Bones Are Forever by Kathy Reichs

physician’s printed order, or a menu, or a recipe for lentil soup.
    LaManche stood on the lobby’s far side by a bank of elevators.Pomier was beside him, string-handled bags hanging from his curled fingers. With them was a tall man in wire-rimmed glasses whom I assumed was Dr. Leclerc.
    When I joined the trio, Leclerc spread his feet and crossed his arms in a posture more characteristic of a bouncer than a physician.
    “How many more?” Leclerc’s French hinted at stone gargoyles and arrondissements . I guessed he wasn’t from around these parts.
    “We are all here,” LaManche said.
    “This must be handled with the greatest of delicacy.”
    “Of course.”
    Leclerc shook his head, kept shaking it while repeatedly punching the button for an elevator. When the car came, I got in first and moved to the back. As we ascended, I scoped out our host.
    Leclerc’s thin brown hair was parted with military precision. His lab coat was eye-blistering white, his khakis creased sharp enough to draw blood. I guessed flexibility was not the guy’s strong suit.
    When the doors opened, Leclerc led us down a shiny tile corridor to an X-ray room reminiscent of the one at the LSJML. One difference: no changing rooms at Wilfrid-Derome. Our patients arrived and departed naked.
    Through a window, I could see a woman seated beside a machine that looked like a large square donut with a narrow cot projecting from the hole. The woman’s hair was black, her skin the color of walnuts. From her scrubs, I assumed she was a radiology nurse or technician.
    “Mrs. Tong will assist you. I have explained”—Leclerc’s lips twisted to one side as he sought the right word—“the situation.”
    When Leclerc rapped on the glass, Mrs. Tong looked up. As she rose, set down her magazine, and crossed to the door separating us from the scanning room, Leclerc continued talking.
    “I have authorized Mrs. Tong to do full-body MSCTs on both subjects. Each axial scan will be performed with sixteen-by-three-quarter-millimeter collimation. The apparatus is a Sensation 16 unit. I have instructed Mrs. Tong to use two filters, one for bone and one for soft-tissue analysis.”
    Leclerc’s delivery was so stiff, he sounded like a recording. “Mrs. Tong has agreed to remain beyond her normal shift. Please do not delay her any longer than necessary. Please follow her directives.”
    “Oh, goodness me. I’m happy to help.” Mrs. Tong smiled warmly. “Got no kids to hurry home to. No church tonight. Fact is—”
    “Thank you.”
    The woman’s smile faded under her boss’s flinty glance.
    Leclerc turned to LaManche. “Who will handle the subjects?”
    LaManche’s gaze rolled to me. I nodded.
    “I think this guy slept with a broom up his ass,” Pomier said under his breath as I took the bags from him.
    Three pairs of eyes followed Mrs. Tong and me into the scanning room. She started talking as soon as the door clicked shut.
    “I call her Felix the Cat.” She flapped a hand at the scanner. “You know, for CAT scan. That’s what they used to be called. It’s silly, I know. But a lot of patients are nervous as jackrabbits when they get shoved into a big whirring box. Naming the thing after a cartoon character helps ease the jitters.”
    “Mrs. Tong—”
    “What are we, dining with the queen here? Call me Opaline. You know how Felix works?” As she spoke, she adjusted dials and flipped switches.
    “I understand—”
    “No magic. The old boy uses a computer and a rotating X-ray device to create cross-sectional images of organs and body parts. I’m talking slices with detail that’ll blow your socks off.”
    It was clear that Opaline Tong loved to talk. Or was nervous as hell around dead babies. Her eyes avoided mine as I opened the first tub.
    “The T in ‘CT’ stands for ‘tomography.’ You know what that means?”
    “Imaging by sections using penetrating waves.” I placed the tiny mummy designated LSJML-49277 on the patient couch,