Skeleton Dance

Peyrol was stumped. “Why . . .at the news of Carpenter's death, what else?'

'Might he not have been shocked only at the news that it had been found out?'

Once it sank in, Peyrol's simple face glowed with comprehension “You mean he himself was the—'

'Now, Peyrol, I offer it only as a possibility, one of many to be explored. You must learn—'

When the telephone sounded, Joly snatched it up on the first chirp. “Yes?'

'Inspector? It's Beaupierre. I . . . I'm not feeling very well, not well at all. I have a stomach condition . . . this has been a terrible, terrible shock, you have no idea . . .'

'I'm very sorry to hear it.'

'Would it be possible . . . would you mind if I didn't come in until later? I need to lie down, to, to calm my system. I'm afraid I'm not really up to, to—'

'Of course,” Joly said soothingly. “Go and rest. I won't bother you for a while.'

Joly had no doubt about Beaupierre's being genuinely agitated, and postponing the interrogation was fine with him. His policeman's instinct told him—shouted at him—that while the director might not have murdered anyone, he wasn't being candid either. Joly smelt something—guilty knowledge, self-recrimination, remorse, pangs of conscience?—and letting Beaupierre simmer in his own juices for a few hours wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

'Peyrol,” he said, hanging up, “go and ask Dr. Montfort if he would be good enough to join me. Oh, and Peyrol?'

'Sir?'

'With my compliments,” said Joly.

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Chapter 19

* * * *

Enter at your own peril the bizarre, startling-but-true world of man-apes, cannibalistic rites, and long-lost primitive tribes, where a host of fascinating questions awaits the adventurous reader.

— Does the fearsome and enigmatic giant yeti, an object of terror for two millennia, lie in wait for unwary travelers to the Himalayas even today?

— Who—WHAT—was the Cardiff Giant, and why have scientists continued to deny this strange, frightening being's existence for more than 100 years?

— What is the shocking true story of the Stone Age tribe discovered living deep in the Philippine jungles in 1972? What is behind their total, mysterious disappearance without a trace?

— Does the legendary, elusive Abominable Snowman still stalk the misty forests of the Pacific Northwest? What is the true nature of the gruesome new evidence?

Find the answers to these and other mystifying puzzles of science in this revealing exploration by the man known to millions as the Skeleton Detec—

'Oh lordy.” Gideon put the sheet down, shaking his head.

'Hm?” Julie said from her wicker lawn chair a few feet away. “Did you say something?'

'No, that was only a muffled cry of anguish. I was looking over Lester's suggestions for flap copy.'

She lowered the Patrick O'Brian paperback she was reading and looked sympathetically at him. “Not all that great, huh?'

They were in the side garden of the hotel, having come back an hour earlier from an after-lunch stroll along the river and a pause for coffee and pastry on the terrace of the Cafe du Centre. (With Joly interrogating the institute personnel, Gideon's interviews were necessarily on hold and they were in tourist mode again.)

'Aside from the fact that they're a tad on the sensational side,” he said, “that they're just plain stupid, and that they don't have anything to do with what I'm trying to do in the book, they're fine. I just wish I hadn't been dumb enough to give him our fax number. I could have been carrying on in happy ignorance.'

'Poor baby. I don't think writing for the masses agrees with you.'

'The masses are great, I don't have any problem with the masses. It's Lester that scares me.'

'Dr. Oliver—I didn't realize you had returned.” It was Monsieur Leyssales, the hotel's bearded proprietor, calling from the doorway. “There were two telephone calls for you a while ago. I believe messages were left.'

'Joly, maybe?” Julie said to Gideon. “Something may have turned up.'

'I'll go see,” he said, standing. He gestured at the faxed sheets. “Whatever it is, it has to be better than dealing with this.” He turned. “If it's Lester, I can always say I never got the message.'

Beneath its rustic exterior the Hotel Cro-Magnon was a thoroughly up-to-date establishment, boasting not only a fax machine but an elaborate voice-mail telephone-messaging system, getting through the intricacies of which took Gideon several minutes. When he finally pressed the right sequence of buttons, he was surprised to hear the