"The big question remains, who would have access to all that theater paraphernalia? The owner or the auctioneer? When were the bones switched?"
Dean thought a moment. "I'll ask Fred to try and run down who owns that storage place. Maybe there is a tie there. Or perhaps the theater props were kept somewhere just before the auction- after they were hauled out of the storage quarters. If they were unsecured for a few days anyone could have pinched them."
"That's a bit fortuitous, isn't it?" Dean had to agree as she continued. "Pumpkin Green would have known about the bones. He was in the play, Boo!"
"But he's far too young to have had any involvement with the Dawkinses, the mine, or the skeleton. He has no long-term ties to Colorado, nor has he met Fitzgerald."
"I wonder who first discovered the skeleton and told Caleb- Martha's friend. Remember, Caleb knew where to find the bones because someone told him." Cynthia reached over to stroke Mrs. Lincoln as the cat began adding a steady purr to the conversation.
"My guess is high school kids. Remember the vodka bottle and condoms? I can't see adults going to that remote a place to have a roll and a tumble. I'll ask Billy Langstrom."
"By the sound of it, Billy didn't use condoms," Cynthia muttered.
"Even those aren't foolproof," Dean answered. He didn't want to tread in that direction, so he changed the subject. "Remember the fire ring?" he continued. "Someone had a campfire and it looked as if the door on the mine was used for fire wood." He thought a moment. "Let's say the mine was closed up for years and only recently broken into. That would be reason enough why the bones went undiscovered for four decades."
"Why wouldn't whoever discovered the bones simply report what they found?"
"Think back to why Martha didn't tell us at first-whoever discovered them was someplace they weren't supposed to be. They'd broken into the mine. That subjected them to all kinds of trouble-not just a spanking, but police involvement, assuming they were older."
Cynthia nodded. "So they told some young child about their find, assuming he'd report it and get them off the hook."
"Pumpkin's friend Billy might have heard. Even if he wasn't directly involved, it's a small high school and booze parties are probably common knowledge. He should be in the know about what's going on with Ouray's young people." Even bucolic Ouray, the quintessential small town, wasn't immune to the darker side of the rock-strewn hike through puberty.
"Ask me what?" Pumpkin said, as he strolled up the walk. "I heard my name."