Page 138 of The Bone Code
“Any joy on the Lexus?”
“No. But the province has manytravail au noirgarages. I’m unsure how to say that in English.”
Claudel was referring to businesses in which the customer pays cash, is charged no tax, and the operator pockets the money.
“Black market,” I said. “Will you stake out Murray’s home? Get eyes on his car?”
Claudel made a noise in his throat, noncommittal. Taking this as encouragement, I described my efforts with Melanie’s notes. When I’d finished, Detective Delightful did something quite out of character. Without Taser prodding from me, he volunteered a suggestion. A good one.
As before, I heard no goodbye, only the three abrupt beeps.
I looked at the name I’d written. Figured what the hell? After googling, I dialed a 617 area code.
“Department of Biology.” Clipped and efficient.
“Dr. Alika Bangoboshe.”
“Of course. But in future, you might find it more convenient to phone her direct line.” She provided a number. “One moment, please.”
Two rings, then my call was answered.
“Dr. Bangoboshe.”
“Good morning.” I introduced myself, explained that I’d gotten her name from a Montreal PD detective and that I worked as a forensic anthropologist for the main medico-legal lab in Quebec.
“Forensic anthropology involves the skeleton, does it not?” High and pure, with a musical lilt that made me think of a flute.
“I promise I won’t ask you about bones.”
“Might be a welcome diversion from host-microbe and host-pathogen interactions.” She laughed. Yep. Flute all the way.
Without going into detail on the container cases, I explained that I had a matter involving vaccines, maybe, and requested help in interpreting a document.
“It sounds intriguing, but in ten minutes, I must teach a class.”
“May I send you excerpts from a set of notes? Perhaps you could give the material a quick read, then ring me back?”
A beat, then, “I’ll do what I can.”
I spent time copying portions of Melanie’s notes into a Word document. Sent it off as an email attachment.
Bangoboshe was true to her word. She phoned back shortly after three.
“I apologize for taking so long. Are you on faculty at a university, Dr. Brennan?”
“UNC–Charlotte.”
“Then you understand that students can sometimes be—” She searched for a descriptor.
“They can,” I agreed.
“And it took a while to get through your document.”
“I apologize for that.”
“I agree, the excerpts have to do with vaccines. Mostly.”
I readied paper and pen. “Go on.”
