Old Bones

by Gwen Molnar

  “Real sorry,” Greta said, settling in. “I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else to sit; that plate of yours must be awfully heavy to carry, Mike.”

  Kevin and Terry shrugged helplessly as Casey and Mike turned around, looking for somewhere to sit.

  “There’s an empty table by the kitchen door,” Casey said, holding his plate high as he wove among the tables.

  As they neared the table he’d spotted, a girl’s voice called out, “Casey? Casey Templeton?”

  Casey turned toward the voice. He hadn’t heard it for ages but he knew who it was.

  “Hi, Mandy. Hi, Mr. Norman,” he called out.

  “Gimme your plate and go talk to them,” Mike said. “I’ll grab the table.”

  Casey manoeuvred among the crowded tables.

  “You guys checking out the Tyrrell?” he asked as he got to the Normans’ table.

  “Dad’s been working there three months now,” said Mandy, putting the chicken wing she was holding back on her plate. “He’s executive director at the Tyrrell.”

  “I didn’t know,” Casey said. “Mom doesn’t know either or she’d have said.” Casey saw Mrs. Norman staring at his neck. He tried to shrug down into the rim of his T-shirt.

  “I’ve been meaning to call your mother,” Mrs. Norman told Casey, “but what with finding a house and getting settled here, I’ve just not done it.” She was looking intently at Casey. “That looks like a bad burn you’ve got. Did you put some after-sun lotion on it?”

  “It’s fine,” said Casey, knowing that it wasn’t but not wanting anyone to make a fuss. “Listen. It’s great to see you all but I don’t want to interrupt your supper. I’ll come talk to you later — catch up on all your news.”

  “Fine.” Dr. Norman nodded. “We want to hear your news too. Come have dessert with us.”

  “Will do, Dr. Norman.” Casey gave a wave as he found his way back to Mike.

  “So, Mandy did remember you?” Mike asked, tipping back the chair he’d saved for Casey.

  “Yeah.” Casey smiled. “Even her mom and dad remembered me. I’m going to talk to them later.”

  But he never got the chance. Just as Casey put the first bite of potato salad in his mouth, the area around the Norman table erupted. People scrambled out of the way. Casey climbed on his chair. He couldn’t see much, but he heard Dr. Norman call out, “Is there a doctor here?”

  “What’s going on?” asked Mike.

  They heard soon enough. Mandy Norman had got a tiny chicken bone caught in her throat and was turning blue. Luckily, there was a doctor in the dining room. He managed to move the bone a little so Mandy could breathe. Soon, an ambulance arrived and the ambulance attendants rushed in to treat Mandy. They were giving her oxygen as they wheeled her out for the short drive to the hospital.

  “What a crazy thing to happen,” Mike said. “Poor Mandy.”

  “Yeah.” Casey looked stricken. “I sure hope she’ll be okay.” He was starting to feel a little out-of-it. “I’ll get in touch with her parents later. Let’s eat and get out of here.”

  Chapter Three

  Casey lay on top his unrolled sleeping bag. He’d opened the window in his closet and didn’t need to look down to figure out it was right over the hotel’s trash bins. His book and flashlight were on the floor beside him, but he didn’t feel like reading. His back felt like it was on fire. He heard the buzz of his friends’ voices in the room next door. Casey propped himself up on an elbow, glad he’d been smart enough to bring in a glass of water. He put his head back and took a long swallow. Dizziness engulfed him and everything started to spin. Water sloshed over him and his sleeping bag as the glass fell out of his hand. But Casey didn’t even notice as he sank back in a dead faint.

  Later, much later, Casey woke. A light above the garbage cans was flickering on and off, and the smell coming in his window made him want to throw up. He felt cold. Cold on his chest and fiery hot on his back.

  He sat up cautiously, his sopping-wet T-shirt clinging to him.

  “What the …?” he whispered. The last thing he remembered was taking a drink of water. But where was the glass? And why was the water all over him? He picked up his flashlight and swung its beam slowly around the room. In the corner, across the closet, the glass lay on its side.

