Professor Kearns.’
‘We’ll do it for a round of beers,’ Matt said, surprising himself with his determination to help.
Markenson took a step towards Matt and waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. ‘Not a chance.’
Logan grasped his officer’s shoulder and pulled him back. There was a weariness in his voice when he spoke. ‘Professor Kearns, I’ve got a man lost on the mountain, a woman zoned out in hospital, a lion on the loose and a small child missing. Not to mention weird shit going on all over town. Right about now, we’ll take all the expert help we can get.’
‘We don’t need civvies in on this, Chief,’ Markenson protested. ‘They’ll just –’
‘You got it, Chief Logan,’ Matt cut in, and reached over the top of Markenson’s shoulder to shake Logan’s hand.
They swapped contact details, then the large police chief guided his still remonstrating officer out of the building. Matt thought of the chief’s words, weird shit going on . He stopped dead. What am I doing? He felt a chill of fear go through him. Memories threatened to overwhelm him. He shook his head. No , he thought. It is time to live my life again . He headed out of the library.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He loved mysteries, especially those from ancient times. This would be an exciting professional challenge. And he knew someone else who would dig this job just as much as he did.
*
Matt grinned. ‘Is that the best brown-butter pecan you’ve ever tasted?’
In response, Charles picked up his empty plate and made a show of licking it. His tongue made a squeaking sound as it ringed the plate. An old woman at the next table clicked her tongue in disgust. Matt turned to her and whispered, ‘Just out of prison.’
‘So this is where you’re running away to?’ Charles said. ‘Not bad. Anything interesting going in anthro for me?’
Charles Schroder was professor of physical anthropology at Harvard and one of the few friends Matt had managed to hang on to after the Antarctic experience. Short, with a round face and thinning blond hair, Charles had been nicknamed ‘Charlie Brown’ in school, not helped by the fact that his surname, Schroder, was also the name of one of the comic book character’s friends.
He looked at the folder Matt had brought with him and became more serious. ‘So, what have you got for me, Kook? Why all the excitement?’
‘Charlie, this is such a cool town. As well as looking like something out of a postcard and having the best pie in the state, it’s given us this . . .’ He flipped open the folder and spread out the pictures Logan had emailed him like playing cards in front of his friend. Then he removed a sheet of typed paper and placed it face down on the table.
Charles studied the pictures individually, then came back to the hulking figure in the snow.
Matt leaned forward ‘It’s not a bear, is it?’ He was trying hard not to pre-empt anything or put ideas in his colleague’s mind.
‘Duh . . . maybe a man in a bear suit? C’mon, Matt, this is a hoax. Where’d you get these? From some teenager? Or maybe a middle-aged farmer who reported he’d been abducted by aliens and probed – and I bet you know where.’ Charles laughed.
Matt raised his eyebrows. ‘From a woman who’s now in hospital in, so I’m told, a terror-induced catatonic state. Her husband is missing up on the mountain.’ He turned the sheet of paper over. ‘She had blood on her glove – not hers, not anyone’s really. The lab only managed to come up with an approximate match . . .’ He waved his hand over the page, indicating that his friend should read it for himself.
Charles read the ME’s report, then frowned. He retrieved the photograph of the snow-shrouded figure and this time drew a magnifying glass from his pocket and studied every inch of the print. He pursed his lips and put down the magnifying glass to sip some coffee, then picked it up again and returned to his
‘We’ll do it for a round of beers,’ Matt said, surprising himself with his determination to help.
Markenson took a step towards Matt and waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. ‘Not a chance.’
Logan grasped his officer’s shoulder and pulled him back. There was a weariness in his voice when he spoke. ‘Professor Kearns, I’ve got a man lost on the mountain, a woman zoned out in hospital, a lion on the loose and a small child missing. Not to mention weird shit going on all over town. Right about now, we’ll take all the expert help we can get.’
‘We don’t need civvies in on this, Chief,’ Markenson protested. ‘They’ll just –’
‘You got it, Chief Logan,’ Matt cut in, and reached over the top of Markenson’s shoulder to shake Logan’s hand.
They swapped contact details, then the large police chief guided his still remonstrating officer out of the building. Matt thought of the chief’s words, weird shit going on . He stopped dead. What am I doing? He felt a chill of fear go through him. Memories threatened to overwhelm him. He shook his head. No , he thought. It is time to live my life again . He headed out of the library.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He loved mysteries, especially those from ancient times. This would be an exciting professional challenge. And he knew someone else who would dig this job just as much as he did.
*
Matt grinned. ‘Is that the best brown-butter pecan you’ve ever tasted?’
In response, Charles picked up his empty plate and made a show of licking it. His tongue made a squeaking sound as it ringed the plate. An old woman at the next table clicked her tongue in disgust. Matt turned to her and whispered, ‘Just out of prison.’
‘So this is where you’re running away to?’ Charles said. ‘Not bad. Anything interesting going in anthro for me?’
Charles Schroder was professor of physical anthropology at Harvard and one of the few friends Matt had managed to hang on to after the Antarctic experience. Short, with a round face and thinning blond hair, Charles had been nicknamed ‘Charlie Brown’ in school, not helped by the fact that his surname, Schroder, was also the name of one of the comic book character’s friends.
He looked at the folder Matt had brought with him and became more serious. ‘So, what have you got for me, Kook? Why all the excitement?’
‘Charlie, this is such a cool town. As well as looking like something out of a postcard and having the best pie in the state, it’s given us this . . .’ He flipped open the folder and spread out the pictures Logan had emailed him like playing cards in front of his friend. Then he removed a sheet of typed paper and placed it face down on the table.
Charles studied the pictures individually, then came back to the hulking figure in the snow.
Matt leaned forward ‘It’s not a bear, is it?’ He was trying hard not to pre-empt anything or put ideas in his colleague’s mind.
‘Duh . . . maybe a man in a bear suit? C’mon, Matt, this is a hoax. Where’d you get these? From some teenager? Or maybe a middle-aged farmer who reported he’d been abducted by aliens and probed – and I bet you know where.’ Charles laughed.
Matt raised his eyebrows. ‘From a woman who’s now in hospital in, so I’m told, a terror-induced catatonic state. Her husband is missing up on the mountain.’ He turned the sheet of paper over. ‘She had blood on her glove – not hers, not anyone’s really. The lab only managed to come up with an approximate match . . .’ He waved his hand over the page, indicating that his friend should read it for himself.
Charles read the ME’s report, then frowned. He retrieved the photograph of the snow-shrouded figure and this time drew a magnifying glass from his pocket and studied every inch of the print. He pursed his lips and put down the magnifying glass to sip some coffee, then picked it up again and returned to his
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