Page 45 of Evil Bones
Helen arrived and placed the bill squarely between my daughter and me. “Y’all have a good one.”
Katy and I both went for the check. Not surprisingly, I won the staged battle that ensued.
“I’m bummed that I have to work,” I said to Ruthie. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
“I’m going to visit Uncle Pete.”
Ruthie and my ex have always shared a special bond. Partly their mutual love of baseball. Partly their offbeat sense of humor. Mostly, they just like each other.
“That should be fun,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see Boyd.” Ruthie referred to Pete’s dog.
“Brace yourself. The Chow will be excited.”
“Katy has offered to drop me off. Could you maybe pick me up if it turns out I need a ride home?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
As we wove our way toward the door, I said to Ruthie, “You have great insight. Have you considered a career in counseling or psychology?”
“As I said, I prefer animals.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Animals hit different.”
“Meaning?”
“Nonhuman means nonjudgmental.”
A summer storm had broken during the ninety minutes I’d spent in the restaurant. Nevertheless, the day felt even warmer than when I’d gone in. The sky was leaden, the humidity somewhere in the Amazon Basin range.
The gravel parking lot was like The Land of Ten Thousand Lakes. Weaving between the puddles, trying to keep my feet dry, I considered my conversation with Ruthie. For someone not yet out of her teens, she was certainly well-grounded. I wondered what had made her so cynical about people at such a young age.
I had my hand on the car door handle when Slidell phoned. As usual, he launched in without greeting.
“Got a forensic report might interest you.”
“On the articles associated with Bear?” I asked, sliding behind the wheel.
“No. On fingernail clippings we think might ID the Ripper.”
“That was fast.” As usual, I ignored Slidell’s sarcasm.
“I got friends.”
Though surprised that Slidell would call in a favor on an animal case, I said nothing.
“I’m thinking we should visit another of the sites this toad dressed up.”
“Why?” I turned on the car and the wipers.
“Jesus take the biscuits. Why the freak not? We scored something the last time we ran a reboot.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“When?” I asked, watching the blades flick water from the windshield in matching fan shapes.
