Beastly Bones Page 8

  “Of course not. You’re lovely—I mean, it’s lovely!” My face instantly flushed. “To see you again. It’s lovely to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Rook. You’re the first visitors I’ve seen from my old life.” A hint of melancholy flickered across his face. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt. It had been hard enough for me to choose to turn away from the life I had known, but in Charlie’s case, it was his life that had turned on him. “Mr. Jackaby,” he said, “I’m very happy to see you as well. I still owe you a great deal.”

  Jackaby waved him away as he stepped down. “Nonsense. New Fiddleham owes us all a great deal, but cities are notoriously unreliable debtors. You’re better off dealing with goblins. How is banishment these days?”

  “Not as wretched as you might imagine.” Charlie’s voice was soft, accented with a few gentle, Slavic undertones. “The valley is really quite serene, and I am getting to know my neighbors, few though they may be. There are good people here.”

  “One fewer of them than there ought to be,” said Jackaby quietly.

  Charlie nodded gravely and glanced back. The three men were chatting cordially behind him. “I haven’t discussed the matter with Mr. Brisbee,” he whispered. “I did not wish to cause him any further distress. The woman’s death was already hard enough—and it might have been nothing . . .”

  “It’s never nothing, though, is it?” Jackaby gave me a meaningful glance. “Don’t worry. We will endeavor to keep our investigation clandestine.”

  Charlie nodded.

  Hudson laughed at something the dusty stranger had said, and then he turned his attention to us. “How about you, young man?” he called over to Charlie. “You ever go huntin’ big game?”

  My stomach lurched.

  “Big game?” Charlie asked.

  “There’s somethin’ big come to Gad’s Valley.” The trapper was grinning avidly. “And I aim to catch it. Ever been on a hunt yourself?”

  If Charlie realized that he was the prey in question, he gave no indication. “I’m afraid not, sir,” he answered. “I’ve only hunted criminals.”

  Hudson nodded. “Respectable line o’ work,” he said. “Yer like to get a bit restless out here in the hills, though. Gad’s is mostly just quiet farm folk.”

  “I’m looking forward to a quiet post for a while,” Charlie said. It might have been my imagination, but there seemed to be just a moment of uneasy silence as the two locked eyes. In my mind, the big trapper could look straight into Charlie and see the beast beneath the surface—but the moment passed.

  “Where are my manners?” Hudson clapped his hands together. “Let me introduce my old buddy, Hugo Brisbee, and—oh sorry, what was yer name again?”

  “Owen. Owen Horner.” The young man flashed us a winning smile, complete with dimples and gleaming white teeth. “A pleasure.”

  Owen Horner. The name bounced around in my head for several moments before finding its place. Owen Horner was more than a farmhand. At home in England, I used to devour my father’s scientific journals, and Owen Horner had made his way into several publications over the past few years as a rising star in the geological field. I tried to remember what great accomplishment had gained him such notoriety, but the details had slipped off into the corners of my mind.

  “Right.” Hudson gestured back to us. “And this here’s R. F. Jackaby and Miss Abigail Rook. They’ve come to help the coppers track down that big old bone they were talking about in the paper.”

  “Oh—you read that? Hmm. Heck of an article,” said Hugo Brisbee, nodding. “That reporter came all the way out from New Fiddleham just to interview us. It was only supposed to be about the dig, of course—but then . . .” He rubbed his hands and swallowed hard. “She said it’ll be running up in Crowley and Brahannasburg, too—maybe even national if she can get all the big papers to pick it up. Maddie would like that. She always wanted to get out of the valley. I’ve been getting all sorts of kind letters from names I haven’t heard in years. It’s real nice to see some folks in person, though, too. Mr. Horner’s presence has been a gift this past week. He’s been keeping me company, taking care of everything while I was in town making arrangements—and of course he’s been working the site all by himself. He was just about to show me the latest find, as a matter of fact.”

  My heart skipped. “I don’t suppose you would mind if Mr. Horner showed us his progress as well?” I ventured.

  Brisbee shrugged. “As good a place to start as any—why don’t you all come have a look?”

