A Skeleton in the Family (26 page)

I refused to die with my eyes closed, which is why I saw when the bone swiveled in his hand and the end Michaels meant to bring down on my head conked him on his instead.

He staggered, and blood welled up in his hair. He shook himself like a dog, and raised the bone again, this time gripping it with both hands. Again it came down on him and not me, and he bellowed in pain.

The motion was unmistakably a Shinigami chop.

“Sid?” I said.

There was a horrendous clatter as the bones went over the edge of the table, and then Sid rose up behind Michaels. Most of him anyway—Michaels was still holding his thighbone. But Sid managed fine without it as he wrenched the bone out of Michaels's hand and brought it down on top of his head yet again. The man's eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor with a satisfying
thunk
.

“Sid!”

“Not Sid,” he said. “The Bone Ranger!”

“Coccyx, Sid, is that why you waited so long to move? Were you trying to come up with a joke?”

“A hero always shows up in the nick of time.”

That was Sid. “Well, the Bone Ranger better stay around long enough for me to thank him.”

“W
hat did you tell the police?” Deborah asked after expressing her disgust at Sid's pun.

It was several hours later, and we were back home. Deborah had actually spoken to Sid more than once, and was sitting next to him on the couch, while I was in the armchair near the armoire. Deborah and I had hot chocolate, Byron was snoozing on the rug, and I'd caught Sid patting him once. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting, if he'd ever painted the Addams Family.

I said, “I wanted to keep it simple—the simpler the lie, the harder it is to disprove. So I told them how I'd figured Michaels was the killer, and that when I got home and found the suitcase with Sid missing, I went out to JTU to get it back.”

“Didn't they ask why you did something so stupid?”

“Of course, so I admitted that it was extremely stupid. I'd hoped I could sneak in and get the skeleton without being caught. Which I almost did, after all. And I didn't call them because they wouldn't have believed me, and your pal Louis admitted that was true.”

“What was he doing in North Ashfield?”

“He was visiting another cop when the call came out, and he tagged along. He sends his best, by the way.”

Deborah pretended not to be pleased.

“Anyway, I just kept saying I'd been an idiot—”

“Which was true!”

“—and they just kept shaking their heads, but they believed me. Who lies to make herself look dumb?”

“No comment. So Michaels supposedly caught you and—”

“And drugged me, tied me to the chair, and was about to hit me when I yelled for help—all of which was true. The untrue part was when I said I'd wriggled partway out of the ropes and shoved him, making him slip and hit his head. Then I worked myself the rest of the way loose. Of course, we put a different bone into his hand to make the cops think he was planning to use that instead of Sid's femur.”

“When, in reality, Sid untied you.”

Sid grinned, obviously delighted that she was actually calling him by name. “I thought it would look more realistic if I let her get herself out.”

I said, “Not only did he just watch while I wriggled and squirmed, he gave ‘helpful' advice, too.”

“And I was watching Michaels to make sure he didn't come to.”

“You just wanted another excuse to hit him,” I said, and Sid didn't deny it.

“Then what?” Deborah asked.

“I sent Sid out to hide in the van before I called for help. When the cops showed up, I told them that Michaels had already destroyed most of the bones by the time I got there. All that was left were a tooth and a bone from the wrist that had gotten pushed under a table.”

Sid said, “I donated a tooth with a filling, so maybe they can compare it with Allen's—I mean my dental records. And the wrist bone was the one that was broken and healed when I was alive, so it might show up in my medical records. Or they may be able to scrape up enough DNA to test, if they can find a sample to compare it to.”

“I doubt they'll bother,” I said. “They were really more interested in Dr. Kirkland's murder. I don't know what kind of physical evidence they'll be able to put together for that, but I'm hoping there's enough to charge him. Just kidnapping me should get him into enough trouble to lose his job, and I imagine university officials are going to be looking into that research data now. I bet he even loses his doctorate.”

“Is that enough?” Deborah asked.

“It might be all we can get.”

“What did Michaels say while you spun this fairy tale?”

“Not a word. He lawyered up immediately. He probably doesn't remember everything anyway. Head blows tend to cause amnesia of the events right beforehand. Besides, if he did see Sid, he's not going to admit it unless he's aiming for an insanity defense.”

“So that's it?”

“Well, I may have to perjure myself if it ever comes to trial, but if it keeps Sid safe, I can live with that. Otherwise we all live happily ever after.”

“More or less,” Sid said. “I can manage the happy even if I suck at living.”

Deborah rolled her eyes. “Geez, you two deserve each other. I'm going home now. I suppose this is a hugging occasion.”

“If you insist,” I said, but I gave her a good firm hug anyway.

Then she looked at Sid. “Well?”

He jumped up so fast, he left a couple of phalanges on the floor. I tried not to tear up while they hugged—briefly—but failed. Then Deborah said in a slightly too-loud voice, “'Night, all,” and headed out the door.

“Wow,” Sid said happily. “Wow.”

“I know.”

“Do you think she'll let me come stay with her sometimes?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Yeah, I didn't think so. Well, I suppose I should be getting back up to the attic.”

“There's no rush.”

“Are you sure? When is Madison due home? Or is she spending the night at her friend's house?”

“Actually, she's here right now.”

“What?”

Madison pushed the door of the armoire open—from the inside—and stepped out.

“Hi, Sid.”

“B
ut—but how—” was all Sid could get out when he saw Madison.

I said, “I called Madison before I got to the van and told her about you. I'm not sure if she believed me—”

“Of course I did!” Madison insisted.

