mouth.
John's transparent pleasure in food usually stimulated Gideon's appetite too. Not this time, however. He looked away from the happily chewing FBI man, focusing instead on the big Tlingit totem carving on the wall of the dining room. He had ordered only orange juice and toast, and he was having a hard time with the toast.
John masticated contentedly, washed down the potatoes with a slug of coffee, then went after more bacon.
'What makes you think it was a murder?” Gideon asked.
John stopped with his fork in the air. “You really don't know?'
Gideon didn't have a clue and said so.
The bacon was deposited into John's mouth and thoughtfully chewed. “When I tell you, you're gonna argue with me.'
'I won't argue with you. Why would I want to argue with you?'
'Yeah, you will. Look, Doc, you know how sometimes when you're explaining something to me about bones— like when you look at some little piece an inch long and say, ‘This guy was five-foot-nine, and right-handed, and weighed a hundred and sixty-two-and-a-half pounds, and—’”
Modesty came to the fore. “Come on, John.'
''—and had a pimple on the left side of his ass'? And I say, ‘How can you tell all that from a goddamn pinky bone?’ Remember what you always say?'
'No.'
'You say, ‘This may take a small leap of faith.’”
'It does sound familiar,” Gideon allowed.
'Well,” John said, “this is gonna take a small leap of faith.” He leaned forward. “You ready for this?'
His eyes were sparkling. It wasn't often that he got to do the edifying, and when the opportunity came he relished it.
Gideon smiled. “I'm ready.'
'The false teeth,” John said.
'The what?'
'The false teeth.'
'What false teeth?” Gideon didn't remember any teeth at all; just that awful purple tongue filling Tremaine's mouth.
'In the glass,” John said.
'What glass?'
John made an irritated sound. On the goddamn nightstand—” He held up a peremptory hand. “Doc, if you say, ‘What nightstand?’ I swear to God...'
'What nightstand?'
'You're amazing, you know that? How the hell did you ever get to be a famous scientist? You never notice anything.'
'Beats the hell out of me,” Gideon said with a sigh. The last couple of days hadn't been doing much for his self-esteem. “I guess we notice different things. Maybe that's why we make such a good team.'
'Yeah,” said John grumpily, and then when he realized Gideon meant it, more energetically, “Well, yeah, right. Anyway, the thing is, Tremaine's teeth weren't in his mouth; they were sitting in a glass of denture cleanser. That's what made me wonder.'
'You mean, why would someone who plans to kill himself go to the trouble of putting his teeth in a glass of cleanser?'
'Well, that too. But the main thing is'—John mopped up the last of his egg with the last of his muffin—'is that suicides usually do it with their teeth in.'
'Really.'
'Sure. And if they wear glasses, they generally take ‘em off. If they're ladies, they make sure to put on a little makeup.” The muffin was popped into his mouth and disposed of. He looked sideways at Gideon. “Doc, you really don't know this stuff,” he said with mild incredulity. “I would've thought a big-time anthropologist—'
'John,” Gideon said with a sigh, “just do me a favor and—'
John waved his hand amicably. “Well, the point is, people worry about how they're gonna look when they're found. I'm not talking about the crazies that blow themselves up, or set fire to themselves, or slice themselves up with a power saw. But people who hang themselves, or take pills, or sit out in the car with the windows closed and the carbon monoxide pouring in—they like to look nice. Generally speaking.'
Gideon nodded. “You're probably right.'
'Sure, I am. The minute I walked in there I didn't like it. Would you figure a guy like Tremaine to let himself be found wearing a bathrobe with nothing under it? Wouldn't you figure he'd put on silk pajamas, maybe an ascot?'
'Yes, I guess I would.'
'But there were those yellow silk pajamas laid out on the bed. Why would he lay them out, then not put them on, if—” John's eyes narrowed. “You did see those pajamas, didn't you, Doc?...Doc?'