  My mind was humming with anticipation, but Hudson held up a hand. “Mighty kind—and I’ll be sure to take ya up on that offer soon enough, but I’d best be gettin’ Rosie back to my place first. We been out in the world for a long stretch, and I reckon she’s about done being cooped up in that wagon. Got a few other odds and ends I should see to while I still got daylight, too.”

  “It has been a long time,” said Brisbee, “or else maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought. Would’ve guessed you’d be the first one in line to get a look at our creature.”

  Hank chuckled. “Oh, I’ll be back—you’d better believe it. Them bones have waited a long time, and they can wait a little longer. Show me somethin’ that’s still walkin’ the earth, and you’ll find me a little faster on the draw.”

  “Fair enough. Nice to see you again, Hank. Don’t be a stranger!”

  “Same, Brisbee. Good meetin’ you fellas, too.” He gave a nod to Charlie and Owen Horner, and then turned back to Jackaby and me. “You two gonna need a ride back into town later?”

  I hadn’t even thought about our accommodations for the evening. I noticed an inn on the way through town, but I had not realized the trip would take us so far into the valley.

  “I’m sure that will not be necessary,” Charlie interjected. “Mr. Jackaby and Miss Rook are dear friends, and they are welcome to stay with me. My cabin is a short ride from here.” He looked to us. “If that’s all right with you?”

  “Splendid,” said Jackaby. “Rook, you don’t mind staying the night in a cozy little cabin with Mr. Barker, do you?”

  I could feel a faint warmth rushing to my cheeks, but I answered quickly, before it had time to build to a proper flush. “No, sir. Not at all.”

  “Well then,” said Jackaby, “that’s settled. Thank you kindly, Mr. Barker.”

  Hudson pulled our luggage out of the carriage. “I can’t thank you enough,” I told him as he passed me my bag.

  He waved me off casually. “Weren’t nothin’, little lady. I was mighty glad for the company. You take care of yerself, and that boss of yers, ya hear?” He plopped himself back into the coach box and gave the horses a nudge with the reins, throwing a final, friendly wave. As he locked eyes with Charlie, the expression beneath the trapper’s bushy beard didn’t really change, but something about his gaze hardened for a fraction of a second. A glance at Charlie’s pleasant, reserved countenance would have had me believe it had all been in my head again, and by then Hudson had turned back to his horses.

  “Well,” said Owen Horner, clapping and rubbing his hands together as the carriage rattled away, “who wants to see a dinosaur?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  We left our luggage at Brisbee’s and followed the farmer around the back of the farmhouse. The old man walked with a slow, steady gait, his eyes on the ground. He was a fine and pleasant host, but there was an incompleteness to him that made my heart ache.

  “How did you come upon the fossils, Mr. Brisbee?” I asked him. “The article didn’t say.”

  Brisbee blinked and looked up as if awoken from a distant dream. “Right, let me see now . . .” He smiled congenially and put one hand across Jackaby’s shoulders and the other over mine, ushering us up into the bumpy foothills. “I found the first one, but it really wasn’t anything. It was a week or so ago. I was just clearing ground for a new crop, hitting rocks every few feet. My plow ran into something big, so I hooked up a couple of hor
ses, gave it a pull, and—BAM! There it was. I didn’t know what I was looking at. Except that it was a single bone as long as one of my cows.”

  “A femur,” Owen Horner said from just behind us. “And you’ve got a sharp eye, sir. It doesn’t take a scientist to make history, just a keen and clever mind like yours.” The shadows clouding Brisbee’s eyes lifted just a little. Horner continued. “Don’t think for a moment you haven’t played the most important part in this excavation. The renowned Gideon Mantell started this whole dinosaur-discovery business, but it was his wife who found the first bones of the mighty Iguanadon.”

  “That is a lovely story,” I said, “but it’s not really true.”

  “I think you’ll find that it is, miss. Over on your side of the pond, in fact. Essex, I think.”

  “Sussex,” I corrected automatically. “Sorry. Mantell admitted the fib about thirty years later. As it happens, my father worked with his son, Walter—it was one of his first jobs, helping with the Moa remains in New Zealand.”

  I hazarded a glance backward, expecting the usual grimace of annoyance. My mother had often reminded me that men hated to be outdone by a lady.

