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“Of course you’re losing your hair,” said Vesta, who never beat about the bush or spared a person’s feelings if she could help it. “You’re getting old, sonny boy. Soon you’ll have a nice billiard ball for a head, and then all of those weird spots will become visible to the whole world.” She grinned at her daughter. “I can’t wait to see what else comes floating to the surface. He probably has a whole collection of weird spots. Spots in all different colors and shapes. Bumps, too.”

Tex uttered an unhappy groan, the thought of going completely bald affecting him powerfully, as it does most men.

“Ma, don’t say such things,” said Marge reproachfully.

“Why not? It’s the truth. Better to rip off that band-aid than to coddle.”

“Don’t listen to Ma, honey,” said Marge soothingly as she placed a tender kiss on the top of his head. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t? Of all the men I know only two still have a full head of hair, and those are Dick Bernstein and Rock Horowitz, and the only reason for that is…” She hesitated when she caught Tex’s feverish and intent look.

“Yes?” he said. “What’s the reason they still have a full head of hair?”

“I’m sorry,” said Vesta, and snapped her lips closed and shook her head.

“Tell me!” Tex cried.

“I can’t! I promised them not to divulge their secret, and I may be many things but I’m not a tattletale,” said the woman who was probably the biggest tattletale in town.

Tex felt a powerful urge to throttle his mother-in-law, but years of training had taught him to practice restraint, so he let the moment pass, and soon he was calm again.

“Don’t listen to Gran, Dad,” said Odelia, also placing a loving kiss on the top of her dad’s head. “You’re not going bald.”

And as Vesta popped a piece of bread in the toaster and Odelia left with her eggs, and Marge resumed reading on her phone, Tex found his eyes once again drifting down to Harriet and Brutus, who were now licking themselves, as they usually did once they’d eaten their fill. And that’s when he made up his mind: he would discover the secret to the perfectly healthy head of hair, and he would crack that secret code. Whatever it took.

3

After our discovery we hurried home to share this bit of news with Odelia, and hopefully get a full investigation going into the origin of those bones, which, I was almost certain, had once belonged to a human being.

“What do you think happened to that person, Max?” asked Dooley.

“Murdered,” said Fifi decidedly. “As a dog, I have a superior sense of smell, and I’ll tell you right now that this whole thing smells to murder for sure.”

“It could be that the person simply died,” I said. “Not every person who dies is murdered, Fifi.”

“I know, but what human would go out to that field and die? There are better places.”

“You talk as if a person can simply pick and choose where they’re going to die,” I countered. “Death tends to sneak up on a person, Fifi. It doesn’t follow orders.”

Fifi thought about this for all of five seconds, then shook her head decidedly.“No, it was murder, Max. I’m calling it.”

“Fine,” I said. There was no point for me to argue the case, since there was no way to know for sure what had happened to this person—or even if it was a person. Until the police got involved, and a forensic investigator, the whole thing was shrouded in mystery.

“Of course it could be that this person died in their bed,” said Dooley, adding his own two cents, “and that dogs took the bones and dragged them all the way out here to bury.” He directed a quizzical look at Fifi, but the latter shook her head.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dooley. I’m not the kind of dog who goes and picks up stray human bones and then dispatches them to fallow fields far afield. I’m very choosy on the kinds of bones I like to pick, and human bones definitely aren’t in my wheelhouse.”

“You were going to bury them, Fifi,” Dooley pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“I was thinking about burying them—thinking about doing something is not the same as actually doing it, Dooley. And I did ask you for your advice first, didn’t I?”

“Only because we just happened to pass by. If we hadn’t passed by, you would have gone and buried them for sure.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“You buried one of them.”

“One is none, Dooley.”

“What does that even mean!”

We’d arrived in our backyard, and so I went in search of Odelia to give her this big piece of news. I finally found her inside, in the kitchen, having breakfast with Chase. Judging from the smell they were having scrambled eggs and toast—an excellent choice, if I may say so. “Odelia?” I said. “You might want to have a look at some bones that were left in that field behind the house.”

“They’re human bones,” Dooley added. “And Fifi thinks they belong to someone who was murdered.”

“Very good of you to give credit where credit is due, Dooley,” said Fifi appreciatively.