“Thank you, Levi,” I said, “I think you’re nice, too,” which struck me as a hypocritical thing to say to a man who was bouncing a hammer against his thigh. Thankfully, I was spared additional awkwardness when a voice summoned me from the road.
“Hey, Missus Smith… Hannah? You got a minute to talk?”
Because she wasn’t in uniform, it took a moment to recognize this petite woman wearing shorts and an amber blouse that turned her red hair to ginger. It was the sheriff’s deputy from Boston who had an interest in archaeology.
I would soon learn her unusual first name: Liberty.
11
When Liberty Tupplemeyer, the off-duty deputy, said, “I don’t envy you putting up with that woman,” she motioned so vaguely I assumed she meant Loretta, not Dr. Alice Candor, as was intended, which almost caused a fight, then got us into a confusing discussion about parents.
“If you met my mom, you wouldn’t believe we’re related,” the redhead said. “She still bakes hash cookies-Christ, tried to get me to eat one on my sixteenth birthday. Said it would calm me down. ‘Make me comatose, you mean,’ I told her. Or wear peasant blouses and camp at Dead concerts with Dad and her pals from the old commune. Sing ‘Rocky Mountain High’ around the campfire; talk God and astrology. No thanks.”
“Parents sometimes become childlike,” I agreed, leading the woman onto the dock while also keeping an eye on Levi. When Tupplemeyer had appeared, he’d slipped back into the mangroves, then returned to work by crossing the road to the Candor property. Ten minutes, I’d been conversing with the deputy, who was chatty now that she was out of uniform, but I had yet to hear the sound of a nail being driven, or anything similar, to explain why Levi was carrying a hammer while he spied on me.
Something else that hadn’t happened was hearing why Tupplemeyer, on her day off, had returned to Sulfur Wells. The delay was caused by my defensiveness when she’d seemed to criticize my mother, but, in fact, had meant Alice Candor.
“No one’s asking you to put up with her!” I had countered with some heat. “Mind your own business-and walk yourself off our property while you’re at it!”
Like two dogs who mistakenly snap at each other, we were now eager to make peace. For Liberty Tupplemeyer, that seemed to require proving her mother was even crazier than Loretta, who she’d yet to meet so had no idea how stiff the competition was.
Mrs. Tupplemeyer, however-who came from money, according to her daughter-was making a strong showing.
“My mom sees a mountain stream, particularly if it’s a sunny day, she wants to go skinny-dipping. Doesn’t matter who’s around, can you imagine? Sixty-four years old-skinny-dipping. When I told her I was leaving BU for the police academy, you’d have thought I was marching off to join the Nazi Party. Know what she tells her friends? God forbid she gave birth to a cop, so she tells them, ‘Bertie has gone into public service.’ You know, like I married a Kennedy and I’m now devoting my life to flood victims.”
“We’ve got to keep those two apart,” I smiled but was becoming increasingly confused. BU, I knew, stood for Boston University, but what did our mothers have to do with the deputy’s return to Sulfur Wells? “You were studying archaeology before that?” I asked, hoping to get the conversation on track.
The redhead nodded while she enjoyed the view from the dock. “In a way, my mom got me interested. Especially the way she behaves around her old hippie friends. Tribal, you know?”
I was lost. “Interested in archaeology, you mean? Or having the power to arrest people?”
“Pre-Columbian history,” she replied. “Spend a day with Mom’s friends, it’s hard to believe space aliens didn’t come down and impregnate half our parents’ generation. You ever read Chariots of the Gods? Or look at satellite photos of the Plains of Nazca in Peru? The theory’s been dismissed as bullshit, but it’s interesting, you know? Their fascination with astronomy… geometry, advanced stuff. In high school, I got college credit volunteering on digs in Guatemala and Copán. You can’t believe the vibe of those places, unless…” Tupplemeyer let the sentence trail off as her eyes focused on an island two miles away. “That’s the western pyramid you mentioned, right?”
“Cushing Key,” I said. “On this coast, whenever you see a high stand of trees, there’s always a shell mound.”
“I know that name. Cushing… Yeah, I saw his sketches on the Internet. He was sent here by the Smithsonian and collected artifacts in the eighteen hundreds. An ethnologist, right? Kind of a strange guy, but you were right about the mounds being pyramids. No doubt from his drawings.”
I felt I should know more about Frank Hamilton Cushing but could only answer, “In the eighteen nineties, I’m pretty sure. You’ve done some reading since Friday.”
“Everything I could find. And made some phone calls, too-an archaeologist in Tallahassee, and finally got the zoning department this morning. The guy wouldn’t say shit, but it’s a start.” The deputy looked at me to see if I was interested or, possibly, impressed. I was both.
She continued, “Everything you told me is pretty accurate-an ancient, complex civilization, the remains are right here. What you told me about Dr. Candor is true, too. That she and her husband somehow got around all the restrictions and destroyed that Indian mound.” The deputy turned and motioned toward the concrete mansion. “Sorry you thought I was talking about your mother, but I couldn’t wait to get away from that bitch. You ever been inside her place?”
At last, I understood the confusion. “You were in Alice Candor’s house? Just now?”
Yes. Tupplemeyer had actually passed the man with the camera as he was on his way out and she didn’t care that he’d recognized her.
“Off duty, I’m still an officer of the court, but my time’s my own,” she explained. “I wanted to ask Candor face-to-face where they’d sent those dump trunks. And why the hell won’t she tell the archaeologists? They could at least sift for artifacts, which would be a contextual mess, but, you know, valuable. I was more polite than the way I just put it. Trouble was, I couldn’t pretend it was police business. The woman’s too savvy. She’s used to bullying people and getting what she wants. She wouldn’t tell me where they dumped the stuff, of course. In fact, she said she’d call the sheriff personally if I kept asking questions.”
“Threatened you,” I said. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to even try.”
Tupplemeyer flipped her hair back in a way that told me she had some actress in her as well. “No, I’m just pissed off-and I don’t have the financial worries most people do, so, you know, screw her if she wants to get tough. Over the weekend, I used a department computer to start putting the pieces together and also… Well, I’ll just tell you-I ran background checks on the local players.” She paused to give me a meaningful look before continuing. “There’s not much I could do in two days. If Candor actually calls the sheriff, my sergeant could restrict my computer privileges. I don’t want to lose my job, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let those assholes get away with destroying a shell pyramid. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
It was the second time that day a person had all but admitted to prying into my personal history. I decided to overlook the intrusion, however, until I understood the woman’s motives. I said, “When I first realized it was you-you look so different out of uniform-I thought you’d come about my mother’s garden. The attorney I called said don’t touch it until she makes some calls. So if that’s on your mind-”