LITMIR.BIZ

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police and that his conversation with Brad and Ed was being conducted out of the earshot of everyone else.

      “What can you tell us about the victim?” Max asked.

      Brad tugged off the evidence gloves. “The cranial sutures are completely closed. It has prominent browridges and robust mastoid processes. The fully erupted teeth are crooked with a fierce overbite. The pelvic opening is narrow.”

      “And in English that translates to?” Max prodded.

      “Adult male. Twenty-five to fifty age range. Someone will have to look a lot closer at the bones to tell you more.”

      “Clothing?”

      “Something in the soil near the feet that could be rotted leather boots. Nothing else visible, but I wasn’t really looking. Chances are most cloth materials disintegrated over time. Roots are impinging on the sides of the pit. Insect activity has no doubt been steady over the decades. Anything not enclosed within the time capsule was either consumed as their food or broken down by soil minerals.”

      “Dr. Winslow, are you telling me that this guy was buried here at the same time as the time capsule?”

      Brad nodded as he gestured toward the evidence bag. “I found that 1900 gold coin beneath the body. Can’t imagine anyone today carrying it around as if it were change in his pocket. When you add that fact to the absence of orthodontic work and the mineralization of the bones, I’d say it’s a safe bet your skeleton is at least a hundred years old.”

      Relief washed over Max’s face. He grabbed Brad’s hand and gave it a hearty pump. “Thank you, Dr. Winslow.”

      “You’re welcome,” Brad said, surprised. “But I thought that you were hoping it wasn’t a homicide.”

      “Brad, if this guy was killed a hundred years ago, his murderer’s dead, too,” Ed explained. “That closes it for us. No crime scene, no need to delay pulling up the time capsule and getting back to the celebration.”

      “Let’s keep the fact that he was murdered off the news,” Max said. “No need to distract from the ceremony. I’ll let the mayor know we can proceed.”

      As soon as he was gone, Ed held out Brad’s sport coat. “Buddy, you just made me look good in front of the chief. Come on. I want to be the one to break the news to Emily. If you’re still bent on talking to her, I suggest you do it after I sing your praises.”

      “Sounds good to me,” Brad said as he put on his coat and started with Ed toward the crowd. “When she told you about ending up in the E.R. yesterday, she didn’t mention meeting me, did she?”

      “Not a word.”

      “Good. Introduce me to her as though you have no idea that we’ve met.”

      “What do you have planned?” Ed asked.

      “Nothing, yet. I simply want to keep my options open. And don’t let on that I know about…you know.”

      Brad had refrained from being specific because they had gotten within the hearing range of others.

      “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ed assured. “If she learns I said anything, she’ll kill me.”

      When Emily saw Ed and Brad approaching, she broke away from the people she was with and met them halfway. True to his promise, Ed introduced Brad to her as though he had no idea his sister and friend had met before.

      “Dr. Winslow and I know each other,” Emily said.

      Brad nodded as though he had just figured out why she looked familiar. “Yes, of course. You were in the E.R. yesterday. How are you feeling today, Mrs. Barrett?”

      “Fine, thank you,” she said, but she was studying him intently.

      He was studying her, as well. Yesterday, she’d been his patient, and as such he’d carefully restricted his observations to an impersonal list of vital signs.

      Today, she was a tall, uncommonly lovely woman with long chestnut hair, large amber eyes and a natural warmth that had effortlessly captivated the mayor as well as the rest of the crowd.

      And she was irritating him more by the minute. Why would an intelligent, attractive woman like this—who could no doubt charm most men into doing whatever she wanted—choose to have a child by artificial insemination?

      It didn’t make sense. Brad needed things to make sense—and this most of all.

      “I have some good news, Em,” Ed said. “Brad has saved the day. Even though your skeleton appears to have been the victim of foul play, the guy met his maker a hundred years ago. The Founders Day Celebration can go ahead as planned.”

      “That is good news,” Emily agreed, looking relieved. “But you do realize that learning who this skeleton is and how he came to be buried with the time capsule could be as significant as anything else we uncover today?”

      Ed shrugged. “That’s something for you historians to figure out.”

      “Aren’t you going to investigate?”

      “Em, it’s not a police matter.”

      “But if he was murdered—”

      “Look, I’d like to help you on this, but I can’t. And neither can the department. We have far too many unsolved homicides with living perps running around out there that need to be found. No one has the time to dig into old crimes where the murderers are long dead.”

      Watching the disappointment marring Emily’s smooth forehead, Brad knew opportunity was knocking and quickly stepped forward to open the door. “I may be able to help you with the skeleton’s identity,” he said.

      She turned toward him, her expression full of that cool, professional calm he thought he had a patent on. “How could you help?”

      Before he had an opportunity to answer, a middle-aged woman approached them. Brad recognized her as the one who had sat next to Emily and led the crowd in its applause of her efforts.

      Emily introduced her friend as Dr. Dorothy Mission, a member of the managing board of the Courage Bay Historical Society.

      “Do you prefer doctor or Dorothy?” Brad asked as he shook the hand offered to him.

      “Always depends on who’s asking,” Dorothy said. “In your case, definitely Dot.”

      She was flirting with him in that totally non offensive and non serious way that a plump woman over fifty with guts and good humor could pull off. He liked her immediately. “I’m Brad.”

      “Did I overhear you say something about helping out, Brad?” Dorothy asked.

      “Yes, I have some knowledge of forensic anthropology,” he said. “There’s a lot that can be learned from bones. I’ll study the skeleton for you and see what I can turn up.”

      “That’s a generous offer,” Emily said, in a tone that was something less than bursting with enthusiasm. “But I wouldn’t presume to—”

      “I like mysteries,” he interrupted. “And you have to admit, this hundred-year-old skeleton presents an interesting one.”

      “So our skeleton isn’t of recent origin,” Dorothy said. “No wonder Max Zirinsky was looking so relieved.”

      “It appears to have been buried with the time capsule, Dot,” Emily explained. “And to have been murdered.”

      “Murdered?” Dorothy repeated.

      “Let’s keep that fact among ourselves,” Ed said quickly. “At least until Brad can examine it and give us the details.”

      “We’ll be delighted to avail ourselves of your expertise,” Dorothy said.

      Out of the corner of his eye, Brad could see that Emily was not quite so delighted.

      He

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