Chapter Three – A Little Bit of History

"I'm driving," said Chris when he and Lilly were finally through the whole procedure.

Lilly did not object. She was so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. The headache she had had all day had started to increase by noon, and Mike's constant babbling and chattering had done nothing to improve her condition. Sunday McLaren had provided her with an aspirin, but the effect of the tablet had worn off about two hours later. The CSI unit had searched the hole and the skeleton, but they hadn't found anything useful. Whatever evidence had been on the skeleton, weather, worms and bacteria had long since gotten rid of it. The pathologist had turned out to be the Chief Medical Examiner in person, Dorian Wynter, who had often worked alongside with Lilly's and Chris's department. He had taken one look at the half-unburied skeleton and then strictly forbidden that anyone do anything more.

"We need an archeologist here," he had grumbled. "How am I supposed to work on that when half of it is still six feet under?"

He had refused to do anything before an expert had joined the team. So Chris had disappeared together with his cell phone, and forty-five minutes later another car had arrived. Stillman had sent Nick Vera and two of his many contact persons in the academic world of Philadelphia: Professor Hiram K. Fitzgerald from the archeological faculty of the university, and one of his doctoral candidates, Jerry Rice.

Hours had passed until the two archeologists had completely uncovered the skeleton. Dr. Wynter had done a preliminary examination and then taken the whole skeleton with him.

It wasn't until four p.m. that Lilly and Chris finally could get in their own car and go back to Philadelphia. Dr. Wynter had set the date for the autopsy on the next day at nine in the morning, and when Lilly now thought of that, she gave a silent moan.

"Are you OK?" Chris asked and glanced at her.

"Not really," Lilly answered truthfully. "I still have this headache, and I'm overtired. Nevermind if I fall asleep during the ride home."

"Poor you," said Chris mockingly, but then he got serious, reached out his hand and briefly touched her knee in a gesture of consolation that moved Lilly. "It was a hard day," he agreed.

She turned her face to him and looked at him with small, red eyes. "Chris, be honest. Do you think we'll solve this case?"

"What do you mean? Of course we will." Chris was positive. "Have we ever screwed up a cold case?"

Lilly had to smile. "No," she admitted. "But there's a first time for everything."

"Why do you suddenly have those doubts?" Chris asked. "That's not the Lilly I know."

"I don't know," Lilly said. "Maybe it's because I never had to deal with such a situation. You know, the location... the Outer Four... a family secret about the mysterious brother... If we find a body there, it's only logical to conclude that one of them did it. But that's so hard to believe!" She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't want any of them to be a murderer," she said eventually. "They're all so nice. And so interesting."

Chris looked at her again. "Don't get involved personally," he warned. "You'll be biased."

"I'm trying." Lilly leaned back in the seat and stared through the windshield. "I'm always trying. But sometimes I just can't help getting involved. That's why I wanted to be a detective, Chris. I wanted to help people to see that justice is done. And this doesn't work without emotion."

"I know," said Chris soothingly. "Don't worry, Lilly, it'll be alright. Maybe none of them has to do with the murder. Maybe Dorian finds out that this skeleton has been in the ground for a hundred years or longer. From all we know, it could have been there since the Civil War, who knows. It's not even certain that it was a murder at all. And if we find out that it was murder, and that it did happen while the four families were living there, then I'll take care of you. I'll make sure that you don't get involved too much."

"You're the best partner I could wish for, Chris," said Lilly silently. "I mean it. Thank you."

"Don't get too sentimental," Chris warned, but he was smiling, and when he had to stop at a red traffic light, he reached again over and laid his hand on her knee. Lilly placed her own hand over his and briefly squeezed it.

"And now let's take you home," Chris said when the traffic light changed to green. "And I strictly forbid you any work tonight. You just go home, take a shower and go straight to bed. Okay?"

"Yessir."

They fell silent for the rest of the way. Chris stopped before Lilly's apartment and waited until she had entered the building. When he saw the light being switched on in her apartment, he started the engine and drove to his own house.

Tomorrow would be another long day.

