A look of distaste flitted across Bertaud's features. “I'll see that the hospital makes available to you whatever you need. You need only speak with Mr. Boucher in the director's office.'
'Good. Then maybe I'll have a report for you by tomorrow afternoon. The next day at the latest.'
'Very good. And if you require additional...supplies, Mr. Boucher will—'
'It'll be easier to get what I need in a supermarket,” Gideon said.
Bertaud looked at him queerly, possibly to see if this was some curious American joke. “As you wish. There is a large one, English-speaking, nearby on rue des Remparts. If you will provide a written account of your expenses to Mr. Salvat when you submit your bill, I'll see that you're reimbursed at once.'
'There won't be any bill,” Gideon said. “This is what we came here to do.'
'Only you wouldn't let us,” John pointed out, ever helpful.
Bertaud's blue eyes flashed, but only for a moment. “No,” he said with something like a sigh. “So I did not.” He clasped his hands behind him in a gesture that was already becoming familiar. “Gentlemen, I owe you a great apology.'
'Oh, hell,” John said good-naturedly, “forget it, you were doing your job.'
'Not very well,” Bertaud said. “The truth is, Nick Druett is a very old friend...a trusted friend. After you first came to see me, I spoke to him, in confidence. He assured me, without qualification, that there was nothing to your claims.” He compressed his lips. “And I, I accepted this. Well, I was wrong.'
Very formally, he offered his hand to each of them in turn. “I assure you, you will find me more cooperative in the future.'
* * * *
Once Bertaud had left them, Gideon sat down at a counter that ran along the wall, his back to the body, and began to write in a pad he had found there.
'Ah, he's not such a bad guy,” John said. “What'd you have against him anyway?'
Gideon continued to write.
John was leaning against the wall, thinking, his arms folded. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “did I tell you Bertaud and Nick were tight, or did I tell you?'
'You sure did,” Gideon said.
'Sometimes, amazing as it may seem to you, I'm actually right'
'You sure are.'
'And you're actually wrong.'
'I'll admit it to you,” Gideon said, “but don't ever let Julie find out. Or my students.'
'So what are you writing?” John asked.
'A list of what we need. If you drop around to the market and pick it up, I'll start getting things ready here. I'm going to get off all the tissue I can by hand.'
'Sure.” John took the list. “'Three pairs rubber gloves...'” he read aloud, nodding, “'bleach...'” But, as Gideon thought it might, the next entry stood him up straight.
'No, I'm not kidding you. Get plenty of each.'
'You're telling me you use...you use
'Why not? That's what it's for, if you look at it the right way. It's the papain in it. And look, if you can't get Adolph's and Biz and Liquid-Plumr, just get whatever they use here instead, as long as the drain cleaner has sodium hydroxide and sodium hypochloride in it, and the—here, I'll write it down for you.'
He jotted a few notes at the bottom of the list and gave it back to John. “But try for the Biz first. I like the way it macerates a partially defleshed body.'
'Gee, did you ever think of doing endorsements? There's money to be made there, Doc.” He held an imaginary container up beside his face. “Have a partially defleshed body that needs macerating? Well, take it from me, the Skeleton Detective—'
'Just get the stuff, will you?” Gideon said, laughing. He unsnapped his dissecting kit. “Oh, and I'll need something to scrub the bones down as we go. A small scrub brush works fine—soft as you can get. Pick up a couple, will you? A couple of toothbrushes too.'
John nodded, pocketed the list, and made for the door. As he was closing it behind him he stuck his head back in.
'What brand toothbrush? Personally,
'Oral-B,” said Gideon, “will do just fine.'
* * * *
True to Bertaud's promise, Mr. Boucher, the administrative director of the hospital, proved eager and able to help. At 5 P.M., when the laundry workers left for the day, a covered gurney was wheeled by two orderlies from the morgue to the hospital laundry. There, a huge, lidded, cast-iron vat, in which sheets had been boiled in the days before the hospital had gotten its new gas-powered washers, had been placed at Gideon's disposal, as had the two orderlies. By 5:30 the skeleton, now largely disarticulated, and with the smaller bones in several net bags, was soaking in meat tenderizer and water, its first of four warm baths. At 7:30 the vat was drained and the bones placed on the rimmed, metal-topped gurney, where Gideon gently scrubbed and teased away some more of the soft tissue and carefully snipped apart stubborn joints with scalpel and scissors.
