“Nope! Don’t know a tibia from a soupbone. My specialty is excavation, soil layers, stuff like that. I know how you feel about waiting around, but that computer business has thrown us for a loop. Anyhow, Alex should be back tomorrow. I’ll make sure he checks your work first thing.” She sighed. “I sure do miss him.”
Before Elizabeth could think of a suitable reply, they were distracted by the sound of someone approaching from the woods. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman wearing a blue print dress and boy’s high-topped sneakers appeared in the clearing. Elizabeth recognized her as the woman they had talked to at the church social.
“Hello!” Mary Clare called out. “You’re our first tourist! Want a look around?”
The woman looked embarrassed. She glance at the box beside them and looked away. “I didn’t rightly come to do that,” she said. “Reckon I might be kin to some o’ them people you’re a-digging up.”
“We’re very careful with them,” said Elizabeth earnestly. “And they’ll be put right back as soon as the study is over.”
“I know. Comfrey Stecoah explained the rights of it to us ’fore he asked you’uns to come. I ain’t put out about it; I just don’t ’specially want to watch you a-doing it. I brought you some tomatoes from my garden, though. Figured you might like to have some for lunch.” She held out a paper bag to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was touched at such a gesture of friendliness from a stranger. “Thank you very much,” she said. “Would you like to stay and join us?”
The woman shook her head. “Thank you all the same. I just figured I’d bring these things to you gals. Least I could do.” She hesitated. “You ’member them love vines I planted for you’uns?”
They nodded.
“Well, I reckon the sun musta got too hot fer ’em, poor old Alexander and Robert. They shriveled up and died, the both of ’em.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALEX TAPPED his fingers against the steering wheel and stared up at the church. It looked cool and peaceful in the late-afternoon sunlight. Strange that he should be so reluctant to go in. It was six o’clock; they would all be in the Sunday school room having dinner-a flavorless concoction prepared on a hot plate. Alex wondered at his own distaste for the project. For the first time in his career, he resented having to leave his comfortable home, well- cooked meals, and especially his Posture-Perfect mattress. Roughing it had lost some of its glamour, perhaps in proportion to his own loss of youth. Or perhaps the real reason for his reluctance lay in the fact that he would have to face Mary Clare. He was going to feel like a fool, and he dreaded it. Even that stupid act of vandalism bothered him, although he didn’t know why it should. If the Neanderthals had still been around, mightn’t they have risen up in the caves of Lascaux and said, “Leave our dead alone!” If the protest over his work always existed in theory, why should he mind the expression of it?
The side door to the church opened, and he saw a figure in jeans standing on the porch. By the time he noticed the blond hair, which identified the person as Mary Clare, she had seen the van and was running toward it. Alex, who had planned to rehearse everything in his mind, had no idea what he was going to say.
Mary Clare rested her elbows on the van’s open window and peered in happily at Alex. “I’m real glad you’re back,” she beamed. “I’ve been looking out for you since five or so. How was your trip?”
“Fine. Is everything all right here?”
“Yep. Milo spent most of yesterday and today either at the sheriff’s office or guarding that motel room with Comfrey Stecoah, though what they meant to accomplish by that, I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Probably a symbolic gesture,” said Alex.
“Well, the work is coming along fine. Do you want to go up to the site and take a look?”
He nodded. “After supper.” He wasn’t hungry, but eating the tasteless food in the common room would postpone his having to be alone with Mary Clare. He followed her up the hill to the church, still wondering what to say.
Inside the Sunday school room, Victor Bassington was holding forth to a captive audience of diggers, who were bolting their food as quickly as possible in order to escape.
“Archaeology! The mysteries of the ages! That’s why I’m studying it. Why was Machu Picchu abandoned? Why did the Neanderthals die out?”
“You’ll never know,” muttered Jake between mouthfuls of bread.
“Ah! Can we be sure? Science opens new doors every day. Take this Cullowhee mystery. Who are they? I think they came from the Orient-”
“I thought
“Ah, but
“That’s very interesting,” said Elizabeth politely. She hoped that her comment had distracted Victor from the sound of Jake’s snickering.
“Yes, very interesting indeed,” said Alex, who had been standing in the doorway listening. “I should like to hear more.”
Victor turned slowly, a blush creeping upward toward his ears. “Why, welcome back, Dr. Lerche. I was just talking about how interesting all this is.”
“Yes, I heard you,” said Alex evenly. “You mentioned seeing the skull of the Peking man. That must have been quite an experience for you. When was this?”
“While I was in England,” Victor said in a much more subdued voice. “Two or three years ago.”
“I see,” said Lerche. “Was this in a museum, perhaps?”
Victor hesitated. “The… ah… British Museum. But I don’t think they’re there all the time. I believe it was a traveling exhibit. I guess I was just lucky to be visiting at the right time.”
“Lucky,” Lerche repeated sarcastically. “Oh, you were phenomenally lucky, Mr. Bassington. You saw the actual bones, not a plaster copy?”
“The actual bones,” Victor agreed cautiously. “In a glass case, of course.”
“Here it comes,” whispered Jake to Elizabeth.
“I find it very interesting that you saw the skull fragments of
“Uh… did you see them then too?” asked Victor hopefully.
“No-and neither did you. The remains of Peking man were found in China in 1929 and
“Oh,” said Victor in a small voice.
“I don’t know why you have a compulsion to be an expert on things you know nothing about, but you’re wasting your time, because no one will ever believe a word you say.” He turned to the rest of the group. “All of you could stand to do a lot more studying and a lot less posturing. You’re not scientists yet!” He left the Sunday school room, slamming the door behind him.
Mary Clare hurried to keep up with him. “He’s had that coming,” she said softly. “But it’s not like you to do it in public thataway.”
Alex grunted. “Where’s Milo?”
“Well, he figured you’d be sending the new monitor up by bus, so he found out when the bus gets in and went down to wait for it. He’ll be back soon. Are you going to the site? Because if you are, Elizabeth MacPherson has a whole boxful of skulls already measured. She’d like you to check her work.”
“All right.”
Mary Clare hoped that if she could get Alex to talk, he would slow down and stop crashing through the woods like a wounded razorback. “Did you get the disks?” she called.
