John shook his head, smiling. “I'll take it.'
He was, in fact, pleased, as he was sure Appletree knew. Tackney Mutual was a fire-insurance underwriting firm involved in a massive, complex case of interstate insurance fraud. John had spent the last three days at his desk, analyzing endless columns of mind-numbing claim-report breakdowns. Just the kind of case that made him grind his teeth. A straightforward homicide was a lot more down his alley. Not that “straightforward” seemed to be the word here.
'I thought you would,” Appletree said. He tore a slip of paper from a pad and gave it to John. “The chief park ranger's name is Owen Parker. Give him a call at this number and let him know you're coming.'
'Will do.'
'And we've started a case file on it. They're making copies of the serials for you downstairs. Probably ready by now.'
'Okay, I'll check with clerical as soon as we're done.'
'Clerical! Good heavens, man, we don't have clerks. We have,” he said solemnly, “support staff.'
'Right, I keep forgetting. Do I report to Anchorage on this or what?'
'No, we treat this as if we're the OO.'
'The OO?'
Appletree shook his head in amiable wonder. “John, you're amazing. How do you manage to function so effectively in this bureaucratic maze? Do you really not know what ‘OO’ means?'
John ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “Well—'
'The OO is the originating office,” Appletree said, picking up a small pitcher of real cream that Melva had deposited on the table, “the office with the primary responsibility for a case.'
'I'll try to remember.'
'Do. For one thing it saves time; two syllables instead of whatever. And, of course,” he added with a smile, “if we went around saying things like ‘originating office,’ everybody would know what we were talking about. And we certainly wouldn't want that, would we?'
He poised the creamer over John's mug. “Let's see, if I remember right, you like it heavy on the cream.'
* * * *
Why was it, Gideon had sometimes wondered, that his students got so possessive about their chairs? Even when seating at the first class meeting was random or arbitrary, they headed right for the same places the next time and forever after. Try to rearrange things and there were groans of frustration and despair.
The phenomenon, he now noted, was not limited to the classroom. By this, the third predinner cocktail hour since their arrival, the seating arrangement in the Icebreaker Lounge was fixed and apparently immutable. There were Tremaine and his admirers in possession of the bar. There were Anna Henckel, Walter Judd, and Gerald Pratt at their corner window table. There were the customary groupings of trainees. When Julie and Gideon had come in at five-thirty, half an hour into things, their table, directly before the fireplace with its newly laid log fire, was waiting for them as if it had been reserved.
They downed hot apple ciders while Gideon brought her up to date. He had just come back from the bar with seconds when Owen Parker came in, got a 7-Up, and headed their way. It was the first time they'd seen him in the cocktail lounge. He was in uniform, the only ranger who was. But then he was the only one on duty.
He pulled over a chair from the next table and dropped solidly into it. “So. I just got off the phone with the FBI. The guy who's going to be running things gave me a call.'
'And?” Gideon asked.
'And he'll be out here tomorrow morning.'
'Fast work,” Julie said.
'These guys don't mess around,” said Owen. He slowly poured 7-Up from the can into his ice-filled glass. “Oh, he had a message for you,” he said to Gideon. “He said: ‘Tell Doc the next time he comes up with something, would he please make it Arizona, not Alaska?’”
'Doc?” Gideon looked at Julie, then back at Owen. Only one person called him “Doc.” He put down his glass mug. “You're kidding me. John Lau?'
'That's right,” Owen said doubtfully. “What's the matter, is there a problem with the guy?'
Gideon laughed. “No, John's terrific, first-rate. He's an old friend.'
'What's he got against Alaska?'
'He just likes it hot,” Julie said.
'And dry,” Gideon put in. “The world's only Hawaiian who can't stand humid weather.'
'Hot and dry,” Owen said. “He must love it in Seattle.'
'Can't stand it,” Gideon said. He stirred his cider with the rolled strip of cinnamon bark in it and licked the end of the bark. “But what's a Seattle agent doing in this? Isn't there a field office in Juneau?'
'It's a long story,” Owen said. “Listen, you want to drive out to the airport with me to pick him up tomorrow morning? You can explain about the bones better than I can.'
'Sure, what time?'
'I'll pick you up at twenty to eight. I arranged for a charter flight to meet his plane in Juneau at seven-thirty. He'll be here about eight.'
'Can I come too?” Julie asked. “It'll be fun to see John.'
