Page 124 of The Bone Code
Once in the Jeep, Ryan asked, “Want to give her a few minutes?”
“Sure.”
“What did you think of Murray?”
“Pompous prick.”
“Nice alliteration.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else?” Ryan ventured.
“He and Chalamet worked in different divisions back in the day, yet he seemed to know quite a bit about her. The reason she dropped out of grad school, for instance.”
“My reaction, too.”
“Otherwise, the guy was spectacularly unhelpful.”
“Exactly. But why?”
“Ithasbeen almost twenty years. And InovoVaxishuge. Maybe he genuinely doesn’t remember much about Chalamet.” The engine was running, the heater doing its best, but still it was frigid. “What didyouthink?”
“I’ve heard a lot of end runs, but Murray’s was exceptional. What I don’t get is why the need to be so evasive over minor matters.”
“I could sense you didn’t like the guy.”
“Not at all.”
“Why?”
“My gut tells me something’s off.”
I looked at Ryan. His cheeks were red from the cold, his eyes laser-blue. It was a good combination.
“I don’t know where Murray fits in, if at all.” I flexed my fingers to encourage circulation—or maybe just to redirect nervous energy. “But I’m convinced Mélanie and Ella Chalamet are the Montreal container vics.”
Ryan was about to respond when a text pinged in on my phone.
“Eisenberg?” he asked
“Yes.”
I read her message aloud, then my replies as I keyed them in.
DE:I have something to tell you but I can’t talk here.
TB:Shall we meet?
DE:Yes.
TB:When? Where?
DE:Tim Hortons. Boulevard Chomedy. Noon.
I glanced at Ryan.
He was already shifting gears.
