Maya Mound Mayhem (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 3) (2 page)

Chapter
Three

The man standing
before me in a light tan shirt and sporting a green shield-shaped emblem on his
sleeve was a Federal Forest Service officer. I’d seen his kind before. When I
had illegally trespassed on the very same property I was sitting (legally) on
now, two of his counterparts had tried to chase me down . . .

That’s another
story, though.

 “No.” I scratched
my forehead and then folded my arms across my chest.

 “Yep. That’s her,”
a voice came from behind him. “Dr. Logan Dickerson. She’s the one.”

 I peered around him
and there was Riley. With her words she moved forward and smiled at me.

Oh no wonder . . .

He took out a
notebook and starting scribbling in it. “Dr. Logan Dickerson,” he repeated as
he wrote. “Are you a medical doctor?”

“No. She has a
doctorate in history,” Riley answered.

“And
anthropology,” I said standing up. I squared my shoulders and tried to look
important. “I have a doctorate in both. And I’m in charge of this site.” I
waved my arm in an outward arc. “We’re here to look for Maya ruins.”

“Here?” he asked
and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s not why you’re here.”

What?

I looked at him
and then over at Riley.

What did he know?

“Tell me about
these bones you found,” he said before I had the chance to enlighten him on how
wrong he was.

“They belonged to
a man. Male. Caucasian,” I said. “Probably around your age when he died.”

“My age? And how
old do you think I am?”

“Around
thirty-nine,” I said.

“Hmph,” he
muttered and wrote something in his notebook. “And how do you know all this?
Race. Age. I thought it was a skeleton you found.”

“I told you, I’m
an anthropologist,” I said suddenly pretty proud of myself for being able to
figure it out. “I study people for a living.”

“How long has that
body been there?”

“I don’t know,” I
said and hunched my shoulders. “Maybe a week. Maybe two.” I hunched my
shoulders again. “Maybe more.”

“How long have you
been here?” he looked up from his notebook.

“About three
weeks,” I said and licked my lips.

Why was I all of
sudden feeling nervous?

He started writing
in that notebook of his again. Taking down everything I said, his eyes darting
from it back to me.

Maybe that was why
. . .

“Why were you
trying to get rid of those bones?” he asked.

“What! Get rid of
them?” My mouth dropped opened and my eyes got big. “No!” I said a little
louder than necessary. “I found them.”

“Then why were you
trying to hide when . . . uh,” he looked down at his note, “Miss Sinclair,” he
pointed to Riley, “found you?”

“I wasn’t trying
to hide,” I said. “And she only found me because I screamed.”

“She’d cut off her
flash light and was trying to dig her way into a hole in the wall,” Riley said.

“I wouldn’t have
screamed,” I looked at the officer, “if I was trying to hide the bones.” I
turned and stared at Riley. “That wouldn’t make sense.”

“She just said you
were trying to hide yourself.”

“Yeah. Well. I
wasn’t doing that either.”

“I think we just
frightened her,” Bugs said walking over to the trailer. “Even more than she had
already been.”

Bugs was tall and
good looking. His hair was blonde, almost white and he a cowlick that made a
tuft of hair stand up at the top of head. He had big blue eyes and freckles
across his nose.

“And who are you?”
the officer asked.

“Jackson Reid,” he
said and stuck out his hand. “But everyone calls me Bugs.”

“Mr. Jackson
Reid,” the officer said the name as he wrote it down. “You were there?” he
asked and looked up at him.

“Yes. I was. Those
bones were pretty well hid,” Jackson looked over at me and smiled. “But Dr.
Dickerson is good at digging up stuff. That’s why they put her in charge.”

At least one
person on my team isn’t trying to get me in trouble with the law.

 “And who are
you?”

“I am a volunteer
archaeologist. Being a student at the University of Georgia is my regular
engagement. A senior come this fall. Majoring in botany.”

Bugs was giving
the man way more information than I’d ever volunteer.

“Isn’t that the
study of plants?” the officer asked.

“Yep.” He nodded.

“Then why do they
call you ‘Bugs?’”

“Just a nickname I
carried with me since childhood. Probably started out as a joke, but it stuck.”

 “Did you see her
– uh, Dr. Dickerson find the body?” the officer asked.

“No. I didn’t.”
Bugs looked at Riley. “It was already unearthed when we found her.” He looked
at me and nodded. “Not hiding.”

