Game of Bones Read online

  I was about to introduce myself to Cade when a tall, handsome man with straight black hair worn in a queue came toward us. “This dig must be stopped,” he said, blocking Cade’s path and cutting me and Tinkie out of his way.

  “What are you talking about?” Cade said. “This will reveal so much about the first settlers of this land. It’s a boon for the local economy—hotels are filled and restaurants have catering jobs. Peter, we all benefit from this.”

  “The first settlers were my people. I’m legal counsel for the Tunica nation. This is sacred ground and all excavation must stop.”

  I recognized Peter Deerstalker. He’d been in town for a few days, too, and he hadn’t bothered to be discreet about his opposition to the dig. The only thing missing from Deerstalker’s speech was a court order. He didn’t have one and I could tell by the look on Elton Cade’s face he had no intention of stopping the dig. Not for a lawyer—not even for a dead woman.

  “You know I love and respect you, Peter, but when you have a court order, then we’ll talk,” Cade said. “This is an important site. This mound is far off the normal geographic location of the other major mounds and it’s been hidden here, untampered with, for all these years. Your people stand to benefit with the rest of the area.”

  “That’s your assessment. We believe this was a sacred temple site and was removed from the other sites to keep it safe and hidden. And that’s how it should remain.” Deerstalker stood his ground.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have the say-so in that,” Cade said. He shook his head slowly. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from. But there is so much to be learned, so much that can benefit the Tunica tribe if their history becomes better known. There’s not a downside to this for you or your people.”

  “Except that if this is a temple site with burials, the bones of my ancestors will be disturbed. In my culture, this is a violation, just as it is in the white culture. Imagine if I wanted to dig up a cemetery.”

  It was a valid point. I looked at Tinkie, whose gaze was on Frank Hafner. The professor was watching the interaction between Deerstalker and Cade with great interest.

  “If there was a cemetery that might lead to a better understanding of the white migration to this land, I would say dig it up,” Cade said. “The truth is, we know plenty about the spread of white settlements, the brutal tactics used, the way claim was laid to land that rightly belonged to the Native Americans. The predominant religious belief was Christian. The people who came here were often poor and tempted by the concept of owning their own plot of land. There’s no mystery here. The Native settlers are far more intriguing. They could have settled anywhere. Why here? They weren’t hunters as much as gatherers. Why here? In the most successful tribes, they had a society based on caring for each other. But they could also exhibit great brutality.”

  “We love the idea that there is great mystery in studying the savages.” Deerstalker made his point without raising his voice.

  “Can we have this conversation somewhere else?” Cade asked. “We can continue this back at the house. Lolly will make dinner for us, Peter. There’s a dead woman here. The sheriff and Doc Sawyer are ready to carry her down the mound and I’d like to speak with the sheriff.”

  “I’ll see you in Hilo,” Deerstalker said.

  The men nodded and scattered. Tinkie and I looked at each other. “Who knew a dig could be so controversial and fraught with such drama?”

  “Let’s talk to some of the students here. I want to find out the relationship between Hafner and Wells. And it looks like Hafner has ducked out, or maybe Coleman has taken him.”

  Tinkie nodded agreement. “I’ve heard the two competing professors were hostile to each other. Wells made a scene in town a few days ago. She was bad-mouthing Hafner in Millie’s when some of Hafner’s students challenged her. Millie had to call the sheriff’s office. When Budgie and DeWayne showed up, the students took off.”

  “Sounds like Wells and Hafner had a very contentious relationship.”

  As Coleman had pointed out earlier, motivation was one key in finding a villain. Hafner was handsome and had a reputation for charming his students. Perhaps one of them had taken his defense to the point of homicide.

  3

  Sweetie Pie and Chablis were great icebreakers among the students. The young people—when had I ever looked so wide-eyed and fresh—found comfort in the dogs, stroking their coats and hugging them. Frank Hafner, who’d reappeared in the middle of the kids, watched the dogs with skepticism. He was smart enough not to complain, though. The animals drew attention from him and allowed him to subtly assess Tinkie and me.

