Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 116, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 709 & 710, September/October 2000

“His landlord told the police that Bekin’s was by, emptied the place out. Everything’s in storage.”

The table had been set. She placed two portions of chicken-fried steak and a large dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate, one piece of meat and a smaller amount of potatoes on her own. She put salad into the bowls.

He helped her carry the dishes to the table. “This smells great, honey.”

“You’re a pleasure to cook for.”

They sat down. He began attacking his food. “Frank thinks Wally may have been involved in some strange shenanigans lately,” he said. “He might have been in trouble with the law and decided to make tracks.”

“You hear rumors like that whenever somebody goes away,” she said. She took a bite of the meat. It tasted good, but she didn’t have much of an appetite.

He bit into a piece of his own steak. “There’s rumors about everything,” he agreed. “Mostly that’s all they are. Rumors.”

7

The following week he had another piece of news about the man who had disappeared. “He was in trouble with the law, all right.”

They were in the bedroom, folding laundry. He was a good laundry-folder; his creases were razor-sharp.

“Who?”

“Wally Lombardo. The fellow who emptied out his apartment and didn’t leave a forwarding address. The post office is returning all his mail to sender.”

“In trouble with the law?” She refolded a dish towel that she hadn’t got quite right.

“For all kinds of stuff. It seems like he was running scams on a whole bunch of people.”

She nodded. “Does anybody care?” she asked after a minute.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Since he didn’t have a family and worked his own one-man business.” He folded a pair of her underpants. He liked the way they felt in his hands.

“Do you want to go to a movie tonight?” she asked.

“Don’t you have your knitting group tonight? Or what is it, the book club?”

“I’d rather go out with you.” She hadn’t been going to any of her groups hardly at all for the past several weeks.

He smiled at her. “You’ve got a date.”

The movie wasn’t that great, but they had a good time out together anyway. He liked getting out with her, they needed to do it more often. She had a good time, too.

After the movie they stopped in a nice quiet bar and each had a glass of wine. Then they went home and made love. He made sure she climaxed before he did.

8

Spring was a long time coming, almost to the end of April, but when it did it burst forth in riotous bloom in the mountains. People started hiking the trails, even the tough, almost-impenetrable ones that were covered over with a winter’s worth of heavy undergrowth.

The hikers, a hardy middle-aged Scandinavian couple who had trekked all over Europe and the Himalayas and didn’t find this terrain too forbidding, came across the traps alongside the trail. There were three of them, big ones, with big steel teeth. Whoever had set them had known what he was doing. He had gone to a lot of work, coming in here and setting the traps.

The gnawed-off foot of a large wolf was still caught in the jaws of one of them. The other two were empty. The animal or animals that had sprung them had gotten away unharmed, unlike their less-fortunate brother.

Trapping was illegal, of course. The forest rangers confiscated the traps. If they ever found out who had set them, the son of a bitch would never hunt in these mountains again.

Besides the traps, there was a pile of bones off to one side. They had been polished by the elements and the scavengers that had picked them clean.

They were human bones; that was easy to figure out. Maybe they belonged to the man who had set the illegal traps. If they did, whatever had happened to him was poetic justice, of a rough form.

Maybe the wolves that had escaped being trapped had attacked and killed him. This many months later it would be impossible to tell who the poacher was.

Particularly since the head was missing.

9

She had showered, washed her hair, put on one of her sexiest dresses, and iced a bottle of champagne.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, taking it all in. He had come home right after work — she had called and told him she had a surprise for him. “You look pretty,” he added.

She did look pretty. She had been looking pretty for the past couple of months.

“Thanks. I feel pretty.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. Then she popped the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses. She handed one to him.

He looked at her, wondering.

“I’m pregnant.”

He felt his breath catch in his chest.

“Is that all right with you?” She had never been able to get pregnant. For a long time now they had stopped trying.

“It’s wonderful.” He raised his glass. “To us.”

They clinked glasses. “To the three of us.”

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