Not surprised? The words hit Jake like a bee sting. What do you mean?
Pete wasnt the person you think he was. He was a good forensic pathologist, probably a great one. But I know a few things about him that you dont. It just may be that his past caught up with him.
He botched a case? Got in trouble as a kid? Be specific.
Pederson sighed. Leave it alone. If I had pancreatic cancer, Id want to die. Let him rest. He turned toward the door. Stick to your job. The morgue doesnt belong to Harrigan, you, or me.
Charlie, I have to call Elizabeth. Its her right to know.
And to not know. Why do you want to hurt her? I thought you were his friend. He walked out.
Confusion swirled in Jakes brain like mist.
I
was
his friend. I knew him better than any other man on earth. What did Pederson mean about Petes past?
He got up and paced his office, trying to reconstruct the years. They had met when Jake was in med school; it was then that their friendship had blossomed. True, Pete hadnt talked much about his childhood or about his own training, but then neither had Jake. The two men worked in the present, lived for the present, and often, when they shared a case, lived for each other. Everything about Pete was open, even transparent. Still, Jake thought, Ive been wrong before. I thought my marriage to Marianna meant love forever. Hah! But that was only a few years. With Pete it was decades.
Jake sat down again.
Why didnt Pederson ask about the other sample, the one taken from Mrs. Alessis? Why does he want me to drop the case? Why shouldnt I tell Elizabeth? Does he know anything about the bones?
He rubbed his tired eyes.
Ive got to go on, even if it costs me my job. But Im stymied. Without the bones there are no other leads. Without Elizabeths cooperation, Petes murder will go unsolved.
He picked up the phone. One last chance. Elizabeth, its Jake. Bad time?
Daniel isnt here, the kids are doing their homework, Im relaxing for the first time today after the press frenzy at the office. Yes, its a bad time that is, if youre calling about Dad.
I hate to do this, and I wouldnt if it werent essential. But I may need your help, and if so I need to tell you the truth. Your dad didnt die a natural death from cancer. He was poisoned. Murdered. We exhumed the body this morning. The proof is irrefutable.
There was a long silence. Only the sound of Elizabeths breathing told him she hadnt hung up. Maybe you should try living on top of the earth for a while, she said at last, instead of below it with the other worms.
JAKE CALLED Mannys cell, told her he was running thirty minutes late, and asked her to meet him on the steps of his house. Her enthusiastic agreement was the only good news hed had all day.
She wasnt there.
Shit.
He checked his watch.
Okay, forty
-
five minutes late. If shed really wanted to see me, shed have waited.
He threw open the door. Someone was cooking.
Manny? he called, with a burst of glee. Whats going on?
Jake heard the sound of paws scrambling on the hardwood floor. A red-furred dog dressed in designer doggie duds careered down the hall and leaped up to the level of his knees. Manny stuck her head out of the kitchen.
Why is he here? Jake asked, rumpling Mycrofts head. What are you doing?
You invited me to dinner, remember?
True, but what are you doing in my kitchen?
Cooking.
Sam emerged from behind her, a swipe of something green across his cheek. Good thing I happened to pass by when she was sitting on your stoop. Philomenas making us dinner, he explained.
She cooks? Jake asked.
Shes an artist.
Not in my own house, Manny said. I only cook in other peoples houses.
Jake looked at the two of them through narrowed eyes. Hed never seen Manny so relaxed. Im in no mood to play house. Ive got the headache of a lifetime.
Wine, said Manny.
Aspirin, Sam said.
Jake opted for wine. Manny ducked into the kitchen and came back with three glasses and a bottle. I was telling my mother this morning what a jerk you were to me, she told Jake. She said a nice girl wouldnt fight with a doctor a doctor! who performed an autopsy on a friend. For my penance, she said I had to cook you dinner. And say a novena.
Am I hallucinating?
How did she know about the autopsy?
I told her.
Okay, how did
you
know?
Kenneth told me. He was at the Queens courthouse today. Judge Cooksons secretary told
him.
Whos Kenneth?
Hello, said a female voice, and a man appeared in full makeup, dressed in a sequined dress with a fish-tail train.
I
am
hallucinating.
Kenneth is my assistant and my friend, Manny said. Hes dressed like that because hes in a show and because he likes it. He was at Cooksons chambers today for his legal-secretary education course. One thing you learn in my business is that secretaries talk to secretaries, and
You mean, us girls talk to us girls, Kenneth interrupted. Manny continued, unfazed.
and Kenneth told Cooksons secretary the gossip about me and you
Jake felt his mouth drop open. Me and you?
so Cooksons secretary told Kenneth about the exhumation order you had the DA request from him. Its that simple.
Jake was stupefied, Manny saw.
Serves him right.
By the way, she said, you can forget about the novena. Im a
retired
Catholic. But Im making linguine with white clam sauce.
Jake pushed several days worth of
The New York Times
off a chair and collapsed into it.
I tried the sauce, Sam said. Its divine. First she sauteed fresh garlic, Italian parsley, sweet-cream butter, olive oil, and clam juice, and then she added the fresh Manila clams in their shells.