  I’ll get it in the morning, Casey thought. In the meantime … He turned his T-shirt with the wet part to the back. The coolness felt so good on his burning skin.

  Casey opened his sleeping bag, slid in, and zipped it up. He hoped none of the water had got through to the inner lining. It hadn’t, and he turned on his stomach and closed his eyes.

  He couldn’t relax, though. The smell of the garbage came wafting up. “Darn it!” he whispered, “I meant to close the window.” He unzipped the sleeping bag, crawled out, rested on his knees a while, and then stood up. He felt dizzy but managed to get to the window by supporting himself with one hand against the wall.

  As he reached up to close the window, Casey heard a man’s deep voice say, “I’d about given up on you. Where the heck have you been?”

  The voice was coming from a room whose window was at right angles to Casey’s. Because the window was at the far end of the room the voice was coming from, Casey couldn’t see anything but the side of a television set that someone clicked off, and the blank wall beyond it. He listened, silently.

  “I’d have stayed away longer,” — the second man’s voice was higher pitched — “if I’d known how much this room stinks. Why don’t you close the window?”

  “I tried, but it’s stuck,” said the first voice. “Forget the smell. Where have you been?”

  “Look,” said the second man, “I was having a friendly drink with some of the locals, two guys that work security for the museum. And I found out exactly what we needed to know. That area we took the video in today, where the stuff we’re supposed to take is — it does have its own door to the outside. And, get this, it’s not on the same alarm system as the rest of the museum, though it does have a guard night and day.”

  “So, when we come back for the stuff, we can put the guard out of commission and disarm that one system?” the low voice asked.

  “That’s what I’m saying, yeah,” the second man replied.

  “You figure those guys’ info is reliable?” the first man wanted to know.

  “Can’t imagine a better source,” said the second man. “I got it by talking to the guards, like I said, and buying them several rounds. Told them I was going to apply for a job in museum security.”

  “So that’s how come they were talking so free, eh?”

  “You got it,” the second man agreed. “And so you had to wait a while in this smelly hole; well, that’s tough.”

  “All right. All right. You did fine,” the deep voice said. “I’m almost packed. You’d better get going. We’re out of here first thing in the morning.”

  “When do you figure the boss’ll be sending us back up here?” asked the second man.

  Casey could hear him clomping unevenly back and forth. One tread light, one heavy. Casey strained to see into the room. No luck.

  “You know better than to ask,” the first man told him. “We’ll get our orders after we’re back Stateside and when we’ve shown him our pictures of the things he’s interested in for his collection. I gotta say that fall of yours that brought the guard fussing around sure gave me a great chance to make the video. And this little camera’s a wonder. Nobody even knew I had it.”

  “That fall really hurt! I got a bruise four inches round on my hip. And I twisted my one ankle. The boss is going to get a bill for ‘pain and suffering.’ I tell ya that fall was above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “And I tell you, when he sees them pictures he’s going to give us both a bonus,” the man with the deep voice chuckled.

  “I’m done packing now,” Casey heard the lame man say. “I’ll have a shower and then hit the sack. You set the alarm?”

  “Yeah,” said the fir
st man.

  The television clicked on and Casey quietly closed his window.

  Casey crept back to his sleeping bag. His senses were reeling as his mind bounced back and forth between the conspiracy he’d just overheard and the sickness he felt coming on. He tried to find a comfortable position, but his back was hurting so much he almost cried.

  “I’m so thirsty and I feel so awful,” Casey muttered to himself. He knew he was going to throw up, but he didn’t want to wake the boys in the next room by going through to the bathroom. He felt around on the floor for his wide-brimmed hat and threw up in it. He felt a lot better after that, but his closet now smelled worse than the garbage.

  Holding the hat in both hands, he got up shakily and walked to the window. How to open it and not spill anything? He pulled the side edges of the brim together, held the hat in his left hand and opened the window with his right, then dropped the brimming hat into the dumpster under it. As he closed the window, his eye caught a movement in the room where he’d heard the voices. The shadow of a tall, slim man appeared for a second on the wall past the television set. The shadow of a tall, slim man with only one leg.

