calhoun, certainly, but he was dead. And Mr. Rutland had once owned it, but his mind was as unreachable now as Mr. Calhoun’s. Maybe their wives would remember, but Mrs. Rutland must be dead, or she wouldn’t be letting Neely take the full brunt of her father’s care. Faye didn’t care to toy with a woman of Mrs. Calhoun’s trigger-happy reputation. Not when she had another option.
She dug in a desk drawer and found a phone book. The sheriff’s number was published with the other emergency contacts inside the front cover. It was a small department, so Faye spent surprisingly little time on hold before Neely’s voice came out of the receiver.
“Faye. How’s the archaeology going?”
“Just fine, but our work would go faster if we didn’t stay upset all the time. First, some crank tries to bulldoze history. Then that crank—God rest his soul—turns up dead. Not to mention Congressman Judd, who shocked everybody at the Fair with his sad tale.”
“And I hear he hasn’t stopped collapsing.”
“Maybe he’d do better if he always had the sheriff around to look after him.”
Neely’s short laugh came out of the phone. “Faye, I think you do a better job taking care of him than I do. He just picked a bad time to get sick this morning. Neither of us was anywhere around.”
“So you know he’s back in the hospital. Does the sheriff get notified every time somebody gets sick around here?”
“She does when that someone is a retired congressman. And when he’s at the center of a high-profile investigation into an old crime. Also, it doesn’t hurt that one of my deputies goes to church with the admissions clerk.”
“Well, I just happen to be sitting here with my computer, using a satellite to study your entire jurisdiction,” Faye said, patting the computer protectively. She had a question she’d been itching to ask the sheriff, and this machine had just given her a way to do it without admitting to some serious trespassing. “You remember how Mr. Judd mentioned a hill with a cemetery on top of it?”
“I do. And this isn’t the first time you’ve brought it up. I think it’s an archaeologist thing to be interested in old stuff. Especially old bones. You people really have a thing about bones.”
Faye smiled at the sheriff’s companionable banter. She didn’t have a lot of time to socialize with women her own age, not when her classmates were ten or more years younger. She wished Philadelphia was a little bit closer to Joyeuse. She and Neely might have been good friends.
“Thanks to the Internet, I have my own personal satellite pointed at Mr. Calhoun’s property. Now, it isn’t strong enough to see individual bones, especially when they’re buried. But I’ve got a pretty good view of an old mound tucked deep in the woods that might fit Mr. Judd’s description. You’ve lived in the area a long time. Do you know anything about it?”
“Not the first thing. Carroll Calhoun was always touchy about his property.”
Faye knew that he hadn’t always had this particular piece of land—Neely’s father had once owned it—but she neglected to point that out. It just seemed rude. Instead, she said, “There’s almost always a real good reason for a mound to survive, rather than getting plowed over. One of those good reasons is because it was used for something so special that people wanted to preserve it. Like maybe as a site for a cemetery. I can’t see a cemetery on top of it now, but it’s worth checking out.”
“Then send me the web link to your own personal satellite. I’ll go take a look at the mound.”
“After you get a look, do you want to talk about it? Maybe we could go out there and take a look together.”
Neely laughed again. “You just want to use my badge as an excuse to get onto Mrs. Calhoun’s property. I don’t think so, Faye. But we can get together here at my office tomorrow afternoon, if you like. Tomorrow morning won’t work. Mr. Judd and I are supposed to talk to a big crowd out at the fairgrounds, if he gets out of the hospital. If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to do it alone. His story’s gotten out to the national media, and the Fair people think we should deliver an update. They also love the idea of reminding the world of the Neshoba County Fair’s significance as a political forum. It’ll close down tomorrow evening, and the partiers and politicians will go home. I’m about ready for my life to get back to normal.”
Faye wasn’t sure she wanted to wait until Neely’s life grew peaceful before she got the information on Mr. Judd’s cemetery that she needed. Perhaps she and Joe might take another walk tonight. And perhaps this time they wouldn’t be so persnickety about staying within the Waters of the State.
“The man’s pretty sick.” Ross’ voice came out of the phone with none of the flirtatious edge that Faye had enjoyed the night before. “Mr. Judd wants to leave the hospital, but his doctor says no. He threatened to sign himself out against doctor’s orders, but I talked him out of it.”
“That was good legal advice.”
“Yeah, and Mr. Judd’s a lawyer, too, so he was smart enough to take it.”
“You say he’s pretty sick. Can you be more specific?”
In the background, Faye could hear the mechanical sound of a human voice filtered through a hospital intercom.
Housekeeping to the ER,
the intercom announced. Then it repeated itself, in case somebody missed the message:
Housekeeping to ER.
Ross waited until it was silent, then continued. “They’re having a harder time getting him to snap out of this ‘weak spell,’ as he calls it. His heart rate will stabilize for a while, then it’ll drop to nearly nothing. His blood pressure bottoms out with it, then he passes out. No wonder he feels weak whenever he’s conscious. If you heart can’t pump some oxygen to your brain and your muscles, your body just can’t go. His doctor says he’s probably not in immediate danger, but his poker face is slipping. I think he’s really worried about our friend the congressman.”
“Did any of his labwork come back?” Faye liked lab reports. They provided numbers and facts. The information was couched in specific terms. If she didn’t understand the medical terms, she could always look them up. She had pored over the laboratory findings of more loved ones than she liked, but hard facts drove the uncertainty away. Faye hated uncertainty.