“Hello all.” I
looked and saw another man that I didn’t know walking up to our little group. “Miss
Sinclair.” He acknowledged Riley.

“Hello, Clive,”
the officer called him by name. Riley nodded her greeting. And when “Clive”
reached me, he stuck out his hand.

“Dr. Dickerson?”
he asked. “I’m Dr. Clive Armsgoode. Ph.D.  Early American History.”

Clive Armsgoode
looked like a mouse with a moustache. He had a pointed head and short limbs
that didn’t go with his long torso. He spoke through his nose and snorted out
his words. I didn’t know who he was, but I didn’t like him right off.

And who introduced
themselves with letters?

“A lot of mayhem
going on around here,” Clive directed his question to the government officer.

“Dead body found
over near the stone walls. Right inside of a mound.” He nodded toward me. “She
found it.”

“She?” I have a
name. Okay. And why was he telling this man all of that information?

“I’m at a loss,
Dr. Armsgoode,” I said. “You know my name and who I am, but I don’t know who you
are.”

“It seems you were
the odd man out, sort to speak.” A smirk spread across his face. “I was
supposed to be in charge of this dig.”

He caught me off
guard. I hadn’t known I’d had competition in getting the job.

“Well, it would
seem that you were the odd man out then,” I said and smiled.

“Touché,” he said
then turned to the officer. “They’ll be closing up this dig.” He made it sound
more like a statement than a question. “I’m sure Steven feels like he’s been
caught with his pants down.” They both laughed.

Steven?
I didn’t even
call Director McHutchinson by his first name. And I
had
been chosen to
run the dig.

“Couldn’t be good
for his run,” the officer said. “It’ll be back to normal soon enough, though.”
He eyed me with that comment. “I guess you do what you have to to win.”

What was that
supposed to mean?

“The FBI will be
taking this over,” the officer closed his notebook and tapped it with his pen.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, or his good friend “Clive.” He turned
and looked over his shoulder and then at me. “They’ll be a while. As Clive
said, they’ll want to close down the site. You should tell your team, Dr.
Dickerson.” He put his hand on the brim of his hat and pretended to tip it. “Probably
someone will call you in for a statement.”

I twisted up my
face and took in a breath.
Didn’t he just take my statement?

He seemed to
understand the puzzle look on my face. “Someone from the FBI will call you.
They’ll need to hear from you what happened.”

FBI. That didn’t
sound like something I would enjoy.

Oh wait! FBI meant
Bay! My boyfriend. My
new
boyfriend. My protector. Although I hadn’t see
him – I stood on my toes and looked over the officer’s shoulder – he might just
be on this job.

I eyed the police
officer. Bay would cut me some slack. Might even stop the site from closing
down so I could finish my work.

I just wanted to
shout:
I know important people, Mr. Government Man. People more important
than you!

After everyone
left, I sat down in one of my folding chairs outside my trailer and tried to call
Director McHutchinson. Twice. Both times I got his voicemail. Each time as I
waited for the beep I debated on whether I should call him “Steve” in my
message . . .

I needed to talk
to him. I wanted to find out what the Forest Service was up to as well as that
Clive Armsgoode.

I didn’t like him
at all.

As much land as there
was at the ruins that, to me, was clear evidence of Maya once occupying the
land, I couldn’t see why my team would have to pack up and leave. The body was
in one little spot. I could easily excavate in a different one.

When I couldn’t
reach the Director, the only person I know who could override the Forest
Service officer’s directive to pack up and leave, I did what I had been told to
do. I told everyone to leave and I started shutting down my camper to do the
same.

I hated leaving
like this. I didn’t know how things would be when I got back. If I got back . .
.

I was always
seconding guess my worth, and something like this didn’t help. I wanted to make
a name for myself but every time I tried, something came up.

I just wanted to
be as good as my mother.

Better but in a
different way, you know?

That’s why even
though I’d become an archaeologist like her, I had picked a completely
different field. But choosing the same occupation may not have been a good
idea. Because then, whenever I got recognition for something, I always wondered
was it because of her.

It’s crazy I know.
I never thought it was because I was good enough. That it was because I had two
Ph.Ds. and had graduated top in my class. Or that I was really good at what I
did. I always attributed to either me being black and there was a quota to
fill, or because I was young and people thought I was malleable.

I shook myself.

I had to stop
thinking like that.

“Hey. You.”

I looked up and it
was Bugs. Again.