  Then, as the other man stepped forward to close the drapes, Casey caught a glimpse of his face: wavy dark brown hair above bushy eyebrows that met above frowning dark eyes.

  I’ll tell Mandy’s dad all about this in the morning, Casey thought as he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Four

  The clickety-clack of a low-flying helicopter woke Casey. He found he was lying on his back in a bed. Nothing in the room looked even vaguely familiar; in fact, the room was like none he’d ever seen. Fluffy white curtains matched the frilly skirt on a dressing table across the room. A shelf held about fifty stuffed animals. The lamp on the bedside table had a pink shade. His eyes focused on a row of trophies high on a shelf above a large desk. He recognized the biggest trophy. He’d seen Mandy Norman win it two years ago at the provincial championships: first prize for back stroke. What was he doing in Mandy Norman’s bedroom?

  As he tried to sit up, Casey became conscious that his upper body was bandaged and that there was the smell of some medicine in the air. He tried to remember last night. He’d said hello to the Normans, had eaten supper with Mike, and then? Oh yes; there was the fuss about Mandy and the chicken bone in her throat. He sure hoped she was all right. He hadn’t gone to talk to the Normans but had headed straight to the bus, and up to his closet as soon as the bus stopped at the Hoodoo. Yes, he’d gone straight to bed. No. Not exactly. He’d opened the window but he’d been too tired to take off his clothes. He’d just pulled off his pants and laid down on top his sleeping bag. He remembered taking a drink of water; then, nothing. What had happened next, and how had he got here?

  Casey swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He was planning to get Mrs. Norman to explain things, but as he took a step, he felt weak, so he flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes.

  He heard steps in the hall. It’ll be Mrs. Norman, he thought, she’ll tell me what’s going on. It was not Mrs. Norman. Casey opened his eyes to see his mother looking down at him with a worried frown.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Why are you here?”

  “Casey,” said his mother, smiling but shaking her head. “You got yourself in one fine fix. Your poor back has second-degree sunburn, and you’ve been mostly out of it for two days with sunstroke.”

  “Two days!” Casey exclaimed. “You mean I’ve missed the rest of the field trip?”

  “Mr. Deverell took the class back last night,” said Mrs. Templeton.

  “But I’m okay now, aren’t I?” Casey asked. “Maybe you and I could do the museum tour together, Mom. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

  “Most of it,” said his mother. “The Normans have been terrific, looking after you and making me feel so at home.”

  “How come I’m here?” Casey asked.

  “Seems when they checked at breakfast the day after your group got here, you weren’t there. Mr. Deverell found you unconscious in your closet and took you right to the hospital. You were in Intensive Care in the same room as Mandy Norman. But the second night there was a bad accident just outside of town and your bed was needed. The rest of the hospital was full, and your doctors said you’d be fine to stay with the Normans because you’d been awake off and on and your recovery was simply a matter of rest. The Normans brought you here, and phoned me.”

  “Mandy’s still in hospital?” Casey wondered.

  “Yes, but not here. A small piece of chicken bone actually tore her larynx. She’s been flown to Edmonton for some very delicate surgery.”

  “Poor Mandy,” Casey said. “She won’t be able to train.”

  “Not for a long time,” said his mother. “Now, tell me how you feel.”

  “Well,” Casey considered. “I felt a little woozy when I tried to stand a few minutes ago. But my back doesn’t burn any more.” He looked around. “Where’s all my stuff?”

  “Your things are in the closet.” Mrs. Templeton pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “Except for your hat. Didn’t you even wear your hat when you were out in the sun for so long?”

  “Sure, I wore it,” said Casey. “And it was on the closet floor when I went to sleep. No … Wait a minute. I …”

  He lay back. What had he done with his hat?

