Old Bones

'Ray, I didn't recognize you before,” Gideon told him unnecessarily. “You've taken off the beard.'

Ray blinked at him in what seemed to be happy astonishment. “You remember my beard?'

'Sure I do. It was bright red; you looked terrific—like a pirate.'

'Well...!” Ray laughed, delighted, and blushed spottily. “A pirate! Well, now . . . What in the world brings you to Brittany, Gideon?'

'There's a forensic sciences meeting in St. Malo. Ray, I heard about Guillaume. I think you know how sorry I am.'

'Yes, well... these things happen, I suppose. He really enjoyed meeting you, you know. And he wasn't the kind to take to many people.'

Gideon introduced John and Joly, and they all nodded and smiled, or perhaps Joly didn't quite smile.

'Yes,” Ray said, “I've already met the inspector.” The awkward smiles continued for a few moments.

'How are things at Northern Cal?” Gideon asked.

'Oh, fine, just fine. Yes, I'm doing a new seminar on Restoration comic dramatists next semester. You know, Etherege, Wycherly, the whole rollicking bunch. Who knows, maybe even Vanbrugh and Farquhar.'

'Ah,” said Gideon.

'Huh,” said John.

'Mm,” said Joly, gazing down his long, thin nose. “Will you excuse me? I see that Fleury is finished with his report, and I want to go over it with him.'

The others watched him go. “He interviewed me for ten minutes,” Ray said. “I'm afraid he didn't like me very much.'

'He seems to do that to people,” Gideon said. “My working hypothesis is that it has something to do with his upper lip.'

'It could well be,” Ray said thoughtfully. “Do either of you read Henry James?'

John shook his head. “Not on purpose.'

'Well,” Ray said, unoffended, “there's a passage in Portrait of a Lady in which he describes communicating with Caspar Goodwood as being like living under some tall, austere belfry that towers far above one, striking off the hours and ‘making a queer vibration in the upper air.’ “ He laughed. “Doesn't it make you think a little of Inspector Joly?'

'A lot,” John said with feeling.

Ray looked happily up at Gideon. “I don't believe I've seen you since you left Northern Cal. Did I hear you and Julie are married now?'

'Yes, we are. Look, I'll be coming back tomorrow morning. Why don't we have lunch together and get caught up on things?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm, er, busy for lunch.” Ray blushed again. “What about coffee when you get here?'

'Fine. Nine o'clock?'

'Wonderful. Let's just—'

A wan, pale-haired woman with soft, hesitant eyes in a face too worn for her three decades had come unobtrusively down the stairs and stopped, startled to find strangers.

'Oh! Pardon—” She saw Ray then, and her face came alive. “Raymond.” She said it with a slight tremor, pronouncing it the French way, liquid and delicious. Suddenly she didn't look so wan.

'Why, Claire,” Ray said. His rounded shoulders had squared the moment he saw her. He tugged cavalierly but without effect at the ends of his bowtie and shot a quick, proud glance at the two men before he went to her and took her hand.

'Claire Fougeray,” he announced awkwardly, “Gideon Oliver and John Lau. John and Gideon, Mademoiselle Claire Fougeray.” He beamed and fidgeted.

That, Gideon thought with interest, satisfactorily explained the business about lunch. He was frankly surprised; he'd long ago given up on his meek, unimposing, and—well, a little dry—colleague's chances for romance, but it looked, happily, as if he'd been wrong. He smiled at the two of them. “I'm glad to meet you, mademoiselle,” he said, meaning it sincerely.

Ray stood back contentedly as she shook hands. “Oh,” he said suddenly, with a new smile. “And this is my uncle, Ben Butts.'

'Cousin,” said the blue-eyed man with the gray hair and the soft Texas accent who had come into the hallway from the salon. “That is, cousin's husband. But the boy here just won't accept that.” He grinned and squeezed the back of Ray's neck affectionately. “Look, everybody's dying of curiosity in there, but nobody's got the nerve to come out and say so. Why don't you bring your friends inside and tell us what's been going on in the cellar instead of whispering about it out here?'

'But we weren't talking about that at all,” Ray said.

'All right, then,” Ben said agreeably, “at least invite them in to sit down and have a drink. They could probably use one after two hours down there.'

'That sounds good,” John said, and Gideon agreed.

'Oh...” Claire said, drawing back. “I must go. I can't stay...'

'Don't be like that, honey,” Ben said gently. “Nobody in there's going to hurt you—'

But with a murmured excuse, she was gone, trotting quickly back up the stairs.