"Reichs, Kathy - Temperance Brennan 02 - Death Du Jour" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichs Kathy)

We'd been at it for hours, and I could sense tension behind me. The
nuns' rocking had increased in tempo. I turned to give the group what
I hoped was a reassuring look. My lips were so stiff it was hard to
tell.

Six faces looked back at me, pinched from cold and anxiousness. A
small cloud of vapor appeared and dissolved in front of each. Six
smiles in my direction. I could sense a lot of praying going on.

Ninety minutes later we were five feet down. Like the first, this pit
had produced only soil. I was certain I had frostbite in every toe,
and Guy was ready to bring in a backhoe. Time to regroup.

"Father, I think we need to check the burial records again."

He hesitated a moment. Then, "Yes. Of course. Of course. And we
could all use coffee and a sandwich."

The priest started toward a set of wooden doors at the far end of the
abandoned church and the nuns followed, heads down, gingerly navigating
the lumpy ground. Their white veils spread in identical arcs across
the backs of their black wool coats. Penguins. Who'd said that? The
Blues Brothers.

I turned off the mobile spotlights and fell in step, eyes to the
ground, amazed at the fragments of bone embedded in the dirt floor.
Great. We'd dug in the one spot in the entire church that didn't
contain burials.

Father Menard pushed open one of the doors and, single file, we exited
to daylight. Our eyes needed little adjustment. The sky was leaden
and seemed to hug the spires and towers of all the buildings in the
convent's compound. A raw wind blew off the Laurentians, flapping
collars and veils.

Our little group bent against the wind and crossed to an adjacent
building, gray stone like the church, but smaller. We climbed steps to
an ornately carved wooden porch and entered through a side door.

Inside, the air was warm and dry, pleasant after the bitter cold. I
smelled tea and mothballs and years of fried food.

Wordlessly, the women removed their boots, smiled at me one by one, and
disappeared through a doorway to the right just as a tiny nun in an
enormous ski sweater shuffled into the foyer. Fuzzy brown reindeer
leaped across her chest and disappeared beneath her veil. She blinked
at me through thick lenses and reached for my parka. I hesitated,
afraid its weight would tip her off balance and send her crashing to
the tile. She nodded sharply and urged me with upturned fingertips, so