Dead Man's Bones (29 page)

But I kept all this to myself, feeling that my misgivings wouldn’t do Ruby any good. Instead, I said, “Well, I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ruby said. She looked away. “To tell the truth, China, I’m having a lot of trouble dealing with this. I want Colin—not just physically, I mean, although there’s certainly that. I love him, and I want him to love me. I’m ready to make a commitment.”

“But he’s holding back?” The image of Sheila came into my mind.

She nodded miserably. “It was a lot worse this weekend. He seemed remote, withdrawn. Like I wasn’t there.” She turned back to me, her eyes dark. “Maybe . . . oh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a case of commitment-phobia. Maybe he’ll never be ready for a real relationship. But he’s sweet and gentle and caring, and he seems to like being with me. We’re good together—in bed, I mean.” Restlessly, she got up and began moving around the kitchen. “In fact, that part is great. But the rest of it is making me crazy, China! I try not to show that I’m hurt, or that I feel needy.” Her mouth twisted. “But I do. And I
am
!”

I felt helpless. How could I comfort her? Short of being a smart-mouth, there’s nothing much you can say to your best friend when she is stuck in a relationship that looks to you like an extreme dead end.

I did the best I could. “Maybe you could cut him—and yourself—a little slack,” I said lamely. “Sometimes things don’t happen right away.”

And sometimes things don’t happen at all. Sex—even good sex—doesn’t guarantee love, and love is not a cake-walk. It’s not the Holy Grail, either, although of course Ruby had to know that, having been there and done that several times before.

She managed a wan smile. “I keep telling myself to be patient. To focus on what’s right about this relationship, and not to mind about what seems . . . not enough. And as you say, maybe I just need to be patient. Maybe things will change.” She came back to the table and sat down again. “In the meantime, I’m lighting an empowerment candle and creating a love-and-commitment ritual. It won’t hurt to have the universe on my side.”

“Good strategy,” I said. There was so much else I wanted to say.
You’re too good for this jerk, Ruby.
And
Colin Fowler has a past, and ten to one it ain’t pretty.
And
Lighten up a little, babe.
And
I love you, Ruby.

I cleared my throat. What came out was, “How about letting Amy go to the doctor by herself? You could go with me to talk to Blackie about Andy Obermann and the bones in the cave.” True, identifying those old bones was hardly an urgent matter. But an afternoon of playing Nancy Drew might give Ruby a different perspective on life.

“I guess not,” Ruby said, sounding more cheerful. “After we get out of the doctor’s office, I’m taking Amy shopping. Maybe that will make me feel better.”

“Undoubtedly,” I said. I was at the end of the line when they handed out shopping genes, but I’ve seen the magical effect shopping has on Ruby. In the mall, she satisfies her romantic fantasies (“I’ll have a double choco mocha latte or, with a sprinkle of cinnamon and extra whipped cream.”); allows herself to be waited on (“I’ll try the other two blouses now, and would you mind taking this skirt back and bringing me a size ten?”); and indulges in the dream of having it all, or most of it (“I’ll take the red silk panties
and
that lacy cream-colored nightgown.”)—all of which were denied to her in this relationship. Here at home, in her kitchen, Ruby was the Rejected Lover who could never get enough of her heart’s desires. In the mall, she is the Material Girl herself, She Who Will Not Be Denied. Maybe she would bring a little of that shopping spirit home with her. And that, considering the way she was capitulating to Colin Fowler, would be a very good deal.

Amy came back into the room, and I changed the subject. “What kind of a proposal do you suppose Cassandra has cooked up, Ruby?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m looking forward to hearing it. Janet says she can’t work at the Snyders’ party on Saturday afternoon.”

“But she promised!” I exclaimed heatedly. “Really, Ruby, I know that her knees are bothering her, but sometimes I think that’s just an excuse. Anyway, we’ve got to look out for ourselves and the business. Like it or not, we’re going to have to do something about Janet!”

“I can help with the party, Mom,” Amy offered. “To be honest, I need the money. I have to start thinking about buying some baby things.”

“Thanks, sweets,” Ruby said. “I accept. But I’m going to ask Cassandra if she can help, too. It’s a big party—fifty or so.”

I looked at Ruby. “All I know about Cass is that she volunteers at the theater, she works in the food service at CTSU, and she does astrology. What else do you know?”

Ruby looked thoughtful. “She’s from the West Coast, Washington or Oregon, I think. She worked at Yellowstone National Park, in the lodge. She’s held other cooking positions, too, but I’m not sure where. She’s been married, but her husband was killed—a hiking accident, I think she said. Something like that, anyway. She doesn’t have any children.” She paused, eyeing me. “Do you like her? I mean, would you like to work with her?”

“I guess,” I said. “I’d be willing to give it a try.”

We looked at one another in silence for a moment. At last, Ruby said, “I want to help Janet as much as we can, but it feels like it might be time for a change. Let’s see what Cass has in mind.”

Amy finished her soup and pointed at the clock. “Speaking of time, we’d better go, Mom. The appointment’s at one-fifteen.”

Ruby stood up. “I’ll get you some of that soup to take home,” she said. She filled a plastic container with it and handed it to me. “You can put this in the freezer. It’ll be even better the second time around. McQuaid might like it, too.”

“Not with bok choy and tofu, he won’t. Have a good time shopping.”

“Right,” she said cheerfully. “See you at four-thirty. Maybe Cass will help us solve the Janet problem.”

