'And girls. The DA is a woman.'

'Then this may not help.'

He puled a paper from his briefcase and handed it to me. As I read, the waitress refiled our cups. I looked up when I'd finished.

'Basicaly the report agrees with what you told me on Monday at your lab.'

'Yes. Except for the part about the caproic and heptanoic acid concentrations.'

'The conclusion that they look unusualy high.'

'Yes.'

'What does that mean?'

'Elevated levels of the longer-chained VFAs usualy mean the corpse has been exposed to cold, or that it underwent a period of decreased insect and bacterial activity.'

'Does that alter your estimate of time since death?'

'I stil think decomposition began in late summer.'

'Then what's the significance?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Is this a common finding?'

'Not realy.'

'Great. That wil convert the disbelievers.'

'Maybe this wil be more helpful.'

This time he took a smal plastic vial from his briefcase.

'I found this when filtering the rest of your soil sample.'

The container held a tiny white chip, no larger than a grain of rice. I unscrewed the cap, slid the object onto my palm, and studied it closely.

'It's a fragment of tooth root,' I said.

'That's what I thought, so I didn't treat it with anything, just brushed off the dirt.'

'Holy shit.'

'That's what I thought.'

'Did you take a peek under the scope?'

'Yep.'

'How does the pulp chamber look?'

'Chock-ful'

Laslo and I signed evidence transfer forms and I packed the vial and report into my briefcase.

'Could I ask you one last favor?'

'Absolutely.'

'If my car is ready, could you help me return the one I'm driving, then take me to the shop where mine is being fixed?'

'No problem.'

When I caled P & T an automotive miracle had occurred: The repairs were complete. Laslo folowed me to High Ridge House, delivered me to P & T, then went on to his conference. After a brief discussion of pumps and hoses with one of the letters, I paid the bil and slid behind the wheel.

Before leaving P & T, I turned on my phone, scroled through my programmed numbers, and hit 'dial.'

'Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department Crime Laboratory.'

'Ron Gilman, please.'

'Who's caling, please?'

'Tempe Brennan.'

He came on in seconds.

'The infamous Dr. Brennan.'

'You've heard.'

'Oh yes. Wil we be printing and booking you here?'

'Very funny.'

'I suppose it's not. I won't even ask if there's anything to it. Are you getting things cleared up?'

'I'm trying. I may need a favor.'

'Shoot.'