Throw in the Trowel by Kate Collins

for fresh air. Sometimes they’ll leave it ajar because they know they’ll be making another trip out to the Dumpster soon, or someone is out for a smoke and leaves it open. Right now I don’t really care what the reason is. Someone is to blame and that person is going to get fired.”
    I was glad I wasn’t in Rafe’s shoes. Whether he was directly responsible or not, he’d screwed up yet again. “Is there an alarm you can put on the door that will sound an alert when it’s left open longer than a minute?”
    â€œSince I can’t seem to count on my brother to monitor it, I guess I’ll have to look into it.” With a heavy sigh he said, “What do I tell the coroner when he comes to collect the bones?”
    I wanted to reply,
That he should have collected them as soon as they were discovered so they weren’t our problem,
but I knew that in Marco’s present mood, the comment would only stir his wrath. Instead, I tried to channel his thoughts away from the angry side.
    â€œHow is it possible to get a skeleton out of the basement without being seen?”
    â€œThe bones aren’t connected. They were probably thrown in a bag and carried out like a load of laundry.”
    â€œStill, any of the staff could have come upon the thief leaving the basement,” I said. “Who would take that risk?”
    â€œA desperate person, Abby. Do you understand now why I didn’t want that newspaper article to come out yet? And why I want the police to handle the investigation? I could choke MacKay for bringing us into it.”
    Well,
that
diversion didn’t work.
    â€œWe can forget a DNA analysis now.” Marco pulled out his cell phone and handed it to me. “Would you call Sean and ask him if he’s free to meet me at the bar in about half an hour?”
    I gave him a look that said,
Seriously? Me?
    â€œNever mind,” Marco said. “How about dialing for me?”
    I found Reilly in his contacts and hit the CALL button, then handed the phone back.
    â€œHey, Sean, it’s Marco. What’s happening?” He listened a few moments, then said, “If you’re free, would you meet me at the bar this evening? I need your advice on something. Great. Sure. I just have to drop Abby off at home, so give me about thirty minutes.”
    I tapped Marco’s arm. “You’re not leaving me out of this, Salvare.”
    â€œMake that fifteen, Sean,” Marco amended. “Thanks, man.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    With one beer apiece for Sean Reilly and Marco, and a fresh Shiraz for me, we sat at the second to the last booth at Down the Hatch and exchanged several minutes of pleasantries, mostly about our honeymoon.
    â€œSo this advice you need”—Reilly took a swig of beer—“does it have anything to do with those bones in the basement?”
    â€œIs the news all over the police station?” I asked.
    â€œNah. I saw the article in the
New Chapel News
.” Leaning toward Marco, Reilly said in a low voice, “Several of the guys down at the station have a bet going that you’ll run your own investigation.”
    I was about to say,
Put your money on us, Reilly,
but decided to let Marco do the talking. As usual, he cut right to the chase. “Someone removed the bones, Sean,” he said quietly.
    Reilly’s eyes grew wide. “When?”
    â€œBetween six and seven thirty this evening, while Abby and I were out.”
    â€œThat’s a busy time here,” Reilly said. “Damn, that was ballsy.”
    â€œTell me about it,” Marco said.
    â€œHave you called it in?” Reilly asked.
    â€œI have now,” Marco said.
    Reilly grinned as he pulled a small notepad and pen from his chest pocket and got ready to take notes. “Proceed.”
    â€œMy brother discovered the theft when he noticed muddy shoe prints leading from the back door to the