XXX

"So what can we conclude from all the information?" Dorian Wynter looked expectantly at Lilly and Chris.

"That we've got to go back to Deansville and start investigating," said Chris. "There seems to be quite a story behind this."

It was ten thirty in the morning, and Dorian had examined the skeleton. Now, the three of them were sitting in the cafeteria of the forensic institute, discussing what Dorian had found out.

The skeleton was that of a woman, Dorian had determined, and she had most likely been murdered. The skull was indented just above the left temple, as if from a heavy blow. She had been in the ground for more than ten years, but certainly not since the Civil War.

"She can't have been in the ground for more than fifty-nine years, that's for sure," Dorian had said with a playful smirk, "and even that would be completely impossible. I'd say she's been there for, let's say, thirty-five years."

Lilly and Chris had looked at the pathologist. "You know something that we don't," Lilly had said.

Indeed. Dorian had kept them on tenterhooks for a little while, then he had produced a silver chain with a cross attached to it.

"She wore that around her neck," he had explained. "It has an inscription on the back, a date. And I suppose it's her birthday."

Lilly was now holding this cross in her hands, turning it around and around. If Dorian was right, then this woman was born on November 11, 1943, and according to Dorian, she had been in the ground for about thirty-five years.

"Chris, do the math," Lilly said to her partner.

"If I understood you correctly, Dorian, you think that she was about twenty-five when she died," Chris said promptly. "She would have been twenty-five in 1968. How precise can you be, Dorian?"

"Not as precise as you would like it," Dorian grumbled. "It's extremely difficult to determine the age of a skeleton. At least with the means at my disposal."

"But she was grown-up and not older than thirty, is that correct?"

Dorian nodded.

"That means we can narrow down the time period to the late sixties, early seventies," Chris said. "She would have been twenty in 1963, thirty in 1973. That's our time limit."

"At least that's something to start with," said Lilly. "We should have a look at everything that happened in and around Deansville during these ten years. Anything could be useful. Births, deaths, missing persons, crimes."

"Not to mention this incident with Gabriel Jarvis's brother," Chris added. "That was in 1967. Doesn't it make you wonder, too, Lilly?"

Lilly nodded reluctantly. "We should find out what it was as soon as possible," she said. "Maybe it's the key to the solution, maybe not."

"Keep me up to date, will you?" said Dorian. "This case is making me curious. I want to know what happened."

Lilly promised to keep him informed about the case.

"Is there anything else you might still find out?" Chris asked Dorian.

Dorian made a face. "You detectives are always so pushy," he complained. "You want everything at once."

"Was that a yes or a no?" Chris insisted.

"I might," said Dorian. "But that requires some more time. You just go and cavass your witnesses, and I'll call you if I find anything else. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful, Dorian," Lilly assured. "Thanks a million, anyway."

She waited for Chris to finish his coffee, then the detectives left the cafeteria and drove back to their own office.

After they had reported to Stillman what the autopsy had produced, Chris disappeared behind his computer screen and Lilly went down into the basement where the cold case files were kept. She did not quite know herself what she was looking for, but she tried to trust her intuition. If she encountered something important, she would notice.

At least she hoped so.

Lilly went methodically through the shelves, starting with 1963 and working her way through the years. But apparently, nothing had ever happened in Deansville. The only case files mentioning Deansville were the report of an accident that had occurred in the town, one case of shoplifting that had resulted in an exchange of fire, and two missing persons, both found dead. Lilly took the cardboard boxes from the shelf and examined the contents, although she wasn't very confident. All four cases had occurred between 1963 and 1966, and none of them involved the Outer Four. The accident was only mentioned because the main suspect's alibi depended on it, but it belonged to an entirely different case. The second case had taken place in the center of Deansville - someone had tried to nip a few things from a small shop, the owner had intervened, and the thief had drawn a gun and fired. The owner had died two days later. Grievous bodily harm resulting in death. The perpetrator had never been caught, but Lilly doubted that it had anything to do with their case. The case of the two missing persons did not produce anything, either. Deansville was only mentioned because one of the victims had had an aunt who lived there, and who had been interrogated by the police.

