LITMIR.BIZ

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heritage to my dark mane and olive complexion. I don’t know anything about my dad, but I bet he had some kind of Mediterranean background.

      Andy took a step toward me.

      “Remember, Stella,” he said. “No one near the body until an anthropologist has looked at it.”

      “You might as well count me in,” I said. “I’ve been looking into the story at the library all day.”

      “We don’t mind an audience,” said the woman.

      I immediately liked her.

      After a beat, Andy stepped aside so I could greet our newcomers.

      “If you two don’t mind, I don’t mind,” Andy said to the couple. “As long as you have something to add, Stella.”

      “You know I’m good for it,” I said, hoping I would be.

      “This is Dr. Robert Solder and his assistant, Miss Leigh Paik, from Boston University,” Andy said. “They are part of a world-renowned forensic anthropology department. They took the first flight over to help us.”

      As Andy spoke, Solder gently leaned his forearm against his partner’s. Leigh returned his nuanced affection by dipping her head toward his shoulder. They were a funny couple, but I got it. She loved his mind; he loved everything about her.

      “So glad you both could make it, Dr. Solder, Ms. Paik.” I extended my hand. “I’m Stella Wright. I live in the main house, so you can always reach out to me if you need anything. “

      “Don’t worry about us. We have a whole lot of bones to play with. And call me Leigh,” said the woman, shaking my hand while her partner got back to work. Although she was the assistant on their team, she seemed to be the public front for the two. “We’re setting up the lab. Then we’ll examine the body. Your timing is perfect.”

      I was impressed. It had only been a few hours since the ME had suggested a forensic anthropologist take over, and here were two professionals, world-renowned, on the case. I smiled at Andy, who rubbed his hands together in anticipation of what would come next. I wished Peter was with us too.

      “Knock, knock,” said a new voice, behind us.

      It was the second time I’d heard that phrase today. As I expected, I turned to find a corduroy jacket with elbow patches in the doorway.

      “Jameson Bellows,” said the historian I’d met at the library.

      His introduction was aimed at the scientists, but Solder was now busy instructing Leigh to organize some tools to help him measure the bones.

      “I’m the resident curator at the Nantucket Historical Association. Consider me at your service,” he said, trying again for their attention. When he received little more than an indulgent smile from Leigh, he turned to me. “Is that you, Ms. Wright?” I nodded, cognizant of the fact that Jameson Bellows’s sudden arrival was most likely connected to the fact that he’d overheard me talking to Agnes. I surmised that he had learned the Morton’s address from Agnes after I’d left and was eager to get in on the action. I had to admit I respected his ambition to make a name for himself on our island. He definitely wanted to be the Historical Association’s new superstar.

      “Mr. Bellows,” said Andy, “although I appreciate that you’ve made time to visit, I will ask that you respect—”

      “It’s really OK,” said Leigh, “we’re happy that the island’s community is interested in our work. Please feel free to observe us.”

      “But perhaps later,” said Solder, as much to Leigh as to Bellows. “We’ll have to sell tickets at this rate. Right now, the goal is to discover as much as we can, as quickly as we can. Since the bones have been unearthed, it’s important to examine them thoroughly lest the exterior environment contaminate them over time.”

      I was fascinated to see who would win. Solder bit his bottom lip and looked as if he was going to hold his ground, but Leigh gave him an equally stubborn stare. She had transformed from a dreamy groupie to a frustrated colleague in the blink of an eye, and I realized she must wear a couple of hats in their relationship. I found I was rooting for her and was happy when Solder took a step aside. As he did, he lowered a pair of glasses with magnifiers for lenses, and flipped on a flashlight attached to them. With his eyes looking four times their size, I once again found myself trying to figure out how we could use him at Halloween Haunts.

      “Please don’t assume this is going to be an ongoing partnership, Mr. Bellows,” he said. “This is no more than professional courtesy.”

      Leigh raised her chin but graciously said nothing more.

      In the four or five steps it took the historian to head victoriously to the hearth, he pulled out a small case from his breast pocket. He unzipped it and removed a pair of glasses with a magnifying glass and light attached to them, similar to Solder’s own glasses, and took a place beside Solder at the hearth.

      “I can already see,” said Bellows after only a moment’s silence, “that the weave of cloth of the woman’s dress places her in an early-nineteenth-century time period.”

      The two men, with their four collective eyes magnified by their glasses, looked up and gave each other a good, long stare.

      “Obviously,” said Solder, not breaking eye contact.

      “Obviously,” said Bellows with equal intensity.

      The two men turned and faced the hearth again with the precision of synchronized swimmers. Without speaking to each other, Bellows took the bottom of the skeleton, and Solder took the top. I noticed Leigh shaking her head as she opened a cardboard box at the table.

      “The teeth are worn at the incisor,” said Solder, perhaps to Bellows, perhaps to himself. “I believe she sewed a lot.”

      I stepped toward the area of the room where the investigators were examining the skeleton, fascinated by the suggestion that she was a seamstress. I supposed all women sewed back then, but I was reminded that the Cooper Thieves had stolen from Petticoat Row women, many of whom were seamstresses.

      After about a minute, the two gentlemen switched places and continued their scan of the body. I felt like we were watching paint dry, but finally there was some action up front. Bellows reached into the woman’s dress sleeve. Solder reached out to stop him, but Bellows had already extracted what looked like a small piece of linen.

      “What is it?” I said.

      Without a word, Bellows walked to the table with Solder right behind him. Andy and I craned our necks to see, but Leigh was there as well and we couldn’t make out much over their shoulders.

      “I’d say eighteen thirties or forties, from the embroidery,” said Leigh.

      “The color choice of the thread is in keeping with that time,” said Bellows with a condescending air.

      Solder nodded, focused on the linen. While Bellows looked pleased with himself for having had the opportunity to display his knowledge, Solder was in his zone, finding clues from an old piece of cloth. I knew how he must feel. There was a puzzle to be solved, and he had found a solid clue. I’m like that when I’m designing new candles.

      “It’s in good condition. Aside from the blood,” said Solder.

      “Did you find many wounds on the body? Other fractures anywhere?” I asked, thinking of Peter’s idea that Patience Cooper had been attacked by thieves and had died from her wounds, leaving Jedediah free to leave with the money she’d protected with her life.

      Solder shook his head.

      “Only the wound to her rib cage,” he said.

      The seamstress connection had led me to think that the body might actually be Agnes’s relative, but the discrepancy in the wounds left me stumped.

      Solder took what looked like a pen from his pocket, clicked it, and then began to speak into it.

      “From

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