The Bone Man (7 page)

“Pretty,” I said. “I love this drive. One of these days I’ll make it out to West Chop.”

He chuckled. I never seemed to get beyond Delphine’s shop and her American Indian artifacts. We were only minutes from her shop and home, and I felt the usual anticipation.

“Belle and I are thrilled to have you here, so don’t take this wrong, but you shouldn’t . . . I’m not good with you going to that shop.”

“Why? We’ve always had a kick going there before. You’re the one who introduced me to Delphine.”

He nodded. “To plenty of people. She’s a good woman. I wanted her to thrive, but . . .” His fingers danced on the steering wheel.

“You don’t have to tell me, Dan.”

He nodded. “I know. Delphine had an affair with my brother-in-law. More than twenty years ago.”

“But he was married to—”

“Belle’s sister? Yes.” He lowered his window, and the air slapped our faces. Penny scooched closer so her nose poked out the window.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

He nodded. “It matters. What with the doc’s death and all. Belle’s sister killed herself over it.”

I hadn’t known. Sad stuff, and all too typical of human relationships and frailties. I was glad I hadn’t told him about the reconstruction, just that I wanted to visit Delphine’s shop.

“You’re up to something,” Dan said. “Oh, you haven’t told me what, but I feel it, my dear. Of course I do. You plan to ferret stuff out.” He almost smiled. “You’re the best ferreter I know.”

“Gee, thanks. I would never—”

“I can’t have Belle, well, upset,” he said. “You know? Can’t have it.”

He made the left onto Old Lighthouse Road, and we were soon bumping and thumping down the potholed dirt surface.

About half a mile up the road, I spotted Delphine’s large nineteenth-century Greek Revival home that also served as her shop. “Park under this tree, please?” I said. “Right here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

He looked at me, straight on, and my jocular friend had vanished beneath a fierce and disturbing exterior, one that held a silent threat.

Penny growled.

“Dan?”

His barrel chest bellowed, then sank. He rested his chin on his chest. “I never should have told. Jerry was a fool. Delphine would never breathe a word of it. But you, Tal . . . that’s why I told you. That’s all. Delphine has that death on her head.”

I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

Penny stayed by my side as we set off down the road, hugging the tree line. I didn’t mind the walk. It felt good to be outside, and I would call Dan when I was ready to go back to his place. The side of the road was sandy, another thing I loved about the ocean, and sand slipped inside my sandals. A soft breeze lifted my tentacled curls, brushing one across my face. I pushed it away. A car rounded the curve, and I stepped into the shadow of an overhanging oak.

Once the car passed, I walked on and soon came to the end of a white picket fence flooded with long-past rosa rugosas. I peeked out from a large flame bush beginning to turn.

A woman stood in the stoop of the front door shop entrance. She wore a T-shirt beneath her billowing lavender jumper, granola-style. I couldn’t see her face, but she bore the stance of someone young and bristling with life. Long, tiny braids flowed from her bandana-bound hair. The braids were white-blond and dangled to the small of her back, while wispy curls danced around her face. They swayed as she talked on her cell phone, and I felt her smile even this far away. Her left hand waved and dipped, and her braids bobbed like bouncing puppets when she nodded.

I’d bet that was Zoe. The shop was obviously open, but not busy. A perfect time to chat, take a look around and get a sense of what was going on.

I took a step forward. In that moment, a pink Cadillac convertible rounded the corner and beeped. The thing was a boat, circa 1960, complete with fins. My, my. Damn, someone was primed for shopping and . . .

“Tally!” hollered the woman in the driver’s seat.

The woman wore a pink scarf wrapped tight around her head and neck, a la Kim Novak in
Vertigo
. Except, this woman I knew and . . .

Penny began barking like crazy, full of excitement and joy. Who the hell? “
Carmen?
What are you doing here?”

The Cadillac halted in a screech and billows of dust.

“Geesh, Carm,” I said. “I’m trying to be secretive here!”

My best friend’s face fell. “Crap. Sorry. Belle told me you were on the Island, going to Delphine’s shop, so I came looking for you.”

I looked back at the shop. The girl on the phone had disappeared, presumably inside. Ah, well. So much for stealth.

“This is obviously
not
a coincidence, dear friend,” I said. “What are you up to?”

“Me? Nothing. Coincidences
can
happen. I was vacationing here. Down from Maine.”

