What year? What city?
I turned to the AAFS programs on my shelf.
Within ten minutes I found what I was looking for. Twelve years back. A graduate student presentation on disease frequencies among Melungeon populations.
As I read the abstract, the sludge thought lumbered to its feet and slowly took form.
“Sarcoidosis.”
When Larabee looked up, his desk lamp threw shadows across the lines in his face.
“That would take us back to lymph nodes, lungs, and skin.”
“Approximately fourteen percent of sarcoidosis cases show skeletal involvement, mostly in the short bones of the hands and feet.”
I laid a pathology textbook on the desk in front of him. Larabee read a moment, then leaned back, chin on palm. His expression told me he was unconvinced.
“Most cases of sarcoidosis are asymptomatic. The disease pursues a slow, benign course, usually with spontaneous healing. People don’t even know they have it.”
“Until they get an X ray for some other reason,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“Like being dead.”
I ignored that.
“Sarcoidosis primarily affects young adults,” I said.
“And is most evident radiographically in the lungs.”
“You said the lungs were hamburger.”
“Sarcoidosis is mainly seen among African-Americans.”
“There’s a high incidence among Melungeons.”
Larabee looked at me as though I’d said Olmec warriors.
“It all fits. There’s an Anatolian bump on the back of the passenger’s head and modified shoveling on his incisors. His cheekbones are flaring, otherwise the guy looks like Charlton Heston.”
“Refresh me on Melungeons.”
“They’re fairly dark-skinned people with European-looking features. Some have an Asian eye fold.”
“Living where?”
“Most are in the mountains of Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, and North Carolina.”
“Who are they?”
“Survivors of the lost colony of Roanoke, Portuguese shipwrecks, the lost tribes of Israel, Phoenician seamen. You can take your pick of theories.”
“What’s the current favorite?”
“Descendants of Spanish and Portuguese colonists who abandoned the settlement of Santa Elena in South Carolina during the late sixteenth century. Supposedly these folks mingled with the Powhatans, the Catawbas, the Cherokees, and a number of other tribes. There may even have been some input from Moorish and Turkish galley slaves and from Portuguese and Spanish prisoners left on Roanoke Island in 1586.”
“Left by whom?”
“Sir Francis Drake.”
“Who do
“They claim to be variously of Portuguese, Turkish, Moorish, Arabic, and Jewish origin mixed with Native Americans.”
“Any evidence to support that?”
“When first encountered back in the sixteen hundreds they were living in cabins, speaking broken English, and described themselves as ‘Portyghee.’ ”
Larabee made a give-me-more gesture with his hand.
“A recent gene-frequency study showed no significant differences between Melungeon populations in Tennessee and Virginia and populations in Spain, Portugal, North Africa, Malta, Cyprus, Iran, Iraq, and the Levant.”
Larabee shook his head. “How do you remember stuff like that?”
“I don’t. I just looked it up. There are lots of Melungeon Web sites.”
“Why is this relevant?”
“There’s a large population of Melungeons living near Sneedville, Tennessee.”
“And?”
“Remember Ricky Don Dorton?”
“The owner of the Cessna.”
