The missing skeleton from yesterday came tumbling out, breaking as it smashed into the linoleum floor.
Chapter Ten
I YELPED.
Or… more like…okay, I screamed.
I screamed way louder than I meant to, buthello! I was prepared for pretty much anything to come falling out of the packed unit but Skelly. I jumped back instinctively, despite the skeleton hardly posing any sort of threat.
Jun turned around and put a hand firmly on my shoulder. “You okay?”
My eyes widened, but I nodded. “Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Startled.”
Jun holstered his weapon.
Tillman crouched down, looking the skeleton over. “Don’t suppose you could verify that this is the same one you saw yesterday, Aubrey?”
I gave Tillman a look. “Yeah, sure,” I mocked. “Spitting image. How many other missing skeletons have there been in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Aubrey,” Jun said in that “you’re in trouble, and not the good way” tone.
Tillman stood, staring at me. “I may owe you an apology.”
I crossed my arms. “I told you it was real.”
“Makes me wonder if Cassidy was doing any sort of surveillance on the Smith Home,” Jun stated, looking at Tillman. “To have gotten in and out as quickly as he did.”
“We’ve not found evidence of that, but I’ll be sure to check,” Tillman said, nodding as if he sort of agreed with Jun’s assessment. He quickly snapped on a pair of latex gloves from his coat pocket, then pointed a small flashlight into the unit. He ducked his head and climbed into the mess.
“What’ll happen to the skeleton?” I asked, loudly so Tillman could hear. I moved away from Jun to the opposite wall of units, keeping the distance between me and Skelly as big as possible so I didn’t touch any of the broken bones. “If it’s really Smith, he needs to be put to rest in the family plot.”
“First, it’ll go to the county medical examiner,” Tillman said.
“Smith was missing his left eye,” I continued. “And his personal diaries talk of breaking his hand and ribs in his younger years. If those can be confirmed by a doctor—”
“Yes, yes,” Tillman said, cutting me off as he came back out of the unit. “If it’s Smith, I’ll make sure you folks are able to do what you need for him.” He held out a small, black leather book perhaps no longer than five inches. “Is this the diary of a merchant sailor?”
“Do you have any gloves so I can touch it?”
Tillman reached into his pocket before offering me a pair of latex gloves.
I took them. “It really should be handled with cotton gloves.”
He frowned.
“This’ll do for now,” I added quickly before taking the booklet. Jun moved around the skeleton to my side, both men peering over my shoulders as I gently pulled the leather clasp free. “It’s in amazing condition. Usually this clasp is the first part of the leather to deteriorate and break off.”
I opened the book, the front page stamped in big letters: DIARY, 1867, NEW YORK. It had lovely artwork of fairies around the wording. At the time, it was a generic diary designed for the masses. The left page featured a list of memorable events occurring throughout the year, as well as information on stamps and postage. I caught a faded signature on the title page and brought it closer to try to decipher it.
“I hate entries in pencil. They’re impossible to read—but I’m fairly certain this name is Edward R. Rogers.”
“That’s him?” Jun asked.
“That’s him,” I confirmed. I turned the pages carefully. Nearly every predated entry had a short line or two written by the owner. “I’m sure the man kept many years of diaries, butthisis the one that was stolen, so the entry Peg mentioned, about Smith and Jack, it has to be in here somewhere.” I looked at Tillman. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me read through it?”
He took the diary back—carefully, I noted. “Do you believe a long-dead pirate is the reason Cassidy was murdered?”
“Yes,” I said automatically. “I believe that Cassidy was searching for a lost treasure, supposedly once salvaged by One-Eyed Jack. There may be a clue in the diary that can point us to Cassidy’s motives and who may have been with him last night.”
