A Bone To Pick

Not since Carey Osland’s husband had left to pick up diapers and had never returned.

I almost dropped the skull. Oh my Lord! Was this Mike Osland? I put the skull down on Jane’s coffee table carefully, as if I might hurt it if I wasn’t gentle. And what would I do with it now? I couldn’t put it back in the window seat, now that I’d loosened the carpet and made the place conspicuous, and there was no way I could get the carpet to look as smooth as it had been. Maybe now that the house had been burgled, I could hide the skull in one of the places the searcher had already looked?

That raised a whole new slew of questions. Was this skull the thing the searcher had been looking for? If Jane had killed someone, how did anyone else know about it? Why come looking now? Why not just go to the police and say, “Jane Engle has a skull in her house somewhere, I’m certain.” No matter how crazy they’d sound, that was what most people would do. Why had this person done otherwise?

This added up to more questions than I answered at the library in a month. Plus, those questions were a lot easier to answer. “Can you recommend a good mystery without any, you know, sex, for my mother?” was a lot easier to answer than “Whose skull is sitting on my coffee table?”

Okay, first things first. Hide the skull. I felt removing it from the house would be safest. (I say “felt” because I was pretty much beyond reasoning.)

I got a brown Kroger bag, from the kitchen and eased the skull into it. I put a can of coffee in another bag, figuring two bags were less conspicuous than one. After rearranging the window seat as best I could, I looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock, and Carey Osland should be at work. I’d seen Torrance Rideout leaving, but, according to what he’d told me the day before, his wife should be at home unless he was running errands.

I peeked through the blinds. The house across from Torrance Rideout’s was as still as it had been the day before. The one across from Carey Osland’s had two small children playing in the side yard next to Faith Street, a good distance away. All clear. But, even as I watched, a you-do-it moving van pulled up in front of the house across the street.

“Oh, great,” I muttered. “Just great.” After a moment, though, I decided that the moving van would be far more interesting than my departure if anyone was watching. So, before I could worry about it, I grabbed up my purse and my two paper bags and went out the kitchen door into the carport.

“Aurora?” called a voice incredulously.

With a strong feeling that fate was dealing harshly with me, I turned to the people climbing out of the moving van, to see that my former lover, burglary detective Arthur Smith, and his bride, homicide detective Lynn Liggett, were moving in across the street.

FOUR

From being bizarre and upsetting, my day had moved into surrealistic. I walked on legs that didn’t feel like my own toward two police detectives, my purse slung on my shoulder, a can of coffee in the bag in my right hand, a perforated skull in the bag in my left. My hands began sweating. I tried to force a pleasant expression on my face, but had no idea what I had achieved.

Next they’re going to say, I thought, they’re going to say- What’s in the bag?

The only plus to meeting up with the very pregnant Mrs. Smith at this moment was that I was so worried about the skull I was not concerned about the awkward personal situation I’d landed in. But I was aware-acutely-that I had on no makeup and my hair was restrained with a rubber band.

Arthur’s fair skin flushed red, which it did when he was embarrassed, or angry, or-well, no, don’t think about that. Arthur was too tough to embarrass easily, but he was embarrassed now.

“Are you visiting here?” Lynn asked hopefully.

“Jane Engle died,” I began to explain. “Arthur, you remember Jane?”

He nodded. “The Madeleine Smith expert.”

“Jane left me her house,” I said, and a childish part of me wanted to add, “and lots and lots of money.” But a more mature part of my mind vetoed it, not only because I was carrying a skull in a bag and didn’t want to prolong this encounter, but because money was not a legitimate score over Lynn acquiring Arthur. My modern brain told me that a married woman had no edge over an unmarried woman, but my primitive heart knew I would never be “even” with Lynn until I married, myself.

It was a fragmented day in Chez Teagarden.

The Smiths looked dismayed, as well they might. Moving into their little dream home, baby on the way-baby very much on the way-and then the Old Girlfriend appears right across the street.

“I’m not sure whether or not I’ll live here,” I said before they could ask me. “But I’ll be in and out the next week or two getting things straightened out.” Could I ever possibly straighten this out?

Lynn sighed. I looked up at her, really seeing her for the first time. Lynn’s short brown hair looked lifeless, and, far from glowing with pregnancy, as I’d heard women did, Lynn’s skin looked blotchy. But when she turned and looked back at the house, she looked very happy.

“How are you feeling, Lynn?” I asked politely.

“Pretty good. The ultrasound showed the baby is a lot further along than we thought, maybe by seven weeks, so we kind of rushed through buying the house to be sure we got in here and got everything settled before the baby comes.”

Just then, thank goodness, a car pulled up behind the van and some men piled out. I recognized them as police pals of Arthur’s and Lynn’s; they’d come to help unload the van.

Then I realized the man driving the car, the burly man about ten years older than Arthur, was Jack Burns, a detective sergeant, the one of the few people in the world I truly feared.

Here were at least seven policemen, including Jack Burns, and here I was with… I was scared to even think it with Jack Burns around. His zeal for dealing out punishment to wrongdoers was so sharp, his inner rage burned with such a flame, I felt he could smell concealment and falsehood. My legs began shaking. I was afraid someone would notice. How on earth did his two teenagers manage a private life?

“Good to have seen you,” I said abruptly. “I hope your moving day goes as well as they ever do.”

They were relieved the encounter was over, too. Arthur gave me a casual wave as a shout from one of his buddies who had opened the back of the van summoned him to work.

“Come see us when we get settled in,” Lynn told me insincerely as I said good-bye and turned to leave.

“Take it easy, Lynn,” I called over my shoulder, as I crossed the street to my car on rubbery legs.

I put the bags carefully in the front seat and slid in myself. I wanted to sit and shake for a while, but I also wanted to get the hell out of there, so I turned the key in the ignition, turned on the air-conditioning full blast, and occupied a few moments buckling my seat belt, patting my face (which was streaming with sweat) with my handkerchief, anything to give me a little time to calm down before I had to drive. I backed out with great care, the unfamiliar driveway, the moving van parked right across the street, and the people milling around it making the process even more hazardous.

I managed to throw a casual wave in the direction of the moving crew, and some of them waved back. Jack Burns just stared; I wondered again about his wife and children, living with that burning stare that seemed to see all your secrets. Maybe he could switch it off at home? Sometimes even the men under his command seemed leery of him, I’d learned while I was dating Arthur.

I drove around aimlessly for a while, wondering what to do with the skull. I hated to take it to my own home; there was no good hiding place. I couldn’t throw it away until I’d decided what to do with it. My safe deposit box at the bank wasn’t big enough, and probably Jane’s wasn’t either: otherwise, surely she would have put the skull there originally. Anyway, the thought of carrying the paper bag into the bank was enough to make me giggle hysterically. I sure couldn’t keep it in the trunk of my car. I checked with a glance to make sure my inspection sticker was up- to-date; yes, thank God. But I could be stopped for some traffic violation at any time; I never had been before, but, the way things were going today, it seemed likely.

I had a key to my mother’s house, and she was gone.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I turned at the next corner to head there. I wasn’t happy about using Mother’s house for such a purpose, but it seemed the best thing to do at the time.