“I’m not sure.” Ryan stood. “But I intend to find out. It’s very likely that more people are involved. People you wouldn’t recognize. So you ought not be setting yourself up as a target. Free for lunch?”
“What?”
“Lunch? Peanut butter and jelly? Tuna on rye?”
“Why?” Petulant.
“You gotta eat. After that, I know a good place to start asking questions.”
Over the weekend, a thirty-eight-foot Catalina had been discovered at the bottom of the Ottawa River, near Wakefield, Quebec. Bones littered the sloop’s V berth. The remains were believed to be those of Marie-Eve and Cyprien Dunning, a couple missing since setting sail in rough weather in 1984.
Following Ryan’s departure, I spent the day with the boat bones.
At ten, Hippo phoned to say that Opale St-Hilaire was alive and well and living with her parents in Baie-D’Urfe. The St-Hilaires had scheduled a sitting with Cormier on the occasion of Opale’s sixteenth birthday. They’d been satisfied with the experience.
At eleven, Ryan phoned to cancel lunch. No reason given.
At noon, Harry phoned while I was in the cafeteria. No message. I returned her call but got voice mail.
By four, I was outlining a preliminary report on the boat bones. One male. One female. All skeletal indicators pointed to Mr. and Mrs. Dunning.
Ryan phoned again at four thirty-five.
“Heading home?”
“Shortly.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Why?”
“Thought I’d float Mulally and Babin past your caretaker.”
“The pair that inquired about my condo. I’d totally forgotten.”
I heard the flare of a match, then deep inhalation. When Ryan spoke again, his voice had changed subtly.
“I came down on you pretty hard this morning.”
“Forget it. You’re frustrated with your cold cases. With the Lac des Deux Montagnes and Phoebe Quincy investigations. I’m frustrated over Evangeline.” I swallowed. “And you’re concerned about Lily.”
“She’s doing her part. Sticking with the program.”
“I’m really glad, Ryan.”
“How’s Katy?”
“Still in Chile.”
“Pete?”
“Engaged.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
I heard Ryan draw smoke into his lungs. Exhale.
“It’s hard to go back.”
Lily to sobriety? Ryan to Lutetia? I didn’t ask.
“Tempe—”
I waited out another long inhalation, unsure where this conversation was heading.
“I’d like to hear about Hippo’s buddy’s skeleton.” Ryan’s tone was all business again.
“Any time.”
“Tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Dinner?”
“I’ll have to check with Harry.”
“She’s welcome to join us.”
“Somehow, that invitation sounded deeply insincere.”
“It was.”
Whoa, something whispered from deep in my brain.
