Maya Mound Mayhem (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 5

  She didn’t seem to be so happy to be with me, though.

  “Who is that?” Miss Vivee asked again. “That Indian over there.”

  “Native American,” I corrected.

  “Looks like an Indian to me,” she said.

  I took in a breath. “I don’t know but I’ll have to ask him to leave. Riley knows there are no visitors allowed at the ruins.”

  “Who is Riley,” she asked.

  “Riley Sinclair,” I said to her. “The geologist.”

  Everyone knew that no visitors were allowed on the site. It had been practically drilled into our heads and the agency had made us memorize the rules about visitors at the site.

  It had been made it perfectly clear, not only me being the leader of the dig, but to everyone that the Track Rock Gap stone landscape site was not closed to people who came to see it. But, and they emphasized that “but,” the Forest Service didn’t encourage visitation. They felt that it would best protect the sensitive and fragile site. Even enacted legislation under the Archaeological Resources Act that pointed to certain areas within the forest that were exempt from public disclosure to protect cultural resources.

  That’s why the History Channel had been denied access.

  Riley and her visitor was definitely coming out of restricted areas.

  “I don’t know why Riley always wants to give me hard time,” I said out loud.

  “She looks older than you,” Mac said.

  “She is,” I said. “She’s about thirty-eight.”

  “It’s hard to respect the authority of someone younger than you,” Mac said. “I’m sure she’s not happy having to work under someone that’s a decade her junior and probably not have as much field experience as her.”

  “Maybe so.” I looked at Mac. “Bugs also said she thought she have a bigger role in all of this. I don’t know. But not wanting to work under me and going against the rules set by the government are two different things. She could at least follow their rules.”

  “The laws set forth by the government didn’t seem to bother you any when you were running around here loose with federal officers chasing you,” Miss Vivee said.

  “I’m trying to mend my ways,” I assured her.

  “Don’t know how good a job you’re doing with that,” Miss Vivee said and raised her eyebrows. “Because now you’re the prime suspect in a homicide investigation.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What time is it?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “You have watch on,” I said. She looked down at it and said, “Are you going out there and talk to that girl? She’s breaking your rules and the government’s.”

  “Why are you worried about it?” I asked. I was still standing at the window watching Riley.

  “I’m here to help, dear,” Miss Vivee said and smiled. A fake one if I ever saw one. “And I have a murder to solve. With those two blatantly breaking laws I was thinking that maybe those two could be the killer,” Miss Vivee said. “I’d like to hear what they have to say.”

  “Don’t think he could be a suspect,” I said and glanced back out of the window. “This is the first time I’ve seen him. What reason would he have to kill someone around here?”

  “Only one way to find out,” she said. “And that’s to ask him.”

  “Miss Vivee,” I said. I had to keep my eyes from rolling upward. “We are not asking that man did he kill anyone.”

  She looked down at her watch.

  “Fine,” she said. “But if you have questions for him, you’d better get a move on.”

  I eyed her. She just seemed like she was up to something. “Okay. I’m going to talk to her. You two stay here.”

  “We’re not staying here. Even if those two aren’t suspects and you don’t need our protection, we want to know what’s going on. Don’t try and keep all the fun from us, Missy. “

  Like the two of them could protect me from anything.

  “C’mon then,” I said and held the door open for them. I didn’t want to have to talk to Riley alone anyway.

  “Riley,” I said as I walked up to her. “No visitors on the site. You know that. Not without prior approval.” I jumped right in on my spiel. I probably could have been more diplomatic.

  “This is my land,” her visitor said. “I don’t need permission to come here.”

  “I’m Logan Dickerson,” I said and stuck out my hand. Trying to play nice before I told him he had to leave. He didn’t take my hand. He looked down at it and then followed it up to my face. He held his gaze.

  I guess this won’t be easy.

  “This is Diwali Wilson,” Riley offered. “He is a Creek Indian. And a former student of mine.”

