Behind the Bonehouse Read Online Free Page B

ridge of sharp edged bone. His eyes were anxious behind his horn-rims, even more than usual, pale blue and partly hidden under worried eyebrows.
    Bob and Alan both said hello as they came up the walk, and Vincent nodded and motioned them toward the two rattan chairs perpendicular to his on the right end of the porch.
    They tried small talk for a minute or two, but then Bob asked Vincent if he knew why they were there.
    Vincent had been staring at the painted gray floor, rubbing his hands on his knees. “I do.”
    â€œSo …”
    â€œYou want to know about the conversation I heard in the hall by the lab.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThe power failed on July 3rd at 3:52 p.m. The incinerator had been acting up, and I was worried that I was running late, and had consulted my watch a moment before.” His voice trailed away as he stared at the street, his hands gripping his knees.
    Bob had taken off his glasses and was rubbing the red places where they sat on his nose, when he said, “I know this isn’t easy.”
    â€œI don’t care to be a bearer of tales.”
    â€œIs that what you’re going to do? Tell us a tale?”
    â€œNo. No. I detest disputes. I told Mr. Munro.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œI agreed to speak, and I will.” Vincent crossed one leg over the other and tucked his hands underneath his arms, hugging his ribs without saying anything for what seemed like more than a minute.
    Bob said, “Take your time, Vincent. There’s no rush. We don’t want this to be stressful.”
    â€œI know you don’t … I know, I …” He stared at the peeling floor, holding his breath, rocking forward and back, without seeming to notice.
    Alan said, “So you were in the hall when Carl Seeger and Butch Morgan and I were talking.”
    â€œYes.”
    He worked his way through it, with lurches and stops, and nervous twitches, but he told Bob Harrison what had been said with accuracy and order.
    â€œMr. Seeger was wearing his white lab coat, and adjusting the pens in his pocket. Even those two times when he said that Mr. Munro couldn’t do the scale-up himself, Mr. Munro spoke politely.” Vincent swallowed hard, as though his mouth and throat were dry, and his Adam’s apple shot up and down like a hockey puck sliding under skin.
    Bob Harrison said, “Thank you, Vincent. You did the right thing to tell me.”
    â€œI don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
    â€œYou haven’t. You’ve helped me see how to do what’s best for everyone at the company. We’ll have to show Carl and Butch how much they can help if they work with me and Alan here to get our new products to market more quickly.”
    â€œI want to work on my own without interfering with anyone else.”
    â€œNo one could do better work than you do. You’re an excellent example of the dedication and loyalty we should all aspire to. Thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” He was breathing too fast and the color had drained from his face, making him look parched and ill.
    Alan said, “I really appreciate your help.”
    Vincent nodded, and then stood up and shoved his hands in his pants pockets as though he’d finished a distasteful task. A small ginger-and-white cat shot up the steps, and Vincent stooped and caught it, then patted it without looking up as Bob and Alan left.

CHAPTER TWO
    Excerpt From Jo Grant Munro’s Journal
    Thursday, August 1st, 1963.
    I ’m five months pregnant and feeling totally unprepared. I don’t have nieces and nephews because Tommy died before he could marry. And with Mom dead, and Spencer’s Mom too, I don’t have an older woman I can ask for advice.
    I don’t say much to Alan about it, because he’s got enough to put up with. Carl’s tormenting Vincent now, having figured out where Bob got corroboration for Alan’s side of the story, and that makes it even