The Bone Man (13 page)

“Bourbon flavored.”

I looked over my shoulder. “I am
so
sorry.”

He was shirtless, and a nasty red mark blotched his forearm. His right hand held my bottle of Rebel Yell.

“I really am, Rob.” I poured his tea, and he dumped in a solid dose of comfort from the bourbon.

“You’ll be sorrier when you hear what I have to say.”

I leaned back on the couch, reminded how much my body ached from all those nasty little cuts. Penny sprawled beside me, her large head in my lap. Kranak had put on his shirt, and as he buttoned it, I saw that the bottom button was missing.

“I can sew that on for you,” I said.

“You with a needle? That’s the last thing I want.” He finished buttoning, then rolled up his sleeves. “Some bad shit’s come down, Tal, and I think you should know about it.”

“The guy on the Vineyard?”

He shook his head.

“Your sweetie pie.” His lips curled in distaste.

“C’mon, Rob, don’t do that.”

He notched his chin. “Whatever. He’s with us now.”

“The state police. Yes, I know.”

He snorted. “You coulda told me.”

“I only just found out, Rob.”

He tipped the bottle of Rebel Yell one more time. “Sure you did.”

“I did! Dammit, Rob.” My head jabbed with pain.

“So loverboy figures that the governor did Doc Cravitz. He’s been working on it. Circling like a vulture.”

I leaned forward. A chill skated up my spine. “Why does he think that? I can’t believe this. What about other suspects?”

Kranak slammed his mug on the table. “None that he wants to see. And he’s a
De-tec-tive.”

“C’mon, Rob, don’t. You refuse to be anything but CSS, and you know it. Listen, I had no idea. None. Not until I was in the hospital. I
would
have told you.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, he’s got his own ideas of who
to tell. I’m sure as hell not in his loop.” He checked his watch.

“What?” I didn’t like the way this conversation was playing out. Or Rob’s whole self-satisfied aura. Not one bit. “Why are you being so smug?”

The clock on my mantel chimed. I looked from it to him. He smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. I stood. “What the hell is going on?”

“Smug? Well, maybe. See right about now, loverboy’s arresting Mr. Governor Pooh-Bah. It’s a fucked-up get, but he’s doing it anyway.”

“Dammit.” I raced to the bedroom and slammed the door. I shucked my nightie, pulled on some clean jeans, and grabbed a turtleneck and socks. I might smell, but at least my clothes were decent. I snapped my jeans and began to fasten my bra, thought better of it through the haze of pain in my back, and slipped on a camisole instead. Turtleneck, check. Socks, check. Shoes, wallet.

I raced the front door, lifted the leash off it hook. “Come, Penny.
Ke mne!”

“Hold the fuck on, Tal,” Kranak yelled.

I ignored him as I flew outside and down the steps.

I ran, Penny beside me, until we hit Tremont, where we hopped a cab. Quicker that way than driving myself. I gasped out Seaport Hotel—one of Boston’s biggies—and the guy knew just where to go.

“You in a rush, ma’am?” he asked in a thickly accented voice.

“I am.”

He varoomed.

It still took us fifteen minutes, what with Boston’s crazy roads and nasty traffic. We were near Boston’s World Trade Center and the fish pier, and I knew I’d have to run again. I leashed Penny, got the money out, and was off the minute traffic clogged on Northern Avenue.

Good thing. Up ahead about a block, I spotted a yellow sawhorse and a uniformed cop standing duty. I slowed, regulated my breathing, gave Penny a treat for being such a good girl. Then I walked quietly, unhurriedly. If I sped up, the cop would suspect something.

“Hi,” I said. Penny stood beside me, on alert, and I believed the police officer sensed her tension. The kid looked about twelve years old.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” he asked. His eyes continued to roam the scene.

“I’m with OCME.” I flipped open my wallet with my out-of-date credentials. I suddenly felt an utter loss of identity.

He looked over his shoulder, as if searching for someone. “And you’re here because . . . ?”

“Oh, sorry. I . . . yes.” I waved toward the plaza and the hotel where the governor was staying. “Him. We got a call.”

“We.” He looked nervously at Penny, then quickly looked away.

“I know, three legs. She’s Canine Corps. She does the work of most four-legged dogs. We were called.”

“By . . . ?”

“Detective Lieutenant Cunningham.”

He lifted his walkie-talkie.

