The Bone Bed

POW camp? Are you a biohazard? Kind of sexy, actually like a warm-fuzzy dive skin, but why gray? These are going into the dishwasher. Lucy must have cleaned up, am I right? Scummy milk film, and sticky enough to attract a flock of hummingbirds.”
    “I’m late for court, and you need to scoot so I can get ready. What are you doing in here, and does Dan understand what’s going on?”
    “Low on coffee and bottled water
avec gaz et sans
, completely out of trail mix, sugar-free granola, protein drinks, and those awful little crackers you like that supposedly are whole-grain or rice or particleboard. Dan’s been dragging out cross-examining the witness who’s right before you. . . .”
    “Thank God.” I pad barefoot to my desk and dig through files.
    “But apparently the judge asked where you were and Dan told him but said judges don’t give a shit about excuses and to hurry and get there.”
    “Have you seen my Mildred Lott file?”
    “So I stopped at Whole Foods and just got here a minute ago.” He opens my closet door. “And of course noticed your little kitchenette in there is a mess just like it always is after Lucy helps herself. She needs to find a nice wife, because her domestic skills don’t exist. It’s right next to your microscope, where you left it. Under some histology reports?”
    He retrieves my suit and blouse.
    “I don’t know what you did with your pantyhose. Figured you pitched them. I realize they don’t have much of a shelf life.”
    I have no idea what I did with them. I probably tucked them in a desk drawer. I don’t care.
    He drapes my clothes over the conference table.
    “I absolutely know Indy wasn’t exposed to onions. Ethan was so happy I was finally back from being in Florida forever, and he made my favorite. His chili’s really amazing, and of course Marino and everyone’s blaming us as if we’re irresponsible and don’t care if we kill our cat.” He looks at me and looks exhausted, fear crouched at the back of his eyes. “She’s only ten weeks old, Dr. Scarpetta, and I’ve had cats before and know when something’s really wrong.”
    “I’m sorry, Bryce.” I set the file on the table and shut the door that leads into the corridor. “We’ll talk about it when I’m back.”
    “I know it happened at the groomer,” he continues from inside my closet, where he’s now looking for something on the floor. “Well, your shoes are here but still no pantyhose. Just a week ago Saturday, her very first visit to get her claws clipped, and there she was with about twenty other animals, including a parrot that was making these strangling, hacking sounds like it had kennel cough. I realize it might have been imitating it, but what if it wasn’t . . . ?”
    “Bryce, I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but I’ve got to get cleaned up.”
    He hands me my shoes.
    “Do you have any idea how careful we are?” He’s on the verge of tears.
    “I promise we’ll chat about this later. . . .”
    “We’re so paranoid about onions and poisonous things, like poinsettias, which we refuse to have in the house, and I don’t eat raw onions anyway. . . .”
    “I’ve got to get ready and can’t with you standing here. . . .”
    “So we always use onion powder, which is better all the way round, because there’s no chance of the ittiest, bittiest piece escaping the counter and ending up on the floor.” His eyes well up.
    “You put onion powder in your chili?” I carry my suit and blouse into the bathroom and hang them on the shower door.
    “Now’s not the time to criticize our cooking.” His voice shakes.
    “I had a cat when I was in law school, and sometimes he refused to eat. . . .”
    “They can be very sensitive. He was probably angry with you.”
    “A vet suggested I give him meat baby food, and apparently it had onion powder in it, which can cause toxicity, the same as raw onions, by oxidizing hemoglobin. . . .”
    “Oh my God! Did he die?”
    “No. It’s just something to think about and mention to the vet. And you need to leave so I can change. Please.”
    “It’s just terribly upsetting.”
    “Well, I guess I’ll just change in here.” I set my shoes on the toilet lid.
    “You need to be aware the media’s been ringing the phone off the hook.”
    His voice sounds loudly, tragically from the doorway that adjoins my office with his, and I unzip the gray liner and hurry out of it, leaving it in a pile on my bathroom