Free A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery by Beverly Connor

portrait, portraits with silhouettes, and portraits taken
with fancy filters.

    Beside the wedding photographs hung a series of
portraits of the garden club members, each with a
flower in an oval inset. Marsha's picture was there,
with a large red rose.
    "Those of the garden club are good, don't you
think?" asked the receptionist.
    "Yes, they are. Did each member grow the flower
in her portrait?"
    "They certainly did. Many are prize winners, too"
    "They are quite lovely."
    On the opposite wall hung several pictures taken
at various local functions: one of the sheriff giving a
campaign speech, which made Lindsay smile, and
one of a magician with a large mustache in top hat
and tails, thrusting a white rabbit in one hand and his
hat in the other toward the camera. The photograph
was foreshortened so that the rabbit, the hat, and the
magician's arms projected out from the photograph
and appeared large. There was a series of circus pictures: clowns, elephants, bareback riders, trapeze
artists, all taken with varied camera angles and
styles. Some pictures of the clowns, the lights, and
the crowd were surreal. These, thought Lindsay,
were pretty good, better than the more traditional
ones. She wondered how often Mickey indulged his
creativity.
    When Mickey Lawson returned, he greeted Lindsay with a broad smile. He had a boyish face underneath thick, sandy brown hair. She had seen him with
the Pruitts but hadn't paid close attention to him then.
She guessed him to be about 30. He was tall, large boned, and slim.

    "Sorry," he said. "I had to go up to Tylerwynd to
see Grandmother Tyler. When she talks, we all listen."
He gave a little laugh.
    "I was just enjoying your photographs," remarked
Lindsay.
    He blushed slightly and bobbed his head, pleased.
"Thanks. People around here seem to like them. Come
back to the studio. Tell me again what you want."
    "Just some information for the report. I used many
of your measurements in the identification, and I just
need to see them myself. If I have to go to court, I can
say I saw your studio and how you take your measurements."
    "Sure. Can I ask how you use them?"
    "I do calculations from the photograph and find out
the actual size of the head. Then I can compare the
calculations with the skeletal remains."
    "I see. I'm glad I keep such good records."
    His studio looked like most studios Lindsay had
ever been in. He had a large box camera, a stage, and
an array of lights. Toys and various props sat neatly on
a shelf. A red light above a door in the corner of the
room revealed the location of the darkroom. Beside
the door several metal filing cabinets lined the wall.
    Painted on the floor were measurements from the
camera to the stage, from the camera to the lights, and
from the lights to the stage.
    Lindsay took out a tape measure and measured the
floor markings. "They correspond to my tape measure," she said. "That is basically all I needed to
know. Why don't you take a picture of the floor here
and send it to the sheriff's department?"

    "Sure." He grinned broadly, obviously appreciating
Lindsay's attention to detail. "I find the way to be
consistent with my photography is to take careful
notes of each picture. Those filing cabinets are full of
information on every photograph I have ever taken. I
can use my notes and re-create a photograph exactly
as it was made the first time."
    "That's good to know. I won't take up any more of
your time. Thank you for showing me your studio."
    "You're welcome. Just call or come by if you need
anything else."
    Derrick was looking in the window of Mickey's
studio when she emerged. "The shovels weren't
ready. That's the bad thing about this guy. He's kind
of slow."
    They climbed in the jeep, and Derrick headed for
the site. After five minutes of silence, Derrick patted
Lindsay's hand.
    "You okay, Lindsay?"
    "Yeah"
    She told him about the injuries she had found on
the bones of the children.
    Derrick took