Without something to do, he seemed visibly shaken and went to the truck for a beer.
“Want one?”
Pix did, but somehow the picture she might present to her daughter, Sergeant Dickinson, and Freeman Hamilton, who would surely not stay home once he learned there was a body on the Point, was a bit unseemly. Not to mention that it would be al over the island that she had been drinking with Seth Marshal while someone lay stone cold only a few feet away. Not by any stretch of the imagination could this be cal ed a wake. At a wake, it was customary at least to know the name of the deceased.
“Do you have anybody new working for you this summer? Anybody who's been missing for a while?”
Seth came and sat down next to Pix on her boulder.
The dogs had long since quieted down and were snoring peaceful y in the afternoon sun.
“You're trying to figure out who it is, right? Wel , I haven't. It's the same crew as last summer, and some from the summer before. The Atherton kid was helping us on the camp work, but I told his folks I couldn't afford to hire him for other work. They were paying him for what he did there. Or didn't do is more like it."
“Have you heard of anyone missing? Here or on the mainland?”
Seth shook his head. "Of course, we don't know how long the body's been here, but I haven't heard anything at al , and you know the way news gets around." Pix continued to pursue her line of questioning.
“I assume the whole island knew you were working out here and had dug the hole for the foundation”
“Yup, it wasn't a secret."
“But who knew you hadn't poured yet?"
“Probably al the same people, since I've been at the other places instead of here for some time now. But I was planning to pour this week. Not too many people would have known that”
They were getting somewhere.
“Who would have known?"
“Okay now, let me see. I was ordering the lumber for the footings at Barton's and I may have mentioned it then. I told my mother, because she said you would be here soon and if I didn't get going, you'd have my hide, which is true."
Seth smiled and the pirate was replaced by a mischievous little boy—little boy, despite his thirty-odd years. He'd been one of the island's footloose and fancy-free young bachelors for so long, it was hard to think of his ever settling down—or getting any older. He lived with his parents in Granvil e, the larger of the island's two main towns, Sanpere Vil age being the other. His mother, Serena, was a member of the Ladies' Sewing Circle with Pix's own mother. The Sewing Circle. That tore it. If Serena knew, it might as wel have been listed under "Coming Events" in The Island Crier.
Smal -town life made criminal investigation nearly impossible. There were rarely any skeletons in anyone's closet, because at one time or another, some friend or neighbor had opened it "by mistake," ostensibly looking for something else. "How's your uncle Enoch doing?" asked in the right tone of voice would be enough to elicit the information that he was drying out up to Bangor and how the hel did you know, anyway?
Al this was running through Pix's mind, along with the inevitable conclusion that she couldn't figure anything out, island mores or no, until she had found out who the corpse had been for a start. She abandoned her previous line of inquiry.
“So, this is definite? You're going to start work tomorrow?"
“If Earl wil let me," Seth replied.
They sat in companionable silence for a while. There was a slight breeze and the leaves in the aspen grove behind them rustled softly. Seth took a pul on his bottle of beer, then asked, "Did it seem like it was attached?”
Pix knew what he meant. "I think so."
“Could be part of him is here, part someplace else."
“I hope not," Pix said, her queasiness returning at the idea of dismembered body parts turning up at construction sites from Kittery to Calais.
They were quiet again, subdued by the grisly suggestion, but Seth couldn't stay stil for long.
He smacked his forehead dramatical y. "I must be losing my mind. I've got a CB in the truck. I can cal Earl myself and find out what's keeping him." He walked rapidly toward the pickup and soon Pix heard the crackle of static and Seth's muffled words. He was back within minutes.
“He's already on his way. But I bet Freeman beats him.”
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when Freeman's truck pul ed in and screeched to a halt, sending gravel flying in al directions and starting the dogs barking again. Samantha flew out her door and was at her mother's side before Freeman had even opened his. When he stepped out, Pix could see he had his Sunday clothes on, which meant several less layers than usual. His fisherman's tan—forearms, face, and neck—was a deep mahogany color, contrasting with his thick mat of light gray-white hair.
Samantha spoke, her voice ful of concern: "Mom, the police wil be here right away. Are you okay?”
Considering the only danger had been from her own overactive mind, Pix was able to answer, "I'm fine. How about you?”
Freeman answered for her. "She was a little wobbly when she first got to me, but she's calmed down some. Nan came home and that helped." He did not seem surprised to see Seth and nodded to him. "Hel o, Seth. Where's this body of yours now? Lucky I decided to fix Nan's washer today instead of going fishing with Charlie Porter."
“It's over here, in the foundation. And it's not mine,"
Seth added snappishly.
The two men went over to the edge of the excavation.
Pix decided she'd seen enough of the hand to last her a lifetime and returned to her perch on the rock, making room for Samantha and holding her near. Her daughter stil looked very pale and seemed to he shivering in her jeans and T-shirt despite the warmth of the sun.
“Gorry," they heard Freeman exclaim. "Think someone cut him up in pieces?”
Seth's speculation and Freeman's further reaction were cut short by Sgt. Earl Dickinson's arrival. Uniformed, tal , and ramrod-straight, he looked very official. And with his closely cropped light brown hair and deep blue eyes, he looked very handsome. He addressed Pix and Samantha first. "Show me where you found it and how you got down and up”
Earl Dickinson was a man who always went straight to the point. When it became apparent that the earth had been disturbed by both of them, as wel as Artie, the sergeant jumped in the hole himself, inspected the evidence, and climbed back out. "No one else been in there?”
Pix answered for them: "No."
“Al right, then, stay out of it. I've got to cal in to report, then we can talk. The state police are sending a unit.”
He was back in a few minutes with his notebook out and pen clicked. They sat on and around Pix's boulder, at his feet like so many schoolchildren. First he wanted to know exactly when the Mil ers had arrived and how the body had been partial y unearthed, then he asked al the questions Pix had. Did Seth have anyone new working for him? When had Seth been at the site last?
After he was finished, he closed his notebook with a sharp snap and buttoned it into his pocket, along with the pen. "Not a whole lot you folks can do here, so I suggest you go home and keep your mouths shut as much as is humanly possible when everyone on this is land wil be asking you what's going on. Until we dig him out, we don't have anything to go on, except that somebody appears to have used a perfectly good quilt as a shroud.”
The sergeant's vocabulary was taking on a new richness, Pix noted. Maybe it was Jil 's influence. But he had hit upon the thing bothering her, too. Yankee thrift being what it was, why not wrap the body in an old tarp or burlap?
She wanted to tel him about the mark she'd found on the quilt, yet heeding his caution, she decided to wait until they were alone. Not that she didn't trust Freeman and Seth, especial y Freeman.