Dead Man's Bones Read Online Free PDF Page B

spoonful of chutney. “Watch that stuff—it’s a little hot.”
    “Yeah,” Blackie said. “There were a few coins lying under the skeleton, like maybe they’d been in a pocket when the cloth rotted. They were mostly from the 1950s and ’60s. The latest was a 1975 penny with a crisp rim, no scratches. Looks like it hadn’t been in circulation for more than a few months.” He forked curry into his mouth.
    “So you’re putting the date of death somewhere after 1975?” McQuaid asked.
    Blackie sucked in a breath, his eyes watering. “Wow,” he said reverently. “Oh, man, this is good stuff. Did you make this, China? Will you marry me?”
    “She’s already married,” Brian explained, with a teenage literalness.
    “You’ll have to marry McQuaid,” I said. “The chutney in the red bowl is his. Mine’s in the green bowl. It has more flavor and less firepower.”
    “He can’t marry him, either,” Brian explained. “Guys don’t marry guys.” He frowned. “Except that I saw something on TV about these guys in Massachusetts who—”
    “Thanks, Brian,” McQuaid interrupted in a meaningful tone. Dad-speak.
    “Didn’t know you could make stuff like this, McQuaid,” Blackie said. “Hotter’n an El Paso sidewalk in August.” He spooned more chutney onto his curry, adding, “We’re putting the date of death after 1975. We checked the regional missing-person reports for that time period, and came up with a list of possibles. Nobody local, though, which strikes me as a little odd.”
    “Yeah?” McQuaid asked.
    “Yeah. That cave’s never been on the tourist trail, and only a few of the locals knew about it—until that crazy old lady stumbled onto the robbery cache.” Blackie shook his head. He and Aunt Velda do not get along very well. He had a little trouble swallowing her tale about the Klingons, when she found that gold in the cave. I wondered what he would say if I told him she had recently been to Mars.
    “Brian said the guy’s skull was crushed,” McQuaid remarked.
    “Like maybe that big rock fell on him,” Brian put in, looking up from his plate. “It weighed ten pounds, at least.” He dropped a piece of chicken for Howard Cosell, who shot out his tongue and snapped it up. Howard may look slow and lazy, but where food is concerned, he’s as fast on the draw as Billy the Kid.
    “That’s what it looks like.” Blackie sounded cautious. “We don’t know for sure that this is a man, though.”
    “He was wearing jeans,” Brian said definitively. “And sandals. At least,” he amended, “I thought I saw a sandal—like a Birkenstock, I mean. It had some foot bones in it.” He shivered. “I didn’t stick around to have a look.”
    “Oh, please, ” I said. “Lots of women wear jeans.” At that very moment, I was wearing jeans and one of my Thyme and Seasons T-shirts. I stuck out my right foot. “And sandals. My sandal has foot bones in it, too,” I added, wiggling it.
    “Yeah, Brian,” McQuaid said, mock-stern. With a wink at me, he added, “The devil is in the details. If you’re going to be a scientist, you have to learn not to jump to conclusions.” He turned to Blackie. “So you think it was a caving accident?”
    “I’m not so sure,” Blackie said, in a tone that sounded unusually cautious, even for him. “It’s those sandals that’ve got me wondering.” He frowned. “Brian, if you were going caving, would you wear sandals?”
    “Heck, no,” Brian replied, with the disdain of the expert. “I always wear leather boots. Anyway, it’s not just the cave. First, you’ve got to get there, which usually means a hike. Most caves are in the backcountry, and hiking in sandals is no fun. You can’t tell when you might stir up a rattlesnake.”
    “That’s what I was thinking,” Blackie said. “And that cave is way back, just off the ridge, on what used to be the old Swenson Ranch. A caver would have to drive ten miles across the ranch—which raises a question