Four hours after the thigh bone was found, Claire stopped in at Monaghans for lunch. The Dinosaurs, seven of them today, all wearing blaze orange over flannel shirts, sat in their usual place, the far left barstools near the milkshake machine.
Ned Tibbetts turned and nodded as Claire came in the door. Not a Warm greeting, but gruffly respectful. Mornin, Doc.
Morning, Mr. Tibbetts.
Gonna be a mean wind blowing in today.
Its already freezing outside.
Coming out of the northwest. Could have snow tonight.
Cup of coffee, Doc? asked Nadine.
Thank you.
Ned turned back to the other Dinosaurs, whod variously acknowledged her entrance, and were now back in conversation. She knew only two of them by name; the others were merely familiar faces. Claire sat alone at her end of the counter, as befitted her outsider status. Oh, people were cordial enough to her.
They smiled, they were polite. But to these natives, her eight months in Tranquility was but a temporary sojourn, a city girls fling with the simple life. Winter, they all seemed to agree, would be the test. Four months of snowstorms and black ice would drive her back to the city, as it had driven off the last two doctors from away.
Nadine slid a steaming cup of coffee in front of Claire. Guess you know all about it, dont you? she said.
All about what?
That bone. Nadine stood watching her, patiently waiting for her contribution to the community pool of knowledge. Like most Maine women, Nadine did a lot of listening. It was the men who seemed to do all the talking. Claire heard them when she walked through the local hardware store or the five-and-dime or the post office. They stood around and gabbed while their wives waited, silent and watchful.
I hear its a kids bone, said Joe Bartlett, swiveling on the stool to look at Claire. A thigh bone.
That right, Doc? another one asked.
The other Dinosaurs turned and looked at Claire.
She said, with a smile, You already seem to know everything about it.
Heard it was whacked up good. Maybe a knife. Maybe an ax. Then the animals got at it.
You boys sure are cheerful today, snorted Nadine.
Three days in those woods, raccoons and coyotes clean your bones straight off.
Then Elwyns dogs come along. Hardly ever feeds em, yknow. Bone like thats a tasty snack. Maybe his dogsve been chewing on it for weeks. Elwyn, he wouldnt think to give it a second look
Joe laughed. That Elwyn, he just plain doesnt think.
Maybe he shot the kid himself Mistook it for a deer.
Claire said, It looked like a very old bone.
Joe Bartlett waved at Nadine. I made up my mind. Ill have the Monte Cristo sandwich.
Whooee! Joes goin fancy on us today! said Ned Tibbetts.
What about you, Doc? asked Nadine.
A tuna sandwich and a bowl of mushroom soup, please.
As Claire ate her lunch, she listened to the men talk about whom the bone might belong to. It was impossible not to listen in; three of them wore hearing aids.
Most of them could remember as far back as sixty years ago, and they batted the possibilities around like a birdie in play Maybe it was that young girl whod fallen off Bald Rock Cliff. No, theyd found her body, remember? Maybe it was the Jewett girl- hadnt she run off when she was sixteen? Ned said no, hed heard from his mother that she was living in Hartford; the girld have to be in her sixties now, probably a grandmother. Fred Moody said his wife Florida said the dead girl had to be from away-one of the summer people. Tranquility kept track of its own, and wouldnt someone remember if a local kid had vanished?
Nadine refilled Claires cup of coffee. Dont they just go on and on? she said. Youd think they was planning world peace.
How do they know so much about it, anyway?
Joes second cousin to Floyd Spear, over at the police department. Nadine began to wipe down the counter, long, brisk strokes that left behind a faintly chlorinated smell. They say some bone experts driving up from Bangor today Way I figure, its gotta be one of those summer people.
That, of course, was the obvious answer-one of the summer people. Whether it was an unsolved crime or an unidentified body, the all-purpose answer served. Every June, Tranquilitys population quadrupled when wealthy families from Boston and New York began arriving for their lakeside vacations. Here, in this peaceful summertime colony, they would linger on the porches of their shorefront cottages while their children splashed in the water. In the shops of Tranquility, cash registers would ring merrily as the summer folk Pumped dollars into the local economy. Someone had to clean their Cottages, repair their fancy cars, bag their groceries. The business from those few short months was enough to keep the local population fed through the winter.
It was the money that made the visitors tolerable. That and the fact that every September, with the falling of the leaves, they would once again vanish, leaving the town to the people who belonged here.
Claire finished her lunch and walked back to her office.
Tranquilitys main street followed the curve of the lake. At the top of Elm Street was Joe Bartletts gas and garage, which hed run for forty-two years until he retired; now his daughters two girls pumped gas and changed oil. A sign above the garage proudly proclaimed: Owned and Operated by Joe Bartlett and Granddaughters. Claire had always liked that sign; she thought it said a lot for Joe Bartlett.