“Huh,” I said. “So the situation isn’t so dire, eh?”

He pale cheeks flushed. Confusion muddied his eyes. “Pardon?”

“You wouldn’t be calling if things were really bad.” I smiled. Gave it all I was worth. “I’m relieved.” I made sure to sound chirpy.

“Well, um.”

I pushed a hand into my jeans pocket. “See, we’re only usually called when things go south. Penny here is a great tracker. They’ve called for other dogs, but Penny was closest.”

“Um, well I . . . sure. Just a sec.” He slid the crime scene sawhorse out of the way. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Great.” Half a loaf was better than none. “Your name is . . . ?”

“Officer Enoch Gillano.”

“Nice to meet—”

“Down!”
he screamed. “Get down!”

Someone knocked into me, and I flew off my feet and slammed into the concrete, palms first. I shouted “
Lehni
, Penny! Down!” as bullet booms and bings exploded around me.

Screams and more shouts and what sounded like a hailstorm of fire burst around me.

I rolled over to Penny. She seemed fine, and we cowered together, one hand covering my head, the other wrapped around my dog. It felt like I was living in molasses time as I breathed in and out and shivered. My palms burned from the gravel jammed into them when I fell.

Hank. Dear God, Hank
.

I peered around. From my pancake position all I saw were the undercarriages of cars. The noise was deafening, with bullhorns and bullets and shouts. Then it got quiet, and I wanted to move. I thought maybe I’d crawl to my knees and see if I could spot Hank. But just as I was about to push to my knees, I realized that if the bad guys didn’t shoot me, Hank would if he caught me doing something that stupid.

My cheek throbbed where Izod man had cut me. I checked Penny again. She was fine, hadn’t been hit. If this was all about the governor, this was the stupidest . . .

The gunfire slowed again, and I turned my head toward Officer Gillano. His flushed face was now pale, and fear furrowed his brow, but when he saw me looking, he gave a thumbs up and a wink.

I gave it back to him, and the pounding started all over again. I scooched Penny closer to the sedan parked by the curb. Maybe smart, maybe stupid. I just didn’t know.

Still, then noise, then still again. The back-and-forth seemed like forever. But then things quieted, not all at once, but the way the rain gradually slows, then stops all together.

I heard shouts, recognized Hank’s voice. Thank God.

I yelled, “Hank!”

Someone hollered, “All clear!”

I pushed to my knees. “Ouch!” My palms were raw from the fall. “Come on, Pens. Let’s go find Hank.” I scratched her behind her ears. Her tail wagged, and she licked my good cheek. She was fine. “Hey, officer, I could sure use a hand up.” I turned toward Gillano.

He stared at me, unblinking, eyes glazed.

“Officer?” I scooched over to where he lay prone on the ground. And then I saw one hand unnaturally twisted and a sluggish drool of deep red dripping from his mouth to the pavement.

“Enoch?” I whispered.

In the distance, muffled chatter. But here, silence. Penny whined.

“Enoch?” I pressed to fingers to his neck, praying for the
tha-thump
that said “life.”

I found death in the flesh that had lost its resilience. When I looked for his wound, I saw the back of his head had been blown away.

I took Enoch’s hand, the one that lay by his side, and held it in both of mine. “Oh, Enoch, I am so sorry. So sorry. I pray you walk in beauty now, and in places far sweeter than these.”

I stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to keep warm on a perfectly warm day. Penny leaned against me, for comfort, I knew, and I waited while Hank spoke with the ME assigned to the “incident.”

I didn’t have the heart.

Hank finally walked over, hands shoved in his pockets. I
expected an arm around my waist that would lead me to safety. Instead, he notched his chin, as if to say “over there, lady.”

Tears jammed my eyes, and I blinked a lot. Couldn’t let them fall. Wouldn’t. I slid on my sunglasses. They were cracked down the center, a victim of today’s “fracas,” as the police were terming it to the media, at least until the dust settled.

“Can we go inside?” I said. “I’m cold.”

He jammed a toothpick between his teeth. “You’ve gotten soft.”

I thought about that for a minute. “Yes, I think I have.”

The trendy Cafe bar at least had comfortable booths where I could hide. The lighting was poor, which I liked, too. Penny slid under the table, now invisible. I sure hoped she was. I needed at least one friend with me.

