Spackled and Spooked by Jennie Bentley Page B

could still use them, scaled down. A house with three bedrooms would likely appeal to families with children, and this bathroom would be the kids’ bath, seeing as the master bedroom had its own attached bath with a tiled shower. So this hall bathroom was the perfect place to add some funky touches. I had visions of bubblegum pink, but I supposed I could use banana yellow or pale green instead—something that would appeal to boys as well as girls, and to older children and adults, too. The rest of the bathroom would be bland to the point of being boring: plain white tile on the floor and around the tub to go with any color we decided to paint the walls. The fixtures would also be gleaming white, with bright chrome faucets and handles, and we’d install a slender pedestal sink instead of the clunky cabinet that was there now. Or maybe one of those vessel sinks that looks like a salad bowl. If they weren’t too expensive. If they were—and I thought they might be—maybe I’d just use a salad bowl instead. . . .
    I’d been at it for maybe forty-five minutes when I noticed, almost subconsciously, that the constant humming of the hole digger had ceased. No sooner had I realized this, than the back door opened.
    “Avery?” Derek’s voice called. It sounded strained. My heart jumped in my chest, and I scrambled out into the hallway.
    “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
    He was standing inside the back door, jeans and boots dirty. And he shook his head in response to my worried question, but of course he’d do that anyway, even if he had cut off a limb. It’s the manly thing to do.
    “Are you sure?” I probed. “You don’t sound like you’re OK. What happened?”
    “Nothing happened. Not to me. But we have to call Wayne.”
    Chief of Police Wayne Rasmussen? “Why?”
    “Because I found a human bone,” Derek said.
    “Oh, my God. Are you sure?”
    “Left ulna,” Derek said. “Elbow bone. Medial lower arm.”
    I did a mental duh ! Of course he was sure. He was a doctor. He probably knew the name of every single bone in the human body and could identify them all by smell. Still, I felt I had to try one more time. “Are you sure it isn’t just the . . . um . . . femur of a dead dog or something?”
    Derek looked upset. “Yeah. I wish that was the case. But it’s definitely human.”
    I gave up. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it. Where did you find it? Under the house?”
    “Yeah. I drilled a hole, looked down into it to make sure it was deep enough, and found the bone. The hole digger must have cut it in two.”
    “Are there more?” I asked.
    “It’s not as if someone could lose an ulna and not notice. It isn’t something you can take off and leave laying around, like that earring you picked up the other day. I didn’t see any more, but if there’s one human bone down there, they’re all there, believe me. The whole kit and caboodle. Now do you see why we need Wayne?”
    I nodded. I saw.

6

    Wayne made good time. No more than ten minutes could have passed before a black and white cruiser pulled up outside the house. Wayne extricated his lanky length from behind the wheel and came toward us.
    The chief of the Waterfield PD cuts an impressive figure. At an easy six four or so, he has dark, curly hair just starting to turn distinguished at the temples, coupled with a strong jaw, and steady, dark eyes.
    “What have you got?” Wayne asked when he was close enough not to have to raise his voice. Derek didn’t bother to answer, just waved for the chief of police to follow him. The two of them walked away, around the corner of the house to the backyard.
    I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do. I was curious, yes, but the idea of descending into the crawlspace with them, and with the spiders and snakes and other creepy critters—and that was before I knew there were human bones down there!—wasn’t appealing. I stood where I was, chewing my bottom lip and looking around. Things had been moving