'Dr. Brennan has a story she wants to share,' said Ryan, puling out his cigarettes.

I looked icicles at him. I would have preferred a lifetime of tax audits to teling Crowe of the Volvo incident.

She listened without interrupting.

'Did you get the license number?'

'No.'

'Can you describe the driver?'

'Wearing a cap.'

'What kind of cap?'

'I couldn't tel.' I could feel my cheeks flush with humiliation.

'Was anyone else present?'

'No. I checked. Look, the whole thing may have been an accident. Maybe it was a kid peeling out in Daddy's Volvo.'

'Is that what you think?' The celery eyes were locked on mine.

'No. I don't know.'

I placed my hands on the tabletop, puled them back, and wiped spiled beer onto my jeans.

'While I was on the reservation I thought of something that might be helpful,' I said, changing the subject.

'Oh?'

I described the foot bone research and explained how the measurements could be used to determine racial background.

'So I may be able to sort out your rainbow coalition.'

'I'l talk with Daniel Wahnetah's kin tomorrow.'

She swirled the ice in her 7UP.

'But I unearthed some interesting facts about George Adair.'

'The missing angler?'

A Crowe nod.

'Adair saw his doctor twelve times during the past year. Seven of those visits were for throat problems. The other five were for pain in his feet.'

'Hot dog.'

'It gets better. Adair's only gone one week, his grieving widow takes a trip to Las Vegas with the next-door neighbor.'

I waited while she drained her 7UP.

'The neighbor is George Adair's best friend.'

'And fishing buddy?'

'You've got it.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning I slept until eight, fed Boyd, and overdosed on one of Ruby's mountain breakfasts. My hostess had bonded with the dog, and that day's Scripture lauded the fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, and things that creepeth upon the earth. I wondered if Boyd qualified as a creeper but didn't ask.

Ryan hadn't appeared by the time I left the dining room. Either he was out early, sacking in, or passing up the hotcakes, bacon, and grits. We'd returned from Injun Joe's around eleven the previous night, and he'd proffered his usual invitation. I'd left him on the front porch, swinging without me.

I was climbing to Magnolia when my cel phone rang. It was Primrose, caling from the incident morgue.

'You must have risen with the birds.'

'Have you been outside?' she asked.

'Not yet.'

'It's a great gettin'-up morning out there.'

'Did you get the fax?'

'I surely did. Studied the descriptions and diagrams and took every measurement.'

'You're amazing, Primrose.'