Lovely In Her Bones

“Probably tomorrow. Depends on what arrangements are being made about Victor.”

Tessa had a sudden image of Milo conveying Victor’s body home to Maryland in a station wagon; she was sure that this was not what he meant, but since she wasn’t interested in the details anyway, she let it pass. “You will come and see me when you get back, won’t you?”

“Of course. I thought you’d want me to take charge of Alex’s papers.”

“That, too,” murmured Tessa.

Milo raised his head, like one who has just heard ticking from the luggage rack above him. “Too?”

“Oh, Milo, there are just so many things to cope with now that Alex is gone! You know, taxes, and the will…”

“Didn’t he have a lawyer?”

“Yes, but… And I have to dispose of his clothes.”

“Goodwill box, corner of Elm and Sycamore.”

“You don’t understand,” said Tessa in an exasperated voice. “I just can’t seem to cope with this… this…”

“I believe the Crisis Center has a seminar on coping with bereavement,” said Milo evenly. “I’m sure they could help you more than I.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m sure I’ll feel much better when they’ve arrested that cat-faced little colleague of yours! She meant to get Alex one way or another, and the police know it, too!”

A diffident figure in khaki approached their table. Milo was never so glad to see anyone in his life. Bewildered at the effusiveness of the greeting, Dummyweed blinked at them, surprised that the fellow who had always been curt with him should have taken such a liking to him now. Perhaps it was the new uniform; one of Pilot’s, actually, but it fit well enough.

“I saw your car outside,” he told them. “Mr. Barnes wants me to go back to Sarvice Valley on guard duty.”

Under any other circumstances, Milo would have told him to get lost, but now that he presented an alternative to prolonging the interview with Tessa, Milo was the soul of cooperation. “Of course!” he said, getting up. “Do you need me to come with you? Does Barnes need to see me?”

“No. I need a ride.” Seeing their startled faces, Coltsfoot hastened to explain. “See, we only have two patrol cars. Mr. McKenna needs one to patrol the county, and Pilot’s using the other one over at the Nunwati Nature- Friends Craft Fair, which is tonight.” He paused on a wistful note, but no expressions of sympathy were forthcoming.

“What about Harkness’ car?”

“Oh, he just used his own, and they paid him mileage. County figured it was cheaper.”

“Couldn’t you take your own car?”

“Patricia won’t let me have it,” murmured Coltsfoot, reddening. “I was wondering if you’d mind me riding out with you. I don’t know why Pilot didn’t run me out there when he went. Maybe he hadn’t decided they needed me then. I was setting up for the craft fair when they came and got me.”

Milo cut him off. “Barnes has been to Sarvice Valley since the inquest? What for?”

“I don’t know. I think he was questioning somebody. He had the FBI guy with him.”

Milo turned to Tessa. “Would you like me to drop you back at the courthouse? I think I should go back now.”

Tessa, who had just remembered what it was like to live with a dedicated scientist, managed a brave smile. “No thanks, Milo. I’ll make it on my own.”

Daniel Hunter Coltsfoot spent most of the ride to Sarvice Valley complaining about the circumstances that had led to his becoming a deputy. Patricia Elf needn’t complain now about having to set the booths up by herself at the craft fair; if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

“And I’d say that the Sarvice Valley killer is a lot more likely to get me than those Tennessee convicts were to get her when she insisted I buy that gun!” he finished bitterly.

“Why don’t you just refuse to do it?” asked Milo. “Sense of duty?”

“Of course. I am a deputy,” said Coltsfoot with a noble lift of his chin. “And besides, Pilot happened to mention that if I didn’t go through with it until this investigation is over, he was going to get a lot more interested in minor drug offenses in the county.”

“I see,” said Milo, stifling a smile.

“Damn right. The Nature-Friends would kill me.”

“I see you brought a gun,” Milo remarked, glancing at the holster on Dummyweed’s belt. “Do you know how to use it?”

“I’ve never tried, but it looks easy enough on television. Bang, bang, you’re dead. Right, man?”

“Oh, boy,” said Milo to himself.

“I’m strictly nonviolent myself. Peace marches; run for hunger; demonstrations against the nuclear power plants.” He slapped the pistol on his thigh. “But when there’s a killer out there and you’re the law-a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

“Right,” said Milo, turning at a cluster of houses. “I think I’ll stop and get Comfrey Stecoah. You wait here.”

He hurried up the concrete steps and tapped on the door. In a moment, Comfrey Stecoah himself appeared and ushered Milo into a small, sparse living room. Comfrey, still wearing the clothes he had on at the inquest, had been eating his lunch on the chrome and glass coffee table.

“What is it?” he asked Milo.

“Pilot Barnes assigned us a guard for the rest of our stay.”

“’Bout time,” grunted Comfrey.

“It’s that Coltsfoot guy. With a gun.” Milo enunciated each word carefully, underscoring the implications.

“Right. Let me finish eating. I’ll meet you at the church.”

He’s a good guy, Milo thought as he walked back to the car. If they fire Bevel Harkness, they ought to hire him as deputy in the valley. Maybe I’ll mention it to Pilot Barnes.

“How much longer are you guys going to be here?” asked Coltsfoot when they were on their way again.

“We should be gone by tomorrow, I hope,” said Milo. “We’re remeasuring the skulls today, and then we’ll rebury the remains. I can do the computer work back at the university. Two days, at the most.”

“I’ll still miss the craft fair,” sighed Coltsfoot.

Milo pulled the car into the parking lot below the church. Before he got halfway up the bank, Jake came running to meet them.

“Have you seen Elizabeth?” he demanded.

Milo’s eyes narrowed. “I left her here with you!”

“She sent me out for tomatoes,” said Jake sheepishly. “When I came back, she was gone!”

Elizabeth was in no hurry to get where she was going. She needed the time to think. By the time she reached the path up the mountain, Elizabeth was sure that she had not been followed. She had at least ten minutes’ head start before Jake came back and began to search for her. By the time he found her, she hoped she would have everything settled. She slowed to a walk, forcing herself to look at the plants along the path, while her mind considered the problem. Bloodroot and yarrow… could she ever tell Milo the truth? Boneset… pigweed… maybe she could have brought Jake with her. He might have understood. Could he track her through the woods? She frowned. Of course he couldn’t! Indian stereotyping again.

She stooped to examine a yellow-orange tangle of vines in a sunny spot beside the path-the love vine. She had found it in her plant book under “dodder-also known as strangleweed.” She wondered if anyone had planted this one, and if so whose name it bore. A cluster of gnats swarmed up into her face, and she batted them away. The air was thick with heat.

“Think this through,” Elizabeth said aloud wishing for a moment that she could turn and go back to the church. Whose responsibility was it anyway? She had nearly reached the end of the path-not far now. Soon Milo would figure out what she already knew, and by then it would be too late to salvage anything from the confusion that would follow. Elizabeth kept going. She had to talk to the Wise Woman of the Woods.

Amelanchier’s cabin sat in green silence in the clearing. Elizabeth was relieved to see that no tourists had made the trek up the mountain. She stood in the shadow of a sourwood tree, watching a red-tailed hawk on a reconnaissance flight. It flew a back loop toward a thatch of pines, out of her line of sight. She wondered if she