“Enveloped in adipocere packing the basicranium, below the palate.”
“Good eye.”
“Thanks.”
“M’lady’s penchant for shiny things pays off. Let’s scope it.”
We did, at increasing powers of magnification.
The object was roughly five millimeters long by three millimeters wide by a millimeter or so thick, and appeared to be made of gold. Its shape was irregular, with a lopsided glob on one side and two tapering projections on the other.
“Looks like a duck with a wide-open beak.”
The image didn’t work for me.
I rotated the thing ninety degrees. Danny took another turn squinting through the eyepiece.
“Now it’s a mushroom with two pointy stems.”
I looked. “I can see that. Any idea what it is?”
“Not really.”
“A chip from a filling or crown?”
“Ehhh.” Danny scrunched his face.
“What? Ehhh?”
“Looks too thin and too flat.”
Danny’s eyes flicked to the wall clock. Mine followed.
Five forty-five. I hadn’t noticed the lab grow quiet. Or realized we were now alone.
“Quitting time?” I asked, knowing the answer.
Though Danny had been married almost twenty years now, he and his wife still coochie-cooed like newlyweds. At times I found their giddy-gooey-bliss act irritating as hell. Mostly I envied them.
“Quitting time.” Sheepish grin. Or horny. Or hungry. “Aggie’s making Salisbury steak.”
Danny sealed the mushroom-duck thing inside a baggy. Back in his office, he locked it in a desk drawer.
“Tomorrow we can pick Craig’s brain.” Craig Brooks was one of the three CIL dentists.
After removing our lab coats we headed out, Danny toward beef and gravy in Waipio, I toward gloom in Lanikai Beach.
Katy was on a lounge chair by the pool. I took a moment to observe her through the sliding glass door.
Katy wasn’t listening to her iPod, talking on her cell phone, surfing or blogging with her laptop. No book or magazine lay in her lap. Dressed in the same tank and drawstring pants she’d worn the night before, she simply sat staring out to sea.
In a word, she looked miserable.
Again I was swept by a feeling of helplessness. I knew only time would ease my daughter’s pain, and that a week had yet to pass since news of Coop’s death. I also knew the delivery of that news had been cold and impersonal.
Still.
Steeling myself, I exited to the lanai.
“How you doing, tough stuff?” A childhood endearment.
“Ready for the play-offs.” Flat.
“Where did you go today?” Dropping into the chair beside Katy’s.
“Nowhere.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Got any thoughts on dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“No I don’t.”
Score one for Katy.
“I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen that I could throw together. Danny bought out the market.”
“Whatever.”
“Or I could drive into Kailua for more sushi.”
“Look, Mom. I know you mean well. But the thought of food revolts me right now.”
You have to eat. I didn’t say it.
