LC 02 - Questionable Remains (10 page)

"All these reporters. Very unseemly. They have been asking about your credentials, saying that they were tipped off
that you did not finish your degree and that you have little
experience or course work in forensic anthropology."

"And what did you tell them?"

"That I would look into it, of course. I told them that the
Archaeology Department wouldn't tolerate fraudulent credentials."

"You told them what!" Lindsay said through her teeth.
She got out of the car, stretching the telephone cord as far as
it would go as she paced the parking lot.

"What did you expect me to say?"

"I expected you to defend me. You know my credentials.
You know they are completely in order. You know some of
the people I graduated with, for heaven's sake." Lindsay
stopped short of calling him an idiot.

"Dr. Chamberlain. We need to keep calm."

Lindsay stopped pacing and drummed her fingers on the
hood of the Land Rover. "I assure you, Dr. Kerwin, that
under the circumstances, I am very calm."

"They asked about your identification of the teeth of
Lenny Fergus."

"Denny Ferguson."

"Yes, well, I had to say that is not the way we usually do
things."

Lindsay was livid. "We who? You don't know your olecranon from your coccygeal vertebrae." She looked up to
see that Sally and Emily had come over to the car; both
looked wide-eyed.

"Dr. Chamberlain, I don't think-"

"That's your problem. You don't think, Dr. Kerwin. Think
about this. How you answer the reporters' questions will
influence whether or not I bring suit against you, the
department, and the university."

"Dr. Chamberlain, I-"

"If that is not clear, I'll have my lawyer write you a letter
clarifying it for you."

"It's not necessary to carry on like this-"

"It is necessary. Good-bye." Lindsay hung up the phone.

"Lindsay," said Sally. "I've never, ever, seen you angry
like this before. You weren't this mad at that Patrick guy for
stealing your underwear." Emily raised her eyebrows. "You
sure told Dr. Kerwin off," Sally added. "I wanted to tell him
off when he was getting so anal about my program of
study."

"Well, I don't think it got me anywhere, except letting off
a little steam. I just don't understand what Kelley Banks has
to gain by smearing my name. She can't take innuendos and
lies to the appeals court. And if she smears everyone she
loses a case to . . ." She left the sentence unfinished, deep in
thought.

"Maybe it's not her," said Sally. "Maybe it is Ferguson's
people."

Lindsay shrugged and threw up her hands. "Could be, I
suppose."

Sally gave Emily a brief description of the past events as
Lindsay remained lost in thought. She reached for the
phone again and dialed the district attorney's office.

"Hey, Lindsay. What's up?" said Max Gilbert.

"That's why I'm calling. I'm on vacation and I keep hearing the strangest things about myself."

"You mean the news stories? Don't give it a thought. We
know what your credentials are. I would never have put
you on the stand if I hadn't investigated them thoroughly."

"Thanks."

"No thanks to it. This is monumental sour grapes. I can't
imagine what Ferguson's relatives or Dalton expect to come
of it."

"Gerald Dalton is spreading these rumors?" Lindsay was
surprised.

"I don't know. Doesn't sound like him. Wish it did. I'd
like to get something on him. However, I can't imagine the
press paying that much attention to Denny."

"Could it be his cocounsel, Sarah Kelley Banks?" asked
Lindsay.

"Could be. Do you have a reason to suspect her?"

Lindsay told him about the encounters with Kelley and
how angry she seemed about the outcome of the trial.

"Hmmm . . ." Lindsay could almost see Max rubbing his
chin. "She's just out of law school, what, three years? You
know, some people can't take the pressure. Maybe she just
doesn't like to lose, and wants to give you a hard time, even
if nothing comes of it. Anyway, I wouldn't worry. Nothing
will come of it."

"Thanks again."

"Sure thing, Lindsay. Say, while I've got you on the phone,
I've got this question. Say you got a skeleton that shows
indications on the ribs that the individual was stabbed, but
you can't tell if the stabbing took place from the front or the
back. Is there any other way to tell the direction?"

"Sure, the exit side of the cut on the bone will have a
rougher edge than the entry side. You can usually feel it
with your fingers. You have a skeleton you suspect of being
stabbed?"

Max gave a little self-conscious laugh. "No, it's for a story
I'm writing."

"I didn't know you're a writer," said Lindsay, smiling for
the first time since she discovered what had been going on.

"I'm not sure my writing class knows either."

"I'd like to read it sometime."

"I might let you do that. Right now, what I've got going for
me is authenticity. I'm having to work at the writing style."

"Sounds like everything's okay after all," said Sally after
Lindsay hung up.

"Max seems to think so. I must say, I'm relieved."

"You must be good at your job if people are trying to
destroy your credibility," said Emily.

"I like to think so," said Lindsay. "This is the first time
anything like this has happened."

The sun set around 8:30. The darkness brought with it a
loud chorus of tree frogs and crickets. Sally was out on a
date with Brian, and Lindsay was alone. She opened the
flap of the tent and lowered the mosquito netting to catch
any breeze that consented to shift around the hot summer
air. Lindsay had planned to read, but she saw the envelope
of pictures the Lamberts had given her tucked into the bottom of her suitcase. She pulled out the photos of the three
unfortunate cavers. "I don't know what they expect me to
do with these," she said aloud, searching around among
her things for a hand lens, finally finding it in the pocket
of a pair of jeans. Using the lens, she scrutinized every part
of the images carefully. Nothing revealed itself to her. She
saw that the back of one skull was crushed, but that could
have happened in the cave-in. She examined the hands for
any signs of defensive wounds. Nothing. There was no
way the pictures could tell her whether the cave-in was
intentional or accidental. She returned the pictures to the
envelope and picked up a book. She was still reading
when Sally came back.

"Have a nice time?" Lindsay asked.

