"The crown was strictly decorative. I did research. I learned you can get them as full gold crowns with cutouts shaped like crosses, martini glasses, stars, half-moons-"
"The ever popular bunny."
"Yes. Or you can get what's called a sparkle. That's an acrylic crown that looks like a natural tooth with a gold shape affixed to the front."
"Are these little gems permanent?"
"You can do it either way. Rough-backed sparkles are permanently bonded to the tooth. Smooth-backed sparkles can be slipped on or off at will."
"For that special night-on-the-town look." Said with disdain.
"Different people, different tastes."
"J. Edgar loved marabou trim. Doesn't mean fluffy pumps will be filling my shoe rack."
I ignored that.
"The North Carolina guy was a migrant worker missing since nineteen sixty-nine. He was Latino. My research suggested that the wearing of ornamental gold caps is popular among Hispanics. Some articles talked about the pre-Columbian roots of the custom."
"The Mayans also cut out people's hearts. Doesn't mean we should give that a whirl."
"That was the Aztecs."
Ryan started to comment. I cut him off.
"Spider Lowery's Huey went down with four crew members aboard. Three were recovered and ID'ed straight off. The fourth, the maintenance specialist, was never found."
"I'm guessing he was Latino."
"Luis Alvarez. He was Mexican-American."
"Wouldn't gold hardware be mentioned in Alvarez's dental antemorts?"
"His file contains no dental or medical records. Besides, if Alvarez added the sparkle after his last checkup, that wouldn't be in his record."
"Or he might have removed the thing when reporting for duty."
"Exactly."
Rico appeared at our table.
Ryan requested the check.
Rico pulled out his pad. As he summed, I tried observing his tooth. No go. His lips were compressed with the effort of the complex math.
Finally a slip hit the table.
Ryan and I reached for it. Argued. Our usual ritual.
I won. Handed Rico my Visa.
Smirking at Ryan, Rico headed off.
"What about Spider Lowery?" Ryan asked.
"What about him?"
"Might he have slipped into something a little more gold? He could have picked the thing up in Nam."
"He could have."
"Or he might have gotten the little doodad before shipping out, but removed it when he was around Mommy and Daddy."
"Another possibility."
"Is there anyone he might have told?" Ryan asked. "A buddy? A sibling?"
I remembered the photo session in my car.
"The brother's dead, but Plato said Spider was close to a cousin. They played on the same high school baseball team."
"The cousin still live in Lumberton?"
"I don't know."
"Might be worth a phone call. You know, cover all bases."
True.
The band launched into "If I Had a Hammer," the singer trying hard for Trini Lopez but missing badly.
"But Spider Lowery died in Quebec," I said.
"Or the FBI screwed up the prints. I'd say the first step is to establish that your gold duck-mushroom thingy is, in fact, a broken gold sparkle. Then go from there."
True again.
Rico returned with my card. I signed and added a tip. A big one, hoping for a smile.
Nope. With a mumbled "Mahalo," Rico was gone.
"Does Alvarez's file contain photos?" Ryan asked.
"Several."
"Any smiling shots?"
In my mind's eye I pictured the three black-and-whites.
A head-and-shoulders portrait of a uniformed young man.
A grainy reproduction of a high school graduate.
Nine sweaty soldiers, one glancing away from the camera.
I looked at Ryan.
Suddenly I was in a frenzy to reexamine that snapshot.
SUNDAY DAWNED COOL AND RAINY. I AWOKE, NOTED CONDITIONS, and went back to sleep. Apparently, my cohorts reacted in a similar fashion. Or no one even raised a lid.
At nine thirty, muffled rattling sounds roused me again. Throwing on shorts and a tee, I descended to the kitchen.
Ryan was preparing French toast and bacon. The smell was orgasmic.
I rousted the ladies and the four of us shared another prickly meal. As we ate, the rain tapered off and the sun began gnawing holes through the clouds.
After breakfast, we went our separate ways, Ryan and Lily to view fish from a glass-bottom boat, Katy and I to snorkel and read on the beach.
I took my BlackBerry, figuring I could make calls from the sand. Knowing Danny was not an early riser, I put that one off. But I was anxious to talk to Plato Lowery.
As before, Plato did not answer his phone. Neither did Silas Sugarman.
