ceiling. Where was the rest of the bal istic evidence?
“You said Ferris may have been sitting on a stool when he took the shots?” I asked.
Ryan nodded.
“Facing the door?”
“Which was probably open. SIJ’s going over the office and hal ways. You wouldn’t believe how much crap is stacked in this place.”
“What about casings?”
Ryan shook his head. “Shooter must have col ected them.”
That didn’t make sense either.
“Why leave the gun, then turn around and col ect the bul et casings?”
“An astute question, Dr. Brennan.”
I had no astute answer.
I offered salad to Ryan. He declined.
Ryan changed gears. “Dropped in on the widow again today.”
“And?”
“The lady won’t be topping my Miss Congeniality bal ot.”
“She’s grieving.”
“So she says.”
“You don’t buy it?”
“My gut says there’s something to gnaw on there.”
“Bad metaphor.” I was thinking of the cats.
“Good point.”
“Any suspects?”
“A plethora.”
“Big word,” I said. “Sexy.”
“Tap pants,” Ryan said.
“Smal words.”
Over dessert, I told Ryan what I’d learned about Kessler’s photo.
“Drum actual y diverted to Paris?”
“Apparently.”
“He’s convinced the print shows this Masada skeleton?”
“And Jake’s not one to get worked up easily.”
Ryan gave me an odd look.
“How wel do you know this Jake?”
“More than twenty years.”
“The query concerned depth, not length of acquaintance.”
“We’re col eagues.”
“Just col eagues?”
Eye rol . “Getting a little personal?”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m thinking maybe we should pool our tips.”
I hadn’t a clue what that meant.
“I also had another chat with Courtney Purviance,” Ryan said. “Interesting lady.”
“Congenial?”
“Until the discussion turns to Ferris or details of the business. Then she slams shut like a bank vault.”
“Protecting the boss?”
“Or afraid she’s going to find herself out on the street. I picked up vibes she’s not al that fond of Miriam.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s not what she said.” Ryan thought a moment. “It was more her demeanor. Anyway, I did pry loose that Ferris dealt in artifacts from time to time.”
“Items from the Holy Land?” I guessed.
“Legal y obtained and transported, of course.”
“There’s a huge black market in il egal antiquities,” I said.
“Colossal,” Ryan agreed.
Synapse.
“You think Ferris was involved with the Masada bones?”
Ryan shrugged.
“And that got him kil ed?”
“Kessler thought so.”
“Have you tracked Kessler down?”
“I wil .”
“Could al be coincidence.”
“Could be.”
I didn’t think so.
8
RYAN WOKE ME SHORTLY AFTER SIX FOR SOME PRE-SUNRISE BONDING.Birdie slipped from the bedroom. Down the hal , Charlie squawked a line from Clarence Carter’s “Strokin’.”
While I showered, Ryan toasted bagels and made coffee. Over breakfast we discussed the cockatiel’s reeducation process.
Though unmentioned on the occasion of our Yuletide exchange, I’d quickly noted Charlie’s unorthodoxrépertoire noir. Upon questioning, Ryan had admitted that our feathered darling came to him via a vice squad raid on a female enterprise. The ladies’ taste had been lusty, and the bird had absorbed.
For months I’d been working to redirect Charlie’s musical and oratorical talents. With mixed results.
At eight, I popped in a cockatiel-training CD and Ryan and I rode together to L’édifice Wilfrid Derome. He headed to thecrimes contre la personne squad room on the first floor, and I took the LSJML elevator to the twelfth.
After shooting close-ups and composing a summary report, I told LaManche that the remains in my possession could be released to the Ferris family.
Though burial had taken place while I was in New Orleans, arrangements had been made for placement of the cranial fragments
“You said Ferris may have been sitting on a stool when he took the shots?” I asked.
Ryan nodded.
“Facing the door?”
“Which was probably open. SIJ’s going over the office and hal ways. You wouldn’t believe how much crap is stacked in this place.”
“What about casings?”
Ryan shook his head. “Shooter must have col ected them.”
That didn’t make sense either.
“Why leave the gun, then turn around and col ect the bul et casings?”
“An astute question, Dr. Brennan.”
I had no astute answer.
I offered salad to Ryan. He declined.
Ryan changed gears. “Dropped in on the widow again today.”
“And?”
“The lady won’t be topping my Miss Congeniality bal ot.”
“She’s grieving.”
“So she says.”
“You don’t buy it?”
“My gut says there’s something to gnaw on there.”
“Bad metaphor.” I was thinking of the cats.
“Good point.”
“Any suspects?”
“A plethora.”
“Big word,” I said. “Sexy.”
“Tap pants,” Ryan said.
“Smal words.”
Over dessert, I told Ryan what I’d learned about Kessler’s photo.
“Drum actual y diverted to Paris?”
“Apparently.”
“He’s convinced the print shows this Masada skeleton?”
“And Jake’s not one to get worked up easily.”
Ryan gave me an odd look.
“How wel do you know this Jake?”
“More than twenty years.”
“The query concerned depth, not length of acquaintance.”
“We’re col eagues.”
“Just col eagues?”
Eye rol . “Getting a little personal?”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m thinking maybe we should pool our tips.”
I hadn’t a clue what that meant.
“I also had another chat with Courtney Purviance,” Ryan said. “Interesting lady.”
“Congenial?”
“Until the discussion turns to Ferris or details of the business. Then she slams shut like a bank vault.”
“Protecting the boss?”
“Or afraid she’s going to find herself out on the street. I picked up vibes she’s not al that fond of Miriam.”
“What did she say?”
“It’s not what she said.” Ryan thought a moment. “It was more her demeanor. Anyway, I did pry loose that Ferris dealt in artifacts from time to time.”
“Items from the Holy Land?” I guessed.
“Legal y obtained and transported, of course.”
“There’s a huge black market in il egal antiquities,” I said.
“Colossal,” Ryan agreed.
Synapse.
“You think Ferris was involved with the Masada bones?”
Ryan shrugged.
“And that got him kil ed?”
“Kessler thought so.”
“Have you tracked Kessler down?”
“I wil .”
“Could al be coincidence.”
“Could be.”
I didn’t think so.
8
RYAN WOKE ME SHORTLY AFTER SIX FOR SOME PRE-SUNRISE BONDING.Birdie slipped from the bedroom. Down the hal , Charlie squawked a line from Clarence Carter’s “Strokin’.”
While I showered, Ryan toasted bagels and made coffee. Over breakfast we discussed the cockatiel’s reeducation process.
Though unmentioned on the occasion of our Yuletide exchange, I’d quickly noted Charlie’s unorthodoxrépertoire noir. Upon questioning, Ryan had admitted that our feathered darling came to him via a vice squad raid on a female enterprise. The ladies’ taste had been lusty, and the bird had absorbed.
For months I’d been working to redirect Charlie’s musical and oratorical talents. With mixed results.
At eight, I popped in a cockatiel-training CD and Ryan and I rode together to L’édifice Wilfrid Derome. He headed to thecrimes contre la personne squad room on the first floor, and I took the LSJML elevator to the twelfth.
After shooting close-ups and composing a summary report, I told LaManche that the remains in my possession could be released to the Ferris family.
Though burial had taken place while I was in New Orleans, arrangements had been made for placement of the cranial fragments
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