As I was mulling over Meghan’s third mystery recently, a question arose in my mind.
Those of you who read Meghan’s first story, “Meghan’s Brush with Forensic Archaeology,” know that it grew out of a “normal” post. When I started the post, I thought I would be doing something like I had before, where I wrote a haiku and talked about our “poetic archaeologist” as an example. But at the end of that post, I found myself writing a few lines of dialogue. And a story was born.
As I work on her new story, I’m also working on revisions to this one, fleshing it out into a longer version like “Buried Deeds.” So I’ve drafted a real opening scene. For now, the story starts like this. Continue reading
That’s what I’ve been asking myself since last Tuesday, when we wrapped up Buried Deeds. As I neared the end of that story, I tried to visualize Tuesday posts without Meghan. Buried Deeds began on 20 November 2012. Meghan’s first story, still unnamed, began on 4 September 2012. Even before that, she first appeared as my nameless “poetic archaeologist” on 21 February 2012. Looking back, I realized she controlled most of my Tuesday posts for more than a year. Continue reading
Yes, you read that title correctly. So much for a break from writing another Meghan Bode short story on the blog. Those of you who said she wouldn’t fade into the background were absolutely right. This week is my break. A new adventure begins next Tuesday, whether I’m ready or not.
But first, I want to share some of the thoughts that crossed my mind while writing about her brush with forensic archaeology. Continue reading
Where memory lives
Those departed are not lost
Knowledge brings closure
Four weeks later, Meghan is back at Tom Sandberg’s station. The County Medical Examiner’s office has taken DNA samples from the skeleton and Chuck Compton. The analysis results are in.
Meghan and Sandberg look up from their conversation as two men approach them. One is elderly but walks with strong strides and stands tall. The other is younger and bears a striking resemblance to him. Father and son, Meghan realizes. Continue reading
with a whirl and click
images glide by with clues
hidden in plain sight
For the second day, Meghan Bode is at the state archives, looking for clues to the murdered boy’s identity. Luckily, her class lectures for next week are finished. She rubs her eyes and picks up her glasses. Nothing is worse than sitting at a microfilm reader for hours, straining to read faded and blurry newspapers. But she forgets her discomfort when she sees the short story from June 24, 1944. Continue reading
will the trail go cold
or can other skills win out
truth may have its day
Tom Sandberg shuts the last file cabinet drawer and sneezes. The basement of the sheriff’s office houses all the old case records from the county’s police departments. But his searches have raised only years of dust. He hasn’t found any missing person who fits the boy in the park.
How is that possible? he wonders. Who wouldn’t report their missing son?
Maybe the body was brought to the woods from another county. But that strikes him as unlikely. Travel in the 1940s was a bigger effort than today. And this park is 15 miles from any county line. Who would go to such lengths back then to bury a victim?
Sandberg grabs a tissue from the box on one of the cabinets. Someone on staff knows what it’s like down here. An image of his two kids comes to mind as he clears his sinuses. And he thinks of Becky’s suggestion to apply for a job in the big DC suburbs.
Drugs, gangs. Does he want to face them every day? Or have his kids get involved with them? Meth labs were a problem in this neck of the woods some years back, until tough laws on over-the-counter drugs pushed them further west. But the pipelines still lead to the big cities and suburbs.
The body counts are a hell of a lot higher the closer you get to the capital, he thinks. Who needs that?
No, this is the best place for the family. The kids are doing well in school and have good friends. Why tear them away from that? They can drive to DC on weekends when they want and take in its good side without dealing with the bad. Becky knows that. She’ll understand.
Sandberg checks his watch. Time to leave for Meghan Bode’s lab. She’ll be disappointed in his lack of results. He shares her desire to identify the boy and give him a proper burial. But the harsh reality is some victims are never identified or even found. And this case, which never officially existed, will remain unsolved.
When Sandberg arrives at the lab, Meghan is working on her computer. The boy’s skeleton is laid out neatly on the adjoining table.
“Was it an accident?” he asks.
“No,” Meghan says, rising to show him the bones. “Irene Kristoff—she’s our physical anthropologist—said he was hit with something like a shovel. Twice. Once on the left side of the head and after that a more forceful strike on the back of the skull.”
Her voice trembles. “If the first blow didn’t kill him, the second did. Which means the intent was to kill, right?”
“Yeah. Once, maybe it’s an act of blind rage or a horrible accident. But a second, stronger blow? That’s intent.”
“Did you find a missing person’s case?”
Sandberg looks at the boy’s skeleton and shakes his head. “Nothing that fits him. Who wouldn’t report a missing son?”
“How about the parent who killed him?”
Sandberg leans against a counter. “That’s the last thing I expected to hear from you, Dr. Bode.”
“I read too many murder mysteries. And my husband watches too many crime shows.”
“Family’s always a good place to start for a murder investigation. But I’d expect someone to file a report with the police—friends, a teacher, another relative. And there’s nothing.”
“Maybe they were afraid to. I’ve been thinking about this all weekend. And I had an idea.”
Meghan returns to her computer and shows Sandberg the screen.
“I thought the old newspapers would cover a missing person. And some of them are online. So far I haven’t found anyone who fits, either. But the papers all have columns dedicated to local doings. The ladies’ auxiliary was holding a charity drive. Which men were drafted and heading to basic training. Mrs. So-and-So and her children were making a trip to visit family in another state. Mr. Smith was traveling to DC on business. Maybe there’s a clue in those stories.”
It’s a long shot, Sandberg thinks. But the determination in Meghan’s expression is unmistakable. He’s known it and kept with cases that made others give up. He won’t try to dissuade her.
“It’s worth a try,” he says. “But you have to be prepared not to find anything. This isn’t TV. Some cases are never solved.”
“I know. But I have to try. If I don’t find anything online, I’ll go to the state archives. They’ve got more papers on microfilm. If there’s anything, I’ll find it.”
“I don’t doubt that, Dr. Bode. Let me know how it goes.”
Will Meghan find a clue in old newspapers? We’ll find out next Tuesday.
- Poetic Archaeology A.1 – And A Beta Request (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.2 (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.3 – Meghan’s Brush With Forensic Archaeology (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.4 – Meghan’s Brush With Forensic Archaeology (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.5 – Meghan’s Brush With Forensic Archaeology (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.6 – Meghan’s Brush With Forensic Archaeology (jmmcdowell.com)
- Poetic Archaeology A.7 – Meghan’s Brush With Forensic Archaeology (jmmcdowell.com)