"Not bad." Sally smiled. "Not bad at all."

Piaquay learned fast. It did not surprise Roberto. The Indians had
a facility with languages, perhaps because there were so many different ones and so much movement among the Indians. For several weeks Piaquay had learned basic vocabulary. Now he practiced
conversation. He particularly wanted to talk to Roberto about the
life of the Spaniards, as Roberto had taught him to call them. It
had offended Roberto's sensibilities when he learned that Piaquay
called him something akin to a devil.

Roberto Lacayo told Piaquay about how the Spaniards had been
trying to colonize this new world and kept failing. Piaquay listened
closely as Roberto told him how Menendez had fought with the
French, who were also trying to colonize the new world, how the
Spanish town of Santa Elena had almost failed until Juan Pardo
and the Governor Menendez came with provisions and rescued it.

"Now tell me your story, Roberto," commanded Piaquay. "How
did you come to be across the great water and live among us?"

"I was lost here about twenty-five years ago. That's a long
time," he said almost to himself. "I was a poor man, and I wanted
to marry." Piaquay's lips turned up very slightly. A man seeking
to better his prospects and marry well was something he understood. However, when Roberto mentioned the name Hernando de
Soto, Piaquay scowled.

"You have heard of him?" Roberto asked.

"The enemy of enemies. When I was a youth, he traveled
through our lands, raping our women and massacring my people.
You rode with him?"

"For a time," said Roberto carefully. "I was lost early in the
journey, and I did not approve of all his acts." He grasped the
beads on his belt. Piaquay knew that when he did this, he told the
truth. "I was always faithful to Cristina when 1 traveled." Tears
sprung unbidden to Roberto's eyes. "It was only when I realized that I would probably never be going home that I took a wife, and
I was good to her. "

"Where is your wife?" asked Piaquay.

"An epidemic swept through the village. It took her and my
daughter. "

Piaquay nodded. "The sickness took many in my villages, too."

Roberto could remember Cristina's face now. His time with
Esteban Calderon had awakened his memory. It was an uncertain
blessing. "1 needed money to marry Cristina because she was from
a good family. The only prospect I had of becoming rich was to
come here and find gold."

"What is this gold?"

"It's a shiny metal the color of the sun. It's of great value there."

"We have no gold."

"I know. Believe me. I tried to tell them. On his first trip to this
new world, de Soto became rich in his travels to the south of here
in the land of the Incas. De Soto returned home to Spain, but he
believed that there was more wealth to find here in this northern
land. I joined him so that I might have enough riches to marry
Cristina.

"Cristina saw me off. I remember her excitement. She wanted
to come, too. At that time Calderon was rich. He did not need to
seek his fortune in La Florida. That is what we called the place
where we were to disembark-the feast of flowers."

"How did you lose your way?"

"De Soto was going from village to village looking for gold. He
heard a story about a village from a young Indian boy traveling
with a group of Indian traders, and he sent me, Sancho, Ruiz, and
the youth to the village while he continued westward." Roberto
shrugged and shook his head. "The villagers were friendly at first,
then they attacked. I was taken prisoner. For a long time I didn't
know what happened to Sancho and Ruiz. First I was told they
were dead, then that they escaped. I was kept as a slave for a long
time, and gradually the village became my home, until the disease
wiped out most of the people. I was allowed to move about freely
by then. I explored on my own, made it to the coast, and saw the ship. It was a new expedition led by Juan Pardo. It was a remarkable coincidence that my old friend Esteban Calderon was on the
ship. I became their interpreter, and they were going to take me
back to Spain." Roberto fingered his beads.

"Does this Juan Pardo expect to find gold?"

"No. He would like to, but I don't think he expects it. He was
sent to explore the land and secure it for Spain, and to discover what
kind of riches the land does have. It's Calderon who seeks gold. I
suppose his family wealth ran out." Roberto laughed. "He married
my Cristina. He told me so . . ." Roberto stopped, staring out to
nothing. He was struck with a thought like a blinding holy light
that was so clear, he knew it was right. Roberto gripped his beads.

"Something ails you?" asked Piaquay.

Roberto said nothing, merely kept staring into his memory. He
recalled the surprise and fear on Esteban Calderon's face when he
had shown up, literally, out of the wilderness and into Captain
Pardo's camp. He remembered the taunting way Esteban had told
him of his marriage to Cristina, pretending he was assuring
Roberto that Cristina had been well cared for. "She did not grieve
long" were his words. He remembered that Sancho and Ruiz were
cousins of Calderon. He arranged it. Esteban Calderon had always
wanted Cristina. He told his cousins to find a way to get rid of me,
and they left me.

Roberto slammed his fist into his hand. "iMe dejaron!"

The council house was built like the domiciles, in the shape of a
square with rounded corners, upright timbers anchored in the
ground about two feet apart, sticks woven between the timbers,
dried mud and clay covering all. The roof was slanted upward like
the skirt of a woman and made from thatch placed on large roof
timbers held up by pillars inside the structure. A hole in the peak
allowed the escape of smoke from a central hearth.

Roberto was not allowed inside the council house, so he sat near
the entrance listening for fragments of discussion he could understand. Piaquay and all the elders had gone inside the council house
late in the morning after they had drunk the black brew and vom ited. Roberto had tasted the concoction once. It was foul, but afterward he felt good and clear-headed. He heard them talking and
arguing, but he understood little except that Piaquay had some
desire and he had to persuade the tribe of its soundness. Piaquay
was not chief now, Roberto knew that. The woman was chief. She
despised Roberto, and it worried him. He was not sure why
Piaquay relinquished his place to the woman Cacheci. It had something to do with the massacre. He had thought about running
away, but he knew he could not get through the territory of
Piaquay's friends without being caught. So Roberto listened.