Frustrated, I stared at my current screen saver, a shot of Birdie sitting on Charlie's cage. The photo usually triggered a smile. Not this time.
The tiny digits told me it was six thirty p.m. East Coast time. I searched my brain for inspiration. Who might be available on a Sunday evening in Lumberton, North Carolina?
Idea. Why not? He'd proven useful before.
I got a number through Google. Punched it in.
"Robeson County Sheriff's Department." The voice was crisp, more New York than Dixie.
"Sheriff Beasley, please."
"Not in."
"Could you patch me through to him?"
"Not possible."
"This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Could you give the sheriff my number and ask him to call me back? It's rather urgent."
"What is the nature of your complaint?"
"It's not a complaint. On May eleventh I conducted an exhumation in Lumberton. The sheriff was present. I need information concerning the disinterred remains."
"The sheriff is extraordinarily busy."
"As am I." The woman was starting to piss me off.
"Your number?"
I provided it.
During the pause that followed, a gull cried out. I hoped the sound didn't carry across the line.
"I'll transmit your request."
Click.
"Do that," I snapped to dead air.
Katy's head came up. I flapped a hand. She resumed reading her book.
Ten minutes later the phone rang.
"Sheriff Beasley." High and a bit rubbery, like Barney Fife.
"Thanks for returning my call. I apologize for intruding on your Sunday evening."
"Just watching the Braves get their sorry butts whupped."
"I'm calling concerning the individual buried at the Gardens of Faith Cemetery under the name John Charles Lowery."
"First that detective, now you. Spider's sure stirring up a hornet's nest of interest."
"Yes, sir. Did you know him?" I asked. "Personally?"
"We run up against each other from time to time."
"What can you tell me about him?"
"Spider was three grades behind me in school. After graduation, I went into law enforcement." Yep. Deputy Fife. "My rookie years I had to deal with a couple of his antics."
"Antics?"
"Actually, Spider wasn't so bad. It was that cousin of his. That was one rambunctious juvenile." A very long i in juvenile.
"And he was?"
"Reggie Cumbo. Boy had a sheet longer than my arm."
"Why was that, sir?"
"Kid was a dick."
I said nothing. Like many, Beasley felt compelled to fill the silence.
"Drunk and disorderly, mostly."
"What happened to him?"
"Took off the day of his high school commencement. Course, Reggie wasn't going to march with no tassel and cap."
"He failed to graduate?"
"I recall talk to that effect."
"Where is Reggie now?"
"Could be the mayor of Milwaukee for all I know. More likely he's dead. Never heard another word of him."
So much for querying Reggie about Spider's sense of haute dentition.
"Did you ever notice gold decoration on Spider Lowery's teeth?"
"You mean like crowns or something?"
I explained dental sparkles. "Maybe later, after Spider joined the army? Perhaps in snapshots he mailed home from Nam? Maybe Plato or Harriet showed some to you? Or sent one to the paper? Or posted some online?" I knew I was reaching.
"Nah. What's so important about Spider's teeth? I thought you were all set with Harriet's DNA."
"The sparkle may prove helpful in identifying the body I disinterred. Assuming it's not Spider. Besides, Harriet's hospital slides are five years old. I'm exploring backup options, in case the samples are too degraded for sequencing."
"Don't know what to tell you, miss. Spider was"-Beasley hesitated-"different. But I doubt he'd a done something foolish like ornamenting his teeth with gold."
"What do you remember about Spider?"
Beasley blew air through his lips. "I recall back in high school he offered to give his mama a kidney. Harriet was born with bad ones, guess it's what finally killed her. Have to admit, I thought that was mighty generous. Spider wasn't a proper match, wrong blood type or something. His brother, Tom, offered too. Course that was many years later. That didn't work out either. Not sure I'd have done that."
"Spider?"
Beasley didn't answer right away. Then, "I remember he did a science project on spiders. Filled fifteen or twenty of those big white boards with pictures and diagrams and little note cards. Had all kinds of jars lined up with labels and spiders inside. The thing won first prize. Got displayed at the library. They still pull the posters out now and again. Spiders are long gone, of course."
"Anything else?"
"I recall him going off to war. I recall him coming home dead. Sorry."
I could think of nothing further to ask. Thanking Beasley, I disconnected.
Danny's call came while Katy and I were underwater eyeballing butterflies, tangs, and one particularly doleful-looking trumpet fish.