  “You teach?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “I did,” Riley answered. “Over at University of North Georgia.” She smiled at me. “I invited him.” And then looked at Miss Vivee “Is there a problem? Are we on different standards?” she asked.

  “I was Dr. Dickerson’s student,” Miss Vivee said and met eyes with Riley.

  “Oh really.” Riley eyes lit up with amusement.

  “Really,” Miss Vivee said. “When she taught at a university up in Ohio. We’re both from there,” Miss Vivee pointed to Mac. “She’s a very good teacher, you know.”

  “Riley,” I said trying to curb Miss Vivee’s lies before they got too big to be believable. “You know that visitors are not allowed down at the ruins. Director McHutchinson has practically drilled that rule into our brains.”

  “I heard that you’re looking for proof that the Maya migrated to Georgia,” Diwali said.

  “I am,” I said.

  “Just like the other guy that was around here. Thought he was going to come down here and disparage my people.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I don’t plan on mocking anyone.”

  “Why would anyone think that it was the Maya that came here, then?” he asked. “Why would you think that the Maya built those irrigation systems?” He pointed back toward the ruins. “Those mounds?” His voice was harsh, his face was becoming flush. His anger had seemed to go from zero to ninety in a matter of seconds. “Why couldn’t it had been the Native Americas of the United States?”

  “No one is saying that it wasn’t,” I offered. “I’m willing to go along with whatever evidence I find. I just am starting with the proposition that it was the Maya. And I base all of that on facts. Not just supposition.”

  “You should be careful of the things you suppose,” he said. “It might not turn out to be such a good thing for you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Those two seem like perfect suspects,” Miss Vivee said when we got back to the trailer. “They’re not very fond of you. That Indian practically threatened you.” She nodded her head at me to show me what she was saying was true.

  “I don’t’ think that’s a good reason to put them on your list, Miss Vivee. Just because they don’t like me,” I said. “Or because they don’t agree with me. And,” I took in a breath, “I’m not worried about his threat. He was just talking.”

  “Who said I was putting them on my list?” she said with a huff. “I’m not. Yet. I was just taking note of them. That’s all.”

  “It certainly did seem like that young man doesn’t want you proving that the Maya migrated to Georgia,” Mac said.

  “No he doesn’t. They didn’t. But Riley has to do what I ask her to whether she believes in it or not. That is if she wants to stay on my team. And I don’t care what that Diwali wants,” I said.

  “Why is he, and apparently Riley, so against you finding Maya?” Mac asked. “And who was the other person that he mentioned had come around looking for evidence of Maya?”

  “I don’t know the answer,” I said. “To either question. But he seemed pretty upset about it all.” I thought about the connection between Native American’s in Georgia and the Maya and spoke my feelings out loud. “I mean there is a good chance the Maya and the Creek and Cherokee are one in the
same,” I said to Mac. I sat down at the table across from where he sat.

  “Those tribes could be descendants of the Maya,” I continued. “Why would that be so bad?” I asked more to myself than to Miss Vivee or Mac. “Georgia Creek carry traces of Maya DNA. That’s a known fact. They had to have gotten it from somewhere, right? They are similar words in their two languages. The languages of the Creek Indians contain a lot of Mesoamerican words. And Hitchiti Creeks call themselves Itsate,” I said. “And Itsate is the name that Itza Mayas called themselves. Heck the next little town over from here is called Itza.”

  “Have you found anything to prove your theory,” Mac asked.

  “No,” I said and grunted. “I haven’t been here long enough to find anything. But there is other evidence that has been uncovered. It’s been known about for years. Like the pentagonal earthen mounds built by the Itza Maya. I saw the ruins when I was in Belize. And there are identical mounds to those I saw in Belize found here in Georgia. And most agronomists believe that corn, beans and tobacco came to the natives of the United States and Canada from Mexico. Nobody’s trying to hide that.”

