Q Is for Quarry

ongion, carrot, kohlrabi –"
    "I love vegetable soup!" I said, with perhaps more enthusiasm than I'd ordinarily express. I tipped my spoon down into the depths, bringing up a rich cargo of root vegetables.
    She was still peering. "Is also head, neck, lungs, and liver of one lamb."
    The spoon was already in the air by then, soup sailing toward my mouth as though of its own accord. As the spoon reached my lips, I caught a glimpse of porous gray chunks, probably minced lobe of lung, along with some floaters of something I was too fearful to ask about. I puckered my lips and made a slurping sound, sucking up the broth while deftly avoiding the little knots of offal. I made insincere Mmm noises.
    "I come right beck with noodles."
    "Take your time."
    As soon as she left, I put my spoon down, craning to check all four comers of the room. "I wonder if I have time to scoot to the toilet and put this back where it belongs. She doesn't even have planters where , I can dump the stuff."
    Henry leaned closer to the bowl. "Is that a nostril? Oh no, sorry. It's probably just a little cross-section of heart valve. Head's up. Here she comes again."
    Rosie was returning to the table with a dinner-sized plate in hand. I made a big display of stirring my soup and wiping my mouth with a napkin as she set the noodles in front of me. I patted my chest as though overwhelmed, which I was. "This is filling. Really rich."
    I stole an apprehensive look at the dish as she placed it on the table beside my soup bowl, experiencing a flash of relief. "What's that, manicotti?"
    "Is call palacsinta tészta. Like what you call crepes."
    "Hungarian crepes. Well, that sounds wonderful. I can do that."
    "I fill with calf's brains scrembled with egg. Very dainty. You'll see. I can teach you to make."
    "Okay then, I'll just chow down," I said. She stood by the table, as though prepared to monitor my every bite. I leaned to one side, focusing my gaze on the far side of the room. "I think William's calling you. It looks like he needs help."
    Rosie crossed to the bar where she and William engaged in a baffled conversation. Meanwhile, I'd grabbed up my shoulder bag and I was rooting through the contents. Earlier that day, I'd spotted an out-dated grocery list done on a sheet of yellow legal paper. I kept one eye on Rosie while I folded the note paper into a cone, pointed at the bottom with a wide mouth at the top. I turned the pointed bottom up to form a seal. I forked up crepes in rapid succession, ignoring the gnarly bits that fell back on the plate. I folded the top down, wrapped the cone in a paper napkin, and shoved the bundle in my purse. By the time Rosie glanced in my direction, I was bent over my plate, making fake chewing motions while trying to look entranced. Another couple entered the bar and her attention was distracted. I put a twenty on the table near Henry's plate. "Tell her I was called away on an emergency."
    Henry pointed to my soup, most of which was still in the bowl. "I'll I have her put that in a jar and bring it over to you later tonight. I know how you hate to see food go to waste."

Chapter 10
----
    I was home earlier than I'd intended, concerned that calf brain would leak out of the makeshift container and contaminate the interior of my shoulder bag. As I passed Henry's garbage can, I removed the bundle from my purse and dumped it. I lifted my head, alerted by the dim j ringing of a phone somewhere. I banged down the lid and hurried to my front door, unlocking it in haste. Three rings. Four. I slung my bag on a kitchen chair and snatched up the receiver. My answering machine had already kicked in and I was forced to override my own voice, singing, "It's me. I'm here. Don't go away. I'm answering."
    "Kinsey?"
    The caller was male and he spoke against the dull murmur of background conversations. I put a hand against one ear. "Who's this?"
    "Pudgie."
    "Well, hi. This is a surprise. I didn't think I'd hear from you. What's up?"
    "You said call if I thought of something, but you have to promise you won't let this get back to him."
    I found myself straining to hear. "Back to who?"
    "Frankie. You ever meet him?"
    "Not yet."
    "He's a crazy man. You can't tell it right off because he's good at faking it... like he's normal and all, but believe me, you don't want to mess with him."
    "I didn't realize you knew him."
    "I don't, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out the guy's a freak."
    "Is that why you called, to say how nuts he