Agency

In Which Forensics Takes Their Time About It

almost an entire week after that

It'd been 14 days since the backyard renovation had started and, promptly, stopped. It had also been 14 days since Berry's father had shown up and, without any reason given, taken up residence in their basement suite.

Berenice might have been annoyed about having an unexpected guest, but considering the macabre turn of events in the yard, she welcomed the company. Jim wasn't a particularly dynamic companion, and he spent much of his time downstairs reading his way through her Margaret Atwood collection. Still, it was nice to have someone around to help with the girls, and he seemed to have an authority with them that both she and Berry had lost. He regularly appeared in the kitchen looking for tea and rummaging through the pantry cupboard for biscuits, drawing Berenice away from the window where she was, admittedly, spending too much time in idle observation of the quiet scene outside.

The morning that the Forensics unit arrived at long last, it was warming up to be a beautiful spring day. The kind of day you get in early March that fools you into believing the weather might just be taking a permanent turn toward summer. Berenice had no advance warning of their arrival. In fact, they hadn't even come to the front door -- just let themselves in through the back gate and set up shop. She was mortified to find the large white cube van emblazoned with "Toronto Police Forensic Identification Services" across the sides pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of their house. The neighbours would be agog, she knew. She was agog herself, so who could blame them?

"What are they up to out there?" asked Jim, who was rooting noisily through a Peek Frean Assorted Creme cookie box for the chocolate bourbons.

Berenice reluctantly turned her attention away from the window. "Can't see much," she informed him. "They've put a kind of tent over the whole thing. People keep coming in and out of it. I hope to god they pull the whole thing out and take it back to their lab, though. I don't like thinking of it, whoever it is, out there in the ground."

"The obvious is invisible," remarked Jim, quoting Atwood.

"Well, I preferred when it was more invisible and less obvious," she replied drily. "If we want to enjoy the renovation this summer, the contractors need to get back to work."

Jim hummed at her redirection but didn't let her continue. "I've been thinking about bringing my records here if that's okay. Would you mind?"

She knew of his record collection, of course. Jim had been collecting LPs since before Berry was born and had amassed a musical library's worth of the things. There was an entire room in Bertrand's childhood home (where Jim still lived) that was fully walled in records, alphabetized, some still encased in unbroken shrink wrap.

"How long are you staying, Jim?" she answered his question with the question it seemed to invite. "It's lovely having you, but what's your plan? Why are you here?"

He took a moment to sweep crumbs from the table into his cupped palm. She watched as he carefully transferred them into his empty cup, waiting for his answer. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "I'd been working on a project. An important one to do with my music. You need me here, of course, but I would like to bring the records here so that I can keep working on my project." He looked up at Berenice, and she noted something odd about his eyes. They were glistening. "I'm not moving in or anything," he added.

She reached across the table to touch his hand, which he abruptly pulled away, being unaccustomed to and genetically indisposed to affectionate touch. "Okay. We'll send Berry to your place, and he can bring them back here."

Jim nodded. "The record player too. Obviously." With that settled, he shifted himself off the kitchen chair and took his earmarked copy of Maddadam back down to the guest room.

From behind her came an aggressive rapping at the back door. She jumped out of her seat and opened the door to greet a person wearing a white jumpsuit zipped all the way up to their chin and a fogged-up plastic face guard of the kind worn by scientists.

"Mrs...?" the jumpsuit's voice began.

"Yes," Berenice replied hastily. "Are you done?"

The jumpsuit reached a gloved hand up to flip the plastic face guard away. A surprisingly young woman's face appeared.

"Getting there," she said. "Documentation and analysis of the scene is complete. Just waiting for the ME to arrive. Sorry, Medical Examiner? They need to come close it out."

Berenice pursed her lips. "Will that be another two weeks?"

The woman laughed prettily. "I should hope not. I don't want to hang around here for that long. It's hot in these suits, and the sun's really out today. Not that we should complain, eh? Been a cold one this year." She paused and regained her professional demeanour. "Anyway, we can't leave until the ME closes it out so we can remove the... item in question... the coroner's office will complete the study back at their lab."

"Oh, thank god for that," breathed Berenice. "So, I'll be able to get the contractors back this week? They're threatening to move on to another job."

"I wouldn't... well, that's for the coroner to say I'm afraid. You'll have to wait until we've done the date analysis? If the remains are fairly recent, that's one thing. If they're determined to be archeological... that's another thing."

"Archeological?"

"Um, right. As in, super old?" the girl raised her eyebrows.

"So what if they're old?" Berenice pressed, not understanding. "Why wouldn't I be able to restart the work?"

Jumpsuit sighed and held up her hands helplessly. "Well, then you have a whole new problem."