“Where’s the family?” I snagged Carmen’s arm as she moved forward. “And what’s with the pink car and scarf?”

She gave me one of her goofy looks, a la Lucy. “The restaurant’s been doing, um, not so hot. We needed something else. Bob, well, he’s, let’s just say it’s up to me. I’m not entirely here to vacation. Nope, I’m also here as Ms. Organic Mary Kay.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a new company called Organic Pink. Same getup as Mary Kay, but organic. I even brought the car over on the ferry. Pretty neat. Get it now, duh?”

It sounded like a recipe for a lawsuit to me, and Bob . . . I was disturbed to hear there was a problem. And as for coincidences . . .

But that was for later. “You look great, hon.” Carmen, at six-foot-plus, would be astonishing in a MK pink outfit, yet the scarf and car, oddly enough, worked. I hugged her. “You’re fabulous, Carm. Always.”

She laughed. “Yup suh. Sure am, and don’t I know it.”

“C’mon,” I said to Carmen. Penny leapt into the Caddy’s backseat, and I hopped in front. “Why don’t you come with me to visit the shop?”

“Love to.” She put the boat of a car in gear. “Afterward, I’ll give you a lift back to Dan and Belle’s. Lots to tell.”

“Knowing you, Carm, I can only imagine.” I gave the humongous pink convertible Cadillac another look. “I’ve really never seen a car like this in the flesh.”

She winked. Cripes.

The bell jingled as we entered the shop. I poked my head in. “Zoe?”

No answer.

Persian rugs, old wide-board pine floors, exposed beams—Delphine’s shop was a feast for the eyes. Penny’s nails went
clack-clack
on the wood floor as we turned left, into a modern room filled with American Indian art from contemporary artists. It drove me crazy not to look at all Delphine’s new pieces, but I needed to find Zoe. The shop took up the entire first floor of the classic Greek Revival home, and one room led into another to form a perfect square. We walked through the front, contemporary room, through an arch and into the second room, one at the back of the house. It was filled with Delphine’s collection of American Indian and Southwestern sculpture. I wondered what Didi would have thought of the place. I smiled. Unless there were bones, I doubted she would have found it very interesting.

“This stuff is gorgeous,” Carmen said.

“Yeah, it sure is.” This shop was where I first had seen the wonderful sculptures by Roxanne Swentzell and Allan Houser and Nila Wendall.

Carmen walked to a bronze of a full-figured woman, reclining, her hand raised, a sweet smile on her face. Carmen smiled back, and she caressed the sculpture’s hand with her own large, capable one.

“Don’t touch that sculpture!” barked a voice.

We both turned. Penny let out a low growl.

The girl in the violet jumper and long white-blond braids stood in the doorway, her eyes frightened, cell phone in hand.

“Sedni,”
I said to Penny in Czech, her native language and one I often used for commands. “Sit. Good girl. Zoe?”

She snapped the phone shut. “Yes. Please get that dog out of here. She’ll ruin things.”

“She really won’t,” I said. “She’ll be fine. Promise.”

I introduced myself and Carmen. “I don’t think that Carmen will hurt the bronze, either.”

“No. I guess not.” She moved toward us with a tentative smile. One of her front teeth was slightly crooked, which made her looks even more endearing. “No. No of course she can’t.”

Zoe stared at the sculpture with a look of longing, and, I mouthed
Go
to Carmen.
Take Penny
.

“Ayuh,” Carmen said in her thickest Down East accent. “Pretty stuff. I’m gonna browse the shop, yup suh. Take the dog. Okay by you?”

“Of course,” Zoe said. “Yes. It’s fine. But I’ve got an errand I have to run in fifteen minutes. I hope that’s all right. I’ll have to lock the shop.”

Her expression was sweet and kind, a look that would melt a man. But her skin was mottled, her eyes puffy. Crying about what, I wondered. And her nervous fingers played with the cell phone in her hand.

As soon as Carmen and Penny left the room, I said, “Are you okay?”

She bit her lower lip. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You sure? Is it . . . is it Delphine?”

Her blue eyes widened and tears pooled on her lids. “How did you know?”

“I, well . . .” I drew in a deep breath. “You know I want to talk to her.”

She sniffled.

I dug a tissue from my purse and handed it to her. “Want to talk about it?”

“I shouldn’t.” Her voice was a whisper.

“It might help. Let’s go sit someplace and—”

“No.” She rested a hand on my arm. “I’m being silly. I should be used to it by now.”

