Not good. Ryan’s instincts were usually dead-on.
“And she and her mother are like fire and ice. Lutetia’s trying, but patience is not one of her strengths. Lutetia says something, Lily overreacts, Lutetia comes down hard, they both explode, and I end up dealing with the aftermath.”
“Sounds like they need a break from each other.”
“You’ve got that right. But I can’t have Lily living with me. At this stage of rehab she needs someone around all the time. I’m away most days, often at night. You know.”
I did.
Ping!
“Fly out here.” Spoken before follow-up from the wiser brain cells.
“What?”
“Bring Lily to Hawaii. Katy’s alone all day. They’re close enough in age to be company for each other.”
Twenty-four. Nineteen. From my perspective it looked like a match.
“You’re nuts.”
“You three can play tourist while I work. Then we’ll party at night.”
“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
