Page 78 of Evil Bones
A male voice sounded in the background.
“Hold on.”
The line muffled as Skinny pressed the phone to his chest.
While waiting for him to reengage, I played a head game with the letters NCTA. The Northern Cypress Tinkers Association. The New Caledonia Turnpike Authority. The National Coalition of Turds and Assholes.
“The North Carolina Taxidermist’s Association.” Slidell picked up as though there’d been no interruption. They got a website.”
“Don’t tell me you went online.”
“You want to hear this or not?”
“Go on.”
“Norwitz was on the level. These toads got a society, and they hold an annual convention. I guess they compare notes on shoving sawdust up the butts—”
“There’s one taking place soon?”
“As we speak. And right down the road in Clemmons. I’m thinking I’ll drop by. Check these freaks—”
“I’m in.”
Ruthie asked if we could eat at a restaurant called Red Rocks Cafe. A bit curious how she’d heard of the place, I happily agreed. The food is good, and the drive would take only fifteen minutes.
She also asked if this new friend of hers, Lester Meloy, could join us. I agreed to that request also, eager to see what Mr. Meloy was all about.
When we arrived at eight-thirty, the terrace was packed. It always is in good weather. Meloy was waiting behind a mug of beer at one of the outdoor tables, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, studying his phone.
Ruthie called out as we approached.
Meloy’s head popped up. He smiled and rose, shirt glowing white in the dim lighting. With his neatly cropped hair and clean-shaven face, I couldn’t help thinking the guy looked like a plebe at a military school. A tall one. I guessed his height at six feet plus.
Ruthie made introductions.
Meloy and I shook hands, then we all sat.
“It’s such an honor to meet you, Dr. Brennan. Ruthie has told me so much about you. Please forgive me if I fanboy a bit.”
“And it’s nice to meet you,” I said, surprised by Meloy’s gushing enthusiasm. “I’m sure Ruthie has exaggerated—”
“Not at all. The work you do is so very important. You provide people with answers. With comfort in their time of grief. I truly admire you.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I get you something? A beer? A glass of wine? Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
In the past every item at Red Rocks was named for a local celebrity, some A-listers, the majority less alphabetically lofty. I missed that. Ordered the lemon herb chicken.
We made small talk while awaiting, then consuming our meals. As we were finishing, and the conversation began to lag, I asked Meloy about his graduate studies.
“I’m working on my master’s thesis.”
“In psych?” Thinking that’s what Ruthie had said.
“Actually, my topic is interdisciplinary. Kind of a crossover between English Lit and psych, with a soupçon of philosophy tossed in for spice.”
