Page 79 of Cold, Cold Bones

His gnarled hand jumped, and the toast dropped. I noticed it was liberally coated with jam. He fished out the soggy wedge, then his eyes rolled up. He looked puzzled at first, then nervous as recognition engaged.

“I didn’t steal no—”

“No one said you had.”

Eldon watched blueberry jam ooze downward into his coffee.

“May I join you?” I asked.

He nodded, clearly wishing I wouldn’t.

I took the empty chair. The marijuana buzz was gone as was the snaggletooth smile. Now Eldon just looked weary and old. Older than my first estimate, probably north of eighty.

A waitress appeared with a stainless-steel pot. Karlene. I ordered toast and turned my mug upright. Karlene filled it and withdrew.

Eldon sat silent, watching with hooded and wrinkled eyes. Their sclera was yellow, and a red cumulus rode the outer margin of the right iris, probably a harmless subconjunctival hemorrhage. Oddly, I wondered if the broken vessel worried him.

“You be looking for your chile,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“I am.” I smiled. “Though she’s hardly a child.”

We waited while Karlene delivered my toast. Added packets of butter and jelly. When she’d gone, I pushed the plate toward Eldon.

“Sorry I ruined your breakfast,” I said.

“No need for you be treatin’ ol’ Eldon.”

“I want to. Think of it as a peace offering?”

“I do like a good piece of toast come mornin’.” Eldon helped himself.

“I’m Temperance Brennan,” I said.

“I know. Eldon Poag may be on in years, but he ain’t stupid.”

“Mr. Poag, I—”

“Eldon.” Peeling the lid from a tiny plastic packet of jam.

“Eldon, I’m just trying to be sure my daughter is all right. Winky knows who I’m talking about. Why won’t he answer my questions?”

Eldon raised both brows. They were white like his hair and stubble. “Might be he do know her. But he got no idea why you askin’.”

“I gave Winky my card. I’m not hiding anything.”

Eldon dunked and chewed at his toast. The smell of pot and unclean polyester floated from him. And a hint of something more pleasant. Cinnamon? Ginger? Allspice?

Something that made me flash on Ryan.

“But whoareyou Miss Temperance Brennan with a business card? How’s we to know you’re this chile’s mother? How’s we to know you not meanin’ her hurt? Or that you don’t be heat?”

“Do I look like heat?”

“Winky and me, all we know is you come charging in here in your yuppie jacket and fancy boots and scarf, pokin’ and pryin’ and trying to shake this chile loose. You don’t be a social worker and you don’t look like you be needing one. Me, I can’t figure where to put you. Winky he probably be thinkin’ the same.”

“You’re right,” I said, trying for humble. “I came on strong. It’s just that I’m worried.”

Eldon bit off another minuscule morsel.