"One other question, Dr. Spriggs...will your metal detector pick up the remains?"

The professor sighed, "My dear sweet Miriam. Major Rutherford's sternum wouldn't necessarily set off the detector, but his gold certainly would."

"Yes, but isn't Mr. Pinkham expecting you to find some sort of metal ammunition case? If you do find what's left of Bobby Beau's remains, won't he be suspicious if he sees you digging up human bones?"

"Bingo, my dear," said the professor. "Again, that's where you come in. Your job, again, is to distract our Mr. Pinkham. And just so he won't be disappointed, I did pack a convenient metal ammo case among my luggage, along with some bogus maps of Pinkham Ridge which have all sorts of mumbo jumbo jotted down on them, designed to confuse even the most knowledgeable, which of course, does not include our Mr. Pinkham. As we speak, the mysterious case is waiting for us only a few yards from here, secure in the trunk of the lovely convertible that you so graciously procured for us just yesterday at the Nashville Airport. That is what Pinkham will see me unearth, not the remains of Major Rutherford, nor his alleged fortune."
"This is beginning to sound more like Treasure Island than the War Between the States," Miss Smithers said as she sipped her coffee. "I mean, Professor, isn't this the same as graverobbing? And isn't that a little bit against the law?"
"How very droll, Miss Smithers. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. You leave the legalities to me. Great American tomb raider, remember?"

Winndrow was relaxing in the big swing on the screened-in porch enjoying his morning's fourth cup of coffee and third cigarette when he heard the convertible struggling up the dirt driveway to the trailer. After exchanging the necessary pleasantries, Spriggs handed him an envelope engraved with the UNJ logo. When Winndrow opened it, he was pleased to discover a crisp, new hundred dollar bill, something he had rarely seen, if ever. After a few minutes of small talk, Winndrow noticed that Spriggs was growing impatient, so he pointed to a hill in the distance which was framed by a clump of tall oak trees. "That's probably where you want to start," he said.
Spriggs said a quick goodbye, and after sliding behind the wheel, cautiously nosed the car through the front pasture gate, through the kudzu, and on up toward the distant clump of trees. "Watch out for the alligators!" Winndrow yelled at the car, though it was unclear if Spriggs heard the advice.

"It would have been much easier to have just took my truck," Winndrow said to himself as much as to Miss Smithers, who had settled down on the porch in one of the kitchen chairs. "We're probably gonna have to drive up there directly anyway and haul that fancy car out of whatever gully that fool ends up in."
©Copyright 2002 David Ray Skinner/SouthernReader. All rights reserved.