up and winced as his knees unlocked. “Oh, my. On second thought, maybe I can.'
He sat gingerly beside Frieda on the stone bench and took the mug she offered. “Ah,” he said with pleasure, “just what I needed. What do you think of the plants?'
'They're just lovely. Nellie, I was wondering about something.'
'About what?'
'About Albert Jasper. About his remains. Don't I remember some problem about what to do with them? Whatever became of them?'
Nellie, who had recovered his customary cheerfulness as he'd worked, grinned. His short gray beard stuck jauntily out. “Ah, well, that's an interesting question. As it turns out, I think we're going to have a little surprise in store for everyone on that score. You too.'
'What kind of surprise?” she asked distrustfully.
'If I told you, it wouldn't be one, now would it?” As he gulped tea, Frieda studied him with that over-the-tops- of-her-glasses stare. “I don't like that look on your face.'
His eyes opened wider. “Look?” he said predictably.
'I can see that morbid sense of humor glinting away in there,” Frieda said.
Nellie drew himself up. “Why, Frieda, what a thing to say.'
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 2
* * * *
'Let me get this straight,” Julie said, swabbing up cream-cheese dip with a carrot stick. “You want me to use up a week's vacation so I can go listen to a bunch of anthropologists mumble in their beards about the place of Marapithecus in hominid evolution? Like last year in Detroit?'
'That's
'Which one's open?'
'Chardonnay.'
'That's what I'll have.'
He poured glasses for both of them, the cold wine clucking into the bottoms of the hollow-stemmed glasses, then carried Julie's to her.
'Fancy glasses,” she said. “I almost forgot we had them.” “Fancy dinner,” Gideon told her. “As you'll soon see.” Julie was in the living room, browsing through the day's mail, while Gideon worked in the open kitchen, talking to her over the wide counter. Thursday was one of his nights to make dinner, inasmuch as he had only a 10:00 A.M. class, and an easy one at that, while she worked her usual 8:00 to 5:00, winding up with the dreaded weekly staff meeting. Today's, from what she'd told him, had been even more lunatic than usual, and he was happy to see her start to relax.
'Anyway,” he said, “forensic anthropologists are a much looser crowd, more lively, more irreverent.'
'Oh, I'll bet. I can just imagine all the great ‘topics of conversation: handling decomposed remains, time-of death estimates...'
'Well, yes, but it's not all business. A lot of people bring wives and husbands. There'll be plenty of time for taking in the sights and just being lazy. Look, read the letter, will you? The one from Miranda Glass, with the Museum of Natural History letterhead.'
Julie foraged in the plate of raw vegetables and came up with a broccoli stalk. Then she fished the letter out of the pile of mail. Behind her, the big bay window looked out onto a wet, somber world. It had been a typical early- May day in Port Angeles, Washington: raw, overcast, and drizzly. The sky at 6:00 P.M. looked exactly the way it had at 8:00 A.M., a featureless and dismal slaty gray. According to the KIRO weather report, it was going to look much the same tomorrow.
''To Members of the Western Association of Forensic Anthropologists,'” she read aloud. “'Esteemed Fellow Body-Snatchers. June 16-22, the week of our eagerly anticipated bone bash and weenie roast, is fast approaching. As this year's host I hereby bid you a genial welcome.’”
She looked up at him from under lifted eyebrows. “Bone bash and weenie roast? Well, you're certainly right about them not being stuffy.'
He smiled. “Miranda's a little more irreverent than most. Read on.'
''Fittingly enough,'” she continued, “'this year's enlightenment and jollification will be held where it all started: the decaying but still scenic Whitebark Lodge near Bend, Oregon. I must tell you that the lodge is not quite what it was ten years ago (who among us is?), but the management promises to do its best. Dinner and continental breakfast will be provided daily, and those of you who wish more variety will find the restaurants of Bend and Sisters just a short drive away. In addition, the general store in nearby Camp Sherman stocks an ample supply of gourmet comestibles (bologna, American cheese, tuna Fish), which you may prepare in the privacy of your cottages. As usual, we'll set up a kitty to take care of lunch and beverages so that we are not unnecessarily torn away from our scholarly pursuits. Naturally, potables stronger than Diet Coke are the responsibility of the individual. As always, cocktail hour begins at sunrise.’”
Smiling, she glanced up again. “Maybe I ought to go, just to keep an eye on you. Don't you guys do any work?'
'Sure, we do. Don't let Miranda's style throw you off. We may be informal, but WAFA is a dignified, professional
