LITMIR.BIZ

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she wanted to check you out she’d have to come to you. It’s kind of urgent you know.”

      I knew Martha well enough to know I should have paid attention to that last sentence, but I was too busy thinking about what she said just before to catch the warning signs. “Check me out? What do you mean, check me out?”

      “Well, you know, to make sure you aren’t a shy recluse unable to string two words together who would bomb out with the students.”

      “Martha, are you saying that it’s not a sure thing I’d be going, even if I wanted to?”

      “Well she can’t hire you sight unseen, can she? And you can’t accept sight unseen, so I guess this is sort of a mutual job interview.” The guilt was on her face big time.

      She hadn’t told me because she was afraid I’d have made a point of not being here when Terry came — a valid concern.

      There was nothing for it but to go back in, face Terry, and make the most of the situation, but I was surprised to feel a tickle of sudden disappointment that the job wasn’t yet mine for the taking. How much did that have to do with wanting to be distracted from thoughts of Patrick? Or maybe I really did want to go and see the Arctic with a bunch of people I’d never met — with a teacher who I wasn’t sure I liked.

      Terry was standing by the window near Martha’s desk and looked up quickly as we re-entered. I glanced at the desk and wondered what she’d been reading. Then I wondered why it mattered.

      “You got things straightened out between you?” she asked.

      Martha mumbled something and I said nothing.

      Terry smiled and I offered her Martha’s chair and sat down on the counter so that I had the high ground and was able to see what she was snooping — something on the life cycle of sparrows. I smiled. Terry shook her head and instead leaned against the other counter as Martha triumphantly reclaimed her chair. I thought about get–ting two more chairs from the office but decided against it. The more uncomfortable we all were the less likely we’d talk forever.

      “I understand from Martha,” I said, “that you’re looking for someone to give some lectures to your writ–ing students on an upcoming trip?”

      “That’s right. You sound perfect as a replacement for this particular cruise.”

      Did that mean that for any other cruise I was incom–petent, or that I was only competent as a replacement, or both?

      “Martha tells me your lectures on gruesome murder investigations are packed. Plus you can throw in some general Arctic biology on the side.”

      “You realize,” I said stiffly, “that my expertise is not with humans. I offer a course here at the university for entomology students who want to learn how to iden–tify insects. To make it interesting, for part of the course we use roadkill and pigs, and move the carcasses from one habitat to another. The students have to determine where the animal actually died from the insects on the body, and how many times it was moved, if at all.”

      “No problem with that,” she said. “You can give some of the same lectures you give your students. Humans are animals after all; just like the roadkill.” She said it in a way that made my skin crawl, but when I quickly glanced up at her, her blue eyes were smiling back. “I teach Mar–tha and twenty-three others, but only eight are coming.

      The cruise caters to about eighty clients from varying backgrounds, most of them belonging to naturalist clubs of one sort or another. They’d be allowed to listen to your lectures up to a maximum of forty people per session.”

      “You mean there are only eighty tourists on board?”

      This was not the sort of cruise I had imagined. I had pic–tured one of those mini floating cities that most luxury liners seem to be these days. This actually sounded work–able. Some of the classes I teach have a lot more than eighty students in them. Things were beginning to look up. I was actually thinking I could look forward to it — until she got up to leave and my little bubble exploded.

      “Thanks for taking this on,” she said, offering me her hand. I couldn’t remember saying that I would take it on, but she forestalled my protest saying, “God, I’m glad we found a last minute replacement for Kathy Reichs.”

      And then she was gone.

      The alarm bells that had tinkled earlier were posi–tively deafening now. I turned and looked suspiciously at my lab tech. “Last minute?”

      “Plane leaves in three days.”

      I gaped at Martha. How was I supposed to organize my schedule in such a short time? And why hadn’t Mar–tha warned me she was going on holiday?

      “You didn’t tell me you were …”

      “I did, Cordi, when I told you I was getting Leah as a replacement.”

      The penny dropped. I’d been distracted by my research at the time and hadn’t really been listening to her. I had thought it was some holiday in the distant future. But I remembered now.

      “And Kathy Reichs?”

      “She’s no match for you.”

      Yeah right, I thought.

Chapter Two

      Our flight left three days later from the Ottawa air–port. In that time I had managed to get the graduate student who helped me with the comparative anatomy course to stand in for me while I was gone. Martha, at least, had already lined up a lab technician to take her place and look after my animals. It was fortunate that none of my experiments needed me at the moment and Martha’s replacement knew the ropes — she’d helped me out before so I trusted her.

      To make the early morning flight I’d had to get up as the sun was rising with the mist to drive in from my place in the country. I’d also tried to get hold of Patrick a dozen times but he wasn’t picking up and the hotel phone was no better, so I had to leave a message that I’d see him in a week. Definitely not very satisfying, espe–cially in an age when we’re all supposed to be reachable in multiple ways.

      The airport was deserted except for a knot of people down near First Air. I spotted Martha right away. She was wearing a lime green jogging suit and scarlet shirt. She was bending over a huge stack of luggage, rifling through it in a barely controlled panic while a very famil–iar figure stood beside her, patiently holding her enor–mous oversized purse.

      “Duncan! What are you doing here?” I called out.

      I may be nearsighted but there is no mistaking Dun–can. Even without his imposing stature he’s impossible to miss because you can’t miss his face, and you can’t miss his face because you can’t miss the nose on it. It overpowers everything else, even his clear blue eyes and soft smile. Duncan is a pathologist who lives a couple of hours northwest of Ottawa. He works at the university in Dumoine and is the local coroner. We’d met the summer before when I’d stumbled across a body in the wilderness.

      “Cordi! Cordi! Lovely to see you. How are you my dear?” He engulfed me in a massive bear hug. The tweed of his heavy jacket tickled my nose and mouth, and I could smell the mothballs that it had been stored in.

      “Are you coming to Iqaluit?” I shouted into his chest, my words muffled and deadened by his tweed.

      He suddenly eased up on his bear hug and held me at arm’s length, “What did you say, Cordi? God, you look good.”

      “What are you doing here?”

      Duncan glanced down at Martha, who was still wildly rummaging through her luggage, and said, “Didn’t Martha tell you? I’m a member of the writing group, so I guess that means I’m coming along too.”

      “You?” I asked incredulous.

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