I'm so sorry I wasn't there in court for you, Robbie! 6 page

"Yes, Sir," responded Alberta, taking the jar that was pushed her way. "What am I looking for?"

A quick smile flashed across the worn face and devilment danced in pale eyes as Doctor Tom Bates picked up his cold pipe again and leaned back in his chair. "Now, telling would spoil the surprise!" he laughed. Alberta smiled. He really was an old bastard!

For a second, Bates content himself sucking on the stem of his pipe, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah, the police are not happy with us. We've rather thrown a monkey wrench into their case."

Alberta leaned back and stretched out her legs crossing her ankles. "Don't they want to catch the right person?"

Bates wiggled his eyebrows. "They think they have. The examination of human bones is not an exact science. For all our little charts and graphs in the end you rely on the gut feelings of the forensic examiner. Lawyers throw fits when you answer that you've looked at a thousand bones and this one just wasn't quite right." The old man laughed enjoying his little joke.

Alberta smiled. What he said was true. You even got used to the bones of the general population that you worked with. If you had to deal with another culture's different bone structure, you were at a disadvantage because you sometimes missed the subtle differences.

"I've talked to Robbie Williams," Alberta confessed.

"And?" enquired an amused boss.

"Her statement is a lie. I'm sure of it. But she wouldn't tell me the truth. I tried to talk to her spouse but I arrived just in time to see two skinheads pounding the stuffings out of her."

The pipe popped out of Bate's mouth and he leaned forward. "Is she alright?"

Alberta nodded. "I put the boots to them. Janet's got a bad concussion and is not real clear of things yet. She's at my place. So are their kids."

Bates closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why is it, Al, you can't just practice the science of forensics? Why must you always get personally involved? If you must solve cases single-handedly, join the police force and train as a detective!" Bates sighed.

Alberta's jaw moved but she didn't respond. It was not a question she was comfortable answering, even to Doctor Bates. It revealed too much of who she was. "It just happens," she justified instead.

Bates looked at her, then decided to let the matter drop. Alberta was young, brilliant, idealistic and driven by some inner demon. Over the years, he'd learned that it was best not to go looking for demons in others.

***

"Whatcha readin?" asked Tracy, coming back from making use of their loo.

"A book on Greek architecture, that my wife sent," responded Robbie moodily.

"Ain't you high bred! Give me a good old super-hero comic book any day!" the con snorted.

"Same thing," muttered Robbie.

"What?!"

"Same thing," she repeated, sighing as she rolled off her bunk. She just wanted to be left alone to try to deal with the news that Alberta had brought. But it would be stupid not to take an opportunity to get Tracy on her side. Tracy could be bad news and Robbie didn't think she was above sticking a knife in her ribs while Robbie slept.

"Oh yeah," scoffed Tracy.

"No. Look," said Robbie, shifting over with some books to sit beside Tracy on her bunk. "See, here is a picture of a male Greek sculpture."

"Ohhh, nice cut," moaned Tracy.

"Exactly! The ancient Greeks set the standard by which we judge the male body. Because of the nature of marble, their figures tended to have a foreshortening of the limbs which emphasized the chest muscles even more. Now look down here," said Robbie, pointing to the spot where the abdomen met the hip bone. "See how the abdomen muscle extends over the hip bone. That's called a Greek Fold. The ancient Greeks thought it was a sign of a well developed body and it was greatly admired."

"I'm admiring! Them Greeks were really hung, huh?!"

Robbie rolled her eyes. "The fold, Tracy," she reminded the woman.

"Oh, yeah the fold."

"It's actually a genetic trait and only 20% of males have it. No females do. Okay, now look at the picture of Adam here in Michelangelo's painting in the Sistine Chapel," said Robbie, flipping through another art book. "See the bunchy muscles, the foreshortened limbs, the Greek fold....same style."

"You mean, Michelangelo copied some ancient Greek!" exclaimed Tracy, taking the book and looking at the picture closely. "He didn't copy the dick. That thing's puny."

"The artists of the Renaissance, really all artists, learned their anatomy by copying the works of the ancients because nude modeling was considered a sinful act. So they picked up the style," explained Robbie.

"So?" asked Tracy, tossing the book back having lost interest.

"So, artists still do that. Look at your Batman comic here. Bunchy muscles, foreshortened limbs, Greek Fold; three thousand years later and our concept of how to draw the human form has stayed the same."

"Hey, cool, Batman's Greek! Hey, look, so is Superman!"

"Modern day cartooning has very close parallels with classical work. Look at the dramatic, heroic movements in your comic. They look just like the figure in this Greek frieze of a battle."

Robbie, feeling that she had made a point, took her books and went back to her bunk. Tracy looked for a long time at her comic books, flipping from page to page and book to book.

"Tell me something else," she demanded at last.

"About what?"

"About my comic books," snapped Tracy, impatiently.

Robbie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. If she stayed locked in here much longer they could convict her of Tracy's murder!

"The Greeks established theater as an art form. Our concept of the hero is very much that of the ancient Greek hero," Robbie explained patiently.

"Yeah?"

"Aha. Take the original Herakles. Not the T.V. show or the cartoon. Herc has all the four elements of a Greek hero," pointed out Robbie. I'm lying on a damn metal cot in a cement cell lecturing some Joe killer about dramatic form! I think I've lost it!

"So are you going to tell me what the four things are!" growled Tracy, interrupting Robbie's thought.

"Oh, sure, sorry. An unusual birth or childhood, super-human ability, tortured soul and a need to help others," listed Robbie. "Look at Herakles. He has the unusual birth alright. His mother is a mortal and his father is Zeus. And he has unnatural strength that makes him a super-human. His soul is tortured because he killed a man, that's why he had to do the twelve labours as a punishment. And he was always going around doing good deeds to get noticed by his father. He is a classic Greek hero."

"Oh, so?"

"Well, take a modern day hero...ahhh..."

"Xena!" suggested Tracy, with an evil grin.

Robbie rolled her eyes. "Okay, Xena. Unusual birth? Maybe, if she is the daughter of Ares. Certainly she had an unusual childhood because her father tries to kill her. She has super human strength, so the second criteria works. Tortured soul? You bet. She kills half the Greek nation at least once a week and always regrets it. And she has this need to help others."

"Hey! That's cool!" exclaimed Tracy. "Do it for one of the comic book guys!"

"Okay. Superman, unusual birth because he comes from another planet. He's an alien. He definitely has super powers! He has the tortured soul thing because he has to live a double life in order to be accepted. I bet he hates being Clark Kent. And of course, he has an almost pathological need to help others. He's a regular boy scout."

There was silence for a minute. "Do Batman."

"No! Let me read!" snapped Robbie. Tracy went back to her comics and when Robbie thought she was asleep, she pulled out the letter again that Janet had sent.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there in court for you, Robbie!

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 730