The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (top e book reader txt) 📕

“To talk to a Mr. Bill Bragden, someone who was in that crowd following Chad around earlier. Feel like coming with me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And for once, I hope wherever we’re going includes an air conditioner.”

They climbed inside the car. The windows had been left down, but the interior upholstery was still hot. As she and Walter clipped their seat belts, her phone buzzed. The screen showed a text from Tomas, along with a photograph. The message said: This is the one found under the infant’s body in case you need it. The attached image was a close-up of a small, silver anchor charm.

Got it, she texted in reply, feeling a wave of frustration wash over her. She turned to Walter. “Picture of the anchor,” she said.

He nodded. “It’s going out on the news later today, too. I’m not in favor of it, but Pait insists. There won’t be any mention that it was found with the bodies, just an appeal to anyone who might recognize it to get in touch with us right away.”

“I don’t like it either,” she said. “But maybe it will stir something up.”

“What’s the story on this little field trip we’re taking?”

“I met this guy at the hotel the first time I stayed over after our pineapple man turned up. He seemed polite. And old. But he was at the field again today, watching with the rest of Chad’s groupies.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Why the interest?”

“Tomas says he’s been around for a long time. And Bragden told me today that his own son-in-law, who worked for the pineapple company, disappeared.”

“Got it. You talk and I’ll listen, okay?”

She cleaned the lenses of her sunglasses and adjusted the seat, then eased out of the parking space and followed the service road back out to the main road. She could see Chad and his followers still keeping vigil on the far side of the police barrier. He was watching her as she drove away, and she held her hand out of the window, pointing her index finger directly at him. She could see him grinning.

“You’ve got to stop letting that guy get under your skin,” said Walter, watching the interaction.

“Yeah. While I’m at it, I’ll stop the tides from washing in and out, too.”

The road wound inland, back into town. Bill’s address was easily located, and Kali parked along the curb outside of the house. They climbed out of the car and stood facing the modest structure. It had a tin roof and a small, fenced front garden that looked as though someone spent a lot of time tending it, with several large bird-of-paradise plants and red-and-blue ginger bushes blooming near the gate. A short walkway led through the garden to the front door, which was open. Kali walked ahead and knocked on the exterior screen door, then stood waiting patiently. From within, there was the faint sound of classical music, and feet approaching across a tiled floor.

Bill’s figure filled the doorway. “Come in!” he said, stepping aside. She pushed open the screen door and entered the cool interior, followed closely by Walter. They paused just inside the entrance. There was no formal foyer, and the cool, tiled interior was immediately on view.

“This is Police Captain Walter Alaka’i,” she said, introducing Walter. Her eyes swept the room. She was immediately fascinated by her surroundings, and struck by the dated nature of the furnishings and décor. Everything seemed to be upholstered in a faded, flowery pattern of pink roses and winding green vines against a cream background. The room’s multiple shelves were heavy with small figurines and vases, and there was a glass-fronted cabinet on spindly legs that was filled with a set of matching china. Standing in front of the overstuffed sofa was an ornate wood-and-glass coffee table covered with decorative bowls and glossy magazines.

She looked closely at the cover of the top magazine in the stack, noticing that the publication date was several years old. Visible through a wide doorway into the back of the house was a kitchen, and a second arched opening that revealed a room where the end of a piano could be seen.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Bill gestured to the sofa, noticing Kali’s gaze. He smiled, but there was reservation in the expression. He sat down in one of the two matching easy chairs that faced the sofa from an identical angle, separated by a small table. The chair and sofa arrangement was clearly positioned to maximize ease in conversation between those who might be seated there. Kali wondered if Bill had a lot of guests who stopped by to pass the time with him.

Walter sank down into the thick cushions of the sofa. Kali sat next to him, facing Bill, her attention caught by a large glass figurine of a rearing horse rising from what appeared to be a bouquet of pink glass roses. Bill sat back in his chair, following her eyes.

“Bit of a time capsule, isn’t it?” She felt her face flush, suddenly aware that she’d been staring and that Bill likely thought her rude. “I’m sorry, it just . . .”

“Doesn’t seem like the home of an old bachelor?” He laughed softly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an imagination—or strong opinion, for that matter—when it comes to these things. Everything is exactly as it was when I lost my wife some years ago. I dust and sweep and polish when I remember to, but otherwise things stay the same.” He hesitated, then reached out with one hand to finger the edge of a candy bowl on the table between the chairs. “I find it oddly comforting. There are no surprises.”

Kali nodded, thinking of the glass coffee press on her kitchen counter. It was still in exactly the same spot where Mike had kept it, and she liked knowing that it was there; an imperfect yet unbroken thread to past mornings that had been filled with banter and companionship.

“I understand,” she