  “Would you like something to eat, Casey?” his mother asked. “Weak tea and toast, or …”

  “Food!” said Casey. “That’s it. I threw up my supper in my hat and then I …” He stopped a minute. He could see himself with his hat in both hands. What had he done with it? “And then I dropped it into the dumpster under my window.”

  “Good thinking,” said his mom. “So, how about it? Want something?”

  “Yeah, Mom, that’d be great. Should I just stay here or come with you?”

  “Stay put,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Something was nagging at Casey’s mind. He remembered opening the window, remembered dropping his hat. But there was something else. He tried concentrating very hard. But instead of remembering, he fell fast asleep.

  “Sit up, Casey.”

  As used as he was to obeying his mother’s voice, Casey was finding it hard to wake up. It was the smell of warm, buttered toast that finally roused him and he did as she said.

  “Now, lean forward and I’ll put another pillow behind you.”

  “This looks good.” Casey nibbled a piece of toast and then took a sip of tea. “Reminds me of when I got hit by that car when I was five and everyone was so nice to me.”

  “Your brothers were really worried about you,” his mother said. “Hank slept on the floor of your room for three nights and Jake and Billy took turns with me sitting by your bed. Your dad was home for a time then; he didn’t sleep at all.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Casey, pausing before he bit into a third half slice of toast. “He stayed up three nights?” he asked.

  That wasn’t how Casey remembered his father. Actually, he hardly remembered his father at all from when he was a little kid. It was only after the family had moved to Richford that Casey and his dad began to “connect.” Now, they got along well, and were slowly getting to really know each other.

  “Three days and three nights; sitting outside your hospital room door. Wouldn’t leave until you’d started talking. First thing you said was, ‘I’m hungry.’”

  “And they brought me weak tea and buttered toast.”

  “Right. And they brought you buttered toast at the Richford Hospital last year when you almost froze to death trying to get help for Mr. Deverell,” said his mother.

  “Yeah.” Casey ate the last bite of toast. “I remember.”

  “I’ll take these things away now and you can go back to sleep. The Normans say, ‘Hi.’ One good thing about your, ah, your condition, is that we’re in contact again, and when your father gets home from the Ottawa Conference on a National Ant
i-Hate Strategy …”

  “You haven’t told him about me, have you, Mom?” Casey interrupted.

  “I told him you’d got too much sun on the class field trip, and were staying at the Normans’ for a while.”

  “And he asked, ‘How much is too much?’ and you told him,” Casey sighed; he could just hear the lecture he was going to get.

  “Well, yes,” his mother admitted. “But I also told him there was no need for him to come back, that the doctors at the hospital said you’d be fine in a day or two.”

  “Doctors,” groaned Casey. “You told him doctors saw me, in a hospital?”

  “Well, yes,” his mother said again. “But he isn’t coming home and he’s only phoned four times since I got here.”

  “Only four times?” Casey groaned as his mother took the pillow from behind him and he eased himself down. “Only four times?”

  Alone again, Casey grinned as he thought of his dad’s remarks as he left for Ottawa.

  “You know, Casey, when I retired from the RCMP I sort of imagined a lot of rest and relaxation, but with you stumbling across mysteries right and left, there seem to be as many bad guys in my life as there ever were.”

  “Well, like you always say, Dad, ‘an idle mind is a dull mind’ — I’m just trying to keep you sharp.”

  “Okay, okay, Casey,” his father had said, “but in future would you just pick me up a book of crossword puzzles?”

  “Dad’ll be glad to learn I’m not involved in any more manhunts,” Casey said aloud before yawning and going back to sleep.

  In the middle of the night, Casey saw something that made it impossible for him to go back to sleep: his mother’s shadow against the wall of his room as she stopped by his bed. How could he have forgotten it — the shadow of the one-legged man in the room next to his closet at the Hoodoo Hotel? And the face of the man closing the drapes? And the conversation about the planned robbery of the museum? He should have remembered sooner. He had to talk to Dr. Norman right away. He checked his watch: 3 a.m. Too early.