The Dark Place

He came back to the telephone, rubbing vigorously. It was cold in the cottage, and he'd forgotten to turn on the electric wall heater. “Okay, I'm back.'

'Doc, can you bring your tools down with you? We've kept on digging around that cemetery, and we've turned up another body—a partial skeleton, that is. It looks like Hartman.'

'Who the hell is Hartman?'

'Hey, what are you getting mad about?'

'I'm getting mad because, one, you got me out of the shower and I'm freezing, and two, because it's going to be a beautiful day tomorrow and Julie and I were going to take off for Kalaloch Beach as soon as I got to Quinault, but you're going to ask me to work all day in a dusty workshop on some dumb skeleton, and I'm going to rant and rave and say no, but eventually I'll do it out of a ridiculous sense of friendship or service or something equally absurd.” He gasped for breath. “That's why I'm getting mad!'

John laughed, the delighted, childlike burble that always broke down Gideon's defenses. “I thought you liked working with bones.'

'I do like working with bones. I love working with bones. There are just some things I like even more.” Gideon sighed. “All right, who's Hartman?'

'He's the other guy who disappeared.'

'I thought that was a girl. Claire Hornick.'

'No, I mean six years ago, the same time as Eckert. Hornick disappeared last week. She's still disappeared.'

'What makes you think it's not another Indian burial, an old one?'

'Well, we've tentatively identified it through dental records, but I'd sure appreciate it if you'd have a look anyway.'

'Okay,” Gideon said, “okay. I'll see you about nine. Uh, John?...I've been talking the case over with an old professor of mine...'

John listened quietly for ten minutes while Gideon told him about the discussion with Abe, interrupting only to ask for an explanation of atlatls. After Gideon had finished, the line remained silent.

'John? Are you there?'

'I'm here. I'm just in shock.'

'Well, after all,” Gideon said magnanimously, “you were the one who first suggested Indians—'

'I know. That's what I'm in shock about. I never won an argument with you before. You're actually telling me I was right and you were wrong? I can't believe it!'

'Come on, John,” Gideon said, laughing, “I'm not that unreasonable. Sometimes even you make sense—to a certain degree, of course, and in your own way.'

'Thanks a lot. I wish I could say I deserved such fantastic compliments. But,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, grimmer register, “I'm afraid this new body doesn't do much for your theory.'

'What theory?'

'That wild Indians are running around bumping off people with Stone Age spears. Doc, this guy was shot.'

'Shot? With a gun?'

There was a pause, and Gideon knew John was nodding soberly. “Yeah, with a gun. He's got a neat little round hole drilled clean through the side of his skull.'

* * * *

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter 8

* * * *

'Hmm,” Gideon said, almost as soon as he had sat down and looked at the ivory-colored skull on the worktable. “Huh.'

John had his chair tipped back against the wall, and his hands were clasped lazily at his belt line. “I don't like that ‘hmm, huh’ stuff,” he said. “It always means you're about to screw up my case. Not that I have a case.'

'He wasn't shot, John,” Gideon said quietly.

The front legs of John's chair came down on the linoleum tile. “Not shot...!” He gestured expressively at the circular hole in the left side of the skull.

'Not shot. In the first place, look at the placement. High up on the coronal suture, almost at bregma. Isn't it pretty unusual for someone to be shot so high up on the head?'

'No, as a matter of fact.'

'Really?'

'Sure,” John said, obviously relishing the unaccustomed role of instructor. “It's a fairly common placement in suicides.'

'And what would he have used to leave a hole that big? An elephant gun?'