Kathy Reichs - Spider Bones

“I can’t.”

“You’ve banked, what, ninety years of unused vacation time? All it will cost you is a couple of tickets. There’s plenty of room here.”

I pressed on, though already I was questioning the wisdom of the whole idea.

“A change of climate could help. Lily was born in the Abacos. Maybe Hawaii will remind her of home.”

“Lily’s court agreement prohibits her leaving the province.”

“Puh-leeze. She’d be with you, a sworn officer. Surely you know a judge who would bless that.”

There was a very long pause.

“I’ll call you back.”

Danny wasn’t there when I arrived at the CIL. But Dimitriadus was. With a frosty nod, he disappeared into his office.

Aloha to you, too, sunshine.

Donning a lab coat, I picked up where I’d left off with 2010-37. Under the tap, a fragment grudgingly yielded a suture, a squiggly line where the occipital bone had once met the left parietal bone at the back of the skull.

Oh?

I scraped gently with my toothbrush. Detail emerged.

Son of a gun.

Remembering the maxilla, I returned to the table.

Son of a gun.

I was back at the sink when Danny’s laugh rang out, an unbridled soprano, infectious as typhoid.

Minutes later, Danny strode toward me. At his side was a giraffe of a man, tall and sinewy, with elephantine ears.

“Good to see you, Tempe.” Craig Brooks, a CIL dentist, shot out a hand.

“Good to see you,” I said as we shook.

“Danny claims you’ve discovered the lost Dutchman mine.”

“Hardly.” Another girly giggle. “Tempe’s find is the size of a mite.”

“Let’s check it out.”

Craig spent a long time at the scope, positioning and repositioning our mushroom-duck thing, adjusting and readjusting the two snake lights. Finally he sat back.

“Danny boy’s right. The material is gold.”

“Part of a filling or cap?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve seen a lot of melted dental work, and this doesn’t fit the pattern. There’s some distortion due to heat exposure, but that’s localized along the rounded edge. The rest of the shape looks original. And it doesn’t track right for either a restoration or crown.”

“How so?”

“First, it’s far too thin. Second, one surface is smooth but has some rounded relief. The other surface is roughened but flat.”

“So what is it?” I asked.

Craig raised and lowered his shoulders. “Beats me.” He rose. “But I’ll think about it.”

When Craig had gone I told Danny I had something to show him. He asked if it could wait ten minutes. He needed to place a call before nine.

I was walking toward the sink when my mobile sounded. I checked the LCD screen, expecting Ryan’s number. The line was local, but not the Lanikai beach house.

Curious, I clicked on.

“ALOHA.” WHEN IN ROME, RIGHT?

“Aloha. Dr. Temperance Brennan, please.” The voice suggested years of unfiltered cigarettes. I was unsure if it was male or female.

“This is she.”

“Hadley Perry here.”

Great. A unisex name. Pulling back a chair beside 2010-37, I sat.

“M.E.” Medical examiner.

That Hadley Perry. Though we’d never met, I knew Perry by reputation. Chief medical examiner for the city and county of Honolulu for over two decades, the woman’s antics were legendary and the press ate them up.

On one occasion Perry rolled blanket-covered bodies into her facility’s parking lot to protest crowding at the morgue. Turned out the gurneys held inflatable dolls. Another time she issued death certificates for two state senators. Said their opposition to increased funding for her office was clear proof of brain death.

“Hope you don’t mind me calling your private number.”

“Of course not.” Actually, I did. But curiosity ruled.

“I’m told you’re the best forensic anthropologist in the Western Hemisphere.”

A warning bell tinkled.

Danny and I have a history of practical jokes running back decades. Five days on his turf, and so far no prank.

OK, buckaroo. Bring it on.

“Yes, ma’am. That would be me.”

A beat. Then, “I have a booger of a case. I’d like your help.”

“A humpback with implants?”

“Sorry?”

“A transgender ne-ne-?”

“It’s a homicide.”

“A garroted gecko?” I was on a roll.

“I think the victim is young and male, but can’t be sure. Few parts were recovered.” Grim-toned. I had to admit. The woman was good.

“What parts? Gizzard? Wing?”

I was grinning at my own hilarity when Danny appeared.

“Nice try,” I mouthed, pointing at the phone.

“What?”

“Hadley Perry,” I mouthed again, rolling my eyes.

Danny looked genuinely confused.

“Please hold a second.” I pressed the handset to my chest. “Gosh, there’s a woman on the line claiming to be Hadley Perry.”

“Must be Hadley Perry.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Payback for showing that slide at AAFS.” I’d Photoshopped Danny’s head onto an orangutan wearing a Speedo and flippers. “I’m wise to you.”

“I will get you. Take that to the bank. But adequate revenge will require time and intricate planning.”

“Come on, Danny. It bombed.”

“What bombed?”

“Your little farce.”

“What farce?”

“Having a caller pretend to be the chief ME.”

“Wrong guy.” Danny placed spread fingers on his chest. “Perry scares the crap out of me.”

I felt a tiny flame spark in my gut.

“Are you serious?”

“Totally.”

Uh-oh.

“Are you still there, Dr. Perry?”

“Yes.” Terse.

“We have a terrible connection. May I phone you back?”

She provided the number.

I clicked off and dialed.

“Aloha. Honolulu medical examiner.”

“Dr. Brennan returning Dr. Perry’s call.” Face burning.

“Hold, please.”

Perry picked up right away.

“I’m sorry. What I was hearing didn’t make sense. Lord knows what was coming through on your end.” Nervous laugh. “This phone jumbles sound when the signal gets weak.” Dear God, I was rambling. “How can I help you?”

Perry repeated what she’d said earlier. Homicide, body parts, young male, help.

“Can’t someone local assist you?”

“No.”

I waited. She didn’t elaborate.

“There are board-certified anthropologists at the CIL.” I glanced at Danny. Though he was trying hard to look focused on 2010-37, I knew he was listening.

“And they often help me out, Dr. Brennan. This time I’m asking you.”

“I’m in Honolulu for only a very short time.”

“I know that.”

Oh? I leaned back in my chair.

“Dr. Perry, I’m committed to resolving a situation at the CIL.”

“That’s military. They quit early. You can work with me after hours.”

Choosing a long bone, Danny moved to the sink.

“Why me?”

“You’re the best. You said so yourself.”

“I was joking.”

“I’m asking this as a personal favor.”

Far down the line I heard a barely audible voice, like a ghost speaking in some parallel dimension.

Or a nameless victim crying out for justice.

I glanced at Danny. At 2010-37.

“I’ll come by at five thirty,” I said. “But only for an hour.”

After disconnecting, I glanced at Danny. His shoulders had the tautness of someone who is angry or afraid.

“You overheard?”

“Enough.”