Icy Clutches

'Shirley finished with it and decided to return it after all, for reasons of her own.'

'She told you this?'

Fisk gave him a look of scathing incredulity. “Oh, certainly.'

'Uh-huh,” John said.

'Now, look. I assure you I did not accidentally leave it under the bird feeder yesterday morning. I had it with me at breakfast. Dr. Judd can vouch—'

'Okay, I believe you,” John said. “Are any pages missing?'

'None.'

'Can I hold on to this for now?'

'By all means, do. You'll find it quite interesting, I'm sure.'

When Fisk had left, John pulled out the flap and riffled without interest through the pages. The last third were empty, the rest covered with a sloppy, slanting scrawl in blue ink. “The first entry's January 2, 1960. Last is'—more riffling—'July 25, the day before he got killed.'

He closed the notebook and slid it to Minor. “Julian, will you have a look through it and see what you find?'

'My pleasure,” Minor said. Gideon could smell his cedary cologne as the agent reached for the journal. The dark, neat hand hesitated over the notebook. “Perhaps we'd better go over it for fingerprints first.'

'Nah,” John said, “don't waste too much time on it. Just read it when you get a chance.'

'You don't think there'll be anything important in it?” Julie asked.

John shook his head. “Not if it got returned.'

They were on their second cups of coffee when John suddenly snapped his fingers. “Hey, I almost forgot! They found some more bones for you, Doc.'

Gideon was caught in the act of putting his coffee cup to his mouth. He managed to avoid spilling any and set the cup back in its saucer. “Bones?'

Julie and John both burst out laughing.

Gideon looked at them, puzzled. “What's funny?'

'You,” Julie said. “The way you say ‘Bones?’ If dogs could talk that's the way they'd say it. I think your ears actually prick.'

Gideon shrugged. “I guess I like my work,” he said, laughing too.

'Chacun a son gout, said Minor, who hadn't joined in the hilarity.

'Owen's people spent the day on Tirku again,” John explained. “They brought back a box of stuff; mostly pretty ratty-looking. They're in the contact station.'

'Are they human?'

'You're asking me?'

Gideon was out of his chair, fishing in his pocket for the key to the station. “I'm going to have a look. Anybody want to come along?'

'Sure,” Julie said, standing up too.

'Sure,” John said. “Come on, Julian, you'll learn something.'

Minor hesitated. “I think I'd better use the time to go through the journal.'

'No pots to stir this time,” Gideon told him. “I promise.'

Minor permitted himself a faint, not-unfriendly smile. “Be that as it may,” he said.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter 20

* * * *

'Weasel,” Gideon said tossing a tiny vertebra into the wastepaper basket. “Marten, maybe.'

More bones and bone fragments followed. “Goat...bird—seagull, probably...bear...um, elk...'

'There aren't any elk around here,” Julie said.

'Okay, moose, if you're going to be like that. Cervidae, anyway...fox...bear...bear...goat...ah!'

He held up a flat, twisted piece of bone six or seven inches long and looking something like a dog's rawhide chew.

'Human?” Julie said.

John put one hand to his forehead and pointed at the bone with his other. “Scapula? Wait, wait, I mean, I mean—what the hell do I mean?” He scowled mightily. “Clavicle! Collarbone! Am I right?'