  “Well I thought you’d never finish talking to them.”

  “Yeah, I saw you, Miss Vivee. You kept looking at your watch.” She evidently wanted to change the subject, which was for the best because I was getting just as upset as that Diwali guy had. “You ready to go home?” I asked.

  “Are you still on that, Missy?” She shook a bony finger at me. “I told you, I wasn’t going home.”

  “Yeah. Well. We’ll see about that,” I said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Logan doesn’t want us here,” Miss Vivee said to Mac.” She shook her hand and he lifted up an eyebrow. “She knows I could solve this case, but she’s just so stubborn.”

  “I can hear you, you know, Miss Vivee.” I looked at her. “This is a very small trailer.”

  “Now, Mac,” she said acting as if I hadn’t said a word. “Help me think. What I would do if I were back home in Yasamee to solve this crime?” Miss Vivee said.

  “You’d visit the crime scene,” I said. “Which usually means you’d go and talk to Viola Rose at the Jellybean Cafe.”

  “That’s right,” Mac chimed in in agreement.

  “There’s no Viola Rose here,” I said and narrowed my eyes. “And as you just learned you can’t go over to the ruins – which is the actual crime scene – even if that lie that you told that you once were my student were true. It’s against the rules.”

  “So that only leaves a diner,” she said and nodded her head. “Everyone in a diner gossips, no matter where it is. It’s just like going to the hairdresser’s,” Miss Vivee said. “We just need to find me a diner. One that’s close by.”

  “There is no diner for you. Seems like you’ve hit a brick wall,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” she said. “No such thing.” She pursed her lips and looked up like she was thinking. “I know. There’s that Cecil Davis.”

  “Don’t start with that again, Miss Vivee,” I said my eyes cautioning her. “You cannot go and talk to him. You’ve got me in enough trouble as it is telling him that I like to be around dead things.”

  “You do like to be around dead things,” Miss Vivee said and frowned up her brow. “Why keep denying it? Even if it is morbid.”

  Apparently, the dead and the elderly, I thought. Otherwise I would have gotten rid of Miss Vivee a long time ago.

  I was really going to have to do something about the people in my social circles.

  “I could go and talk to the Director. What’s his name?” she asked.

  I wasn’t volunteering any information.

  “I believe it was McHutchinson,” Mac offered.

  Miss Vivee snapped her finger. “That’s it.” She clapped her hand on his cheek. “Logan said it to Riley, didn’t she? Thank you for reminding me, sweetie.”

  Oh now since he’s helping her seal my fate, he’s “sweetie.” She’d just told Viola Rose that he was “an old goat.”

  Miss Vivee. I refuse to take you to see him.” I said flatly. I didn’t want to disrespect her, but there was no way I was going to help her do any amateur sleuthing here. Especially with my neck on the line. “In fact,” I continued, unflappable. “It’s probably just the right time for the two of you head home.”

  “Home?” she queried. “You keep saying that, but we haven’t helped you yet.”

  “I thought you wanted to come up and see where I worked.”

  Miss Vivee looked at Mac and he looked at her.

  “That, too,” they said in unison.

  “But you were aware I had my notebook, with your name in it I may add. I didn’t keep my intentions secret. I need to investigate this.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Vivee.”

  “I knew it, Vivee,” Mac said. “You can’t run the same tactics here that you can in Yasamee. I told you she wouldn’t let us help her.” He shook his head.

  She eyed me. The evil eye, I’m almost sure it’s called.

  “Fine,” she said. “But without me helping you know you’ll go to hell in a hand basket,” she said. “Good think I’m not one to say ‘I told you so.’” She looked at me, then at Mac, and back again at me. “Fine,” she said again shaking her head. “I’ll go home.

