Page 17 of Evil Bones
Worth a shot.
And I did want his opinion on the bizarre animal carcasses arriving at my lab.
But how to approach him?
If I phoned and Balodis told me to take a hike, I couldn’t then brazenly waltz up and ring his bell. If I appeared at his door unannounced, he might slam it in my face.
Despite the sign, I tried the clinic’s main entrance. As expected, found it locked. Putting my nose to the glass, I saw that the waiting room was dark.
Deciding that it was better to annoy and apologize later than tobe rejected in advance, I circled the building. Spotted a set of exterior stairs connecting a backyard patio to a second-story landing.
Again shielding my eyes from the sun, I scanned up the risers. At the top, beyond waist-high iron fencing surrounding a tiny porch, was a door leading into the rear of the house. Kelly green like the one at the front of the clinic.
Brushing sweat-damp bangs from my forehead, I drew one deep breath and began to climb. A bird who’d been vociferous about some victory or injustice went silent at the sound of my sneakers slapping the rubber runner covering the treads.
A button hung to the right of the door. I thumbed it. A muted buzz sounded deep inside the apartment.
Seconds later, a man posed the expected question, voice muted by the cheery green wood.
“Who’s there?”
“Temperance Brennan.”
The name was met with a very long pause. Balodis was either running through his mental Rolodex or formulating a reply to send me away. Maybe both.
“Tempe?” With an added frisson of apprehension. “Has something happened to Pete?”
“Pete’s fine. But I need your help, Ralph. On a forensic case.”
“I don’t do—”
“I know you’re retired, but this is important.”
“I’m sorry but—”
“Some psycho is torturing and killing animals, then mutilating and displaying their corpses.” I wasn’t certain about the first half of that statement but needed something to hook Balodis.
“Oh my.”
“May I come in so we can discuss it?”
I heard thesnickof a deadbolt. Then the door swung inward.
I remembered Balodis as, well, unmemorable. Not tall, not short. Average build. Brown eyes. Mousy hair. The only thing notable were his enormous “what-me-worry?” ears, appendages that made one wonder how the man fared in strong winds.
Balodis was still in there somewhere. Same features. Less hair andmore forehead. But the man standing before me was a mere remnant of his former self.
His face was gaunt, his shoulders so rounded it took two inches from his height. His frame was hung with the minimum amount of musculature needed for upright posture and ambulation.
I hid my surprise. I think.
“Hey, Ralph. Sorry to barge in like this.”
Ralph dipped his overly prominent chin, then stepped back.
I entered. After closing the door, he led me down a short hall to a surprisingly roomy parlor.
At his direction, I sat on the sofa. Balodis remained standing.
