Story: Drownings (part six)

Drownings

(part six)

His partner freed a chair and began a conversation. “Ma’am, is Dennis available? Ah. I’ve only got a scribble on my paper…Dustin? Oh, likely not. Julia from Bitterroot. Well… Yes, do. Have him ring this number. Terrible.” The word an empathetic echo. Faia lowered her voice. “I have someone who’s seen the body, whom Mr. Herbertson may wish to speak to.”

“Surely not a Dennis.” McAlley joined her with a tray, two coffees. “I poured for us both, as Lolo, if Lolo is the proprietor, seems to intend. Carafe and mugs yonder.” He nodded to an antique desk, clothed in white linen, holding four carafes, a cream pitcher, a pyramid of hand-thrown mugs. “We’ll lunch on grilled cheese in a moment. Speciality of the house, herb-battered onion crisps over Havarti and white cheddar, per the kind woman behind the shutter.”

Faia said, “A Stephen. What sort of bread?”

“Whole grain sourdough. I take it I’m cast as the man who’s seen the body?”

“I didn’t say a man. I don’t mind playing both roles. Bit of fun.”

“Safer me. But he may not ring back. You assume, rightly enough, that he won’t know he hasn’t got a Julia working for him.”

“Easily could. B’root is simply not listed as such. Is that even legal?”

“It will be listed elsewise. Tap in local employment. Bitterroot has come to lack of late…engineers, technicians… We don’t suppose the work is unskilled. And the rules of dress are rather specific.”

She nudged her phone across. The notetaking app held a list, an accurate list, of Mrs. Blaney’s purloined intelligence. They would retain the password.

V. Tambinder, NOK need

A. Jellison, TBC

Dr. Ka

“Next of kin. To be contacted. Pathologist,” McAlley said, knowing.

An address: 61 Bell Court. Their sandwiches came; at the same time a group of four entered, splitting into couples, bookending Faia and McAlley between two other of the tables.

“Tambinder.” McAlley furnished this—with some dramatic flair—to his new audience, tackling what he found most curious.

“Publicity stunt. Or a real person I get to meet.” Great shrug of indifference. “I’m on the fence. There’s an exposure danger. It’s a good job, and I’ll probably be working in the office.”

One couple stood absorbed at the desk, picking mugs; the others sat murmuring no, no, over cheeses. “They may let them eat grass, it doesn’t mean the contaminants don’t concentrate. But if the Havarti is not from here…”

“It isn’t,” the server said.

“What I hear about the cooperative,” Faia went on, “I’d call mixed at best. Almost say, don’t chance it. Did you know they found another one today?”

6

Drownings

Drownings (part seven)

(2021, Stephanie Foster)