  “But if it won’t be too much trouble. Because I wouldn’t ever want to be any trouble to you,” She fluttered her eyelashes. “I would like to play a round of golf while I’m here. I don’t get to play on a real course much these day and I heard the one here is spectacular.” She looked at me. “But if that’s too much to ask of you since you’re rushing to get me back to Yasamee. To the confines of that house and Viola Rose’s horrid egg salad.”

  “You love her salad. It’s practically all you eat.”

  “Mac,” she directed her comment to him. “Don’t know when I’ll ever get back to Gainesville. Or on another golf course like the one I read about here. My little ole’ putt-putt course in my backyard will be the last I play on before I die.”

  “Vivee. You know if I could, I’d take you.”

  Geesh.

  “Oh my goodness, Miss Vivee. Really?” I felt bad enough making her go home. I just didn’t want her staying and getting me into any more trouble. But now I was going to deny her a simple game of golf. I couldn’t do it. She was making me feel so bad. I had to stop being mean to her.

  “I’ll take you.” I looked at her and smiled. “I’m not trying to be mean, Miss Vivee. It’s just with all the stuff going on.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so insistent on solving the murder.”

  “I’ll take you. Stay another night. We can go tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” she frowned up her face.

  “Well, when do you want to go?” I asked.

  “Now!” She hopped up from her chair. “Grab your cane, Mac. You’re gonna need it to keep up with me once we hit those greens!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wasn’t sure if Miss Vivee was really thinking that she and Mac were going to walk the nine holes the two of them were playing, but I certainly wasn’t going to let that happen. They’d both have a sun stroke. Or heart attack. And then so would I.

  I got a golf cart. Miss Vivee insisted on driving it. But after twenty minutes of her taking the small hills at the maximum speed, running into the sand dunes and driving in unnecessary circles over and over, I took the key. Plus, she seemed more interesting in getting around the grounds than playing golf.

  Although she was, I had to admit, very good at the game.

  “I’m driving,” I said holding on tight to the key.

  “No you’re not,” she said and tried to swipe it out of my hand. “I’m quite capable of doing it.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll drive,” Mac said. I took in a breath and remembered what Bay said about treating the elderly as the adults they are. I looked over at Miss Vivee. Well the adult that most of them are.

/>   “Okay,” I said and handed Mac the keys.

  We were at the fourth hole and Miss Vivee swung at a ball that got lost in the air.

  “Where did that ball go?” I asked.

  “I think it went over there,” Miss Vivee pointed in a direction that was opposite of where I thought it landed. “C’mon, Mac. Let’s go find it.”

  “Miss Vivee, I really don’t think your ball went this way,” I said twisting around to look at her. She rode up front with Mac and I was riding in the back seat of the golf cart.

  “Yes it did,” she said annoyed. “I should know where I hit my ball.”

  I turned back around. I’ll just ride and let them figure it out.

  Then I heard, “Yoo-hoo! Hello there! You! Yoo-hoo.”

  I turned around to see who she was calling to, and saw it was Detective Charlie Cecil Davis.

  Oh my god!

  I ducked, sliding down in the seat, pulling myself more and more to the right of the seat so my head would be lower than it. But I must’ve pushed myself too far over because I fell right on the ground.

  Crap!

  Then I decided maybe I should just stay there. I tried to tuck myself into a small ball and stay very still and very quiet.

  “How are you?” I heard Miss Vivee’s sing-songy voice. Unfurling myself. I drug myself forward, forearm over forearm guerilla-style, so I could peer around the cart. She was doing her sashaying walk over to him.

  “I thought that was you,” she said. “I’ve lost my ball and thought maybe it came this way.”

  Crap!

  I rolled over on my back and stared up at the clear blue sky. She was going to question that man. I just knew it. What luck – bad luck that that man was here at the same time we were . . . Wait . . . A coincidence? With Miss Vivee involved?

  Crap!

  She got me. I wouldn’t let her go and talk to him and . . . but wait . . . maybe not. She couldn’t have known he’d be here golfing. It had to be a coincidence.

  A bad coincidence, but one nonetheless.