“Some of the quick-and-dirty tests are back—complete blood count, dip-stick urinalysis, stuff like that, but we’re still waiting on the rest.”
It sounded to Faye like Ross had pored over the laboratory reports of more loved ones than he cared to count, too. If they ever had another moment alone, maybe she’d ask him.
Instead, she said, “I know you need to get to Jackson.”
“I hate to leave, but I really do need to get over there if I can.”
Faye sifted through her list of local acquaintances. Dr. Mailer would do an excellent job of advocating for Mr. Judd with his doctors. But he was such a nice guy, he’d probably just urge Faye to take the afternoon off and go to the hospital. That would wreak havoc with her plan to snoop around for Mr. Judd’s cemetery.
Toneisha and Bodie were too immature. Chuck was too weird. She needed Joe for her expedition. Maybe Oka Hofobi…
As it turned out, Ross had already solved his own problem. “Are you listening, Faye? What do you think about me leaving Neely Rutland with him? She’s offered to stay for a while, and she’s here now.”
“The sheriff? Doesn’t she have better things to do?”
“Think, Faye. An ex-congressman flies into her jurisdiction, drops a political bombshell, then becomes deathly ill. She’s supposed to hold a press conference—with the sick man—tomorrow morning. Yes, she’s got a murder investigation going on, but she’s got a staff. You better bet she’ll be making sure the sick ex-congressman gets taken care of.”
“Well, if you and Neely already have things worked out, you don’t need to check with me. It’d be nice to let his wife know, though. I’ll tell you what. Let me call Sallie and give her an update. You go to Jackson and dazzle some power-mongers.”
As she turned off her phone, Joe thrust his head through the office door. “Faye—you gotta come out here and see this!”
Faye rushed outside to find her colleagues crouched and kneeling in a circle around a smiling Toneisha. Protruding out of the soil was the refined curve of a clay pot that had been nothing special when it was made. Two thousand years had turned it into something special indeed.
“Look. It’s hardly broken at all,” Bodie said, beaming proudly at Toneisha. “Maybe three or four big pieces. And look at that cross-hatching at the top.”
As Oka Hofobi wielded a camera, Toneisha spent much of the rest of the afternoon uncovering the shapely little pot. Faye took notes and helped label the sherds—just three big chunks, but a host of tiny fragments. As the tedious work progressed, she found herself wondering whether Chuck reconstructed broken pottery with the same passion that he studied chipped stone. Observing how quickly he wandered away from the exciting find and resumed his own work, she thought not.
Faye’s own enthusiasm for the pot blurred her ordinarily rational thought processes a bit, just enough to completely drive Sallie Judd from her conscious mind. When Faye eventually remembered that she should have given the woman an update on her husband’s condition, she would be chagrined at her own thoughtlessness. Right this minute, she was lost in the work she loved so well.
Oka Hofobi was only asking for a simple favor, and it was quitting time, so Faye knew she could honor his request easily…if she weren’t planning to take Joe on an illegal foray into the woods.
“Faye, I need to get my car to the mechanic before he closes shop at six. It’s just a five-minute drive up the road. Could you follow me over there, then bring me back home?”
Faye couldn’t think of a face-saving way to say no. She looked around for somebody else who could help him. Toneisha and Bodie had evaporated fifteen minutes before, as soon as the clock struck five. Dr. Mailer had left right behind them. Chuck remained, but he was deep into the arcane details of whatever he did with those flint chips. She wouldn’t dare suggest that Oka Hofobi bother him.
Faye knew that she and Joe needed all the daylight they could get. The just-discovered mound was way up the creek. They needed time to get there, look for evidence of the former cemetery, and get back before dark. She couldn’t think of any way to sidestep Oka Hofobi’s request, not when her car was going to be sitting in his back yard all evening. Her best bet was to rush him to the mechanic, rush him back home, then…then what? Go in the trailer and pretend to work until she and Joe could sneak across the street without Oka Hofobi noticing?
On the way back from taking Oka Hofobi to the mechanic, Faye figured out the solution to her problem. Why should she and Joe hide their activities from Oka Hofobi when she knew full well he’d love to go with them?
“How’d you like to get a good look at that mound complex I’ve been talking about?”
“On the Calhoun land? You feeling brave?”
“Yep. Joe and I are heading over there, whether Mrs. Calhoun likes it or not. Since you’re local, maybe you know a way for us to do it without getting caught.”
“Well, yeah, I want to go. I can’t believe you were thinking about going without me.”
“What was all that high-and-mighty talk I heard you telling Mr. Calhoun about how you didn’t trespass?”
“I don’t. At least, not much any more. But I sure did when I was a little kid. I’d love to see that land along the creek one more time before somebody builds a road through it.”
Faye pulled into the Nails’ driveway and parked her car outside the project trailer.
“Do you need to go in the trailer, or have you got everything you need?” Oka Hofobi asked.
Faye pointed to a small day pack on her back seat. “I’ve got a couple of maps and a compass in there, in case we get lost. That’d be hard to do, since we’ll be in sight of the creek the whole time. We might want to get a long-range perspective on the earthworks, so I put in a set of binoculars. I never go anywhere without a trowel. There’s a couple of flashlights in there, just in case, and a camera. I also packed a couple of bottles of water and some trail mix. Oh, and some apples.”