Her words were a bucket of water on a fire, so quickly they extinguished the blazing tempers. There were stern looks exchanged and then the group was gone, stomping and snapping their way up the stairs.
The bones remained. Fred hoisted the box and without a word carried it back to the office. The Deans looked at one another.
Cynthia sighed, lingering in the parlor. "How do we get ourselves into these messes?"
Dean just shrugged. "And now, if you don't drop out of the election, you've got an opponent who despises you!"
"Forget dropping out. Even if I didn't want the job, I'd run so that bastard didn't get it!"
"How can he be a candidate? He doesn't even live in Ouray."
"Jake Weller said his family was from here. I don't know what the rules say but he must have enough legal tie to the county to qualify." He gave her a hug and took her hand. "Let's forget about the election and see what Martha's bones really look like."
Fred had emptied the carton and spread the contents on the office floor. He looked up as the Deans entered. "So who's the 'gold-digging bitch'?" he asked with a smile.
"Let's take one thing at a time," Dean answered as he looked down at the articles spread before him.
In addition to the bones themselves, the box contained a ripped plaid flannel shirt, and nestled at the bottom, dirty jeans, boots, and yellowed, soiled undershorts. The clothing was obviously quite old and now that it was out of its container, reeked of dampness and dirt. Dean gingerly checked the pant's pockets but they were empty.
"Lord," said Cynthia holding her nose. "I won't get this smell out of the office for days."
"Them's not the same bones," Fred said, as solemn as a trial judge. "They're not the ones Martha found."
"What makes you say that?" Cynthia asked.
"Yes," Dean added. "Let's hear your reasoning-then I'll tell you mine."
Fred scratched his head as he held up the skull for close examination. "If this here skull wasn't broken, maybe someone would think it was the real McCoy-at least in the dark or from a distance. This one looks like a busted piece of Halloween pottery. Nobody as close as Martha said she was would think it was real."
Cynthia cautiously lifted the shirt by fingertips. "The thing Martha saw had on a plaid shirt on, and these clothes are definitely old. They smell like they spent years on the ground."
"The clothes are old even if the bones aren't," Dean said. "These look like something a college anatomy class used-last week. But if somebody were playing a joke, why smash the skull? It certainly does nothing to make the skeleton look more realistic. If anything, the opposite."