Page 131 of The Bone Code
“Then—” Ryan began.
“Some sonofabitch murdered her ass.”
29
Monday, November 15
Sorg was a hoarder.
Tupperware bins, cardboard cartons, and bundled newspapers and magazines lined both sides of the hall. The living room, small to begin with, was reduced to just enough open space for an upholstered grouping, a coffee table, and an ancient TV.
Sorg waddle-swayed to the sofa and winged an elbow at it. Easing into one of the chairs, she craned her head up and regarded us with cerulean eyes.
“Do you know who killed Mélanie?” Ryan asked as we sat.
“What? Do I look like the Great Karnak?”
“You said—”
“I know what I said. Imeantthe girl wouldn’t just up and leave one of her kids. Someone musta whacked her.”
One of her kids? Lena? My pulse quickened.
“This is just your theory?” Ryan asked.
“You got a better one?”
Sadly, we didn’t.
As Ryan interviewed Sorg, I did a visual sweep of the room. Boxes, tubs, and freestanding articles of all kinds took up most ofthe square footage—books, picture frames, cushions, folded clothing, dolls, stuffed animals, small appliances. I counted four ironing boards, six blenders, and eleven brooms. Fortunately, due to Sorg’s limited reach, the stacks surrounding us weren’t perilously high.
“You were Mélanie’s aunt?”
“I’m ninety-four years old, sonny.”
“You certainly don’t look it.” Ryan flashed a charm-your-knickers-off grin.
“?’Course I do. And I earned every damn wrinkle. And the hump.”
“Perhaps hergreat-aunt?”
“Sounds right. I came north so long ago the good Lord was still thinking up rocks. Right after the war. The big one. Never took to French, but I learned all the cuss words. I like Quebecois cuss words. They’re churchy.”
“Came north from where?”
“Vermont. Married a Montrealer. Stayed that way forty-one years. Then the big C took him.”
Ryan nodded sadly. “We understand Mélanie was also American, that she was in Canada illegally, and that her actual name was Melanie Chalmers.”
“I’m noting your verb tense. That mean I was right about her being dead?”
“Dr. Brennan and I are looking into—”
“Took you dumbasses two decades to get around to investigating?”
Ryan ignored that. “What can you tell us about Melanie?”
Sorg closed her eyes and dug through memories hoarded in her mind. “She wasn’t no dummy, had a degree in biology from some uni in the States. Don’t recall which one.” A pause for more excavation. “Before coming here, she worked for some outfit called HGP.”
