“Wait and see!” If Horner had been trying to distract me from the Lewis Lamb powder keg, then he had succeeded — for the moment. My excitement and curiosity got the better of me, and I hurried up the rocky slope after the scientist.
I had spent months on my first and only real dig in the Ukraine, sifting through rocks on a fruitless search. If even a fraction of Horner’s story was true . . . The ground began to level out, and ahead of us I could see where the soil had been churned. It was like seeing a sunrise for the first time. I glanced back eagerly at my employer, and my thudding heart sank. Jackaby had stopped some twenty feet behind us, his fingers gently testing the air around him. His attention began to drift away from the foothills and toward the bushy forest to his left. You wouldn’t, I thought. No, not now. You wouldn’t do this to me.
“Sir?” I managed as politely as humanly possible. “I’m sure you will want to see the site. It’s only just ahead.”
“Have you noticed anything in this general area during your excavation, Mr. Horner?” Jackaby asked. He turned on his heel and walked a few steps toward the greenery, his eyes dancing around the underbrush. “Something . . . tenebrous, perhaps? A dissolute anathema, of sorts?” He squinted, focusing hard.
“A dissolute what?” Horner looked back to where Jackaby was standing, and then glanced nervously at Brisbee. “Oh, Detective, wait. Maybe it’s best if you don’t—”
“That’s where I found her,” Brisbee interjected. His gaze was locked on the rocky terrain a few feet down the slope from where Jackaby was standing. Nobody spoke for several seconds, the wind having been knocked very suddenly out of the journey. “The doctor told her she shouldn’t go out.” The farmer’s voice strained. “But my Maddie never liked being told what to do.”
“Mr. Brisbee, I am so sorry,” I said. My throat felt tight.
“And you saw nothing to indicate there had been an attack?” Jackaby asked.
“Sir!” I said.
Brisbee shook his head. “It’s all right, young lady. I’ve been through all this with your man, Barker. My Maddie was a pistol. I should have known she wouldn’t stay cooped up with everything going on. This place was never big enough to keep her satisfied. It was her idea to expand in the first place.” He wiped his eyes. “I should’ve brought her up here, myself, so she could see it before . . .”
Charlie put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Brisbee took a deep breath and continued. “It didn’t look like an attack, Detective. She looked . . . peaceful. It was the fever that did her in—and the rocks.”
Jackaby exchanged a somber glance with Charlie. Charlie’s face was grim, and I could tell he was uncomfortable omitting the detail of the victim’s mysterious bruise, but he kept to Marlowe’s command and remained silent. Brisbee did not seem to notice the unspoken exchange. His eyes were wet, and he stood transfixed, staring at the rocky hill.
“And where are her remains interred?” Jackaby asked.
“Mr. Jackaby,” I whispered, appalled.
“I should like to pay my respects before we proceed,” Jackaby said.
“That’s kind of you,” Brisbee said hoarsely, “but we laid her to rest out behind Saint Izzy’s.”
“Saint Izzy’s?”
“Saint Isidore’s. She used to sing in the choir on Sundays. It’s got a beautiful churchyard. It’s all the way back up in Gadston proper, though, and you’ve only just arrived.”
“I feel it would be of great value to my process to visit Saint Isidore’s first. Come along, Miss Rook!” Jackaby began picking his way back across the uneven terrain.