  When the college kids had settled down, I took their measure. The striking young woman in the red bandana was still missing, and I wondered if she’d left voluntarily or had been sent somewhere by Hafner. The professor’s good looks and charm were great manipulation tools for the young and inexperienced. Coleman wouldn’t likely miss one student, but I’d suss out where she’d disappeared to. It smelled like a good lead to me. Right now, though, I wanted to hear from Frank Hafner.

  Tinkie made the introductions, and I fell under the full power of Hafner’s smile and warm handshake. “Ms. Delaney,” he said. “People in the region sing your praises as a private investigator. They failed to tell me what an attractive woman you are.”

  “Probably because the local residents are so full of bull sh— crap,” Tinkie said, rolling her eyes at me. “You’ve already hired us, Frank. Skip the charm session and let’s get busy finding you an alibi for the time of the murder. You have to know you’re the prime suspect.”

  “The absurd logic of the undereducated police,” Hafner said. “I hated Dr. Wells, that is true, but it isn’t in my nature to harm anyone. Especially not a colleague.”

  “My internal lie detector just hit the red alert,” I said. Hafner could deliver a lie with ease, but there were too many instances where he and Sandra Wells had been seen in confrontational conversations. “You hated Wells. Maybe you were hoping to kill her, cut her up, and drop her into that hole you drilled into the mound. No one would ever have found the body. Not even cadaver dogs would have caught the scent.”

  Hafner looked surprised at the scene I laid out. “I didn’t do that, but I have to say, it’s a brilliant plan.”

  I followed with “Where were you last night, Dr. Hafner?”

  His brown eyes held a banked fire and his tone was low and seductive. “Wouldn’t a better question be: Where are you going to be tonight? I definitely see potential with you.”

  Tinkie winked at me behind his back and gave the famous Daddy’s Girl giggle that told a man he was excessively clever. “How you do run on, Dr. Hafner,” she said in a perfect Scarlett O’Hara imitation. “I’ll bet last night you had six graduate students hanging off your arms and had to beat them away with a stick.”

  “That’s one rule I never break,” Hafner said. “I don’t date my students. It’s an unfair advantage of power.”

  I concurred with that, but I’d known plenty of professors who didn’t mind getting a little action on the side with a student. Some considered it a perk of the job. “So if you weren’t robbing the academic cradle, where were you?”

  He gave a lopsided grin that was the epitome of sexy with a sense of humor. “I was alone. In my room at the Prince Albert.”

  “Can anyone verify your alibi?” I pressed.

  “Perhaps the hotel staff. I had room service, then worked out. I’m sure someone saw me.”

  Once Doc pinpointed the time of death, I could match his alibi with that. Assuming someone at the hotel could corroborate he was there.

  “Is the crew staying at the Prince Albert?” I asked.

  “No, they’re at the Budget Inn on the highway. I’m at the Prince Albert because I have meetings with investors.” He held my gaze. “And I like luxury. I’m too old to camp out or rough it. I work hard, I deserve the good things in life. I’m the one who brings the grants in to the university
.”

  I had to hand it to him for honesty, at least about his penchant to spoil himself. If the students didn’t mind, why should I care? “Do you recall seeing anyone in the hotel? Staff or guests. Maybe you had drinks at the bar? An alibi is only useful if there’s proof that it’s true.”

  “I was working last night, so I didn’t indulge in alcohol. I’d had an argument with Dr. Wells, a very public argument, and I decided to go over my project’s cost analysis to see if there was anywhere I could cut corners enough to dump her. She was a blight on this project. The work wasn’t her focus. She had bigger fish to fry, like her own television show. She was willing to wreck this dig to be a star.”

  “Wreck it how?” Tinkie asked.

