I sat. "But I have made some disturbing observations."

Claudel curled his fingers in a "give it to me" gesture.

"Based on cranial and pelvic features, I can tel you that skeleton 38426 is that of a female who died in her mid to late teens. Analysis of the long bones wil al ow me to narrow that age estimate, but it's obvious that the basilar suture has only recently fused, the iliac crest--"

"I do not need an anatomy lesson."

How about my heel up your ass?

"The victim is young." Chil y.

"Go on."

"They're al young."

Claudel's brows angled up in a question.

"Females. In their teens or barely past."

"Cause of death?"

"That wil require a detailed examination of each skeleton."

"People die."

"Not usual y as kids."

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"Racial background?"

"Uncertain at this point." Though I had yet to verify ancestry, cranio-facial details suggested al three were white.

"So it's possible we've dug up Pocahontas and her court."

I bit back a response. I would not let Claudel goad me into a premature statement.

"While the bones from the crate and those from the northeastern depression retain no soft tissue, those from the bundled burial show traces of adipocere. Grave wax. I am not convinced these deaths took place in the distant past."

Claudel spread both hands, palms up. "Five years, ten, a century?"

"A determination of time since death wil require further study. At this point I would not write these burials off as historic or prehistoric."

"I do not require instruction on how to prepare my reports. What exactly are you tel ing me?"

"I'm tel ing you we just recovered three dead girls horn a pi/,/,a parlor basement. At this stage of inquiry, it is not appropriate to conclude that the remains are of great antiquity."

For several seconds Claudel and I glared at each other. Then he reached into a breast pocket, extracted a Ziploc baggie, and tossed it onto the desktop.

Slowly, I dropped my eyes.

The baggie contained three round items.

"Feel free to remove them."

Unzipping the baggie, I dropped the objects onto my palm. Each was a flat metal disk measuring slightly over an inch in diameter.

Though corroded, I could see that each disk had a female silhouette engraved on the front, an eyelet on the back. The initials ST were etched beside each eyelet.

I looked a question at Claudel.

"With some persuasion, the Prince of Pizza admitted to liberating certain items while crating the bones."

"Buttons?"

Claudel nodded.

"They were buried with the skeleton?"

"The gentleman is a little vague on provenance. But yes, they are buttons. And it's obvious they are old."

"How can you be certain they're old?"

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"I can't. Dr. Antoinette Legault at the McCord could."

The McCord Museum of Canadian History houses over a mil ion artifacts, with more than sixteen thousand of those belonging to the clothing and apparel col ection.

"Legault is a button expert?"