I sighed. Sometimes I think we’re trying to do too much. Whatever happened to the simple life?

 
THE new county jail complex, which includes the sheriff’s office, is on the far west side of town, a mile past the high school. It isn’t nearly as nostalgic as the old sheriff’s office, which was in a building constructed around the turn of the century, with wood floors, dark oak paneling, and ceiling-high windows with stained-glass panels. Somehow, it had an old-fashioned dignity that made you feel that law enforcement, and all that it stood for, was a valued part of the community’s life. It deserved to be at the very center, admired and respected by everyone.

The new sheriff’s office, in contrast, stands at the margins of the community, and—like the department—has adopted a rather low-profile stance. The building has a great deal of strength and fortitude, but I wouldn’t characterize it as dignified. It’s a windowless concrete bunker, which has (as Hank remarked in an ironic editorial in the
Enterprise
) about as much personality as a tornado shelter. On the inside, the tiled hallways and white-painted rooms remind me of a hospital, and the thermostat is always set low enough to make me wish I’d worn a sweater. Or maybe the place would make me feel chilly even if somebody nudged the indoor temperature to eighty.

Blackie’s office isn’t very hospitable, either. There’s a gray metal desk, a computer on a metal trolley next to the desk, a row of bookshelves that mostly contains computer printouts, a couple of thinly padded chairs, a fluorescent ceiling fixture that makes people look like corpses, and a stiff plastic philodendron in the corner. I noticed that the photograph of Sheila that used to sit on Blackie’s desk was gone, in its place was an untidy stack of manilla folders on which lay a pair of metal handcuffs. There was a metaphor in there somewhere, if I knew where to look.

Blackie glanced up from the computer screen and a welcoming smile crossed his square face.

“Hey, China,” he said, and pushed himself out of his chair. He stuck out his hand. “What brings you here?”

We shook. “Oh, one or two items.” I paused. “Heard anything from Alana today?”

His mouth tightened, and he shook his head. “Don’t reckon I will,” he said. It sounded like whatever might have been growing between them was already dead. Blackie is not the kind of man who can imagine building a relationship with a woman who has lied about herself.

I sat down. “She told me she turned in her forensic report on the bones in the cave,” I said. “That’s what I came to talk about. It’s complicated—you might want to take notes.”

I repeated for him the same story I had given Ruby, taking a distinct pleasure in the surprise that chased across his face as he jotted items on a notepad. It’s hard to impress Blackie, and when I do, I’m pleased.

He put down his pencil, and his chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Good job, China,” he said approvingly. “You got any problem with me talking to these people?” He looked down at his notes. “Baumeister, Godwin, Jennings.”

“No problem,” I said. “I don’t think any of them are leaving town.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in a tearing hurry.” He grinned bleakly. “Those bones laid in that cave for thirty years, give or take a few. I guess they can wait a little longer.” He nodded at the computer screen. “I’ve got a couple of situations that are a heck of a lot more urgent.”

I nodded. “When you do get around to doing the interviews, you might want to start with Max Baumeister. If he can locate those X rays, that should cinch the identification. And you could add Florence Obermann to your list. According to Lila Jennings, she was very fond of her nephew. She gave him money to—” I stopped, frowning at the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I guess you haven’t heard,” he said. “The old lady died this morning.”

I stared wordlessly at him, at first shocked and saddened, then puzzled. “But she seemed well enough yesterday,” I managed finally, “under the circumstances, I mean. What was it?”

“Heart failure, I understand. Thelma Watkins, who works in Traffic, was at the hospital this morning, visiting her mother in the room across the hall. I heard Thelma telling Gina Mae about it in the cafeteria.” He shook his head. “Used to be, we’d close the office and go to the Diner for lunch, or Krautz’s. Now, we’re so far out of town that nobody wants to drive back in just for a meal. We’re stuck with the cafeteria, or we bring our own.”

I pressed my lips together. Heart failure. Maybe I could get the details from Helen Berger. “That’s too bad,” I said. “Florence was a nice old lady—totally intimidated by her sister, but I liked her. I’m afraid she’s the second victim of that shooting on Friday night.”

“Hank Dixon, you mean,” Blackie said. He frowned, clasping his hands behind his head. “Yeah, that was a weird one. I knew Hank. Breaking and entering with a butcher knife is the last thing I would’ve expected from that guy. But people do crazy things. Things you can’t explain.” He sighed, and I wondered if he was thinking of Alana.

“Well, that’s it for me,” I said, getting out of my chair. Ruby was going to be upset to hear about Florence. I wondered how Jane was taking it.

Blackie stood, too. “You’ve been very helpful,” he said. He glanced down at the notes he had taken. “You spent some time on this, didn’t you?”

I thought back to the beginning of the day. “Most of the morning. One thing just sort of led to another, I guess.” I paused. “Just out of curiosity, Blackie—how thoroughly did you search that cave?”

“Not thoroughly enough,” he said. “We collected the items we found with the corpse, but that’s about it. When I get some time, I’ll take somebody out there and see if we can turn up either the slug or the cartridge case. I don’t like loose ends, even in cold cases.” He paused, considering. “Maybe especially in cold cases. You never know where something’s going to lead.”

“If you can’t spare one of your deputies to go with you,” I said, “I’m sure Brian would be glad to give you a hand. He probably knows as much about that cave as anybody. He thinks he has exclusive rights to it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Blackie said seriously. “Have a good afternoon.” He glanced back down at his notes. “And if you happen to stumble over any more of this stuff, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said.