Page 100 of Evil Bones
Less than half an hour after leaving the Annex, Slidell’s navigation announced that we’d arrived at our destination. We were on Idlewild Road in southeast Charlotte. A sign on a freestanding brick wall announced that the property belonged to theGirl Scouts Hornets’ Nest Council.
The usual three-ring circus was already clogging the street. I noted a pair of white sedans with the blue CMPD logo, a coroner’s van, a CSU truck, a couple of unmarked cars, probably belonging to detectives.
A white Sprinter bore the logo of WSOC-TV, Charlotte’s ABCaffiliate. So far, no other media had picked up on the radio transmissions concerning the body. Or they’d deemed the situation non-newsworthy.
A Nissan Pathfinder sat at the front of the line of parked vehicles, three silhouettes visible through its open rear hatch. Small ones. I assumed these were the scouts who’d spotted the body.
Slidell pulled to the curb and we both got out. Cruisers flashingred-blue-red-blue-red-blueblocked each end of a circle drive sweeping up through an acre of lawn. A uniformed officer stood beside each cruiser, feet spread, arms crossed in identical poses.
Slidell strode toward the cop on the left. I followed. Seeing us approach, the woman straightened and dropped her arms, keeping her right elbow slightly cocked.
Drawing close, Slidell badged the woman. She glanced at his shield, then stepped to one side and waved us through.
“Body’s how far back from the building?” Slidell asked.
“About ten yards. The scene’s taped off and a detective is on site. CSU’s doing their magic. You can’t miss it.”
Slidell hot-assed it up the drive toward a modern redbrick structure devoid of any whimsy or caprice. I followed, again surprised that Skinny could move that fast. We were halfway there when my mobile sounded.
Digging the phone from my pocket, I checked the screen, then clicked on.
“Hey,” I said, failing to suppress a big goofy grin.
“Bonjour, ma chère.”
I knew from Ryan’s tone that something was wrong.
“What’s up?” We rounded the building and cut diagonally across a stretch of mown grass toward a cluster of trees.
“A ferret.”
“Sorry?” When I entered the shadows, the temperature dropped a good ten degrees.
“This could be an aviation first.”
“There’s a problem with your plane?”
“The plane’s just dandy. Except for Elton John, who’s disappeared into its bowels.”
“You’re going to have to explain that.”
“We’d just boarded when a lady opened her pet carrier to calm herferret. Availing himself of the unexpected portal to freedom, Elton John—that’s the ferret, not the lady—bolted.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Je suis sérieux. We passengers, now disembarked, are cooling our heels at the gate while a squad of ferret busters searches for the escapee.”
“How long might that delay you?”
“Ferrets are slippery little buggers.”
“Can’t the crew go ahead and take off and wait for the thing to show itself?”
“Apparently not. What are you doing?”
I told him about the remains I was out to collect.
“We’ll laugh about this later,” he said, not sounding amused.
