Alexa walked through the bustling town toward the cemetery. A rustling made her whip around. A cat emerged from the bushes and slunk across the street.
Had she wasted two hours? The article on Cheong Tam confirmed his and the store’s existence, and she might have a lead on what caused S2’s neck to break. Hanging. Lynching. Cave-in. Fall. Pick a card, any card, your future is doomed.
The parking area brimmed with vans and cars. Ana’s reinforcements must be searching for more remains. Or maybe there was a graveside service. As Alexa cut through the lot, the cemetery director locked his car and started toward her. “Miss Clock, Miss Clock!”
He probably wanted to sell her a plot-for-one to go with her DIY coffin kit. She pretended not to hear and dashed into the graveyard. A spooky mist hovered over the ground. In case Mr. Howard was in hot pursuit, she ducked behind a tall stone angel marking fourteen-year-old Johnny Butler’s passing in 1877.
ROCK OF AGES CLEFT FOR ME
LET ME HIDE MYSELF IN THEE
Let me hide myself behind thee, Alexa thought, and then mentally apologized to Johnny. She peeked above the stone angel’s broken wing tip. No Mr. Howard. Between a long row of graves, she spotted a cameraman filming a woman wearing a bright yellow sweater. Alexa walked over to hear what she was saying.
“…as we know, the New Zealand Parole Board refused to listen to Cindy Mulligan’s family. Now their beloved sister and daughter’s killer is free. The question the residents of this quaint former mining town are asking is: Will Mr. Hammer re-offend and cause another whānau similar anguish? Time will tell. This is Kelly Tyerman, News Six, Arrowtown Cemetery.”
The gravestone the reporter gestured to was adorned by a dewy bouquet. A sunbeam etched in the upper right corner of the stone cast its rays through the epitaph.
CYNTHIA JUSTINA MULLIGAN
BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER
BORN 7 APRIL 1965, ARROWTOWN
DIED 22 FEBRUARY 1998, AGED 32
HER LIGHT IS GOLD
Alexa had a packet of information about the guy who killed her tucked in her tote, and now she was standing at the foot of her grave. It was too weird.
The reporter handed the microphone to the cameraman and patted at her big hair. “This mist is brutal.” She tossed a smile at Alexa. “Are you here to pay your respects?”
“No.” Alexa’s hair had increased in volume tenfold to reflect the dampness. She wished she had pulled it back. “Well, sort of.”
The reporter raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow.
Alexa clarified. “I’m working the dig. I heard about Cindy Mulligan from someone who knew her.”
The reporter’s eyes bugged. “May I have your source’s contact info?”
“No.”
The reporter looked toward the tents. “What’s going on in there?”
Alexa backed up. “You’ll need to talk to the cemetery director about that.” He was striding toward them. Alexa walked away, hoping the reporter wouldn’t follow. She wanted to find the Chinese graves. She took the “Olde Cemetery” map out of her tote and consulted it. The original burial grounds were divided into Presbyterian, Catholic, and Anglican sections. A tiny back corner was reserved for Anglican Chinese. She thought of that missionary in several of the museum photos: perhaps he’d had some success.
She turned right and stopped to read a marker: MAVIS “PEG” ALEXANDER, ARROWTOWN NATIVE, DIED 17 APRIL, 1969, AGED 98.
What was life like, Peg? Growing up during the gold rush? What did you think about the influx of immigrants? Was your father a miner? Did you ever meet Cindy Mulligan, you an old woman and Cindy a tot?
Quit talking to the dead, she told herself.
She entered an area where the graves had crumbled and epitaphs were faded. She read what dates she could: 1922, 1918, 1901. Beyond HENRY CHESTER SMITH, DIED FIVE MILE CREEK, SEPT 1897, she spotted a neglected area that corresponded with the map. She walked back and forth. There were no headstones. She toed the ground, alert for markers. None. Had the Chinese on her list been dug up? Had they made it home or were they at the bottom of the sea?