  “She had no concern for the sacredness of the site or the care needed to find artifacts. She wanted to go in with the laser equipment, for which she was paid to do endorsements, and just blast down into the layers of the mound so that she could time her finds to maximize the presence of camera crews. She just about moved that Memphis television reporter, Cissy Hartley, in with her. Sandra worked every angle. Anything for an audience, and whenever a camera was turned on … You should have seen her, all made-up, pretending to be an archeologist. If she got a speck of dust on her boots she made one of her students polish them so they would be perfect for the camera. She wanted to be a TV star. Science was just a stepping-stone to fame for her.”

  “It’s clear you hated her, but did you hate her enough to kill her?” I asked.

  Hafner stared directly into my eyes. He had eyes so blue they were almost spooky. Very mesmerizing in the intensity of his stare. “I didn’t kill anyone. I’m ambitious and I like pretty women. I enjoy sex without monogamy, but I’m not a killer.”

  The student with the red bandana had reappeared, and she came up to our little cluster. “Frank wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she said. “He cares about the integrity of the dig, about teaching the students the right way to do things. He’s not a fame hag like Sandra Wells.”

  The young woman’s eyes blazed with the fire of a zealot or a woman in love. She had a tough row to hoe with Frank Hafner. “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Delane Goggans.”

  “You’re one of Dr. Hafner’s students?” Tinkie asked.

  “No, actually one of Sandra’s. I’m her graduate assistant.”

  Oh, that must have made life fun here at the mound if Wells knew Hafner was sleeping with her graduate assistant, and I had no doubt Delane had been caught in the web of sexual excitement spun by Hafner. He was the poster boy for bad behavior.

  “Where were you last night, Delane?” Tinkie asked.

  “I was with Frank. From about seven—”

  “Stop, Delane. It won’t help and it’ll only compromise your reputation,” Frank said, trying to silence her.

  “I was with Frank until five in the morning. He didn’t want to say because he was protecting my reputation, but I have to tell the truth.” Delane’s mouth was a grim line.

  The young woman was lying. She couldn’t look me in the eye when she talked. For all of her bravado, she wasn’t a natural-born liar. “The sheriff will have some questions about that,” I said.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  Shouting came from the other students, and it was clear that two young men were about to tie up. Delane started to go, but Tinkie caught her arm.

  “Tell me about this dig,” Tinkie said, absorbing Hafner’s and Delane’s attention so that I was free to talk with the other students.

  “I’ll handle that,” I said and excused myself. The minute I walked toward the two male students, they parted. I went after Pluto, who had headed straight for a thin young man with glasses as thick as bottle bricks. I introduced myself and asked if I could talk with him.

  “I don’t know anything.” He looked around to make sure no one overheard him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cooley. Cooley Marsh.” He sighed. “I was named for a place in south Louisiana where I grew up, and no, I don’t think it’s funny.”

  Okay, so the kid had a chip on his shoulder. He had a right. “What’s going on with those two?” I indicated the two students who’d put distance between themselves but continued to glare at each other.

  “Testosterone poisoning,” Cooley said. “I think they both take steroids. They’re on the football team and they came on this dig for extra credit. They need a good grade to stay in the football program next year. They’re flunking. Academics and professional football don’t mix. As it happens, the dig needs some students with strong backs. They fit the bill.”

  “Tell me about the dig. Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt Dr. Wells?”

  “Even her own students hated her,” he said. “Just about anyone here could have killed her. Gladly.”

  “Including you?”

  “Yep. I hated her, too. She made fun of me and only brought me on the trip because my parents made a big donation to the archeology department at the University of Michigan.”

  “Are you into archeology?”

  He shook his lead. “Look at me. I’m a geek. I want to create and develop computer games. My dad convinced me to look at this dig as potential material for a game involving digging up clues and such. He was right. I can call the game Murder at the Mound. It’ll be a big hit, especially based on a real story. Wells’ murder will get the headlines I need to push this game to the top.”

