Behind the Bonehouse Read Free Page B

work.”
    â€œWho told him that?”
    â€œCarl told him what
you
said. ’Member? In the hall the other day? Manufacturing’s changing so fast, you don’t want him to help with scale-up. Like maybe his methods are outta date.” Butch was smiling, rocking on the balls of his feet, taking in the shock on Alan’s face.
    â€œI didn’t say that! Nothing even close to that.”
    â€œThat’s what
we
thought you said. But you know how it is,” he was trying to take one of Frannie’s hands in his, but she stepped farther away. “If ten folks see a bank holdup, you’ll get ten versions of what happened. See ya Monday, Alan.”
    Frannie and Alan and Jo said goodnight, as Butch and Frannie walked past.
    After they’d turned the corner, Jo said, “Well, now we know why Bob’s irritated with you.”
    â€œYeah, we certainly do. Crap.”
    â€œDid Butch and Frannie get divorced?”
    â€œHe hasn’t said anything at work, but if she’s moved, it—”
    â€œShe wasn’t wearing a ring.”
    â€œHow do women notice things like that?”
    â€œWhy do men not?”
    They both smiled, and started toward their car, staring up at the stars again—before they started worrying about what Carl had told Bob.
    Monday, July 15th, 1963
    â€œI appreciate you meeting with me.” Alan Munro set a glass of iced tea on the driftwood table under the old farmhouse’s back arbor, between his chair and Bob Harrison’s. “If the bugs get bad we can move inside.”
    â€œI was raised on a dairy farm. I worked as a large animal vet for eight years. I can put up with bugs. Jo here?” Bob’s salt-and-pepper hair, with gray patches at the temples, ruffled in a gust of wind from the left end of the arbor.
    â€œShe’s working on the restoration of a house south of Lexington.”
    A painful silence settled between them, while Bob Harrison, who looked like a coiled spring, tapped a finger on the arm of his chair as though that was all that was keeping him from leaping up in the air. “Look, I left work that I need to do, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me why you asked me to meet you away from the office. I assume it’s concerned with the business.”
    â€œIt is. I’m trying to decide where to start.” Alan Munro took a sip of iced tea before he turned toward Bob. “I know Carl Seeger told you that I told him and Butch Morgan something that more or less means I think you’re old and behind the times. That you can’t help with the scale-up of new products, but that’s not at all what—”
    â€œHow do
you
know that’s what Carl said?” Harrison’s eyes were gray and deep set behind black-framed glasses, and he stared hard at Alan, then looked away again fast.
    â€œButch. Jo and I ran into him and his wife outside a restaurant in Lexington Friday night. He might’ve had a bit too much to drink, and he looked like he was gloating when he said it. I’ve also noticed there’s a distance now in the way you communicate with me.”
    Bob Harrison looked sideways at Alan for less than a second, then picked up his glass of tea.
    Alan slid his director’s chair counterclockwise till he faced Bob straight on, his green eyes determined, the small muscles under his cheekbones clenched as tight as his jaw. “What I said to Carl and Butch was ‘Bob shouldn’t be bothered with scale-up. That’s our job. He has other things to do that only he can, like the antibiotic formulating and fermenting.’ I said we need to master it ourselves. I’ve told them till I’m blue in the face that it’s a good opportunity for us to learn, and work together as a team. Vincent Eriksen was in the hall when we were talking and he can corroborate what was said.”
    â€œCan he?” Bob was studying Alan