Replacement goes thus. Around age six, the first permanent molars join the kiddy lineup. Around eleven or twelve the eight baby molars give way to eight adult premolars. During the teens and early twenties, two more adult molars join the back of each arch. No need to describe the incisor and canine action up front. We all know how that mess unfolds.
The younger child’s first permanent and second baby molar had been recovered, both from the lower jaw on the right. Also the second baby molar from the upper right. I set the baby teeth aside.
I was examining the adult molar when a shadow fell on my hand. I glanced up.
Ryan looked uncharacteristically formal in a dark navy suit and crisp white shirt. His pale yellow tie had sprightly blue dots.
“Natty,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said. “Court day.”
“Your testimony went well?”
“Wowed ’em.”
“With your modesty.” I returned the tooth to its vial. “Buttering up my assistant?”
“Not sure he’s butterable.”
“Meaning?”
“When I said you were thermally challenged he got all defensive, said I was being rude.”
My left brow floated up.
“I was making a joke.”
“Perhaps Joe is one of those people who believe that being rude is rude. Why the comment on my climatic capabilities, anyway?”
“Mr. Touchy was looking at pictures of a utility tunnel or something. I asked about it, just making conversation, couldn’t have cared less. He described some nutball hobby. I said he must love the cold. He said that’s what Dr. Brennan thought. I said-”
I raised a silencing hand.
Ryan took the hint. “Gouvrard antemorts gonna put this to bed?”
I shook my head. “So far the file’s of limited use. Mama had migraines and bellyaches. Daddy had a rash. The older kid broke an arm, but I don’t have those bones. Daddy smashed his foot but I don’t have those bones.”
“Find anything exclusionary?”
“No. The ages and adult genders play. Ditto the injury patterns. The bone quality is crap, but consistent with forty years underwater.” I wiggled upturned fingers, indicating frustration. “There’s just nothing unique, nothing to make me comfortable with a positive ID. Anything new on Villejoin?”
“Grellier’s been leafing through mug shots the past couple days. Thinks he may have spotted his bar buddy. Punk name of Red O’Keefe. Aka Bud Keith. Aka Sam Caffrey. Aka Alex Carling. Creative guy. Usually these toads stick with the same initials. Makes it easier to keep the monogrammed tea towels.”
“What’s his story?”
“Four-time loser, all petty stuff.”
“O’Keefe’s in jail now?”
Ryan shook his head. “Been on the street since 1997. Served his full stretch, so he’s not on anyone’s call sheet. Former PO says his last known address was in Laval. While we’re running him to ground I’ll cross-check his rich list of monikers against names in the Jurmain and Villejoin files.”
“Worth a shot,” I said.
“Got nothing else.”
“You talk to Claudel lately?”
“We keep missing each other.”
I told him about the accelerant in Keiser’s cabin. Likely arson.
Ryan opened his lips, as though to comment. Or share a thought. Instead, he checked his watch.
“Time to put the chairs on the tables and kill the lights.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m outa here.”
That night I picked up shrimp curry with veggies. Birdie downed the crustaceans but spit the carrots and peas on the rug after licking off the sauce.
I tried reading a novel but couldn’t focus. I kept picturing Rose Jurmain alone in the woods. Anne-Isabelle Villejoin hemorrhaging on her kitchen floor. Christelle Villejoin trembling on the edge of her grave. Marilyn Keiser in flames on her couch.
I phoned Harry, but she was out. So was Katy.
Frustrated and antsy, I decided to assemble a chart. Perhaps a pattern would emerge once facts were placed on paper. Or converted to megabytes.
Opening a blank document on my laptop, I created three columns, then entered what was known about each woman.
Fifty-nine, but looked older
American (Chicago)
Wealthy background, cut from father’s will, estranged from family
Lesbian, lived with partner, Janice Spitz
Religion?
Suffered from depression
Prescription drug and alcohol abuse
Estate goes to?
Traveled to Quebec to view foliage, L’Auberge des Neiges
Body found on surface in woods near Sainte-Marguerite thirty months after disappearance, skeletonized, scavenged by bears
No perimortem skeletal or cranial trauma
Eighty-six, eighty-three
Pointe-Calumet, Quebec
Spinsters, lived together
Catholic, active in church
No alcohol or drug use
No car or travel
No extended family
Cats
Estate goes to Humane Society
Anne-Isabelle bludgeoned to death in home, overkill. Christelle disappeared on same date.