  But Owen Horner was grinning broadly, visibly impressed. “Your father, Miss Rook? Wait—Rook? You’re not related to Daniel Rook, are you?”

  “Who’s that, now?” Brisbee asked.

  “Only one of the finest minds in the field. I studied his paper on plesiosaurs when I was at university.” Horner and Brisbee both looked to me to confirm or deny the relation.

  “That’s my father,” I admitted. “You’re no slouch yourself, though, Mr. Horner. I understand you made quite a name for yourself in . . . Colorado, was it? I know I’ve read something about you in the journals.”

  “South Dakota most recently,” he said, “but neither site holds a candle to what we’re digging up here.”

  “This is marvelous!” Hugo Brisbee tightened his grip around my shoulders, beginning to sound genuinely excited. “We’ve got Owen Horner, the up-and-coming prodigy, and now we’ve got the daughter of the famous Daniel Rook, and by tomorrow I’ll be meeting Lamb, too! That settles it. I’m sending word to that reporter right away—I bet we could land a picture on the front page of the Chronicle. Maddie would be so proud.”

  “Wait a moment—Lamb, as in Lewis Lamb?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Brisbee confirmed happily. Horner nodded without enthusiasm.

  “Horner and Lamb . . . ,” I said. “Now I remember what I read about you last! Oh good heavens. And you knew that Lamb was involved?”

  Horner cringed but nodded again.

  “Fantastic bit of luck, isn’t it?” said Brisbee. “Lamb was the first one to get back to me about the bones. I promised him the site, so I guess he will technically be in charge when he gets here. I’m sure he’ll be happy about the fine work Owen’s been up to already, though.”

  “It’s some kind of luck,” I said, “but I wouldn’t call it fantastic.” I stopped in my tracks and faced Horner. Brisbee’s hand slid off my shoulders, and Charlie and Jackaby turned to face us. Now the charming young scientist looked uncomfortable. “Owen Horner and Lewis Lamb have been at each other’s throats for years!” I told Brisbee. “It’s become international news—slander, sabotage, and all manner of skulduggery.”

  “I’ve never . . . ,” Horner interjected.

  “They’ve destroyed irreplaceable fossil evidence . . .”

  “Technically, I only . . .”

  “They even stooped to hurling rocks at each other across a quarry!”

  “That was just the once,” Horner admitted, “and their guys started it.”

  “You knew that this site had been promised to Mr. Lamb?” I asked.

  “Well . . . yes. But you have to understand, Lamb is on the decline. He left the Institute of Sciences in shame. I, on the other hand, have just been offered the prestigious—”

  “But science shouldn’t be a competition!”

  “Right! I couldn’t agree with you more.” Horner held up his hands in a show of defense. “The battle of the bones is over. That’s why I’m here. No funny business. Just science. I’ve set up perimeters and gotten the dig site prepared. I’ve even made some solid progress—with Mr. Brisbee’s invaluable help, of course. This is still Brisbee property, so I suppose the final decision on who takes the lead is still up to him—but I promise I can play nice however it pans out—especially now that I know what we’re digging up. This site is like nothing I have ever worked on. The bones haven’t spread at all, and I’ve found almost no fragmentation. It’s unreal.” Horner’s defensive posturing melted away as genuine enthusiasm took hold. “We uncovered a portion of the rib cage during our preliminary work yesterday, and just this morning I’ve unearthed most of the midsection.”

  “You’ve done all that since yesterday?”

  “That’s precisely what I mean! I’ve never been a part of an excavation that went this smoothly. The terrain is marvelously amenable, and the bones are impeccable. Wait until you see it! I haven’t even told you the most exciting bit!”

  “What’s the most exciting bit?”

  “Wait and see!” If Horner had been trying to distract me from the Lewis Lamb powder keg, then he had succeeded — for the moment. My excitement and curiosity got the better of me, and I hurried up the rocky slope after the scientist.

