Bones

“Irene—” he began.

“It doesn’t change anything. I am going to work, Frank.”

He started to argue, but I motioned toward Ben and said in a low voice, “For God’s sake, we have until ten o’clock tonight to settle this. Let’s not make it any worse for Ben by having a fight in here.”

“Okay,” he said, “okay. But we will talk about this!”

We were interrupted when Frank and Pete were called back out of the room. I could see Frank giving Pete hell as they went to meet the other detectives.

If Parrish’s note left any doubts, before long, few people questioned the identity of the body. Signs of a forcible entry through a rear bedroom window were found at Camille’s home; through that window, police saw overturned furniture and other indications of a struggle. Once inside, the officers also found a photo of Camille in a bathing suit; the photo showed the birthmark on her thigh.

While all of this was taking place, several of us tried to console Ben, but he barely acknowledged our presence. At a little after eight, the alarm on his watch went off. “Bingle,” he said suddenly. “I can’t leave him in that cage! I’ve got to go.”

“Let me go with you,” I said. “You’re not in any shape to drive.” Intentionally keeping any tone of challenge out of my voice, I turned to my husband and said, “Is that okay, Frank? I’ll wait with him back at the house. If Jo Robinson calls, she can reach us there.”

Frank frowned, but perhaps thinking he’d prove to me that he was going to be reasonable, too, gave in. “Okay, but I’m going to ask a unit to follow you — promise me you’ll let them keep you in sight. Parrish is obviously focusing on the two of you right now, and I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone anywhere.”

No argument from me. There were certain givens, after all.

Bingle’s exuberance over seeing Ben again went a long way toward breaking the awful spell his owner had been under. Ben thanked the vet, paid the bill, and we were on our way. Except for an occasional attempt on Bingle’s part to ride in Ben’s lap, the drive back home was uneventful.

Jo Robinson had left a message, and when Ben called her back, he spent a long time talking to her while I went outside with the dogs and Cody. Cody lounged on my lap while Deke and Dunk, apparently fascinated with whatever scents Bingle’s coat had picked up from the vet’s office, gave the big shepherd a thorough sniffing over.

By the time Frank came back that afternoon, Ben was able to answer his questions fairly calmly. Ben had a few of his own.

“Has anyone called her parents?” he asked.

“We’ve got someone working on that.”

“Why hadn’t she been reported missing?”

“She seems to have been at loose ends lately,” Frank said, “and the truth is, there doesn’t seem to be anyone who had regular contact with her.”

“But she worked for an accounting firm—” Ben said.

“She left her job in June; apparently she’s been looking for a new one, because on her desk she had mail from several places where she had applied for work. She had been filling in applications and had copies of her resume on her desk.”

“Since June?” he asked.

“Yes, we talked to her then.”

Ben looked away, frowning. “I had forgotten — you had the ridiculous suspicion that she had tried to rob my house and office.”

Frank didn’t allow himself to be baited.

After a moment Ben said, “Sorry. Of course you had to question her. And maybe I didn’t know her so well after all. I never thought she was thrilled with her work, but I’m surprised to hear she left the accounting firm.”

I remembered her visit to the hospital, and Ben’s final angry suggestion that she should be the one to think about finding another line of work. I wondered if that encounter had affected her more than any of us could have guessed. Having no desire to cause Ben further pain, I kept these thoughts to myself.

“People at her former office say she quit unexpectedly,” Frank said, “but she may have been planning to leave for some time. She seemed prepared to be out of work for a while. She still had quite a bit of money in her savings account.”

“She was good with money,” Ben said. “Not just frugal, but also good at choosing investments.”

“But her mail and newspapers—” I asked.

“The house has a mail slot,” Ben said. “The mail would just pile up inside the house. We liked that feature when we used to go camping or traveling. No need to file a hold with the post office.”

“Actually, we think Parrish did file one,” Frank said. “He seems to have forged her name on it.”

“But that still leaves the newspaper,” I said. “Or didn’t she subscribe?”

“Yes, she did,” Frank said. “But she stopped the paper.”

“Wait a minute — are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, we checked with the Express. She canceled about a week ago.”

“What I mean is, are you sure she’s the one who stopped it?”

“What are you saying?” Ben asked.

“Do you know anyone who is looking for a job who stops taking the newspaper?” I asked. “They want to read the classifieds.”

“She has a point,” Ben said to Frank.