LC 04 - Skeleton Crew (27 page)

"How do you know so much about it?" asked Lindsay.

"I've done some of it in the navy and working on oil rigs."

Lindsay took a long look at John. "Did you suffer any damage
from it?"

"No. You mix the gases right and decompress according to the
tables, and it's safe. Relatively speaking." He tapped the computer
screen. "You worried I might get this?"

"The whole thing seems very dangerous to me."

"Dangerous, yes. But like I said. You do it right. Besides, who
are you to worry about dangerous?"

She grinned at him. He looked good-tan skin and white
T-shirt. Instead of having his hair tied back, he wore it long and
parted in the middle. Every feature of his face was well defined.
Even the slight crow's-feet around his eyes looked good on him.
The two of them held their eyes locked in an intimate stare for several moments.

"I try to stay out of danger," she said at last.

"You don't try very hard." He took her hand. "How about it?
It's Saturday night. Want to go someplace?"

Lindsay glanced at her watch. It was only three o'clock. The
security guard wouldn't get here for another three hours. At least
on Saturdays they didn't debrief.

"Let me talk to the security guard first. He doesn't get here until
six."

"Sure."

Lindsay closed out her computer and cleared off her desk. "You
going back to the dam?"

"Not for a while," he said.

"Want to walk on the beach?" she asked.

"Sure."

The breeze was refreshing after the stuffiness of the lab.
Lindsay took her shoes off and walked on the wet sand in her bare
feet. John put his arm around her waist.

"Have you met with Trey?" Lindsay asked him.

He nodded. "I met with him and Lewis on my barge this morning early. I have to say I was surprised. A sunken treasure ship is
the biggest motive for a lot of things that I've seen. I'm amazed we
haven't had more trouble."

"You know, I had forgotten about Nate's attack. I thought that
probably had something to do with drugs. Nate said it was pirates.
I'll bet they were surveying, searching for signs of the ship."

"It seems likely."

"John."

"Lindsay, I don't like the way you said that."

"It's your name."

"I know it is, and you are about to ask me something that I'm
not going to want to do."

"You know me so well."

"In so short a time. What is it?" He released her waist and
walked backward in front of her. "I'm so grateful you aren't prowling bars in Savannah, I might agree."

"I want to visit Evangeline Jones on her ship."

"I obviously don't know you well enough, or I wouldn't have
made a rash agreement like that."

"I don't think she's dangerous. We'll tell Lewis and Trey where
we're going."

John stopped and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Lindsay, someone, maybe several someones, killed Hardy
Denton and Keith Teal. You keep going to visit people, you are eventually going to hit the ones who committed the murder."

"That's the idea. However, I don't think she'll do anything. I
just want to talk with her."

"All right. Let's get an okay from Lewis and Trey first. Will you
do that?"

Lindsay nodded. "How about dinner and a movie tonight?"

"Sounds good."

"And tomorrow we visit Jones."

"If Trey and Lewis okay it."

They walked about a mile up the narrow beach. The smooth
sand and lapping waves felt good on Lindsay's bare feet. She especially liked the feel of the sand rushing from under her feet with
each retreating wave.

"You know," she said as they turned around and headed back,
"I would have enjoyed being marooned out here with you."

"I can arrange that."

"We'd have to get rid of the bugs."

"Now, that might be a problem."

Lindsay wondered if their romance could live only here on this
island in the absence of everyday anxieties, with no Native
Americans for her to excavate and John to protest against, no arguments about the sacrilege she committed against his people, no
choices or compromises to make about either of their beliefs in
order to make their relationship work. The island was sort of an
anaerobic environment for the heart, preserving fragile feelings
that would otherwise erode over time. She felt like Luke
Youngdeer. She wanted this job to last forever.

John held her hand tightly as they walked and watched the
waves come up around their feet. Lindsay wondered if he was
thinking the same thing she was. She brought his hand up to her
lips.

"What are you thinking about, watching those waves?" she
asked.