Jake scowled at him. I thought you were keeping kosher.
Sam shrugged, ponytail wagging. Times change.
Got to run now, Manny, Kenneth said. He stepped in front of Jake to offer his hand. His nails, Jake noticed, were longer, redder, and better manicured than Mannys. Its been heavenly. Soon again.
Charmed, Jake mumbled, wanting to bite his tongue.
Kenneth let himself out. Manny served the linguine. They ate standing up. It was, Jake had to admit, fantastic. Mycroft seemed to agree, as he gobbled his own portion.
What in the name of God is that animal wearing? Jake asked. It looks like he shops on Madison Avenue.
Manny favored him with a look. Its called a sweater. Its chilly. Doesnt he look handsome? And unlike someone in this room, at least he doesnt shop at a dumptique.
Mycrofts named after Sherlock Holmess older brother, Sam said, through a full mouth. You remember, the fat, lazy, smarter one.
Manny, who had gone to the kitchen to prepare dessert, stuck her head around the corner, outraged. Hes not fat. Hes
brilliant.
He was talking about the character, not your dog, Jake said. The characters brilliant, too.
Well, Mycroft Manfreda is
more
brilliant.
Im not only competing with a dog Im competing with M&Ms, too! Jake thought.
* * *
After dinner, the mood changed. Sam went home. Mycroft disappeared upstairs to do some exploring on his own, and Jake and Manny, comfortable in overstuffed chairs in the living room, were both feeling the disappointment their earlier chatter had pushed back. Jake told her about the results of the exhumation, his last call to Elizabeth, his suspicions about Pederson, and Pedersons mysterious remark about Pete.
At least we got Judge Bradford to stop the mall, Manny said. And maybe we can still find some records at Turner Psychiatric.
If they did hold back some records, theyre not there anymore. The guy who breathed on you will have moved or destroyed them by now.
Youre right.
And if we cant produce the bones, how long will the stay last?
A week?
If that.
Shit.
They looked at each other silently, tongue-tied with longing.
Heres her Prince Charming dog back again.
Jake gave it a baleful look.
Mycroft! Manny was addressing Mycroft in a childlike, singsong voice normally used when talking to infants. What have you got there? What has Mannys little man got in his teeny-tiny mouth? Come on. Give it to Mommy.
She held out her hand. Mycroft growled at her. No, she said. We dont make nasty noises at Mommy. Give it here. She pulled the object from Mycrofts mouth and handed it to Jake. Did he get this out of the garbage?
It was a curved piece of bone. He inspected it. This bones human. A mandible.
Human? What kind of pervert leaves human bones in the garbage?
He didnt get it from the garbage. Its one of my teaching specimens.
Why do you leave it lying around?
I didnt. Theyre in storage.
What do you call that? She pointed to a very large bone perched atop a filing cabinet in the corner.
Thats a thighbone from an allosaurus. I got it at a dinosaur bone auction.
Why?
He shrugged. I thought it was cool. Looks like a human femur only much bigger. Not only do our bones look alike but more than ninety percent of our DNA is the same.
I rest my case. She looked at the bone. At least its not covered in dust. You must have the best housekeeper in Manhattan.
Shes not allowed to touch the specimens. Theyre organized to my personal filing system, so I can find what I need when I need it. Everything has educational value. Take the mandible, for instance. I use it to show students how dental records can be used to identify human remains. This ones female. You can tell because its smoother where the muscles attach to the sides. You can see right off shes had some dental work. Cavities were filled in the first and second molars. And the
What is it? Manny asked.
He was staring at the bone, a wild light in his eyes. God! he cried. God! You were right! The dogs Mycroft and Sherlock rolled into one.
Jake stood and raced up the stairs, Mycroft at his heels.
Where are you going? Manny called, following him.
Fourth floor. Specimen room.
They entered a room Manny suspected had once been a ladies boudoir. It still had hints of elegance: a marble fireplace, stained-glass panels atop the windows, floral-design moldings below the ceiling. But it was a mans room now a mad scientists room filled with glass jars containing viscera, boxes of hair, a microscope, and what must have been a dozen cartons of bones, sealed and labeled.
Jake rushed to the box marked SKULLS. Thank the Lord, he breathed.
That box is taped shut, Manny said. Mycroft couldnt have gotten the bone from there.
Precisely, my dear Watson.
He dashed out of the room and up the stairs to the attic. If the specimen room was organized clutter, here there was chaos. Boxes were strewn about the floor as though washed up after a shipwreck; lawn bags full of paper lined the walls; soil had been tracked across the floor.
Mycroft, fetch! Jake ordered.
The dog went unerringly to a brown paper bag on the floor and began to scrounge in it. It had been torn open on one side; Manny could see that it was filled with bones.
Pete, Jake said, grinning, you brilliant old son of a bitch.
Whats in there? Manny asked.
This room contains all the stuff I took from Petes house. I havent even begun to go through it. And
