“Who circulated the query?”
“Sheriff.”
“What does he say?”
“Says talk to the former coroner. Sheriff ’s new, too.”
“Have you done that?”
“Tough order. Guy’s dead.”
I was gripping the receiver so tightly the plastic was making small popping sounds.
“Does the current coroner have any information on the case?”
“Unknown. Partial skeleton with animal damage.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what’s in the original police report. Nothin’ else in the file.”
“Is someone checking with Dr. Cagle?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you pulling up missing persons for an ID on the privy skull?”
“Hard to do with nothing to go on.”
Slidell had a point.
“White male, twenty-five to forty. Bad teeth, four restorations.” I kept my voice even.
Mrs. Flowers’s fingers were flying over her keyboard. Now and then she’d glance up at Ryan. He’d smile, and the color in her cheeks would deepen.
“That helps.”
“But don’t rule out a female if everything else works.”
“The hell are you saying? Don’t a person got to be one or the other?”
“Yes. One does.”
I looked at Ryan. He grinned.
“I’ll keep my cell turned on,” I said to Slidell. “Call me when you know something.”
Normally my refrigerator contains leftover carryout, frozen dinners, condiments, coffee beans, Diet Coke, and milk, with a smattering of slimed-out produce in the bins. That night it was uncharacteristically full.
When I opened the door, a Vidalia onion dropped to the floor and rolled to a stop against Boyd’s haunch. The chow sniffed, licked, then relocated himself under the table.
“Been foraging?” I asked.
“Hooch pointed me to the Fresh Market.”
Boyd’s ears rose, but his chin stayed on his paws.
I picked up a package wrapped in butcher paper.
“You know how to cook swordfish?”
Ryan held out both arms.
“I am a son of Nova Scotia.”
“Uh-huh. Would you like a Sam Adams?”
“Generations of my people have made their living from the sea.”
I really could love this guy, I thought.
“Your parents were born in Dublin, trained in medicine in London,” I said.
“They ate a lot of fish.”
I handed him the beer.
“Thanks.”
He twisted off the lid and took a long swig.
“Why don’t you—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “Why don’t I take a shower while you and Hooch rustle up some vittles.”
Ryan winked at Boyd.
Boyd wagged at Ryan.
“OK.”
That’s not how it went.
I’d just lathered my hair when the shower door opened. I felt cool air, then a warm body.
