Skeleton Dance

help either; no doubt it also explained why he was so used to hearing himself talk. Difficult as he might be, however, Grize was a scientist of repute, and he knew his bones.

'And is it possible to say anything about the manner of death?” Marielle asked.

'From these? Impossible. As you see, they have been thoroughly gnawed. Any possible indicators of disease or trauma have been eradicated. However, speaking as a trained paleopathologist, I can state with assurance that they are probably male—the general robusticity strongly supports this; they are adult—in those few places where it can be detected, symphyseal union is complete; and they are possibly—I repeat, possibly— from the same person.'

'And that's all you can tell me?'

Crunch, there went another eggshell. Grize's mouth compressed into a tight little bud. “As a paleopathologist, my area of expertise is ancient disease,” he said. “It may be that one of your modern ‘forensic’ specialists'—the quotation marks were practically audible—'could do better, but I doubt it very much. You are welcome to consult one, however.” He placed the bones, including the mouse bones, back in the typing-paper carton in which Marielle had brought them and pushed it across his desk.

'Good day, sir.'

* * * *

Marielle spent the rest of the morning pondering his situation. Under the French system of criminal justice, rural police departments did not perform important criminal investigations; these were left to higher levels of authority. Thus, should these bones turn out to be linked to some old murder, which seemed not unlikely, the responsibility would fall to the regional police judiciare, headquartered in Perigueux. This being the case, his obvious course of action would be to notify Inspector Joly in that city at once and let him take charge.

Yes, but suppose that no foul play was involved? Suppose that the reason for the sudden appearance of human bones in old Peyraud's backyard were to prove innocent—the result, for example, of graveyard remains exposed by the early rains, as had happened more than once in the past? What then?

Then, of course, the great Inspector Joly would have been put to inconvenience over nothing and, as Marielle knew all too well from previous experience, he would not bother to hide his vexation. Joly was, in fact, famous for not bothering to hide his vexation. And the thought of that stiff-necked, long-faced prig treating him to an hour or two of oh-so-forbearing sighs was too much to bear. No, Joly was not to be called in, not yet.

By noon he had come up with a plan. With luck, he might never need to bring in the police judiciare at all.

'Now, Noyon,” he said to the crisply uniformed young officier de la paix whom he had summoned to his office, “having determined that the bones in question are human, what is needed is to establish whether or not we are dealing with a case of homicide, wouldn't you agree?'

'Yes, sir!” said Noyon. Freshly graduated from the national police academy at Nice and newly assigned to Les Eyzies for his field training, he was grateful for this early opportunity to show his mettle.

'And to do that it is necessary first of all to locate the place from which the dog has been bringing the bones, so that the scene can be properly examined, wouldn't you say?'

'Yes, sir, exactly!'

'And to accomplish that, it would seem logical to let the animal lead us to it, no?'

'Yes, sir,” Noyon said a little less eagerly, beginning to have some reservations.

'What I want you to do, then, Noyon, is to find an unobtrusive spot within sight of the Peyraud backyard, keeping your eye on the dog. It's brought home bones before. It will bring them home again. See if you can find out from where. That's your assignment. Are there any questions?'

'You want me to . . . to stake out the dog?'

Marielle eyed him frigidly. “Unless you have an objection?'

'No, sir, no objection at all! I think it's a fine plan. I'm sure it'll work. I'll do my best. Thank you, sir, I appreciate your confidence. I'll get over there right now.'

Damn, Noyon thought, you sure know when you're the new man on the team.

* * * *

Three days later, a dusty and bramble-scarred Officer Noyon was back at his commander's desk with discouraging results. The dog was cunning, devious, two-faced, malicious, he said with a tremor of real hatred in his voice. “He tricked me. He wouldn't let me follow him. He left by different routes, and he never came home the same way twice. When he brought bones back, I swear he laughed at me! I know when a dog's laughing.'

Marielle listened with narrowed eyes. “So after three days we're no closer to finding out where they're coming from than we were when we started, is that the substance of your report?'

'Well, yes,” Noyon replied, scrambling for a good side to things, “but we do have several more bones than we started with.'

Marielle lifted his eyes to the ceiling and resigned himself to the inevitable; he'd come to the end of the line and he knew it. To wait still longer without notifying the judicial police would be disastrous.

And turning to his secretary with a heavy heart, he said: “Get me Perigueux.'

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Chapter 2