Carol O'Connell - Bone by Bone

When Isabelle had left the table, he looked for Sarah in the crowd. He saw her standing on the fringe and far away, feet moving to the music, and she was a little unsteady for the wine.

He whispered, "Don't fall."

A bottle of beer-his beverage of choice-was set down on the table alongside his untouched glass of wine. "Thank you," he said, looking up at Oren Hobbs, who played the gentleman tonight, waiting for an invitation to sit down. William nodded to the empty chair.

Hobbs turned the chair around and straddled it as he tipped back his own bottle. "I wasn't the only kid in Coventry who was shipped out of town." He stared at Isabelle's retreating back. "She was sent away before I was."

William sipped from his bottle, buying time to think, and then he sighed. "Cold beer on a summer night. You've won my heart. Does that scare you?"

"Relax," said Hobbs. "She never made my shortlist. She's got the killer instinct-I can vouch for that-but her style is piss poor. I'm still alive." He insisted on a toast to Isabelle, the most incompetent of assassins, and the two men clinked glasses. From any distance out of earshot, they might be taken for the best of friends tonight.

Addison Winston stood a short distance away-watching. A guest was speaking to him, but he seemed unaware of this, so intent was he on Oren Hobbs.

Jim Web, the postmaster, sat down at Ferris Monty's table. "That story I told you about Oren and the little Winston girl? Well, this is where it all began-the very first birthday ball."

Ferris's pen was at the ready, poised over a fresh page in his notebook. What happened?"

"Lots of people would still like to know. Back then, Belle Winston was only eleven years old, skinny and shy." He pointed to the other side of the room. "She was trying to disappear into that row of potted trees. Oren was over by the bandstand. They were twenty feet apart when it happened. Ever see two children struck by lightning? It was a thing to behold. The two of them just stared at each other, circling around like little foxes scouting the territory.

"The band started playing, and people were pairing off for a slow dance. Belle was standing there, waiting so patiently. Oren couldn't take his eyes off her, but he hung back. Then the girl made it easy for him, though it cost her a lot to do it. Like I said, she was shy. She walked out on the dance floor all alone. Well, four mules couldn't have held that boy back. He moved toward her. Heads were turning everywhere. People stopped dancing to watch them. Then the crowd made a circle around those two kids when they met at the center of the room.

"The little girl smiled and lifted her hands to take Oren as her partner. He was only inches away. The boy stared at her for a second or two, and then I guess the girl just didn't make the cut. He walked right past her, left her standing there all by herself. I remember Belle looking down at her patent leather shoes-while everyone else was staring at her. A few kids were laughing. Oren kept walking-walked right out the front door. One kid in the crowd shouted out an unkind joke. And that little girl just stood there for the longest time, trying to figure out what had just happened to her… and why.

"When I showed up for the next year's ball, I saw her sitting on the staircase out in the foyer. I think she was still waiting for Oren, but he never came back."

By trade, Ferris Monty was a cheerleader for every sort of catastrophe, but tonight, he surprised himself. He found that he could relate to the public humiliation of an eleven-year-old girl. "Why did he do that to her?"

The postmaster smiled and shrugged. "It's a mystery."

Evelyn Straub looked up at a towering ice bird that stood guard over the seafood platters. She filled her plate with shrimp and scallops, while reminiscing with the small woman at her side. "I guess Oren was sixteen when I asked him what happened that night. He told me he got to within a foot of the little Winston girl, and that's when-"

"He remembered that he didn't know how to dance," said Hannah.

The judge had not come down from dancing people. The housekeeper had never learned how, and neither had the boys and girls of Coventry in those days. Children had no formal lessons until they reached the age of prom night, when the school took them in hand for ballroom classes. Hannah had not foreseen the lack of dancing lessons as a life-altering threat to a twelve-year-old boy.

Addison Winston avoided looking at his client. He stared at his glass, as if the details of William Swahn's old case eluded him. "No, I don't believe I ever saw the dispatcher's sworn statement. What of it?"

"Oren Hobbs said the woman disappeared before the police could question her. So that's true?"

"It hardly matters. I'm sure there would've been logbooks or tapes to back up what happened to you that night."

"You don't know? You never asked for the tapes?"

"William, when you were in the hospital, you didn't want to hear any details. And I don't recall you ever asking how I got you all that money."

"I'm asking now."

Addison loosened his tie. "Your settlement hung on the evidence that the police didn't produce, things they didn't want in a public court record. That's why they put your deal on the table so fast. It was all about silence and the domino effect. The LAPD had so many lawsuits pending for corruption and brutality, and they stood to lose all of them because of you. You were the poster boy for police-conspiracy theorists. I hate to admit this, but a chimpanzee could've won that damage award."

"Then Hobbs was right. My case was never investigated."

"I'm sure it was." The lawyer swirled the dregs of the wine in his glass. "But that would've ended after the nondisclosure agreements were signed.

When I do a deal, contract law trumps criminal law. They couldn't go forward with an investigation, not without breaking the agreement. They would've had to pay you triple damages." "Did you think the cops were guilty?"

"It didn't matter to me," said Addison. "But you thought so. Maybe you don't remember-what with all those drugs the doctors gave you to dull the pain. The only time you were halfway lucid was in the recovery room after the surgery. You wanted revenge, and not just against the officers who left you to die that night. You wanted to nail every cop in town. Tall order, but I totally screwed the LAPD. I gave you what you asked for."

"I want to reopen the case."

"Can't be done, William. Breach of contract. You'd have to give back all that lovely cash." Addison moved his hands up and down in the manner of scales. "Justice," he said, his right hand rising. "And money." The other hand sank like a stone. "Not a tough call."

"No it isn't," said Swahn. "I want to reopen the case."

The lawyer laughed. His client did not.

Addison felt a pain in his chest and slipped a pill into his mouth. Within seconds, the medication had done its work, and he was immortal again.

Evelyn took Oren's arm, and he led her to the judge's table. When he pulled out a chair, she settled into it with a grace that chiseled away the pounds and passing years. She nodded to the company around her and then surveyed the crowd.

"This room is ready to dance." She slapped the table. "But that music is boring. I'll have to do something about that."

She rose from her chair and crossed the dance floor for a word with the orchestra leader. Before she left the bandstand, the tempo had changed to a Latin rhythm, and she seemed lighter on her feet as she headed back to the table. Twenty years ago, her hips would have swayed. Tonight she simply stepped in time to the beat of a drum and horns, turning gracefully full circle, and then continuing on her way. Many couples on the floor seemed stalled in place, not knowing where to put their feet this time. Addison Winston waved his arms, trying to catch the orchestra leader's eyes, but the man with the baton only smiled for Evelyn Straub, a woman who knew how to spread her money around.