Page 94 of Evil Bones
Before I could query that unexpected response, I heard a vehicle pull up outside. The engine cut off, a car door slammed, then footsteps crunched on the walkway.
A quick rap on the side panel. The screen door opened, and Lester Meloy poked his head into the kitchen.
“Am I late?”
“Not at all,” Katy assured him. “Come on in.”
Meloy entered and handed Katy a bouquet wrapped in tissue stamped with the wordGreenWise. Carnations, roses, and some flora tinted blue that shouldn’t have been.
“Dr. Brennan.” Meloy favored me with a big sunny grin. “Thank you for hosting.”
“Like a bad coin, I keep turning up.” I smiled back.
“More like a lucky penny.” Impishly winking one olive-flecked eye.
Jesus. Was the guy mom-schmoozing me? Or was he this obsequious with everyone?
“Something smells good,” Meloy said, glancing toward the stove.
“And it’s ready to eat!” Katy chirped. “Please sit down. I’ll put these lovely flowers in a vase while Ruthie serves.”
Katy and Ruthie had gone all out. Bone China dinnerware. Crystal goblets. Linen napkins. Octagonal mirror place mats. Items I’d almost forgotten I own.
The pasta was tasty, though a bit salty. The wine looked sketchy, but I wasn’t imbibing, so I didn’t care.
As during our dinner at Red Rocks Cafe, conversation moved unfettered from topic to topic. Eventually—inevitably?—it meandered to questions about interesting cases I’d encountered throughout my career.
As is my policy, I tried to dodge.
Meloy pressed. More brownnosing? Or was the guy genuinely interested in my work?
I talked about the exhumation of a lady buried in a casket with a squirrel and a parrot. All three had been embalmed. I described how a cadaver’s missing teeth were found woven into a chickadee’s nest.
Meloy asked a million questions about each case.
When I tried to change the subject, he queried what I’d been doing that very day. I sidestepped with a cursory comment about an old man found in the woods. Taking the hint, Meloy shifted to talking about the recent Panthers game.
Katy and Ruthie had purchased raspberry and lemon sorbets for dessert. A perfect closing act.
As Meloy reached for the bowl Katy was offering, his shirt collar shifted, exposing four dark letters on the side of his neck. While appearing not to, I tried to read them.
Apparently, I wasn’t cagey enough.
“You’ve noticed my tattoo,” Meloy said, eyes not exactly twinkling but showing amusement.
My cheeks burned.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Thumb and finger pinching the collar, Meloy yanked the fabric farther sideways.
“LIVE.” Interpreting the word as an adjective, I pronounced it with a long “I.”
“Or is it live?” Ruthie asked coyly.
“Ah. Life advice,” Katy said. “But live how?”
“Freely? Wisely? Joyfully?” Meloy offered. His smile had gone Orinoco wide.
“It’s actually a group,” Ruthie said.
