Dance of the Bones

Brandon nodded. “I don’t see any reason why she should have to be, but I do have one more question. You and Amos worked together for a long time. Do you mind telling me how all that came about?”


For the first time, a look of regret passed across John Lassiter’s burly face. “Back when I was a kid, my family situation wasn’t the best,” he said. “My dad was a drunk, my mom whored around, and Amos was our next--door neighbor. When things got too tough at our house, Amos took me in and looked after me. I admit, for a long time he was like a father to me. When I was a teenager and got myself in hot water, Amos was the one who bailed me out and kept me from being shipped off to juvie. But once I got over being a teenager, Amos never noticed. He couldn’t see that I had turned into a man and that I didn’t need him running my life anymore—-telling me what I could or couldn’t do, who I could or couldn’t date.”

Lassiter broke off and took a moment to pull himself back together. “So when do you think this happened?” he asked. “When do you think he died?”

“Probably right after you had that fight,” Brandon answered.

“So maybe he didn’t take off? Maybe somebody killed him and took all that stuff?”

“Maybe,” Brandon answered.

“All this time, ever since Amos disappeared, that’s what I’ve hated him for more than anything—-for taking off without a word. But if someone murdered him, maybe he didn’t desert me after all. Maybe it’s time I rethink that whole thing.”

“Maybe so,” Brandon agreed. “Desertion is one thing; murder is another. Thanks for your help.”

FORTUNATELY FOR ME, SCOTT BEAUMONT is currently a very low man on the Seattle PD totem pole. That means he’s required to work weekend shifts almost all the time. That reality may have been bad for Scott and Cherisse right then, but it was good for me that Friday night. It meant we left the Behind the Badge gala early on.

My AmEx card had gotten a good workout. Much to my amazement and even without so much as a sip of the steadily flowing wine, I had gotten into the whole charity auction groove and had come away with several pricey purchases. The first was a trip for four to Walt Disney World—-tickets, hotel, and airfare included—-that would make a great gift for my daughter, Kelly, and her family. It turns out all four of them, from my son--in--law, Jeremy, right on down, love anything Disney. I’m sure I paid more than I should have for that because the guy I was bidding against was an overbearing jackass. In other words, I couldn’t help myself.

The second item was a getaway weekend for two at one of the top--of--the--line B and B’s in Port Angeles. I’d overheard Cherisse talking to Scott about how much she’d love to go there for their wedding anniversary. It was part of the silent auction, so she had no way of knowing I had purchased it until that section of the auction closed and I handed the certificate over to her.

“Happy anniversary,” I said. “Just make sure he has the weekend off.”

As for the third item? That was an immense piece of multiple--layered and thoroughly bubble--wrapped Dale Chihuly glass resting in the trunk. It was bright red, one of Mel’s favorite colors. I had no idea where we’d put it—-in the condo or somewhere in the new house—-but it was ours now. And I bought it for the same reason I bought the Disney tickets—-I was bidding against the same guy.

Scott and Cherisse stopped in front of Belltown Terrace. Scott carried the piece of glass art into the building, and the night doorman put a BACK IN A MINUTE sign on his desk long enough to help me get it up to the unit. My phone was ringing as I let him back out the door.

“How’s the party?” Mel asked.

“I’m home,” I told her.

“Already?”

“It’s ten,” I said, “so not that early. But if it’s ten here, it’s one there. What are you doing up so late?”

“The clock may say it’s late. My body begs to disagree. I’m not the least bit sleepy. What did you buy?”