If Joly found this exchange entertaining he didn't show it. “Dr. Oliver, to speak frankly, it seems to me that you're going out of your way to be obstructive—'
'Obstructive?” Gideon repeated, offended. “You asked me in to give my opinion, and that's what I've given. If you've already made up your mind who that skeleton is, you don't need—'
'No, no, I'm sorry,” Joly said hurriedly. “I didn't mean it that way. It simply occurred to me that with all the available information pointing to its being Kassel...Well, I find myself wondering if your
'Every time,” John said cheerfully. “That's his MO, all right. That's how he got to be the Skeleton Detective of America.'
The look that Joly shot him made it icily clear that he knew when he was being put on and it didn't amuse him. He exhaled smoke through his long nose and ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Perhaps we'll learn more tomorrow,” he said curtly. “I'm having the rest of the cellar excavated, of course.'
'Of course,” John said, and wisely held his peace.
Each with his own thoughts they said no more until Joly swung the blue Renault off the N137 at the St. Malo exit.
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NINE
* * * *
GIDEON was one of those people who could wake up at a set time without an alarm clock, but it was an instinct he never wholly trusted. As a result, he usually set an alarm before going to bed and generally wound up jerking awake ten minutes before it went off, thus allowing him to punch down the button and avoid being shaken out of his sleep by the alarm itself. Thus also losing him ten minutes’ additional sleep that he wanted dearly at the time. It was one of those little problems he had yet to get around to figuring out.
But he was surprised the next morning when the alarm went off while he was still asleep. He slammed the button down twice before he realized it was the telephone. Blindly, he reached for it, his heart racing. He didn't like telephone calls in the middle of the night; that was the way he'd learned that Nora was dead. As he groped for the receiver he saw the time on the glowing clock dial and relaxed: ten after seven. Not the middle of the night at all.
Still, damn early.
He growled something into the telephone.
'Oh-oh, sounds like he hasn't been fed yet. I didn't wake you up, did I?'
'Julie?” He smiled and fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes again, letting her voice flow over him. “I love you.'
He'd already called her twice in the five days he'd been in France. They'd talked and laughed for almost an hour each time, like a couple of kids with crushes. He hadn't yet had the courage to inquire about the bills.
'I love you too. I miss you horribly. When are you coming back?'
'Wednesday. I keep telling you.'
'I know, but I like to hear it. Four more days.” She sighed. “That's still a long time.'
'Mm, I'm glad you miss me. Are you home now? How did the supervisors’ seminar go?'
'I just got back from Arizona an hour ago. And I know all about effective supervision now. It's nothing but a matter of providing a climate conducive to the maximization of intra-group cooperation.'
'I always thought it had something to do with planning, delegation, that kind of stuff.'
'That shows how out of date you are. How's life in St. Malo? Still pretty dull?'
'Well, no, as a matter of fact. Remember the Guillaume du Rocher I mentioned to you? They've found a dismembered skeleton in his basement, and the police have asked me in. What are you laughing at?'
'It's amazing. This always happens to you, doesn't it? So tell me about your dismembered skeleton.” He could tell from her voice that she was settling herself comfortably.
He went over it with her briefly. “Everybody,” he concluded, “is convinced it's this SS officer Kassel that Guillaume killed in 1942. Even John thinks so. But I'm just as positive it isn't. Maybe I'll find out more today.'
'What does your friend Guillaume have to say about it?'
'Guillaume's dead. He drowned Monday, the same day I got here. The funeral was a couple of days ago.'
'Oh, I'm sorry, Gideon. I know you liked him.” She was quiet a moment. “Doesn't it strike you that there's something funny about that?'
His eyes popped open in surprise. “It sure does, but what makes you think so?'
'Well, I was just thinking...It's an awfully big coincidence; here's a body lying hidden under the house for forty or fifty years. Then when it finally gets found, it turns out that the person who's supposed to have done it got buried the day before. How convenient.'
'You know, that's a good point,” he said admiringly. “I never thought about that.'
'The bones are found,” Julie went on, “the victim is identified, the killer is identified, and the case is all wrapped up—all in one day. Only the only person who can confirm it—or argue with it, I bet—just died. And you never thought about that?'
