Aaron Elkins - Skeleton dance

She had pulled the Peugeot into a parking slot in front of the hotel and turned off the engine before they returned to the subject of murder.

"Gideon, does Lucien think there's a connection between the Tayac hoax and Carpenter's death?"

"No. Or at least he prefers not to consider it yet. He actually quoted the law of parsimony to me. In Latin, yet."

"And what about you?"

"Sure there's a connection," Gideon said as they climbed out of the car, "I don't know what it is, but I'd bet twenty bucks it's there."

"So would I," Julie said with vigor, "unless somebody's decided to repeal Goldstein's Law."

At that they both smiled. Abe Goldstein had been Gideon's professor at the University of Wisconsin, a brilliant, eccentric Russian Jew, and the only person on whom Gideon was whole-heartedly willing to confer the title of mentor. Later, as an old man, he had become a close friend, of Julie's as well as Gideon's, and his loss was still deeply felt.

His Law of Interconnected Monkey Business-so named by Abe himself-was simply that when a lot of unusual or suspicious incidents occurred in the same place, at the same time, to the same people, the odds were that a relationship existed between them. And in Gideon's opinion, a string of events involving an elaborate archaeological hoax, the murder of the director of the archaeological institute that was involved in it, and his burial in one of that same institute's sites qualified as sufficiently unusual, suspicious, and connected to bring Goldstein's Law into play.

In Abe's own words: "In real life-I'm not talking about theory-construction, but real life-interconnected monkey business trumps parsimony. Every time."

But later on, in the wood-beamed hotel dining room, as they sat digesting a relatively simple (for France) a la carte dinner of pumpkin soup, medallions of veal, and green salad with warmed goat cheese, Gideon had second thoughts.

"You know," he said over coffee, "I wonder if we've been just a little too quick to invoke Interconnected Monkey Business. I've been thinking: there might be other reasons-other things besides the Old Man of Tayac-for somebody's wanting to kill Ely."

Julie looked up from the log fire into which she'd been contentedly and a little sleepily staring. "Mmm?"

"Did I ever mention to you that when he got the directorship he wasn't the only one in the running?"

"Yes, you said the board was considering Jacques and Audrey too."

He nodded soberly. "That's right."

She came fully awake. "Oh, wait a minute! You're not seriously telling me somebody killed him over the promotion, are you? That's crazy, why? Academic jealousy? Gideon if you people went around murdering each other over that, there wouldn't be a department head left standing in America."

"Well, that's true enough," Gideon said. "All the same I keep thinking about Jacques; I keep coming back to him."

"Jacques Beaupierre," Julie said, laughing. "Now there's a vicious, bloodthirsty killer if I ever saw one."

"I know, but the thing is-"

"Yes, you told me; he couldn't think of the name of the museum the bones came from. Sorry, I don't think that would hold up as evidence of foul play-not with anyone who actually knew anything about him…" She trailed off, peering into his eyes. "Why, you are serious, aren't you?"

"Well… not in the sense of accusing him of murder, no, I suppose not, but as something to think about, or rather for Joly to know about…" He stared down into his demitasse cup, rotating it on its saucer. "Julie, this whole thing is pretty painful to me. I mean, sitting here saying 'Let's see, which one of my old friends, people that I know-and like, for the most part-which one of them would I want to help Joly catch for murder and put away for the next thirty years? But somebody did do it, somebody blew apart Ely Carpenter's heart with that gun of his, and covered his body with dirt in the cave, and faked that crash to cover it-and I think it's going to turn out to be one of them. I wish to hell it wouldn't, but…"

She covered his hand with hers. "I know. You're right. I think so too." She shook her head. "It just seems so… impossible."

"Jacques was the most senior member of the institute, you see, and Ely was the most junior and kind of a loose cannon besides, a firebrand, the sort of guy who attracted controversy without trying."

"Then why was he appointed? And come to think of it, why wasn't Montfort in the running? You'd think he'd be the obvious choice."

"He was. It was offered to him more than once. He turned it down-just not interested in that end of things. As for why Ely got it-" Gideon hunched his shoulders. "-I'm not sure. Could be because he was an American, and it'd been a while since the last time there'd been an American director. Whatever the reason, he's the one who got it, even though most people figured it was bound to go to Jacques as a matter of course."

"And so you think…?"

"I think that with Ely gone… it did."

"Oh." It was Julie's turn to begin toying with her cup.

"What is it?" Gideon said.

"Nothing, but as long as we're rat-finking on our friends, I might as well get into the act too." She sighed; her mouth turned down at the corners. "Lucien might want to give some thought to Pru as well. She had a possible reason for wanting Ely dead. She told me at lunch."

"Their affair, you mean. Yes, I suppose that's always-"

"Affair, what affair? No, I mean, about his firing her."

"Firing her? Ely fired Pru? She never told me that."

"Well, laid her off. Practically as soon as he was in the director's chair."

"It could have been on account of their affair," Gideon mused. "To get rid of her, if he was tired of it."

" What affair, damn it? I don't know about any affair. All I know is they needed to make some financial cuts, some position had to be eliminated, and Pru was the one who got the axe."

"Well, she would have been the least senior."

"After Carpenter himself, you mean. Anyway, if he was trying to get her out of his hair it didn't work, because she hung around Les Eyzies and supported herself as a cave guide until Jacques re-hired her."

"And when was that?"

"Right off the bat. I guess he had more pull with the foundation, or maybe they found some more money somewhere, because the very first week he was on the job he not only put Pru back on the payroll, he brought on a full-time, hotshot secretary from Paris instead of the student part-timer they'd had before."

"Madame Lacouture," Gideon said with a smile. "And his life has never been the same since." He gestured inquiringly at the empty coffee cups, and at Julie's nod he signaled Madame Leyssales for more.

"Altogether I think Pru was out three or four months in all." Julie twisted uncomfortably in her chair. "Look, Gideon, the only reason I'm bringing this up is that it would be stupid to avoid mentioning it to Lucien, but not for a single minute do I think there's anything to it. There was absolutely no sign of resentment there; none. We were just telling each other our life stories-abridged versions, obviously-and she happened to mention it, that's all."

"But what you might not know is that everybody but Pru has a permanent outside appointment for the seven months a year the institute's not in session. Pru's never latched on to a tenured university position, and as near as I can tell she spends the off-season traveling-Europe, Africa, Japan-on the cheap, I mean: pensiones, b-and-b's, ryokans, that kind of thing. Sometimes she latches on to a temporary job at a dig somewhere, but those are few and far between."

"So?"

"So Pru, unlike everybody else at the institute depends on her institute stipend to keep body and soul together. Unless, of course she has some independent income, about which I wouldn't know-but if she doesn't, then getting laid off would have had to be a serious blow."