“Okay, she did, but I figured seeing would really be believing, so I told her to hide in your armoire. I hope it wasn't too stuffy in there.”

“It could use a few more air holes.”

“But—but—” he stammered.

“By the way, this is for thinking I'd freak out over you.” She reached over and thumped him on the skull, then winced. It was a maneuver that required practice, but I suspected she'd have plenty of time to perfect her technique.

I demonstrated it on him myself and said, “And that's for not telling me why you really wanted to hide from Madison.”

“Ow!” he lied.

“You were afraid she was going to pull a Deborah, weren't you?” It had taken a ludicrous amount of time for me to figure that out, but in my defense, I'd been mightily distracted.

“Maybe—I mean—and the murder stuff—” He hung his skull in embarrassment. “If I'd had a heart when Deborah quit talking to me, it would have broken. I didn't want to go through that again.”

“And when I left you here? Did you think I was abandoning you?”

“No, not really. I understood why you had to go, and why you couldn't take me, but . . . it hurt. I didn't want to get to know Madison and then lose her, too. Or what if she'd hated me and you had to choose between us? Of course you'd pick your daughter—you wouldn't want to be stuck with me.”

“Sid, get this through your thick, empty skull right now: You are not going to lose us! We're not stuck with you—you're stuck with us.”

Sid couldn't cry, not really, but he came as close as he could—he was speechless. So I took the opportunity to fill him in on who he'd been before. “Just like I said, Sid, you were always a nice guy. I mean, Allen.”

“Give it up, Georgia. You're never going to learn to call me Allen.”

“It'll just take some time,” I said stubbornly. “I only found out your real name a little while ago.”

“My real name is Sid. I don't remember being Allen, and I've been Sid longer than I was Allen, anyway.”

“If you're sure,” I said, though I was kind of relieved. Calling him Allen made it feel as if I were talking to a ghost. Which I was, maybe . . . Oh, coccyx! I'd grown up with Sid the skeleton, and I didn't want to change his name or my perceptions of him.

That's when I noticed how late it was getting. Since it was theoretically a school night, I said, “Madison, you'd better hit the sack.”

“I will if you will.”

I yawned. “No arguments here—I'm beat.”

“I'm sleepy, too,” Sid said.

Madison didn't react, but I sure did. “Excuse me? Since when do you sleep?”

“I feel tired, Georgia. I think . . . I think I've done what I was here to do. It's time for me to go.”

“Go where?” Madison demanded.

“Good-bye, Madison. Good-bye, Georgia. Have a great life, and thanks for everything.” Sid laid himself down on the rug, and then his bones slowly loosened, falling apart so that he was nothing but a pile of isolated bones.

“S
id? Sid!” Madison said. “Mom! Do something!”

I shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie—I think he's gone. But on the good side, there's all that space up in the attic up for grabs. You know how you've been wanting a TV in your room? You can have his!”

“Hey!” Sid said, swiftly coming back together. “You keep your ossifying fingers off of my TV.”

“Sid!” Madison hugged him as hard as she could without breaking anything. “You're alive.”

“More or less.” He gave me a dirty look. “You could have at least pretended to be upset.”

“Please! You call that acting? Madison played a better death scene than that when she was eight years old.”

“Hey, that was a great death scene!” Madison countered. “Sid, you'd have loved it. Hey, I know! I'll see if I can get my drama coach to let us do
Hamlet
—you can play Yorick!”

Over the next week or so, life settled out. I found out Dr. Parker had a long-standing rivalry with JTU, and was so pleased with the school getting a black eye that he'd already promised me another year at McQuaid. Madison might graduate from Pennycross High after all.

Of course, eventually my parents would return and want their house back, meaning that I'd have to find somewhere else to live, and it wouldn't be easy to find an affordable three-bedroom apartment that allowed dogs.

Yeah, three bedrooms. Madison and I had decided that Sid was going to stay with us from then on. Byron, too, even if Sid wasn't overly fond of him.

As for Fletcher, I hadn't told him about Sid and never would. We'd broken up. He'd stuck around just long enough to get the interview for the
Gazette
that I'd promised him, but with those journalistic instincts of his, he could tell I was leaving out parts of the story. He hated that. If it had just been personal pain about my lack of trust, I might have relented, but he was just mad because he'd wanted more of a scoop.

Apparently he was particularly annoyed that I hadn't let him take pictures of Sid when he was thinking about his funky-things-found-in-people's-attics feature. Since Sid had supposedly been destroyed, he'd had to sweet-talk Sara into letting him use one of the photos she'd taken of him. Not only was the resolution dreadful, but he'd had to give her a photo credit. One evening of him pouting about that was plenty. I got one last look at his butt as he left, and that was enough for me.

Of course, Deborah thought we were crazy—me for letting Fletcher get away and Madison for accepting Sid into the family—but she'd resigned herself.

As for Sid, to make sure he got the message that he was part of the family, we'd taken a photo of Madison and me with Sid between us. Then I framed it and added it to Mom's picture wall.

Even then, I could tell he didn't completely believe that he wouldn't be left behind like Andy's toys in
Toy Story
, but if there's one thing being a mother and a teacher has taught me, it's patience.

One night a couple of weeks later, Madison was out with friends and Sid and I were watching TV, when he suddenly asked, “Georgia, how did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“How did you know I hadn't really died? Again. More. How did you know that I hadn't died that night after we solved my murder?”

“Because I remember the night you came to life. It wasn't to catch a murderer or get vengeance—it was because I needed you. Right?”

He nodded.

“That's why you didn't leave. I still need you.”