“Used to it?”

She walked over to the Swentzell sculpture and wrapped her hand around the sculpture’s much smaller one. “I yelled at your friend because, um, well, she’s my friend. At least I think of her that way. I’m sorry.”

She straightened, brushed her hands down her linen jumper. “There. Better. I shouldn’t let her get to me. That’s so dumb.”

“Delphine?”

She nodded. “I love her. She’s really good to me. But when she’s on these trips, she can be such a witch. She gets crazy with work, and she was just yelling at me when you came in. I . . . I lost it, I guess.”

I walked closer to Zoe, so I could see her eyes. “Delphine. It was Delphine on the phone.”

“Yeah. I told her you wanted to talk to her. But, no. She didn’t have the time. She never has the time. I wish she didn’t lay all this stuff on me.”

“I understand.” But I wasn’t paying total attention. Delphine really was alive. Alive. Yet . . . why couldn’t I just let it go?

“You want to call her back?” Zoe thrust the cell phone in my direction.

“I thought she said no.”

Zoe shrugged. “So? She can’t always have it her way.”

I took the phone, flipped it open and pressed the button for calls received. Delphine’s cell number popped up. I pressed send and held the phone to my ear.

But what I saw was a woman in panic. Zoe looked terrified. She turned away. Delphine’s phone rang once, twice . . .

“What do you want now, Zoe?” growled the voice.

Delphine’s voice. Angry. I flipped the phone closed.

Carmen varoomed the Cadillac around island curves, while I held on to Penny with one hand and dug my heels into the floor.

“Cripes, Carm. Drive slower around these . . . dammit! You’re crazy!”

I looked across at the lapping water. Not that far, really, but enough to kill us if we flipped over. And I thought
I
was a wild driver.

Penny whined.

“Oh, come on, you two,” Carmen said. “It’s fun.”

“Fun? It’s crazy. You’re being crazy and scaring Penny!”

“Well, in that case . . .” Her foot eased off the pedal, and the car slowed to a nearly normal speed for the serpentine roads.

I checked my watch. “Are Dan and Belle expecting us at any time?”

“Not really. I don’t think so. Belle said they’d have cocktails waiting whenever we arrive.”

“Okay. So how come we’re taking this scenic journey?”

“I need to let off some steam,” Carmen said. “I’m pissed.”

“Because Zoe yelled at you?”

“Are you kidding?” She snorted. “That story about how the Delphine woman yelled at her. What a bitch. I hate people like that.”

I puffed out some air. “Yeah. But I never saw that side of Delphine. I really didn’t. Which is why I found the whole thing sort of strange. I wonder . . . Let’s go back.”

“Huh? Where?”

“To the shop.”

“Why?” she said.

“It’s complicated, Carm. Go.”

“I am not your chauffeur,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“You’re right. I’m being unfair. Just gimme a sec, okay? I’ve got to think this thing through. While I’m doing all my thinking, will you
please
turn around?”

Her U-turn sent the tires screeching and Penny howling and my heart just about leaping from my chest. I was thrilled,
thrilled
that no cars had been headed our way.

“Carm, how the frick many years do you think that took off my life, huh? How many? And Penny’s? That’s it. I am never letting you drive again. Never.”

A grin of satisfaction split her lips. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Speaking of . . .” She careened to a stop at the side of the incredibly narrow cliff road, pressed a button on the dash, and the canvas roof began to canopy over us. “We can go faster this way.”

“Oh, joy,” I muttered to myself.

She straightened her head-scarf, cleaned her sunglasses. “You can always walk, you know.”

“Shut up, Carm.”

“Why are we going back?”

The top flopped to a stop, and Carmen pressed levers that secured the top to the windshield.

“Something’s off,” I said. “I’ll explain as we go. I should have talked to Delphine. Not hung up like that. I thought it was her voice, but . . . well, maybe it wasn’t, y’know?”

Of course, when we arrived back at the shop, we were greeted with a sign that said
BE BACK SOON
and a clock dial pointed to three
P.M.
Bummer.

We drove down a neatly paved road lined with trees and very little retail and a few houses, yet we were on the main road from Vineyard Haven to Edgartown. We were headed for the Blacks’ home. They lived on Third Street or Fourth Street or maybe it was Seventh Street—I could never seem to remember—which was a side road off the main one to Edgartown.