  I had spent months on my first and only real dig in the Ukraine, sifting through rocks on a fruitless search. If even a fraction of Horner’s story was true . . . The ground began to level out, and ahead of us I could see where the soil had been churned. It was like seeing a sunrise for the first time. I glanced back eagerly at my employer, and my thudding heart sank. Jackaby had stopped some twenty feet behind us, his fingers gently testing the air around him. His attention began to drift away from the foothills and toward the bushy forest to his left. You wouldn’t, I thought. No, not now. You wouldn’t do this to me.

  “Sir?” I managed as politely as humanly possible. “I’m sure you will want to see the site. It’s only just ahead.”

  “Have you noticed anything in this general area during your excavation, Mr. Horner?” Jackaby asked. He turned on his heel and walked a few steps toward the greenery, his eyes dancing around the underbrush. “Something . . . tenebrous, perhaps? A dissolute anathema, of sorts?” He squinted, focusing hard.

  “A dissolute what?” Horner looked back to where Jackaby was standing, and then glanced nervously at Brisbee. “Oh, Detective, wait. Maybe it’s best if you don’t—”

  “That’s where I found her,” Brisbee interjected. His gaze was locked on the rocky terrain a few feet down the slope from where Jackaby was standing. Nobody spoke for several seconds, the wind having been knocked very suddenly out of the journey. “The doctor told her she shouldn’t go out.” The farmer’s voice strained. “But my Maddie never liked being told what to do.”

  “Mr. Brisbee, I am so sorry,” I said. My throat felt tight.

  “And you saw nothing to indicate there had been an attack?” Jackaby asked.

  “Sir!” I said.

  Brisbee shook his head. “It’s all right, young lady. I’ve been through all this with your man, Barker. My Maddie was a pistol. I should have known she wouldn’t stay cooped up with everything going on. This place was never big enough to keep her satisfied. It was her idea to expand in the first place.” He wiped his eyes. “I should’ve brought her up here, myself, so she could see it before . . .”

  Charlie put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Brisbee took a deep breath and continued. “It didn’t look like an attack, Detective. She looked . . . peaceful. It was the fever that did her in—and the rocks.”

  Jackaby exchanged a somber glance with Charlie. Charlie’s face was grim, and I could tell he was uncomfortable omitting the detail of the victim’s mysterious bruise, but he kept to Marlowe’s command and remained silent. Brisbee did not seem to notice the unspoken exchange. His eyes were wet, and he stood transfixed, star
ing at the rocky hill.

  “And where are her remains interred?” Jackaby asked.

  “Mr. Jackaby,” I whispered, appalled.

  “I should like to pay my respects before we proceed,” Jackaby said.

  “That’s kind of you,” Brisbee said hoarsely, “but we laid her to rest out behind Saint Izzy’s.”

  “Saint Izzy’s?”

  “Saint Isidore’s. She used to sing in the choir on Sundays. It’s got a beautiful churchyard. It’s all the way back up in Gadston proper, though, and you’ve only just arrived.”

  “I feel it would be of great value to my process to visit Saint Isidore’s first. Come along, Miss Rook!” Jackaby began picking his way back across the uneven terrain.

  Respect to the late Mrs. Brisbee notwithstanding, I still found it difficult to ignore the fact that there was a dinosaur waiting not twenty feet up the hill, and we were about to walk away. “That’s very thoughtful, sir,” I said. “But are you sure it wouldn’t be better to begin our work on the site?” I prompted. “We are right here, after all, and we have the light. Perhaps we could visit the church in the morning?”

  “I think this takes precedence, don’t you? I’m sure we’ll all be able to approach the case with clearer heads once we’ve taken a moment to honor the deceased.”

  I opened my mouth as Jackaby clambered back down the sloping hill, but words failed me.

  “Mr. Jackaby,” came Charlie’s soft voice, “it might be more efficient to divide your efforts. As Miss Rook is most qualified to examine the fossils, perhaps it would be best to leave her behind to perform a preliminary sweep of the crime scene while you pay your respects with Mr. Brisbee. I would be happy to remain behind as Miss Rook’s escort, if you like.”

  I nodded emphatically, still unable to vocalize my thoughts, and pointed at Charlie to indicate my firm agreement.

  “The notion is not entirely without merit,” Jackaby said. “All right. Make thorough records, Miss Rook. We shall compare notes upon our return.”