Etched in Bone
Page 111

As soon as Burke left the room, Jimmy started in again. “What is this shit? I didn’t kill anybody. I was home last night.”
Monty took the first photograph out of the folder and laid it between them. It showed a tattoo on a man’s forearm. “Do you recognize this tattoo? Do you know this man?”
Jimmy looked at it—and hesitated a moment too long. “Never seen it.”
Monty removed another photograph from the folder, which showed the whole forearm—and showed the ragged edges where something had bitten through elbow and wrist. “You sure? You were carrying this man’s forearm when Officer Kowalski arrested you. Which is why you could be charged with mishandling human remains as well as cannibalism.”
Jimmy shook his head so violently Monty wondered if he would tear a muscle. “No way. No. That bastard is lying, trying to set me up. I bought a piece of special meat from the butcher shop and that Kowalski—”
“Gods, Jimmy! Humans are the special meat. All the terra indigene in the Courtyard consider humans a prey animal, same as rabbits and deer. Anyone who enters the Courtyard without the Others’ permission is meat.”
Jimmy stared at Monty, his eyes blank with shock.
“I’ve been informed that a person or persons unknown broke into the Market Square butcher shop last night and stole all the meat. Since there was a delivery made yesterday, that equals a lot of beef and pork. Gone. So are the people who tried to steal it.”
Jimmy blinked, seemed to come back to himself. “What do you mean, tried to steal it?”
“They didn’t get away, didn’t leave the Courtyard. And the Others know you were involved in the theft.”
“I was home last night.”
“Yeah.” Monty smiled bitterly. “You’re always the one with the alibi if things go wrong. You’re as dirty as the men who do the job, but you’re always distant enough that you can’t be charged.”
“So you can’t hold me for something I didn’t do.”
Jimmy sounded like he always did—sure that he was going to walk away unscathed to start thinking up his next scheme. But not this time.
Monty tapped the photograph of the full forearm. “The Others know you were involved, Jimmy. It doesn’t matter if you were at the butcher shop last night or home in bed. They know. And this was their way of telling you, and the police, that they know. But what they aren’t telling us is how many men entered the Courtyard last night. They haven’t left any identification for us to find, which they sometimes do. Whoever was in the Courtyard last night is dead. We know that.”
“Then why aren’t you asking the freaks?” Jimmy demanded.
“Human law doesn’t apply in the Courtyard. I told you: if humans aren’t invited in, we are meat. Right now, these men have disappeared. Maybe they were killed by other men and their bodies haven’t been found. Maybe they took the first bus out of town and walked away from their families. It happens. But if those men have families, have wives and children, those wives will never be able to get a death certificate, will never be able to get on with their lives or receive any assets their husbands had tucked away. Those women will spend the rest of their lives not knowing if they’re widows or abandoned. Would you want that for Sandee and your kids?”
Jimmy wouldn’t think twice about something like that. Monty saw it in his eyes, in his face. He would leave Sandee wondering and wouldn’t care.
“You knew him, Jimmy.”
“I told you I didn’t.”
“You’re lying. I know the signs.” Yes, he knew the signs. Jimmy was sly; he was cunning; he never told the truth if a lie would work. And he enjoyed beating people down with words and intimidating them with a large body and a big voice. As Jimmy had done to Sierra. As he was doing to young Frances, giving his son a nod of approval for doing the same.
“Fine.” Monty put the photographs back in the folder. “You’ve been implicated in an attempted burglary that resulted in the deaths of six men, so you’ll be charged with accessory to—”
“What are you saying?” Jimmy was sweating now and looking sick.
“I’m saying Captain Burke was right. This is a waste of time, so you’ll be charged.”
Now, for the first time, Cyrus James Montgomery truly looked afraid. “You giving up on me? What’s Mama going to say about that?”
“I don’t think she’ll say anything when I tell her you had a chance to cooperate, but you refused to meet the conditions of your release and were sent to the place where dangerous criminals are held while they await trial.”
“When I tell her my side of it—”
“You’ll be gone. She won’t hear your side of it.” Monty leaned across the table. “And with you out of the picture, not filling her head with crap, Mama will believe whatever I tell her.”
Oh yes. Jimmy was sweating now.
Monty wondered if his brother remembered saying those exact words to him a couple of years after Monty left home and Jimmy hadn’t moved out of his parents’ home yet.
“Bastard.” Jimmy looked like he wanted to spit in Monty’s face. Might have done it if someone hadn’t rapped on the glass at that moment, signaling that their time was up.
Monty stood and reached for the folder.
“There weren’t six of them,” Jimmy said suddenly.
Monty sat.
“Don’t think there were six,” Jimmy amended. “And maybe it was a little bit my fault, but not like you think.”