“Didn’t I tell you
to go home?” I said.

“Yeah. I forgot
something. Just came back to pick it up. Saw you.” His phone started ringing as
he spoke. He looked down at it and put up a finger to me telling me to hold on.

I stuck the
folding chair inside the door of the trailer, and put my knapsack over my
shoulder. I waited for him to get off the phone.

Longer than I
wanted to.

And when his phone
conversation got a little heated between he and “Laura,” as he kept saying, I
just wanted to leave.

“Sorry about
that,” he said when he hung up the phone. “That was my girlfriend, Laura. She’s
so demanding.”

He’s got a
girlfriend? Then why is he always flirting with me
.

“Well. I’ve got to
go,” I said instead. “And so do you.”

“Yeah. I am,” he
said. “But when I saw you I just wanted to let you know that I’ll help you,
Logan.” He nodded his head. “In any way I can.”

“Thanks,” I said
kind of hesitantly.

“It’s just that I
know how these government people work. They just want to bulldoze over you.” He
looked at me. “And that Clive Armsgoode. He’s not a very nice man.”

I laughed. That
wasn’t the half of what I thought of him.

“Thanks, Bugs,” I
said. “I appreciate your support.”

“Anytime. We have
to band together against the establishment.”

“Power to the
people,” I said and we both laughed.

Chapter
Five

I’d been banished
again.

Twice now from the
same exact place.

I stuck an old
Whitney Houston CD in the car player and turned up the volume as I pulled out
of Track Rock Gap. I glanced at the clock. One. Only fifty percent of the day
over but I was feeling one hundred percent irritated. I thought about calling
my mother. I needed her. This time it was because of the “establishment,” as
Bugs put it.

I was heading down
I-20 back to Yasamee. Just like I had when I was nearly caught trespassing at
Track Rock Gap. Calling myself hiding out from the law, I’d found the Maypop, a
quaint little bed and breakfast. That had been where I met Vivienne Pennywell. The
now perpetual thorn in my side. She and her daughters Brie Pennywell, and
Renmar Colquett owned the Maypop. Finding refuge there changed my life more
than I could have ever dreamed possible.

And oh yeah, how
could I forget, it’s where all the murders started. Well for the most part.

But I couldn’t
hide for long. As it turned out, the FBI agent on my trail was one Bay
Colquett, who also just so happened to be the son of Renmar, proprietor of the
Maypop (and a brilliant cook I have to add). And favorite grandson of Miss
Vivee, as she’s called by everyone, a five-foot nothing, ninety something
Voodoo herbalist. She had a putt-putt course and a greenhouse full of the
plants she used for healing in her backyard.

Miss Vivee was
strong and she was feisty. She didn’t let old age, anything or anyone get her
down. Not that I had seen. And Bay had taken after her. His mother, Renmar, the
typical Southern belle – prime, proper, porcelain white skin, every hair in
place – had married a black man from Louisiana and Bay had grown up, in a small
southern town, the only black kid around.

He faced the same
things I had, yet we turned out so differently. I adhere to the science that
birth order shapes personality and that the roles siblings assume is what leads
to behavioral differences in children, so I figured that was what made the
dissimilarity in us. Bay was an only child and I was the youngest of three. He
was laid back. Confident. I was always worried. Always feeling like I lived in
my mother’s shadow, but always going to her for help.

I’d always been
the nerd. Geek in the family. At school. But proud of it. I’d rather have my
nose in a book then hang out with friends. It had been my father that
encouraged me to start dating and after I’d met Bay, I was glad I’d listened to
him.

Just the thought
of Bay made my worries melt and at the same time sent chills down my spine. He made
a warmth spread through me chocolate pudding oozing out of a molten lava cake.
Slow, easy, yummy.

I decided to call
him instead of my mother.

It even made me
feel more grown-up.

As soon as I heard
his voice I knew everything was going to be okay.

He was up in
Atlanta at the FBI headquarters. Ours was a long distance relationship, but
cell phones, FaceTime and weekends made the distance between us seem more like
inches instead of miles. He was the reason I hung around in Georgia. He made
sure I got what I needed in our relationship even though I’m sure he hadn’t bargained
for such an insecure, whiner, like me.

And he made sure
that everyone else treated me good, too.

“I’m glad that
you’re going back to Yasamee,” he said before we hung up. “My grandmother will
take care of you until I can.”

That put a smile
on my face and made it easy to put Gainesville behind me.