  Was everyone here determined to capitalize on tragedy or digging up old bones? “So who’s the killer?”

  “In my game or in real life?”

  I shrugged.

  “Dr. Hafner is the obvious choice for real-life murderer. It’s hard to believe he and Dr. Wells were ever lovers.”

  I almost stopped him but checked myself. If Wells and Hafner had been romantically linked at some point, that looked even worse for the good professor. One motive to murder on top of another motive.

  “But Hafner is too obvious,” the student pointed out. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to hang her from a hoist to bleed into a bowl we just unearthed. Aside from that fact, Hafner would kill anyone who dug twenty feet into the mound with that auger. He would never allow that kind of destruction. No telling what was destroyed along the way.”

  “Unless he was deliberately trying to throw people off the trail.”

  His face brightened. “You’re pretty good at this. That’s a great twist for the plot of the game I’m creating. I might call you for a consultation. You could get a credit on the game and some of the royalties.”

  “Sounds great. You’ve got your future all lined out.”

  “I’m going to be as big in the computer game business as Elton Cade is with the traditional toys. That’s why I finally agreed to come to this hellhole. I wanted to meet Cade. He’s a genius at creating games and marketing them. I’m hoping to apprentice in his Memphis office. I have a lot of ideas for computer games and someone like Cade could help me jump ahead of the pack. Cade doesn’t normally invest in computer games because he wants kids outside and moving, but even he can’t hold back the future.”

  Cooley knew what he wanted. So many millennials seemed lost, but Cooley was on a path. “I’m sure Mr. Cade would love to talk with you as soon as this murder is resolved. So who do you think might have killed Dr. Wells?”

  He leaned in closer to me, aware again of any listening ears. “Dr. Wells wasn’t a very nice person. She poked at her students and mocked them. Really, they all hated her.”

  “And Dr. Hafner?”

  “Maybe he did kill her. She really got under his skin.”

  “What about Hafner’s students? If he was involved with one of them, maybe Dr. Wells threatened to report him.” I left it open-ended to see what Cooley said.

  He shrugged. “Rumors are he slept with his students. Food for his ego.” Cooley finally grinned and there was something charming in his glee. “The thing is, none of the students are idiots. None of them cared enough to rep
ort Hafner. To them, he was just a dirty old man grasping at staying young. Except for Delane. She really seems to care about him.”

  It was only a little insulting that a man who was suitable date material for me would be considered a dirty old man by college students, but those were the harsh facts. In another few years I’d be forty and over the hill. Cooley and I watched Delane take up for Hafner with Tinkie. The girl was willing to step in front of a train for the professor.

  “Delane thinks of herself as superior to us. More sophisticated. She thinks she’s a romantic. She reads those old books like Sense and Sensibility and thinks she’s the heroine. We think she’s a sucker.”

  That one statement was a treatise on the danger of perspective, but I didn’t have time to really unravel it. “She’s a lovely young woman. I hope she doesn’t get hurt too badly.”

  He shrugged. “Some people have to take a lot of knocks before they learn. Me, I watched my parents tear each other limb from limb every day. I’ve got no illusions about true love or all that hooey. Hafner is using Delane, but she likes it. In the end, everyone gets a little something and loses a whole lot more.”

  It was one of the most bitter assessments of relationships that I’d ever encountered. If Cooley exemplified the millennial generation, there was nothing soft or magical left in the world of love and romance. I thanked him for his time and stepped back. I immediately glanced over at Coleman, who was helping the EMTs get the body down the steep incline of the mound. My heart thudded with the power of a mule kick. I loved that man, and I didn’t want to lose one iota of the power of that love, even though I knew the pain would be equal or greater if we separated for any reason.

  “You look gobsmacked,” Tinkie said. She’d slipped up beside me without a sound.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been young,” I said. Thirty-four wasn’t ancient, but it was a long way from nineteen. “I was more … romantic and foolish when I was in college.”