She gave up and started toward the tents. Two men pushed ground-penetrating radar machines as Olivia watched. Would they detect more disturbances? As Alexa clambered over the rock wall, a woman in a dark raincoat and green gum boots—where had she come from?—marched over. “Are you part of the dig?”
Alexa nodded cautiously.
The woman’s gray hair was protected by a clear plastic bonnet tied at the chin. “You shouldn’t be here. These are sacred grounds. It’s not for you to disturb the past.”
“Permission for the dig was granted,” Alexa stuttered.
The woman’s stony eyes narrowed. “A person’s body and soul belong to God, and God doesn’t grant permission.”
“Speak with the cemetery director.” Alexa straightened her shoulders, walked to the tent, and pulled the flaps open.
“Close them,” Ana said. “There are too many people around.”
Alexa stepped inside and pulled the flaps closed. She felt as if she’d run a gauntlet to arrive. “Some lady just complained about the dig.”
“She stuck her head in here,” Ana said. “Scared me to death. Quoted the bible. And there’s all this activity because of Earl Hammer getting out of jail.”
The forensic pathologist, Dr. McKenzie, grunted and took a magnifying glass out of his case. He knelt by the skull.
The skeleton, still facedown, was fully exhumed. One tawny shoulder knob was higher than the other in a perpetual shrug. The ribs splayed in delicate symmetry. The hips were narrow, and the bony arms were tucked under the pelvis, hiding the hands. Alexa thought of someone stripped naked, trying to cover up from hostile eyes. She had an urge to cover the bones for modesty’s sake.
Dr. McKenzie examined the neck with the magnifier. “The C4 contains nerves that connect to the diaphragm. With a break like this, she’d have a hard time breathing.”
“She?” Alexa asked.
He looked up. “Speculation. I can’t measure the pelvis in a prone position.”
“We found a few buttons,” Ana said. She pointed at the table. “Mother-of-pearl. A bit feminine for a miner.”
Despite his large size, Dr. McKenzie crawled alongside the skeleton. He leaned inward, focused on the spinal column, and inched down the back to the lumbar area and halted. He grunted and leaned closer. “The L3 and L4 are broken.”
Jeez, Alexa thought. A broken neck and a broken lower back.
He raised his head. “I’ll clear it with my colleagues and take a closer look at the remains in the morgue. Could be a mining accident, but if it’s female—that doesn’t make sense.”
“Should we report it to the police?” Alexa asked.
Dr. McKenzie clambered to his feet. His bushy eyebrows knit together. “We’ve got a mystery here, with the body, probably female, probably European, outside the cemetery boundary. The police won’t be interested, but inform them that I’m conducting an inquest. Not much we can do after all these years, but it deserves a look.”
Olivia’s lecture on white-woman syndrome triggered an alarm in Alexa. “What about the other skeleton? Should I mention it?”
He took off his gloves and nodded. “Go ahead.”
Alexa had planned to mention S1 either way.
“Did you find anything about violence on the Chinese miners?” Ana asked.
“Nothing much. No DNA results back either. I did get a list of Chinese miners supposedly buried inside the cemetery, but I couldn’t locate any markers.”
Ana wiped her hands on her pants. “Historic cemetery records don’t always match with what’s actually there. Would you head to the police station to make the report? It will take Olivia and me hours to package the bones.”
Alexa agreed. She was wearing a path to town. Good thing it was close. She kept her head down as she scurried through the cemetery and back to the road. What was going on with all these damaged skeletons? Halfway to Buckingham Street her phone rang. Her heart revved as she checked the screen. Maybe it was Bruce.
Caller Unknown.
Maybe it was Dr. Weiner with the DNA results. “Hello?”
A faraway voice said, “I’m Mrs. Eugenia Petchey from Abertay University Forensic Department. I’m calling on behalf of Dr. Ben Odden and the search committee.”
The phone slipped in her cold fingers.
“Are you there?” The two a.m. Zoom interview with the Scottish professors felt like three months ago instead of three nights ago. Alexa found a better grip. “Yes. Hello. I’m here.”
“Dr. Odden extends an invitation to our campus. He wants to proceed with the second roond of interviews. Noo when can I get you scheduled?”