Twenty Blue Devils

remnants of what had once been ligaments and tendons—the very machinery of human motion—'and then they'll go back into the detergent for the rest of the night. Bleach in the morning, and that'll be it, I hope.'

At eleven, tired, bored, and depressed, John called a taxi, went back to the hotel, and fell into bed.

At 1:30 A.M., tired, bored, and miserably grungy, Gideon left precise instructions with the orderlies, drove to the hotel, showered under scalding water so hard and for so long that he went through an entire bar of coconut- scented soap, and fell into bed.

* * * *

In the morning, by prior agreement, the two met in the dining room at 7 A.M., when it opened. They were surprised to find their usual table taken, and three or four others as well, with large, jolly, Spanish-speaking people, all of whom seemed to know one another. The Chileans, it appeared, really did patronize the place. Apparently they had arrived by way of the midnight Lan-Chile flight from Santiago, and true to Dean's word, they were a lively, laughing bunch. Children merrily chased mynah birds, adults merrily flipped croissants at one another.

Parks himself, his long face flushed with goodwill, moseyed laughing from table to table, glad-handing his guests, clapping tank-topped shoulders, and chattering away in drawling, Texas-style Spanish.

'What do you know,” Gideon mused, “he really does have other customers.'

They found an unoccupied table on the slate terrace, a long way from the buffet tables, but out in the fresh morning breeze and within hearing of the gentle, purling waves of the lagoon. Neither of them had eaten dinner the previous night, and they made their way through their heaped trays for some minutes before getting down to serious conversation.

'Find anything else after I left?” John asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and hard roll.

Gideon shook his head as he finished his own eggs and bacon. “No, the bones were still soaking in the detergent when I left. By now, the orderlies should have given them a final bath in the bleach, dried them, and delivered them back to the autopsy room.'

'The bleach disinfects them?'

'Yes, but it's not that so much; it just cleans them up, gets rid of the grease, makes them pleasanter to work with.'

John chewed and thoughtfully watched the waves for a while. “So Brian is now just a pile of bleached bones,” he said.

'So will we all be, eventually.'

John smiled crookedly. “Yeah, but not literally.” He sipped his coffee. “So what happens now, Doc?'

'Now we go back to the hospital, we set the bones out on a table, and we see what there is to find. It's going to be pretty slow, so if you'd rather do something else for a few hours, feel free.'

'Well, as a matter of fact, I was thinking of going over to Nick's place. Bertaud stopped in to see him last night to tell him what was going on, that they were starting a full-scale investigation and everything, and Nick called me this morning.'

'Mad?'

'Nick? No, I wouldn't say mad. He sounded kind of—I don't know, mixed up. But the thing is, he wants to talk to me about it. And I sure want to talk to him.'

'Watch out you don't tread on Bertaud's toes, John.'

'Who, me? Anyway, he's on our side now, remember?'

'That's right, I forgot. Look, when you talk to Nick, ask him if he knows how Brian got his face smashed up, will you?'

'Why, is it important?'

'I don't know. I just—'

A callused hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Mornin', gents,” Dean Parks said. “Listen, if you don't have anything planned, I hope I can talk you into some of the day's activities. These good folks'd just love to have you along.'

'Actually—” Gideon said.

'Snorkeling at ten, beach picnic at twelve, glass-bottomed boats at one—'

'Thanks, Dean, but—” John said.

'—and then we take the Leaky Tiki—that's our genuine giant Polynesian outrigger motor canoe—down to Marae—that's a genuine old-fashioned Tahitian village—where two of these fine, fun-lovin’ couples'll be married, Tahitian style, body tattoos and everything—'

'Body tattoos?” Gideon said. Fun-loving was right.

Parks lowered his voice. “Well, just cockamamies, really. They wash right off, but still, it's something to see. After that, we've got ourselves a beautiful sunset cruise...or, say, do you boys have your own entertainment planned?'

'I'm afraid we do,” Gideon said.

Parks leered engagingly. “Well, then, don't let me stand in your way. Maybe tomorrow.'

'Come on, Doc,” John said, draining his coffee. “Let's go get entertained. I'll drop you off at the morgue.'

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