“Ha!” Abner slapped the table, upsetting the silverware and drawing stares from the other diners. “Right again. Now, what about the sex of the human?”

“From that sample? Not large enough.”

“Female.”

“How can you tell?”

“By the diamond stone left in the cremains. The operator didn’t do his job.”

“You saw the cremains.” I put the fragments into the matchbox. “That’s cheating.”

“Not at all. A forensic anthropologist looks at all evidence, not just the crime scene.” He stared over his glasses, eyebrows as bushy as caterpillars. “Speaking of evidence, give me the particulars of your case.”

“It’s a weird one.”

“I like weird.”

“Even for you.”

While I gave him all the details, the waitress set an order of liver and onions on the table. Abner speckled the meat with pepper and cut out a square.

“Since there was no body on site, I don’t think the finger is from a recent death,” I said. “Right?”

Abner didn’t answer. He crammed food in his mouth and got lost in his thoughts. “Let me see the finger.”

I passed the plastic box under the table. “I’m not used to looking at specimens like this.”

“You see the discoloration of the flesh?” He held the box close to his chest so the other diners couldn’t see it. “That’s an indication of embalming. There’s some trauma to the joints, as well.”

“It’s soot.”

“More than soot.” Abner passed the box back. “Who’s leading the fire investigations?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody? How the hell are they going to catch the perpetrator?”

“You think it’s arson, too?”

Abner such a chunk of liver from his teeth. “Your evidence came from an embalmed individual, suggesting well-preserved remains, possibly from a metal coffin of some sort. It takes a whopping amount of force to blow open a buried coffin and send limbs flying. Which leaves me with two questions: Who blew up this house and where’s the rest of the body?”

“My thoughts exactly. But like I said, there weren’t any other remains.”

“You sure?”

“The man who found that definitely would’ve told me.”

Abner picked his teeth with a toothpick. “There are three reasons firebugs commit arson: Money, pleasure, and to hide evidence. Which was it?”

“Maybe this will answer your question.” I pulled out the waste pipe I’d collected. “I found this in a creek. A hundred yards away from a burned out house.”

“The one in Tin City?”

“No, in Duck.”

“Cast iron waste pipe.” Abner picked it up. “I’ll have a friend run some tests.”

“What about the finger?”

“You could turn it over to law enforcement,” Abner said, “and face a whole bunch of questions about how you came to possess evidence. Or you could give it back to Stumpy and let him tell the sheriff.”

“He tried. Hoyt thinks he’s a no-account drunk. His words, not mine.”

“Maybe he won’t believe a no-account drunk, but he might believe an old buddy.”

“You and Sheriff Hoyt are friends?”

“Not friends exactly. We used to get along pretty well, but now, I think he’s got a different feeling for me.”

“He dislikes you?”

“Dislike is probably too mild a word,” Abner said. “It’s more like pure hatred.”

2

Traffic was starting to clog the highway when I reached Stumpy’s house. Despite what Cedar had said about Stumpy’s housekeeping skills, the outside looked well-kept. The siding wasn’t covered with the green scum that plagued mobile homes. The patio was clean. The picnic table was smoothly sanded and finished with clear lacquer. As far as a could tell, there was nothing wrong with this picture.

Then I noticed a huge dent in the side of the trailer. About two-thirds of the way down. Looked like somebody had backed a car into it. Something heavy had definitely hit the motor home.

“Can I help you?” Stumpy called through the window.

“It’s me, Boone Childress.”

Stumpy opened the trailer door and released a wave of stink. He looked at me with choleric eyes. He wore a white shirt with a T-shirt underneath, brown polyester slacks with no belt, and black nylon socks. His toenails stuck through the nylon.

He held a skillet full of rendered bacon fat. I wondered if he was going to offer breakfast or throw hot grease on me.

“Brought back the finger.” I showed him the plastic container. “Like I promised.”

The lines under his eyes softened. “I was about to eat a bacon sandwich. They throwed out the meat out at the Piggly-Wiggly, so I took out of the trash. Want some?”

My stomach lurched. No way was I eating spoiled bacon. “Not hungry. You wouldn’t happen to have a drink of water?”

“If you ain’t minding well water. Gets sorta tangy.”

“We have well water.” I followed Stumpy inside. “My dentist could swear to that. I’ve had cavities since I was three.”

“Don’t talk to me about no dentists.” Stumpy stuffed the finger into his freezer, then took a seat at a dinette table. “You’re Mary Harriet’s boy, ain’t you? She’s good people. Heard you was in the service.”

“Got out around Christmas time. I’m going to ACC for now.”

“Good to be home?”

“It’s an adjustment.”

“Family’s funny like that.” Stumpy filled a slice of bread with four strips of fatty bacon. He slathered it with mayonnaise. “An education’s one thing they can’t take away from you. Everything else is fair game.”

“I saw a dent in your trailer.”

“What dent?”

So it was definitely new. “Did you hear any noises before you found the finger?”

“Something woke me up, that’s for sure. It wasn’t just me rolling off the couch. I’m used to that.”

“Any other body parts besides the finger? Big chunks of metal?”

“The one finger is all I found.” He took a huge bite of the sandwich. A glop of mayonnaise oozed onto the table. “There’s something’s fishy going on, though. These two old boys been snooping around ever since the fire.”

“Don’t say?”

“You making fun of me?”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Wouldn’t be no first, I tell you what. My family’s been laughing ‘hind my back the whole time, but like I told them, I heard two booms that night—a little one and a big one.”

Two booms? That was the first I’d heard of that. “Did you show the dent in your trailer to the sheriff?”

“Hoyt ain’t caring about no dent.”

“What about the finger? Are you going to show it to him?”

“No way, no how. Cops all think I’m crazy. That scrawny deputy come around yesterday. He wrote my statement down, laughing the whole time like I was the village idiot. I could tell.”

“You said two men were snooping around?”

There was one strip of crinkled bacon left in the bowl. He picked it up and offered it to me.

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He gobbled it down. Another belch. He fanned the gas away and yawned. “Time for my nap.”

It was time to go, anyway. “Thanks, Stumpy. Been nice seeing you.”

“Let me pass on some advice.” He held the door open for me. “Stay out of family business, if you know what I mean.”

He winked, and I nodded, but I had no idea what the man was talking about.

The door shut, and the blinds closed.

As the town drunk, Stumpy was like a janitor in school. People treated him like he was invisible, so he heard and saw all. Gut instinct told me he was hiding information, and I had to figure a way to extract it.

Stumpy Meeks may have been done with me, but I definitely wasn’t finished with him.

3

For my date with Cedar, I wore a black blazer and a pair of dark jeans. I chose a restaurant called The Point near on Red Fox Lake. It was a drive from Galax, but the steaks were juicy and the view from their dock was so sweetly romantic, it could cause a blood sugar spike.

When the server seated us outside, the sun was just setting behind the mountains, and the yellow-orange sun was shimmering on the glass smooth lake. The reflected light glowed on Cedar’s face, making her even more beautiful.