the booth. “You’re twenty two minutes, seventeen seconds late.”
“Make that forty-three seconds.” I slid into the booth and ordered coffee. “Your watch is fast.”
“Jeet?”
“Huh?”
“Did you eat yet?” Abner formed each word distinctly. “I’ve been snacking.”
“Snacking?” The waitress snorted. “Honey, we’ve been open a half hour, and you’ve about eat us out of house and home.”
Abner waved her away. “Shoo, urchin.”
“What’d you call me?”
“Ignore him, ma’am. My grandfather was raised by wild pigs.”
“I could tell that by the way he dresses.” She snorted and stuck a pencil behind her ear. “And the way he smells.”
“Don’t insult the woman who brings your food, Doc. It’s an excellent way to get poisoned.”
“The food here will kill you either way.” Abner removed a matchbox from his pocket. With a well-rehearsed flourish, he set it on the table. "What's inside the box?"
“How many?” I asked.
“Five.”
“Size?”
“Varies. Smallest is a couple millimeters.”
“Human?”
“You tell me.”
I slid the box open. There were five bone fragments inside. The smallest was two millimeters long. The largest was five millimeters. Not much to work on. I unfolded my napkin and moved the fragments onto the cloth. Four fragments were white, which suggested bleaching. The fifth was darker. Which could mean exposure to fire or burial, or recent death.
“Light’s too low in here,” I said. "Got a magnifying glass on you?”
“Yep.”
“Can I borrow it?”
“Nope. Carry your own tools.”
He’d been preaching that mantra since I was in kindergarten and Abner introduced me to the university lab. We started with whole skeletons, then bones, then skulls and hips, until I could decide if any bone was human or not. If it were the right bone, I might even be able to guess the sex or age.
“Luckily, I’m prepared for just such an emergency.” I took out my multitool and flipped out a small but powerful magnifying glass. “These four bones are human, probably from the ethmoid and the zygomatic arch. The fourth is definitely the hypoid. Their uniform color suggests bleaching. No, wait.” I touched one of the fragments with the tine of a fork. The tine sank into the bone, which left powdery residue on the metal. “Those four bones have been cremated.”
“The last one?”
I turned the fragment on edge to see the structure of the bone. “The striations aren’t consistent with human patterns. See how they form a different striation? They may be mammalian. Doc, are you trying to sneak a bear claw by me again?”
“Ha!” Abner slapped the table, upsetting the silverware and drawing stares from the other diners. “Right again. Now, what about the sex of the human?”
“From that sample? Not large enough.”
“Female.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the diamond stone left in the cremains. The operator didn’t do his job.”
“You saw the cremains.” I put the fragments into the matchbox. “That’s cheating.”
“Not at all. A forensic anthropologist looks at all evidence, not just the crime scene.” He stared over his glasses, eyebrows as bushy as caterpillars. “Speaking of evidence, give me the particulars of your case.”
“It’s a weird one.”
“I like weird.”
“Even for you.”
While I gave him all the details, the waitress set an order of liver and onions on the table. Abner speckled the meat with pepper and cut out a square.
“Since there was no body on site, I don’t think the finger is from a recent death,” I said. “Right?”
Abner didn’t answer. He crammed food in his mouth and got lost in his thoughts. “Let me see the finger.”
I passed the plastic box under the table. “I’m not used to looking at specimens like this.”
“You see the discoloration of the flesh?” He held the box close to his chest so the other diners couldn’t see it. “That’s an indication of embalming. There’s some
“Make that forty-three seconds.” I slid into the booth and ordered coffee. “Your watch is fast.”
“Jeet?”
“Huh?”
“Did you eat yet?” Abner formed each word distinctly. “I’ve been snacking.”
“Snacking?” The waitress snorted. “Honey, we’ve been open a half hour, and you’ve about eat us out of house and home.”
Abner waved her away. “Shoo, urchin.”
“What’d you call me?”
“Ignore him, ma’am. My grandfather was raised by wild pigs.”
“I could tell that by the way he dresses.” She snorted and stuck a pencil behind her ear. “And the way he smells.”
“Don’t insult the woman who brings your food, Doc. It’s an excellent way to get poisoned.”
“The food here will kill you either way.” Abner removed a matchbox from his pocket. With a well-rehearsed flourish, he set it on the table. "What's inside the box?"
“How many?” I asked.
“Five.”
“Size?”
“Varies. Smallest is a couple millimeters.”
“Human?”
“You tell me.”
I slid the box open. There were five bone fragments inside. The smallest was two millimeters long. The largest was five millimeters. Not much to work on. I unfolded my napkin and moved the fragments onto the cloth. Four fragments were white, which suggested bleaching. The fifth was darker. Which could mean exposure to fire or burial, or recent death.
“Light’s too low in here,” I said. "Got a magnifying glass on you?”
“Yep.”
“Can I borrow it?”
“Nope. Carry your own tools.”
He’d been preaching that mantra since I was in kindergarten and Abner introduced me to the university lab. We started with whole skeletons, then bones, then skulls and hips, until I could decide if any bone was human or not. If it were the right bone, I might even be able to guess the sex or age.
“Luckily, I’m prepared for just such an emergency.” I took out my multitool and flipped out a small but powerful magnifying glass. “These four bones are human, probably from the ethmoid and the zygomatic arch. The fourth is definitely the hypoid. Their uniform color suggests bleaching. No, wait.” I touched one of the fragments with the tine of a fork. The tine sank into the bone, which left powdery residue on the metal. “Those four bones have been cremated.”
“The last one?”
I turned the fragment on edge to see the structure of the bone. “The striations aren’t consistent with human patterns. See how they form a different striation? They may be mammalian. Doc, are you trying to sneak a bear claw by me again?”
“Ha!” Abner slapped the table, upsetting the silverware and drawing stares from the other diners. “Right again. Now, what about the sex of the human?”
“From that sample? Not large enough.”
“Female.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the diamond stone left in the cremains. The operator didn’t do his job.”
“You saw the cremains.” I put the fragments into the matchbox. “That’s cheating.”
“Not at all. A forensic anthropologist looks at all evidence, not just the crime scene.” He stared over his glasses, eyebrows as bushy as caterpillars. “Speaking of evidence, give me the particulars of your case.”
“It’s a weird one.”
“I like weird.”
“Even for you.”
While I gave him all the details, the waitress set an order of liver and onions on the table. Abner speckled the meat with pepper and cut out a square.
“Since there was no body on site, I don’t think the finger is from a recent death,” I said. “Right?”
Abner didn’t answer. He crammed food in his mouth and got lost in his thoughts. “Let me see the finger.”
I passed the plastic box under the table. “I’m not used to looking at specimens like this.”
“You see the discoloration of the flesh?” He held the box close to his chest so the other diners couldn’t see it. “That’s an indication of embalming. There’s some
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