Free Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) by Sheila Connolly

years.”
    “You have an alternate suggestion?” Marcus countered. “Because if you don’t, it’s the ME’s call.”
    “Yes, I do.” Gail exchanged a look with Meg. “I can make some calls, see if I can find a forensic archaeologist nearby.”
    Marcus sighed. “So you’re going to tell me this is an historic site and this should be treated as an archaeological dig? Good luck with that.” Then he added, “Let’s see if you can make that happen today, unless you want your project to stall while we analyze the, uh, remains.”
    “Right away,” Gail said. “I know someone I can talk to right now.” She pulled out her cell phone and walked to the middle of the green to call. She was back in three minutes. “Got her!” she crowed. “I’ve got a friend who teaches at UMass who’s an archaeological anthropologist. She’s on her way!”

7

    As if there hadn’t been enough people crowded around before—between the excavation crew, the construction crew that had planned to shore up the building, and onlookers Seth, Meg, Gail, Art, and Jeffrey—now the state police had joined the fray, soon followed by the medical examiner’s van. When the ME, Dr. Elijah Bartlett, parked and climbed out, Gail set off at a brisk trot to intercept him before Detective Marcus could get there. She snagged Bartlett in conversation even as he tried to walk toward the group. When they were a few yards away, Meg could hear Gail pleading, “. . . and if you could just wait a little longer before you disturb the body . . .” Gail looked up to find Marcus blocking her path.
    “Ms. Selden, let the man do his job, will you?”
    “But he could be destroying valuable historic evidence!” Gail protested.
    “I strongly suspect that he will concur with your preliminary assessment that the body has been in the ground for a very long time, and therefore how it got there is not a concern of ours. Although the ultimate disposal of the remains might be.”
    “Oh,” Gail replied, losing steam. “Okay. I can live with that. But my anthropologist friend is on her way over from Amherst now. Can you wait a few minutes? Please?”
    Detective Marcus looked reluctant but did not protest. Meg wondered if he had nothing more pressing to do and simply couldn’t bring himself to make up an excuse. It was, in fact, only around five minutes before yet another car pulled up and a slender woman about Meg’s age climbed out. If this was the expert from UMass, she must have broken a lot of speed regulations to arrive so quickly. Meg wondered if the woman hoped that there were more skeletons waiting to be uncovered.
    Gail hurried over to greet, and no doubt warn, her friend about where she might find herself in the pecking order for access to the bones. But the newcomer was smiling as she approached the detective. “Well, if it isn’t Bill Marcus!” she said. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of years. Most of your recent cases have been far too young for me to worry about.”
    He smiled reluctantly. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to entertain you lately, Miranda. But it appears there are others to do that for me.”
    Miranda turned to the rest of the small group. “Hi, I’m Miranda Melvin. What’ve we got here? Gail didn’t have time to give me all the details—just told me to get my butt over here ASAP. Who are all of you?” She beamed at everyone, and Gail hurriedly made introductions, ending with Jeffrey. “And this is the young man who first spotted the skull. Maybe you should include him on your next dig. He has a sharp eye!”
    Miranda looked him over. “You must, young man, if you can pick human remains out of a mass of flying dirt.”
    “I guess,” Jeffrey said. “Can I talk with you, whenever we’re done here? See, I’m working on a Boy Scout merit badge and—”
    Miranda laughed, but not unkindly. “One step at a time—Jeffrey, is it? Let’s figure out who our mystery guest is, and then we can make a plan.