Icy Clutches

percent.'

'I still don't get it,” John said. “You're saying how wide your shoulders are depends on how big your clavicle is?'

'The clavicle runs from the sternum—here, at the middle of the upper chest—over the top and out to the scapula, the shoulder blade. And what it does is act as a strut to keep that shoulder blade pushed out to the side and back. Long clavicles, wide shoulders; short clavicles, narrow shoulders.'

'Is that right?'

'Sure. Without those little things our arms would be lying flat against the walls of our chests. We wouldn't be able to rotate them. They'd just be able to go pretty much back and forth, like a dog's front legs. Look at a dog's shoulders. Or a cow's, or a horse's.'

'Yeah,” John said, fingering the path of his own clavicle. “Wait a minute, a cow doesn't even have shoulders. I mean, not like a person.'

'Aha,” Gideon said.

'No clavicle?'

'No clavicle.'

'Son of a gun.” John grinned, pleased, as he always was, to pick up another arcane osteological tidbit.

'This is all very interesting,” Julie said, “but you said a minute ago there was a half-of-one-percent chance —'

'I said less than a half-of-one-percent chance.'

'—that a clavicle like this could come from a woman. That means you can't be absolutely positive—'

'I never said I was absolutely positive.” Well, not in so many words. “Science is never absolutely positive,” he added virtuously.

'Wait, she's right, Doc,” John said, having trouble deciding which side he was on. “For all you know, this just happens to belong to a women's Olympic shot-putting champ. How do you know it doesn't?'

Gideon shrugged. “If this just happens to belong to a women's Olympic shot-putting champ,” he said, “then I'm in big trouble.'

But it couldn't and he wasn't. This was a male clavicle. He'd examined zillions of them.

* * * *

On this particular morning even the aroma of newly brewed coffee failed to get a reaction from Julie. Gideon put the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the cover a few inches down from her chin. She stirred, almost imperceptibly. With his fingertips he gently stroked the front of her smooth, bare shoulder.

'Now you,” he said, “have extraordinarily lovely clavicles. Especially this one right here.” He leaned over to kiss it.

'Coffee,” she mumbled. Her eyes were still closed.

He kissed the tender recess just beneath her shoulder, touching it lightly with his tongue and thinking about working his way down.

'Coffee,” she said.

He laughed, kissed her chin, and sat up. “I'm not overstimulating you, am I? Just let me know if I am.'

It was what he deserved for forgetting priorities. He poured cups of coffee for both of them, and put hers in her hand once she'd managed to pull herself up almost to a sitting position.

She gulped, gave him a closed-mouthed, closed-eyed grin of pleasure, and took another swallow. “I've been wondering about Jocelyn Yount,” she said suddenly, just when he thought she was drifting off again. “Maybe I've been dreaming about her. About the mystery of her bones.'

'Have some more coffee.'

'No, I'm awake.” She forced her eyes tentatively open to prove it. “Where are they?'

'Where are Jocelyn Yount's bones?'

'Yes. You haven't found any, have you?'

'No, just male fragments.'

'And neither did Dr. Worriner, did he?'

'That's true. Well, there are a few that can't be sexed, so we don't know.'

'But everything that can be identified is male. Doesn't that strike you as odd? Why don't we have any of her bones?'

'Julie, there's nothing odd about it at all. It's amazing that we recovered anything from any of them. I mean, having them pop out of a glacier thirty years after an avalanche? Besides, I thought you were going to leave this to the pros.'

'Mm. Well.” She yawned and stuck out her empty cup.

Gideon filled it. “Okay, what are you thinking?” He was always interested in what she had to say, even when she wasn't a hundred percent awake. Julie had a way of coming at problems from shrewd, offbeat angles, raising questions and opening up perspectives that were surprising and often helpful.

Not this time. “I was thinking,” she said, “that maybe the reason you didn't find any bones is that she wasn't killed.'