The waitress set down our coffees, and I fixed mine with the pink stuff and milk. We each took a long sip, eyes locked. I wasn’t used to Hank’s fury, at least not when it was directed at me. His anger after the Vineyard seem like a practice session compared to this.

He set down his mug with a disturbing gentleness. “You got him killed, Tally. Enoch. He was a good officer. A good kid. A boy.”

“Yes.” I had so much more to say, but the words choked my throat.

He swiped a bear-pawed hand across his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t really believe that.”

I did.

“You shouldn’t have been there.” He drilled me with his eyes.

“Yes, I should have. You should have left the governor alone.” His bushy brows beetled, so like Kranak that I winced.

“Nope suh,” he said. “There you’re wrong, Tal. He killed Doc Cravitz.”

“No, he didn’t.”

He clenched the paper napkin he’d worked into a ball. “We’ve got proof.”

“I don’t care.” I took a pull on my coffee, hoping my words sank in. “Governor Ben Bowannie did not kill Didi. He’s a shaman. He wouldn’t kill her. He wouldn’t kill anyone.”

His blue eyes lasered mine. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”

Where was the sweet man I’d fallen in love with? The one who believed in me, comforted me? “Hank, what’s happening? I don’t understand. What are you doing here? Why have you left Winsworth? Is the governor dead?”

“Is there an order to those questions, Tally? Or you just spitting out anything that comes to mind? Did he or did he not visit you, Tally?”

“Yes, he did, dammit. So what?”

A plainclothesman leaned into the doorway of the café. “Lieutenant?”

Hank held up a hand. “One sec,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll talk later,” he said to me.

“Just tell me if the governor’s dead.”

He shook his head. “He’s gone. No sign of him.”

“The shooting?”

“His associate. He’s dead.”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t understand any of this. I said a prayer for the Zuni who traveled with the governor. Nothing was right. Nothing fit anymore. When I opened my eyes, I expected Hank to be gone.

“You’re still here,” I said.

“Ayuh.”

“We’ve got to talk,” I said.

“Do something you’re good at,” he said. “Take care of Enoch’s family.” He slid out of the booth.

“See you later?”

“Not today,” he said. “Not soon.”

I slipped on my counseling skin and called MGAP. I told them what was happening as I headed for the ME’s office. I asked permission to take charge of Enoch Gillano’s family, and Gert okayed it. I stopped off at home, showered, and cleaned up my cuts and scrapes.

Had
I killed Officer Gillano? I didn’t know, but I loathed the idea that I even had to ask myself the question.

I arrived at MGAP just in time to greet the young officer’s mom and dad and fiancée. Hank was right. I knew how to do this and do it well.

I assisted the father as we walked into the ID room and stood before the large curtained window. We took two of the chairs and waited, I knew, for the ME on the case to clean Enoch’s face so it would be presentable to his father. I was beeped that they were ready, and so I pressed a button signaling that we were, too.

The curtain parted, and Enoch lay before us on a gurney tilted to a near-standing position. He looked even younger than I remembered.

“Yes,” his father whispered. “Yes, that’s my boy.”

He reached for my hand, and I held his tight. I nodded, and the curtain closed.

I held it together until I said farewell to the Gillanos, having assisted them with a sheaf of paperwork and the beginnings of funeral arrangements. They’d all need follow-up, especially the fiancée. It was a particularly tough case for me, having been with Enoch when he died.

Unlike the old days, I couldn’t hide out in the office that was now Gert’s.

I felt compelled to give Didi’s office a quick look-see and found myself shivering. I swear I still saw Delphine’s head
atop Didi’s pedestal, her hair a deep brown, her eyes calm and accepting. Except I wasn’t accepting.

When I finished, which was pretty quick, I went in search of Addy Morgridge. Someone said she was in the main autopsy suite. I headed around a corner and down the hall. Then I heard a noise from behind. I turned and slammed right into Fogarty.

I rubbed my nose. “Damn, that hurt.”

He shook his head. “We can’t get rid of you, can we?”

“Not a chance.” I wasn’t in the mood. I attempted to go around him, but he blocked my path.

“Come to see the specimen?” he said.

I had no clue, but I’d be damned if I didn’t play it cool. “Of course.”

He shook his head. “Just like you. Well, you can’t. You simply can’t.” He breezed on, full of his own self-importance.

Down the hall I called for Addy. I was still annoyed with Fogarty for piquing my curiosity. What the hell was the specimen? Probably some disgusting thing in a jar that fascinated him.