"At the Vipers' clubhouse in St-Basile. Crease and Cherokee went back to Myrtle Beach the winter after Savannah was kil ed. They checked out the body, found the skul and leg bones stil under the tin, the rest skeletonized and scattered by animals. Thinking a human skul would be a hit with the brothers, they decided to haul the undamaged parts back to Quebec."

I was too disgusted to respond.

"Savannah's bones decorated the bar for several years before the Vipers, worried about heat from the police, buried them in the woods."

"Why so close to Gately and Martineau?"

"The proximity of the graves was coincidental. Gately and Martineau were strictly business. Back in '87 the Angels wanted a bar that Gately owned.

That was their way of getting it. Martineau was a friend of Gately's, and had taken a shot at an Angel who was hassling Gately about the bar."

"Bad move."

"Indeed."

"If Crease is innocent of the Osprey murder, why was he so desperate to get that picture?"

"He figured that with the bones becoming front-page news, his past might come out and his career would be oven."

"So he kil ed Cherokee for it."

"We haven't worked that out, but we wil . And the blood on the thing is gonna put him away for the rest of his worthless life."

"He'l deny any link to that photo, and your sole eyewitness won't be testifying."

Jocelyn had arrived at the Montreal General DOA.

"Then the dandruff wil nail him."

"What if the DNA is inconclusive?"

"It won't matter. He's dirty and he'l give it up." So we believed, for another nine hours.

At the hospital the blinds were drawn, the room fil ed with slatted sunlight. Kit was staring at a talk show, the sound turned completely down, while Harry flipped through a fashion magazine. Though he'd been moved from intensive care four days earlier, his face was stil white, and his eyes looked as though they'd been underbrushed with violet paint. His chest was bandaged, and an IV needle ran into a vein in his left arm.

He brightened when he saw me.

"How's it going?" I rubbed the back of his arm.

"Acey, peachy."

"I brought more flowers," I chirped, holding out the selection I'd grabbed at the hospital florist. "The Spring Daisies Bouquet. Guaranteed to freshen the most sagging spirit."

"Pretty soon we're going to need some kind of permit with al the photosynthesis going on in here."

Wriggling to sit higher, he reached for the orange juice on his tray, winced and pul ed back.

"Let me help with that."

I handed him the glass, and he settled into his pil ows, closing his lips around the straw

"How's the breathing?"

"O.K." He rested the glass on his chest.

The bul et intended for Crease had caught Kit at a high angle. It fractured two ribs, nicked a lung, and exited through muscle. A complete recovery was expected.