“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He sighed. “If you insist on coming along, just feign laryngitis. I’ll do the talking.”
I slugged his arm again, and he was smirking as we climbed out of the car to greet the press.
*
“We’ll take a few questions now,” Derek said after we’d both presented our stories and descriptions and thoughts about the body and the things we’d seen inside the caves. I’d counted thirty reporters and camera operators while Derek was talking, and they’d been respectfully silent during our presentation. Now they began shouting and waving their arms.
“Can you tell us more about the victim in the cave? How old was he?”
“Does he have a name?”
“Exactly how did he die?”
Derek gave a quick answer to each question, and I referred them to the sheriff’s department for further information on the dead man. Derek then pointed to a good-looking young guy in the front row whose arm was raised in the air. “Yes, go ahead.”
“Josh Atherton, Antiquities Magazine,” he said, and smiled brightly at us both. “Thank you, Mr. Stone, Ms. Wainwright. Wow, this has been really fascinating. I wonder, do you have any idea how long ago the cave was sealed up?”
Derek spoke. “Based on the identification found on the victim, we estimate that the cave was sealed approximately seventy years ago.”
“A quick follow-up if you don’t mind,” Atherton rushed to say. “Specifically, what identification did you find?”
“The police found the man’s passport,” Derek said carefully. “Apparently there was something else found on his body that gave the investigators a more specific date to work with. You’ll have to contact them for more information.”
More questions were blurted out, and we answered as many of them as we could. I was surprised by how many reporters asked about the murder victim since that information was available in the sheriff’s records, which were open to the public.
I was finishing up an answer when a tall woman with spiky red hair interrupted. “Why won’t you allow people to go inside the cave?”
Derek stepped to the microphone. “Our excavators and geologists have suggested that until we have completed the work that was interrupted, it’s safer to restrict the number of people passing through. Beyond that, the cave is private property and contains many items of great value. Don’t you agree it would be foolish to allow free access to the public?”
Many in the crowd shrugged in acquiescence, but I noticed a few reporters scowling, as though they were angry at us for considering them part of the general public.
Josh Atherton raised his hand again, and I pointed to him. “Mr. Atherton.”
He beamed at me when I said his name. “Thank you so much. Let me preface my question by explaining that my readers truly enjoy being drawn into another world. So I was hoping you would describe what you felt when you first walked into the cave. I assume it was dark. Were you afraid? Did you notice the smells, the sights, the sounds? Do you recall the temperature?”
“It was musty and dark,” I said, recalling the first time I walked into the cave. “At first I was excited and overwhelmed. I wanted to get in there and see everything. And I wasn’t alone, so I was sharing the moment with others who were equally excited. But since then, I’ve gone there by myself, and I must admit, it’s eerie. Silent. Cold. I’m reminded that this place was sealed off from the world for decades. Why? To hide a dead body? To protect those beautiful rare objects? I almost feel as though I shouldn’t be there. But it’s also thrilling, a punishment and a reward. The sublime and the . . .” I chewed on my lip, suddenly aware of my blathering. “Well, it’s hard to explain.”
“It’s a weighty question,” Derek said, noting my uneasiness. “Perhaps we’ll end it there. Thank you all very much.”
“And while you’re in Dharma,” I added hastily, “do take advantage of the photographic exhibit at the town hall over on Shakespeare Lane. You’ll see pictures of the beautiful artwork we’re talking about, and they’ll answer a lot of your questions.”
The crowd broke up slowly. I made eye contact and smiled at Detective Parrish, who was surrounded by reporters. Others stood chatting with one another and comparing notes. Derek signaled to the tech guy who had set up the podium and microphones. “We’re done here, Willy. Thanks a lot for your help.”
“No worries, man.”
Derek grabbed my hand, and we walked quickly back to the car.
“Should we rescue Detective Parrish?” I asked.
He glanced over at the crowd gathered around the woman. “If she needs to talk, she knows where to find us.”
“I like her. I feel bad for throwing so many questions her way.”
“I like her, too, but this is part of her job. That’s why she came here today.”