Sighing, Lilly put everything back into the cardboard boxes and put them back on the shelves. For a moment she just stood in the middle of the aisle, arms akimbo, thinking hard. Then she turned on her heel and went back upstairs. How could she be so blind? Of course she wouldn't find anything down in the basement. This was an unsolved murder case, but since the body had not been found until yesterday, no one had known it was a murder case, and hence no one had laid an information about a murder. She had been looking in the wrong direction. She had to check on missing persons, not cold murder cases.

Mad at herself for thinking so slowly, Lilly rushed up the stairs and joined Chris at his terminal.

"Found anything?" she asked.

Chris had done the research about the four families. He turned around in his chair and took the printouts he had made.

"Be prepared for a little bit of history," he said with a wink. "The four houses were built in 1920 by William Jarvis, Thomas Donahue, Jacob Webster and George McLaren and their respective families. William and Anna Jarvis already had a son, Richard, who was born in 1917. Jonah Donahue, son of Thomas and Caroline Donahue, was also born in 1917. George McLaren and his wife Emily had their first son, Arthur, in 1921, and Jacob Webster took some time to get married to his Theresa. They had a son, Daniel, in 1927." He interrupted himself and glanced down on his papers. "I'm not gonna tell you everything about the other children," he said. "I think we can simply ignore the aunts and uncles."

"Go ahead," said Lilly with a nod.

"Well, the four families lived happily in their houses," Chris continued. "Since they all had at least one son, the succession was secure. When the founding fathers died, their firstborn sons inherited the houses and stayed there. Richard Jarvis was the first of them to get married. He and his Diane had their first son, James, in 1942. I guess that's Gabriel's mysterious brother," he remarked, and Lilly nodded. "Gabriel Jarvis was born two years later," Chris continued. "The next children arrived in 1946. Jonah and Teri Donahue had their daughter, Jordan, and Arthur and Sheila McLaren had Dylan. Graham Webster, son of Daniel and Sarah, was born in 1951, and Arthur and Sheila McLaren had another child in 1953, Sunday. And that's it. No further children."

"Must have been mighty hard for the Donahues," Lilly commented. "They didn't have a son, only a daughter. That means there'll be one familiy less in the next generation." She trailed off and gnawed on her lower lip. "We know that Diane Jarvis is still alive," she said. "What about the parents of the others?"

"Almost all are still alive," Chris replied. "The only ones who died are Richard Jarvis, in 1995, and Teri Donahue, in 1999."

"Gabriel's father and Jordan's mother," said Lilly musingly. "And all the others are still alive. They were about what, forty or fifty in the sixties. Maybe they can tell us something useful.

"Anything else, Chris?"

"Only things we knew before. Gabriel and Jordan are married and have one son, Alexander. The other children are unmarried."

"What did you find out about the elder Jarvis brother?"

"James," said Chris and flipped through his printouts. "He moved away in 1967. Last known residence in Seattle. I suppose he's still there, because he's the Managing Director of a five-star-restaurant."

"So this mysterious incident was just the fact that James Jarvis moved away?" Lilly asked. "I can't believe that."

"Try to see it through the other's eyes," said Chris. "They're the third generation of their families living there, and then James suddenly wants to move away. They might have felt betrayed or something."

"That's possible," Lilly agreed. "And James Jarvis isn't married, either?"

"Divorced." Chris looked closer. "Twice."

Lilly whistled. "Seems as if he wanted to prevent by all means that people noticed he's from the country."

"Seems as if he wanted to forget his past." Chris flipped again through the pages. "He moved across the whole country. From Deansville to Philly, to Detroit, to St. Louis, to Chicago, to Minneapolis, and then he ended up in Seattle."

"Once across from the East to the West," said Lilly. "Seems as if he wanted to get as far away from Deansville as possible. Talking to him could be interesting. Something must have happened that made him move away."

"And there's only one way to find out," said Chris. "Let's go back to Deansville, Lilly."