Monday Mourning

“California State University at Chico?”

Ryan’s head whipped around at the sharpness of my tone.

“Yep. Long way from home for a kid from Vermont.”

I reminded Charbonneau about the strontium isotope testing Art Holliday had done on the skeletons.

“Her dental strontium ratios suggest the girl in the leather shroud may have grown up in north-central California, remember?”

“Right.”

“Chico is in north-central California.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“And remember too, her skeletal strontium ratios suggest she may have lived the last years of her life in Vermont.

“Sonovabitch.”

“What else did you get?”

“Apparently Menard’s scholarship left something to be desired. He either dropped out or got booted after one year in the program. Hasta la vista. No degree.”

“Where did he go?”

“Showed up at Mama’s farm in Vermont in January eighty-six.”

“If he dropped out of Chico after one academic year, that leaves a gap from the end of spring term in eighty-five until January eighty-six. Where was he during that period?”

“I’ll make some calls to Chico.

“What did Menard do when he landed back in Vermont?”

“Grew vegetables, I guess. Lived off his inheritance. Paid no Social Security, filed no tax returns.”

“Did you talk to the locals?”

“I managed to scare up a couple of neighbors who remembered him. Most people in the area are newcomers since Menard left, but a few old-timers remembered Genevieve Rose and her son. Apparently Mama was one tough lady. Kept the kid on a very short rein.

“Corneau never remarried?”

“Nope. Single parent. Folks remember Menard as a quiet kid who stayed in a lot. Didn’t participate in sports or the usual extracurricular school stuff. One or two said they recalled seeing him during the year following his return from Chico. Guy must have had some sort of epiphany in grad school. Made an impression back home with the dreadlocks and beard.”

“It’s Vermont.”

“Meaning?”

“They’re conservative. What else did these neighbors say?”

“Not much.

“Talk to Chico. Dig up everything you can on this guy. And get a list of every female aged fifteen to twenty-five who went missing in the area while Menard was out there.”

“You really liking Menard for these pizza skeletons?”

“It’s the classic profile. Dominating mother. Failed ambition. A loner. An isolated location.”

“I don’t know.”

“Connect the dots, Charbonneau.