David Wiltse: Bone Deep

"It won't bite," Kom said. "A lot of things don't bite that you don't want to look at," she said. She was only slightly taller than her husband but her perfect carriage made her look taller than she was.

With a display of pleasing the little lady, Kom covered the bone with the towel and handed it to Tee.

"You'll be wanting it back," he said, sounding disappointed.

Tee gently took the cloth-wrapped parcel. "Do you have any idea how old it might be?"

"Again, outside my area of expertise, I'm afraid. The bones I look at professionally are living. Several years, would be my guess. Listen, if I can be any help when you find the rest of her, let me know. I'm happy to help out in any way I can."

"We will," said Tee.

To Becker, Kom said, "Listen, we should get together and talk sometime.

It sounds like we have a lot in common. Tovah will get in touch with your wife, we can have dinner. "

"That would be nice," Becker said without enthusiasm.

"Tovah's a hell of a cook," Kom said.

"He means that in the best way possible," said Tovah.

Becker smiled. "I'm sure he does."

"What does your wife do, Mr. Becker? Does she work?" Tovah indicated Kom with an inclination of her head. "This one assumes women just sit around waiting for dinner invitations from strangers."

"What did I say?" Kom asked. He turned his palms skyward, miming bafflement for Tee.

"She's my boss, actually," Becker said. "She's the head of my department at the Bureau."

"Your wife's in it too? Listen, this is great, isn't this great, Tovah?

Both of you in the business. God, I'd love to hear your dinner conversations."

"As opposed to ours, which don't interest him at all," Tovah said. She addressed this, as she did many remarks, to no one in particular, playing to a middle distance removed from her auditors, seemingly not caring if she was heard or not.

Kom ignored her. "So listen, John, why don't you give me your card, Tovah will call your wife. Is there anything you don't like to eat?

Lobster gives me hives. Otherwise… Tovah, you ask him, this isn't my department." Tovah turned to Becker as if summoned from a distance. A wry smile tugged at her lips and she studied him for a moment before speaking.

"Is there anything you don't like to eat, Mr. Becker? This one doesn't like lobster..

"I like lobster, it just gives me hives," Kom said.

"Hives aren't contagious," she said.

Becker took a business card from his wallet and handed it to Kom.

"Anything is fine. I eat anything."

"How about your wife? Does she eat anything too? That's a silly question, she's a wife, she must be used to eating all kinds of things.

Or is that just doctors' wives?"

Kom chuckled but no one else seemed amused.

It was not until Tee and Becker had driven off that Kom looked at Becker's business card and realized that the only telephone number was the Bureau office in New York.

"It's not that I feel offended or anything, you understand, I is just a lowly policeman and doesn't belong up in de big house wif de quality folks, but shit, was it necessary to invite you fight in front of me?"

"Believe me, Tee, you're better off."

"I mean, you're probably a fascinating guy, John-I haven't seen it yet in twenty years, but never mind, I can see why somebody might think it would be a hell of a good idea to sit down and eat with you. But Christ, I know which fork to use too."

"Which one do you use? I've never been clear on that."

"The one on the left is for salad, the one on the right is for meat, the one in the middle is for soup."

"That's not soup, that's the finger bowl."

"See, there you go, that's why I don't get invited out. Maybe you could take me along and show me how to behave."

"Don't get pissed off at me, I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Yeah, but you're handy."

"Do you want to socialize with those people? They are not a happy couple."

"He's happy, that ought to count for something."

"I'm sure it does, with him," Becker said.

"She looks like a model, doesn't she? Or like she could have been one."

"Like a model who has grown up and allowed herself to eat once in a while," said Becker.

"If I were single and younger and a good deal more agile, I wouldn't mind jumping her bones. She looks like she could wrap those legs around your neck and make you do awful things your mother wouldn't approve of."

"What do you think it means when a woman never calls her husband by his name?"

"Is this slightly off the point? I'm talking about things done only by circus performers."

"She calls him 'him' or 'this one.'

"What should she call him, 'Dr. Kom'?" 'Stanley'? 'Stan'? Don't you think it's a little distancing to refer to someone only in the third person? It sounds like he belongs to her but she doesn't much care for him."

"Some sonofabitch of a doctor put me in a million-dollar home with a pool and a tennis court and covered me with enough gold and trinkets to break my back, I wouldn't like him either. Particularly if the bastard positively glowed with pride every time I showed up, praised my cooking, told the world how gorgeous I was. What's to like there?"

"You're looking at it from the man's point of view, Becker said.

"No I'm not."

"Sure you are. You're saying, 'Look at all the stuff I give you, why aren't you happy? How ungrateful not to be happy." We have no idea what things are like from her perspective."

"I have no idea what things are like from her perspective, John. Somehow I suspect that you not only know but you're going to enlighten me right about now."

"No I'm not."

"Sure you are," said Tee. "You know everything else, you must know this, too. Go ahead, tell me what it's like being the doctor's wife."

"Skip it."

"I'm dying to hear."

"I'm through with the subject," said Becker.

"Good," snapped Tee.

The men rode in silence until Tee dropped Becker off at his house.

"See you," said Becker, as the cruiser pulled away. Tee did not respond.

McNeil walked the right side of the Saugatuck River and Officer Metzger covered the left, holding his German shep herd on a long leash. The dog, which was still not much more than a puppy, belonged to Metzger and had been trained to sniff out illegal substances, not old bones. It appeared to be taking the long trek as a lark, and was continually distracted by squirrels. The river was only a stream at this point but earlier in their travels it had been over a hundred yards wide; the dog in its adolescent enthusiasm had nearly pulled Metzger into the water several times.

McNeil yawned. It had been a late night last night and he resented being put on a fruitless foot patrol. Normally, if he was on the day shift, he would sneak a half-hour nap in the cruiser while lying by in the speed trap.

He glanced at his watch, then took a squint at the sun as if to verify the time by more ancient means.

"This is far enough," McNeil said.

Metzger looked at him across the happy bounce of water. "Tee said to go all the way to the reservoir," he said. McNeil looked around to find something dry enough to sit on. Although the waters had receded, the ground this close to the banks was still sodden. He perched on a rock and examined his muddy boots. His feet were as wet as if he had gone wading barefooted.

"We're practically there," he said. "This is good enough."

Metzger hesitated, leaning to one side to counter the tug of the dog on the leash.

"Go ahead, if you want to," said McNeil. "You really think you're going to find anything in the last quarter-mile? Don't be a jerk."

Metzger, who often secretly wondered if he might be a jerk, did not like to be called one. He barked a command to the dog, which stopped sniffing and sat instantly, eyeing his master expectantly. "So you going to tell him we went to the reservoir?" Metzger asked.