The Bone Man by Vicki Stiefel Page B

leash—a wild and sweet dog, and I was saddened when I heard about his untimely death.
    Dan turned left, then made a right onto North William Street.
    “Pretty,” I said. “I love this drive. One of these days I’ll make it out to West Chop.”
    He chuckled. I never seemed to get beyond Delphine’s shop and her American Indian artifacts. We were only minutes from her shop and home, and I felt the usual anticipation.
    “Belle and I are thrilled to have you here, so don’t take this wrong, but you shouldn’t . . . I’m not good with you going to that shop.”
    “Why? We’ve always had a kick going there before. You’re the one who introduced me to Delphine.”
    He nodded. “To plenty of people. She’s a good woman. I wanted her to thrive, but . . .” His fingers danced on the steering wheel.
    “You don’t have to tell me, Dan.”
    He nodded. “I know. Delphine had an affair with my brother-in-law. More than twenty years ago.”
    “But he was married to—”
    “Belle’s sister? Yes.” He lowered his window, and the air slapped our faces. Penny scooched closer so her nose poked out the window.
    “Why are you telling me this now?”
    He nodded. “It matters. What with the doc’s death and all. Belle’s sister killed herself over it.”
    I hadn’t known. Sad stuff, and all too typical of human relationships and frailties. I was glad I hadn’t told him about the reconstruction, just that I wanted to visit Delphine’s shop.
    “You’re up to something,” Dan said. “Oh, you haven’t told me what, but I feel it, my dear. Of course I do. You plan to ferret stuff out.” He almost smiled. “You’re the best ferreter I know.”
    “Gee, thanks. I would never—”
    “I can’t have Belle, well, upset,” he said. “You know? Can’t have it.”
    He made the left onto Old Lighthouse Road, and we were soon bumping and thumping down the potholed dirt surface.
    About half a mile up the road, I spotted Delphine’s large nineteenth-century Greek Revival home that also served as her shop. “Park under this tree, please?” I said. “Right here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
    He looked at me, straight on, and my jocular friend had vanished beneath a fierce and disturbing exterior, one that held a silent threat.
    Penny growled.
    “Dan?”
    His barrel chest bellowed, then sank. He rested his chin on his chest. “I never should have told. Jerry was a fool. Delphine would never breathe a word of it. But you, Tal . . . that’s why I told you. That’s all. Delphine has that death on her head.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
    Penny stayed by my side as we set off down the road, hugging the tree line. I didn’t mind the walk. It felt good to be outside, and I would call Dan when I was ready to go back to his place. The side of the road was sandy, another thing I loved about the ocean, and sand slipped inside my sandals. A soft breeze lifted my tentacled curls, brushing one across my face. I pushed it away. A car rounded the curve, and I stepped into the shadow of an overhanging oak.
    Once the car passed, I walked on and soon came to the end of a white picket fence flooded with long-past rosa rugosas. I peeked out from a large flame bush beginning to turn.
    A woman stood in the stoop of the front door shop entrance. She wore a T-shirt beneath her billowing lavender jumper, granola-style. I couldn’t see her face, but she bore the stance of someone young and bristling with life. Long, tiny braids flowed from her bandana-bound hair. The braids were white-blond and dangled to the small of her back, while wispy curls danced around her face. They swayed as she talked on her cell phone, and I felt her smile even this far away. Her left hand waved and dipped, and her braids bobbed like bouncing puppets when she nodded.
    I’d bet that was Zoe. The shop was obviously open, but not busy. A perfect time to chat, take a look around and get a sense of what was going on.
    I took a step forward. In