Page 39 of You'll Be Sorry

“Nice to meet you, Caleb. How’s it going so far?”

“Umm…well…I kinda don’t know where to stand.”

Debs dropped to her knees, peering into the depths.

“Okay, first things first. We need better lighting.” Debs pivoted back to her enormous black duffel, worked the zipper, then started tossing various items on the ground. “All right. Here we go.”

She straightened, holding what appeared to be two lightweight LED lanterns outfitted with metal dowels. She twisted a dial on each to full glow, then stabbed a finger at one of the uniformed officers, which happened to be Mandy’s deputy, thank God. “You. Start lowering these down to our good man Caleb. Who cares how things look up here. It’s down there that matters, especially for the photos.”

The deputy gave Mandy a slightly panicked glance. She nodded her approval, and he scrambled into motion. Meanwhile, Debs was already moving on to her next victim.

“And you. My vehicle is the silver RAV4, UNH sticker on the window. In the back you’ll find a stack of blue plastic utility bins. Grab a couple. Packing materials already inside.”

It was the fire chief’s turn to silently second, then one of his people went sprinting off. Mandy had to hand it to the petite scientist. In a matter of minutes, she’d sparked the crowd of first responders from idle gawking to frantic engagement. A few more frenzied moments, then the two lanterns descended into the pit to join poor Caleb. Immediately Mandy could see the issue.

Given the relatively narrow width of the well and broad scattering of skeletal remains, there was virtually no place Caleb could touch down that wouldn’t crunch a bone fragment underneath.

“Oh,” she exhaled.

“Yep, problem with these shafts,” Debs agreed cheerfully. “But it’s okay. This is what we’re gonna do. So, Caleb, my friend.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Ma’am? Do I look like my mother? Debs’ll do. You might as well get used to it, because by the end of the day, we’re gonna be besties for life. Can weave each other matching friendship bracelets and everything. Got it?”

“Um…affirmative.”

“Okay, you have two lanterns within your grasp.”

“Affirmative.” Caleb sounded more confident this time.

“Excellent. Your immediate job is to position them where they will cast the best light to illuminate the scene. I recommend around shoulder height. You can wedge the rods between the stones for optimal positioning. Understand, your next task will be to photograph ad nauseam. I mean up close and personal, then spanning back, then homing in, then doing it all again, probably about a dozen more times than you ever thought possible. You do any kind of photography, Caleb?”

“Hiking trails, my dog, that sort of thing.”

“Perfect. I suggest you start with a general overview of the scene, then zoom in for close-ups of individual items. Pick a logical starting point—”

“The skull?”

“Awesome. There’s no such thing as too many photos, Caleb. Understand me? When in doubt, snap and snap some more. But pay attention to focus. A hundred blurry photos don’t do me any good. And then, as my students can tell you, I get a little cranky. You don’t want me to be cranky, do you, Caleb?”

“No, ma— Affirmative.”

A few chuckles from the assorted crowd. Mandy noticed the state detective and the ADME were already stepping back, clearly preparing for the long haul. Which made Betty that much more obvious as the retired postmistress cozied up shamelessly to the well’s edge, while Mason, president of the historical society and self-appointed town mayor, jostled her elbow.

“Are they with you?” Debs asked Mandy in a not-so-subtle voice.

“Depends. How much are they pissing you off?”

“Contaminate my scene, feel my wrath. Which is way more impressive than my crankiness, I assure you.”

Betty stepped back slightly. Mason, on the other hand, chinjutting out: “We just want the crockery. The removal of which, I might add, would free up a logical landing point for Caleb.”

Mandy rolled her eyes, though it was kind of fun to watch the imperious senior citizen torment someone else for a change. Mason’s family had once run the grand inn occupying the center of town. The resort had burned down fifty years ago, but that still didn’t stop the tall, impeccably clad historian from treating the town as his personal fiefdom.

“The crockery?” Debs stared back down into the abyss. “The round item in the middle…Got it.”

“Sealed with wax,” Theo provided.