"From Here to Eternity," answered John.

Lindsay started laughing, let go of his hand, and backed away.
He ran after her and grabbed her around the waist.

"No. Deborah Kerr had on a bathing suit, and I've got to meet
with the security guard."

"I've seen you archaeologists when you're working-you're
covered in sand. He'll just think you've been working." He picked her up. "You know, for a slim woman, you sure are heavy. I'm
going to have to start working out."

She cuffed his shoulder. "I'll have you know, I'm all muscle and
I'm tall. If I'm so heavy, you can put me down."

"You want me to put you down, I will." His eyes twinkled as he
grinned at her.

"No."

"Are you sure? If you want me to put you down in the sand, I
will."

"Don't you dare."

She kissed him, and he gently let his arm slip from the back of
her knees so she stood on the ground.

"This doesn't have to end," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when we leave here, we can find a way to work things
out."

So he was sharing her thoughts. She liked that-liked that he
wanted something beyond this island.

"I hope so."

As they walked silently up the beach, Lindsay watched the
ground, as was her habit. Having gone on so many surveys with
her grandfather and worked on so many sites, it was her nature to
scrutinize the ground for interesting things wherever she went.
Just ahead, she saw three objects brought up by the surf. She
dropped John's hand and ran over to pick them up.

"What is it?" asked John.

Lindsay held the irregular rounded objects in her palm. She
rubbed her fingers over them.

"What?" asked John again.

"Gold coins. Spanish gold coins."

"You're joking."

She held them out to him.

"They're shiny," he said.

"Gold doesn't tarnish."

John took the coins and rubbed them with his fingers. "Which
ship?" he asked.

"I don't know. I assume the officers on our ship could have
their own personal money, so it could be from the Estrella."

"But it could be from the other one, the one Trey called the silver galleon."

"Yes, I assume so. But ..."

"But what?"

"I've never given that story much credibility. Mainly because I
don't know what it could have been doing here. Cuba was the
place where they did all their commerce. There was nothing up
here but St. Augustine in 1565, Santa Elena in 1566, and a few failing missions. I don't know why a silver galleon would come to a
colony."

"So you think it belongs to the Estrella?" said John.

"If I had to bet, that's what I would bet on. We're almost
directly across from the site."

"They're pretty, aren't they?" asked John.

He weighed the three coins in his hand and jingled them
together before dropping them back into Lindsay's palm.

"I can see why men get treasure fever. There is something powerful about gold. It has a magic that grabs you," he said.
- - -- - - - - - - - -- -

Lindsay could imagine running her hand through a chest full of
these. The coins weighed heavy in her pocket as she walked to the
lab to talk with Dale Delosier. John was right. They had a power.

She found the security guard entering the back of the laboratory building. She had expected him to be an older man, and he
was, but he was also straight and lean and walked with a spring
in his step. His security guard uniform was crisp and pressed, his
nails manicured, and his steel gray hair neatly held in placeall taken together, the look of a man who took pride in his
appearance.

"Mr. Delosier, I'm Lindsay Chamberlain." She held out her
hand to him and he shook it.

"Dr. Lewis told me you might want to talk with me about that
night."

"Why don't we sit down at a corner table in the break room,"
suggested Lindsay. "I don't think anyone is using it."

She was right. Most everyone had escaped for dinner. The small
coffee shop was empty. Dale Delosier sat down, shaking his head.

"In all the time I've been doing security work, nothing like
this has ever happened. When I took this job, I thought I would
be basically a night watchman. Not that I don't take it seriously,
I do. But this is an island. I looked at the two buildings and
decided that the majority of my watch would be spent here.
Nothing in the warehouse could be moved without a crane. Here is where the people sleep, here is where the valuable equipment
is stored-"

"That sounds like a good plan to me," said Lindsay. "No one
expected that you could be two places at once."

"If you don't mind ... Lewis asked me to speak to you, but he
only told me that you're one of the archaeologists. I don't understand...."

