Hudson jabbed a finger at the newspaper on the table. “Yup. Gad’s Valley. Farmer dug ’em up when he was cuttin’ into the hillside. The place ain’t but a mile or two from my cabin. I’ve known Hugo Brisbee since way back. A decent rancher, but that place seems like it’s always one bad crop away from broke. He’s the one who found the bones. Apparently he’s got to keep a closer eye on ’em, though. Here, have a look fer yourself.”
I leafed through the paper until I found the article. The story was just as the trapper said. Written by one Nellie Fuller, it read as follows:
Phenomenal Find Leads to Farmland Fiasco.
Gad’s Valley may be known for its simple rustic charms, but for one local farmstead, this past week has been more sensational by far. Death, dinosaur bones, and daylight robbery have shaken up the residents of the quiet countryside.
Ground was broken last Wednesday in the foothills behind the Brisbee family farm, unearthing a massive prehistoric fossil. The discovery quickly gained the attention of local enthusiasts and international experts alike.
The excavation has already been marred by some sad and unsettling developments. First and foremost, Madeleine Brisbee, 64, was found deceased yesterday morning near the site of the find. Having taken ill several weeks earlier, she is believed to have collapsed from exertion. Foul play is not suspected.
In the midst of this tragic loss, progress on the discovery has been further hampered by another troubling development. The deceased’s husband, Hugo Brisbee, 67, had scarcely returned from making funeral arrangements, when he received word that an invaluable artifact had been stolen from the site. Investigation into the theft is ongoing.
Brisbee has been in correspondence with the renowned American paleontologist Lewis Lamb since the earliest stages of the discovery. Lamb, head of Glanville University’s Geological Survey, is expected to arrive within the week to take charge of the excavation.
One thing is certain: in spite of trouble and tragedy, a great deal more will be coming out of the Brisbee soil this season than carrots and cabbages.
“Jackaby, read this! We absolutely must look into it!”
Jackaby took the paper with a scowl and glanced over it for a few moments. “Hmm. Now this is interesting.”
“More than interesting, it’s spectacular. I mean—very sad about the poor woman, of course—but this is precisely our sort of case! A brazen robbery in which the stolen property is a priceless scientific relic! Do you suppose that if we track down the missing bone, they might let me assist with the dig as well?”
“What’s that?” Jackaby looked up from the page. “You already have a job, Rook—and I wasn’t talking about that dinosaur business. Here, notice anything peculiar?”
The page opposite the excavation article was littered with half a dozen local happenings, minor accounts of vandalism, petty theft, and missing persons. “The absent professor?” I guessed. “Unusual for an instructor to be truant, I suppose.”
“Falderal! Cordovan’s Shoes. There.” He pointed to an article of only two sentences.
The entry briefly explained that an unidentified miscreant had broken into a shoemaker’s shop three times in the past week.
“Please tell me you’re kidding, sir. It says the cobbler couldn’t even find anything stolen. That’s annoying, but it’s not a case.”
“You mean cordwainer,” Jackaby corrected. “Cobblers only make repairs. Do you know who else is known for slipping into shoemakers’ shops and not taking anything?”
“Please, sir. Don’t say elves.”
“Elves!”
“It doesn’t say they made a nice pair of shoes for him—they just broke in. It’s probably some poor vagrant looking to keep dry for the night. It’s not elves.”
“It could be elves.”
“It could be elephants—what it is not is a case. Honestly, sir, how often will we have a chance to track down genuine dinosaur fossils?”
Hank leaned against the counter to watch our exchange.
“I really don’t see why you find old bones so interesting, Rook,” said Jackaby.