Chapter Fourteen
The McCrary’s were very gracious. Nothing was found on the premises.
That wasthe official text reply from the sheriff when I checked my phone the following morning. Since I disliked typing on a small phone, I called Mark as Bishop rolled around in bed, his legs pinned to the mattress by a fat cat snuggled between his thighs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, phone to my ear, I heard the ringing on the other end before I stood then walked to the living room.
“Nate,” Mark said upon picking up his phone. “It’s not even five-thirty in the morning. Unless someone is lying dead on your front stoop…”
He was lucky I didn’t call him at my usual wake up time. I’d slept in this morning, something that I rarely do. In my defense, I’d gotten home late and had stayed up way into the early morning hours talking with Bishop.
He left the rest to dangle but I knew what he meant. “No, no homicides that I know of.” I entered the dark kitchen and flipped on the light. “What I do have is a cell phone number from a person looking to pawn dinosaur bones recently.”
A pregnant pause occurred as I filled the carafe with water and dumped it into the reservoir on the back of the coffee maker. I was about to ask if he were there when he spoke.
“Where did you get that?”
I placed a filter into the basket. “Some do-gooder contacted me with it.”
“Uh-huh. Just like that. Out of the clear blue some Christian soul who happened to know about the theft but has remained anonymous up until now discovered this phone number of a haphazard fossil seller. Then, they somehow decided to contact you, not law enforcement, to relay this cell phone number to.”
“Yep.” I scooped grinds as Bane began to weave around my ankles. Mark cursed a little. “Look, does it matter where the number came from? As long as we have it is all that matters. I was thinking that we could set up some sort of sting operation where—”
“Nate, what the fuck do you think this is? You think you’re Frank Serpico or something?”
“No, I was thinking more along the lines of Paul Newman or Robert Redford.”
He snorted in my ear. “Yeah, well I hate to break it to you but you’re not either of them.”
That was kind of cold. True but cold. “Fine, I’m not a Hollywood heartthrob, but I do know we have a lead that we should follow up on.”
“Tell me the number and we’ll take care of it.”
“How?” I enquired as the machine began perking, filling the room with the wonderful aroma of coffee brewing. I opened a can of salmon delight for Bane.
“What do you mean how?” Mark was getting testy. I could hear it in his voice.
“I mean how do you plan on setting up a sting operation with no knowledge of dinosaur bones?”
“We have a thing now called the internet. Nate, it’s too goddamn early for pussyfooting around. Give me the number and—”
“I want to take part. I can play the role of a paleontologist.”
“No.”
“Then you don’t get the number, and I’ll do it myself on the sly.” He said a few bad words, but my mind was made up. I’d woken up with this plan in my head. Whoever this chipped tooth bastard was he’d hurt Bishop. Call me petty but I wanted my pound of flesh. “I can do it. I’ve picked up enough information from Bishop over the past few months that—”
“Or you could let a real paleontologist contact these people,” Bishop said from behind me. I closed my eyes and sighed. I’d hoped he would sleep through all these tender negotiations. But no, of course not. I turned from dumping cat food into a dish on the counter to stare at my lover. He looked edible. His sleep shorts were crooked, his hair disheveled, and his face thick with short gold whiskers.
“No,” Mark and I said in unison. Before the sheriff could launch a sensible, fact-filled volley at me, I told him I’d call him later and cut the call. Bishop sighed theatrically. “No,” I repeated before reaching for the handle of the fridge to look for something to make for breakfast. “How about some oatmeal with fresh blueberries and—”
“Nate, this person obviously doesn’t know a Diplodocus from a Deinonychus. I do,” he stated passionately. I shook my head as I gathered up the container of berries and a gallon of lowfat milk. “Why not?!”
I closed the fridge with my hip. “Because they’ve seen you. Remember, they tried to knock your head off?” His mouth opened then snapped shut. I nodded once then gathered the rolled oats container as well as the honey jar from the dry good cupboard.
“They saw you too. That night you crashed the four-wheeler.”
Shit. He did have a point. A weak one though. “That was at night and at high speed. If anything I was a blur wearing a Stetson. If they see you, they’ll know that we’re onto them and—”
His phone rang from somewhere in the living room. Off he ran to find it while I rummaged through the spice cupboard for cinnamon. I heard him answer the call while I placed a pot on the stove.