"I'm a forensic anthropologist also, and I've worked with law
enforcement. I think Dr. Lewis believes that I might bring another
point of view to the investigation."

He nodded his head. "I see." He shifted in his chair uneasily.
Lindsay couldn't tell if he was anxious to get to work and avoid
another incident, or if he was guilty of something, or if he felt
uncomfortable being interrogated by a woman almost young
enough to be his granddaughter.

"I won't keep you long," she said.

"I don't actually start until eight o'clock. I'm here early because
that's when the last ferry gets here."

"What do you do between six and eight?"

"I read." He reached in his briefcase and brought out a copy of
American Locomotives: An Engineering History, 1830-1880. "I collect
trains. That's why I took this job. I have a good retirement program
that keeps me and my wife comfortable, but I like a little extra
income to buy my trains. Here, I'll show you."

He pulled out a magazine from his briefcase and laid it on the
table in front of Lindsay. It was actually a model train catalog and
was folded back to a specific page. He pointed to a locomotive that
could pass for a photograph of a real train.

"It's called a Big Boy. I'm interested in the digital system. It
gives you a lot of control over speed and acceleration."

He looked at the picture longingly. Lindsay looked at the price.
It wasn't so expensive that one needed an extra job to buy it.

"Two hundred and thirty dollars. That's not too bad," said
Lindsay.

Delosier looked pleased. "That's what I told my wife. The problem is, you don't just get the locomotive, there's all the cars."

"They don't come with it?"

"Oh, no. See that's part of it, constructing the whole train,
choosing the cars. And, of course, they have to have a place to run.
You can't have trains like this riding around in a circle. They've got to have a station, trees, houses, water towers, tunnels...." He gestured with his hands. "I've got the entire basement for my collection. You should see it."

"I can imagine, and I guess you have to have tools and paint
and all that?"

"You understand. Millie and the girls don't. I have four grown
daughters, and they think I should spend my retirement traveling
to foreign countries with Millie. Why would anybody want to do
that?"

Lindsay flipped through the catalog. It wasn't all of model trains.
It had airplanes and ships, too. She stopped and looked at a picture
and pointed it out to Delosier. "That's our ship-or one like it."

"What?"

"The one we are excavating. All the timbers we are hauling into
the warehouse belong to a ship that looked like this."

He picked up the catalog and looked at the photograph of the
model galleon. "Well, what about that. It's a pretty thing. If you
want, I'll copy this page and an order form."

"Thanks. That would be nice. What time do you get off?"

"What? Oh, six in the morning. I take the ferry back. I live in
Darien."

"Did you hear anything strange that evening?"

He smiled. "I've been hearing strange things ever since I set
foot on this island. It sometimes sounds like a jungle out there. But
in answer to your question, I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. If I had, I would have checked on it."

"Can you give me the times you were here and the times you
checked the warehouse?"

He nodded and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "I gave
this information to the FBI agent."

Lindsay unfolded the paper. It was his schedule. She noted the
times he said he was away from the warehouse. She had no doubt
that this was the schedule he made for himself and a schedule he
planned to follow, and probably thought he did. But this wasn't a
demanding job. He probably made a few rounds and settled down
to read. She believed that someone as absorbed in a hobby as he
appeared to be probably became so engrossed in reading and planning his model railroad landscape that he frequently lost track of
time. She doubted this was a reliable schedule of his movements
on the evening Hardy Denton died.

"Do you know everyone who works here by sight?"

"Pretty much. Not many folks come around at night."

"Who does?"

"Let's see." He put a hand to his chin. "A meteorologist is
always working in the weather room. I reckon they have to watch
it twenty-four hours a day. Dr. Marcus is sometimes here. There's
a woman who lives upstairs who called him a couple of times. Said
she thought someone was trying to break into her apartment, but
I didn't see anyone on the premises. I think she just wanted Dr.
Marcus's company."