“Miss Amal says they’re broken pieces of pottery. They look like rocks to me.”
“Keep working,” Sam said. “You never know what you’ll find … Is Hank around?”
Nasha rolled her eyes, her tone one of frustration as she said, “Yes. And he won’t let me go down there to see the mosaic.”
Amal angled her head back toward the gated-off excavation. “Finishing up the repairs to the scaffolding. Unless he somehow tiptoed past us, he’s still down there. I can run over and get him, if you like.”
“I can use the walk. Happy hunting.”
The damaged decking had been removed from the entrance and was piled in a stack near the gate. Sam passed it by, then backtracked, picking up one of the broken deck boards, which still had a nail sticking out of it.
He tossed it aside and picked up another. And another. After finding two broken boards that appeared to have been partially sawed through, he walked to the entrance, where a ladder poked up. “Hank?”
“Down here.”
Sam peered in. “I take it the police finished their investigation?”
“So it seems.” Hank stood in the light of a lamp clamped to a sawhorse. He lifted the light’s extension cord, stepping beneath it, to look up at Sam. “Come on down. The deck’s been repaired. It’s safe.”
“Did you happen to see the cut boards?”
“Cut?”
“As in partly sawed through.”
“No … You’re sure it’s not something that happened when the crew came and tore it out?”
“Doubt it.” Sam climbed down the ladder onto the now solid scaffolding. “This is where they found Warren?”
Hank nodded. “I was at the airport, waiting for LaBelle to pick me up, when she found him.” He pointed to the pile of rubble. “That’s where he fell. I’ve dumped water over the bloodstains, but the masonry is rather porous, so I figured I’d remove the, uh, more obvious pieces. I’d hate for LaBelle to have to see it when she’s able to come down. Slowly clearing this out.”
“By yourself?”
“Thought it was the right thing to do. Couldn’t really ask José or Osmond. Warren was like a father to them.” He leaned down, picking up a large chunk, placing it in a wooden box.
“I’d be glad to help.”
“I’d be glad to accept. If you’re sure you’re up to it. I can’t imagine wanting to do much of anything but drink after the morning you and your wife had.”
“All’s well,” Sam said. “We can’t ask for more than that.”
The two worked side by side, clearing out some of the rubble to get to the bloodstain on the mosaic beneath.
Eventually, the conversation died as they concentrated on the labor. Sam placed a heavy remnant into the now nearly full box and brushed the dust from his hands. “That must have been some earthquake, to wipe out an entire city like this.”
“I expect it was.” Hank picked up several small pieces, placing them gently on top of the other remnants they’d collected, then scrutinized the area. “I think it looks safe enough, should any of them wander down. This is about as far as we can go with this load. That bucket and pulley were what we were using to clear it out. But they haven’t been repaired yet.”
“Who built it? The decking?”
“Local contractors.”
“Good thing Dr. LaBelle is so petite,” Sam said. “Can you imagine if you’d been hauling up all this rock when that accident occurred?”
Hank eyeballed the wooden box. “That could’ve been deadly for anyone standing beneath it …” He looked over at Sam. “I could see Warren stealing something, but revenge? I would never have thought that of him.”
A shadow darkened the entry above them.
They