Thomas O`Callaghan - Bone Thief

The waiter reappeared with their rack of lamb a la Berrichonne, for two. He gracefully sliced a portion of the meat and placed it on Margaret’s plate. He then uncorked a bottle of Charmes-Chambertin and filled two glasses.

The pair ate silently, savoring the rich bouquet of spices mingling with the gamey lamb.

“I guess you’re really not supposed to talk about the investigation,” Pierce said.

Margaret, caught with her mouth full, moaned a languorous “no.”

“Even if I can help?”

Margaret stared intently at Pierce. She was here to pick his brain a little, and he had just given her an opening.

“We are quite curious as to what he does with the bones.”

“My guess would be he collects them as trophies. Reminders of his conquests.”

“He takes their heads, hands, and feet, too.”

“He must be trying to hide their identities. He wouldn’t want the police to ID them from their fingerprints or dental records…But wait a minute. The reports say you’ve been able to ID them.”

“True.”

“Then I’m at a loss. Why would he need their head, hands, and feet? Unless he’s trying to complete their skeletons. If that’s what he’s after, he’d surely need the skull, the metatarsus, a full set of phalanges, and the rest of the tiny bones that make up the hands and the feet.”

“That makes sense,” said Margaret. Is this guy stating the obvious, or am I being played, she asked herself. She was not one to be toyed with. Neither as a woman nor as a detective.

“Perhaps it’s not a murderer you’re after. He could be a simple thief. A bone thief.”

“Try telling that to the victims’ families.”

“That’s one part of your job I don’t envy.”

“I’m sure in your line of work, there comes a time when you need to give a patient’s family bad news.”

“On occasion.”

Margaret took a sip of her wine and gazed at Pierce. It was time to tie up some loose ends.

“There’s one question in the investigation that remains unanswered, Colm, and it involves you.”

“Me?”

“Why were you in the pediatric ICU using defibrillator paddles on the Parsons girl?”

A broad grin erupted on Pierce’s face. “I was wondering when someone was going to ask me that question.”

“Well, here I am. Your dinner date, and I’m asking.”

Margaret watched as Pierce dabbed at his lips with his dinner napkin before answering the question. Not much to read in that gesture. The man had a poker face.

“Doctor Astin and I were riding the elevator together,” said Pierce. “He was responding to a Code Blue in the pediatric ICU.”

“The Parsons girl.”

“Right. The two of us were in a fiery discussion about an irrelevant matter. When the doors of the elevator opened, we continued our heated discussion, and before we knew it we were both standing at the bedside of the Parsons girl. And as to why I was using the defibrillator paddles, I was using them in an attempt to save the poor girl’s life.”

“Would a radiologist do that?” She didn’t think it likely.

“This radiologist would.”

Silence settled between the pair. After a moment had passed, Pierce took hold of Margaret’s hand. “When I became a physician, I took an oath. I swore I would do everything in my power to safeguard life. My actions that day were obligatory. I was there. The girl had suffered a heart attack. Doctor Astin had attempted to revive her using the defibrillator paddles, but had failed. When he gave up hope, I grabbed hold of the paddles and used them myself. Unfortunately, our efforts failed to bring her back to life, and the young girl was pronounced dead. I had to use the paddles, Margaret. I had sworn an oath.”

Margaret leaned back in her chair and pushed her plate forward. It could have happened as he said, but a radiologist using defibrillator paddles? That she didn’t buy. There was something wrong with that. It aroused suspicion. She became mindful of Driscoll’s sixth sense. And that meant she would use caution when dealing with this man.

As the busboy cleared their table, Margaret’s eyes remained fixed on Pierce. She had her work cut out for her. It remained to be seen whether she was dining with a charmer, or with the devil himself.

Margaret found Driscoll inside his office, slumped in his chair. He had been battling influenza. Shattered by the intensity of its symptoms, he had teetered near the brink of exhaustion until antibiotics broke his fever. Though fatigued, he was now able to move about without waves of vertigo.

“You look terrible. Shouldn’t you be home in bed?”

“There’ll be time enough to sleep when we have our madman in custody. Speaking of our madman, how was your dinner date?”

“He took me to the Harbor Club.”

“Top shelf. Was he able to shed any light on our investigation?”

Margaret seemed lost in thought. Her answers to Driscoll were hesitant. “He thinks the reason our killer is collecting bones is to erect their skeletons. That’s why he takes the head, hands, and feet.”

“Don’t you find it a little curious that he has that insight? I’m telling you, Margaret, I’m really beginning to like this guy for the killings.”

“Smug.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s the feeling I had about him the other night. The word escaped me at the time. The guy is intelligent, charming, and smug. He has a certain air about him. You know what I mean?” Margaret settled back in her chair. “The son of a bitch might be playing me. Fuck. If he is, I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

“Since you started seeing him, the killings have stopped. So I want that to continue. But promise me this-you’ll be careful and always on your guard.”

“Fuck! He might be playing with me. Fuck!”

“Careful, and on your guard.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. Careful and on my guard. If he could play me, the least I should do is return the favor. I’m good at schmoozing, ya know. And that’s what the good doctor will get. My best schmooze.”

“Margaret, I want to change gears here for a minute. I want to talk about us.”

That caught her attention. A grin creased her face; her eyes widened. “Go ahead, lover boy. Gimme whatcha got.” Hey! I’m getting good at this, she thought.

“The last time we talked, I told you I needed more time to think about our relationship. Remember?”

“Like it was yesterday.”

“I think it’s time to make some time for us.”

“Whoa. Talk about changing gears.” Margaret’s grin blossomed into a smile. “You really know how to get a girl’s attention.” Margaret’s heart was in her throat. Don’t screw this up, she thought. “John, you took my breath away. You’re sure about this? Right? I mean, you’ve thought it all through?”

“I’m ready. That is if you are?”

“Ready, willing, and able. Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this day for God knows how long.”

“I want us to be discreet. These guys we work with can be clowns sometimes. You don’t have a problem with us being discreet, do you?”

“Discreet, that street, whatever you want. I’m just so happy I could explode. Can you tell?”

“You do look happy. I gotta tell ya that.”

Driscoll reached across his desk and took hold of Margaret’s hand. A sheepish smile sprouted on his face. “We can make this work. I know we can.”

“I like that word.”

“Which one?”

“We.”

Driscoll was pleased that Seamus Tiernan had succeeded in transferring Moira to her own room at home. He saw it as a sign of hope. Attended by a registered nurse, the young girl lay without her cocoon, surrounded by stuffed polar bears, Beanie Babies and a Britney Spears poster with five darts radiating out from the center of the pop star’s face. Inert in her own bed, her bruised body was connected to a cluster of instruments that included a pulse oximeter, a suction machine, and a home-care ventilator. Her vital signs were being recorded around the clock as zigzagging lines on amber screens, attesting to the vibrancy of her organs. But the Lieutenant was anxious because her brain still showed as a flat line.