Little Tiny Teeth

“Indeed you did, and we’ll come to that in just a few minutes, Mel,” Scofield said, talking over him. “But there at that table are four gentlemen whom I haven’t met.” He leaned forward, smiling at Osterhout and radiating cordiality. “I think I can guess, however, who that particular gentleman, our butterfly expert, is.”

“Well, I’m Duayne Osterhout. Yes, I’m an entomologist, an ethnoentomologist, I suppose I should say in this august company, and I’m with the Department of Agriculture.” He was still on his first pisco sour, but obviously he wasn’t much used to drinking, because it had gone to his head. He was speaking a little too carefully, almost visibly preforming the words before trying them out. “In other words, I’m a bug man.”

89

“Dr. Osterhout is being unduly modest,” Scofield said. “He is not just any bug man, he is one of the world’s leading bug men, and an internationally recognized authority on the order Blattaria.”

Visibly pleased, Osterhout simpered and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh now, really, I don’t know that I’d say . . .”

“What’s Blattaria?” John whispered to Gideon.

“Cockroaches.”

John inconspicuously shifted his chair a few inches further away from Osterhout.

“Surely this isn’t your first trip to the Amazon, Dr. Osterhout?” Scofield asked. “I imagine your studies must have taken you here many times.”

“Not really. I can assure you that if it’s cockroaches one is interested in, one has no trouble studying them in the Washington, DC, area, so as a matter of fact, yes, it is my first visit. You see, my work at Agriculture has been so time-consuming, and then my wife was never in favor of my going, but since she left . . .” He clamped his mouth shut. Apparently it had struck him that the potent drink had made him a little too forthcoming. “Well, anyway, here I am.”

“And we’re delighted to have you as part of our merry band,” Scofield said smoothly. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to learn from you. I should add, by the way, that I had the great pleasure of having Dr. Osterhout’s charming daughter Beth as a member of last year’s expedition in the Huallaga Valley. That lovely young woman is someone you can really be proud of, Dr. Osterhout; she’ll be a real credit to the field. If I can ever be of help to her, I hope she’ll feel free to call on me.”

These generous if overdone remarks of Scofield’s obviously called for an appreciative response from Osterhout, but they were met in

90

stead with a searing, squint-eyed look of what Gideon took to be pure malignity. Somebody else who has some kind of a grudge against Scofield? he thought. Osterhout’s ferocious glower lasted but a second, however, before lapsing back into mildly intoxicated passivity. “Thank you, sir,” he said tightly, through a barely opened mouth.

If Scofield was disturbed, he didn’t show it. He moved his glance to Phil. “Sir?”

Phil offered a casual salute to all. “Hiya. I’m Phil Boyajian. I guess I’m just along for the ride too. I’m with On the Cheap, and I’m reviewing the Adelita for possible inclusion in our Amazon guidebook.”

“Happy to have you with us, Phil,” Scofield said. “I hope you’ll feel free to join our little excursions whenever you like.” He pointed the bit of his pipe at Gideon. “Sir.”

“My name is Gideon Oliver. I’m a prof too, at the University of Washington, but I’m afraid the last time I studied botany was in high school. I’m here to help Phil out, basically, but I’m looking forward to learning a little about what all of you do too, if you’ll let me.”

Scofield was looking keenly at him, his clear blue eyes narrowed. He placed the bit of the pipe against his temple. “Am I wrong, or do we have yet another celebrity among us? Would you be a physical anthropologist, Dr. Oliver?”

“Well, yes—”

“Hey, right, the Bone Detective!” Mel Pulaski exclaimed, jabbing a thick finger at him.

“Skeleton Detective,” John corrected helpfully.

“Yeah, right, Skeleton Detective. I knew you looked familiar. You were on the Discovery Channel or the Learning Channel or something, just a few weeks ago. All about—what was it—identifying peo

91

ple from their skulls, I think, or figuring out how old they were, or something like that. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it probably was,” Gideon said, repressing a sigh. He didn’t mind being identified as a forensic anthropologist, but he’d been looking forward to going a whole week without being the Skeleton Detective.

“Son of a gun,” said Mel, visibly impressed.

“Well, we’re certainly happy to have you aboard, professor,” Scofield said. “I think we’d all love to learn a little about what you do, so shall we assume we have a quid pro quo to that effect? That leaves you, sir,” he said to John.

“John Lau here. I’m also with Phil.”

“You’re a writer? You work for On the Cheap?”

“No, I’m just helping out too, so I guess you could say I’m along for the ride also. Actually I’m a special agent for the FBI.”