DOA, Chapter 8

“Hello, Chief. The forensic archaeologist dug clear to the bottom of the pot but didn’t uncover any more bones.”

“Good gravy!”

“It’s definitely gravy. You’re right about that. That’s what the science says at least, though I’d say it’s more of a sauce because it has cheese in it. Whether it’s good I can’t say since we’re not in the habit of eating evidence. That would be against the law.”

“Got it. What about the left leg and feet? Any more info on them?”

“I’ll let you know what we know when we know what we know.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“So, what do we do now, sir?”

“Check in with the local boneyard, kid. Find out if anyone there has noticed anything out of the ordinary in recent months. I’ll reach out to our contacts at the catacombs in Paris and Rome. The security at the one in Rome is notoriously lax. The bones there can pretty much walk out on their own unnoticed.”

“What about the one in London, sir?”

“Too obvious. Pretty much every English dish is smothered in a gravy or an unappetizing grayish white sauce.”

“Do you suspect foul play, sir?”

“As sure as hamburger and cheese in chipped beef are foul, I do, kid. I think we’ve got more than a skeleton missing its two left feet.”

“And left leg, sir.”

“Right. And left leg. Remind me to take another look at that recipe in case I forget.”

“For clues, sir?”

“Possibly. And I have to make a grocery list.”