Carnosaur Crimes by Christine Gentry Page B

turnaround.”
    â€œHow long will the computer work take?”
    â€œAbout a week. I’ve got classes to teach in between. When the photo is finished, it’ll give you the fastest shot at getting the face recognized from police fliers, newspapers, and TV spots.”
    â€œGot time to go to dinner tonight?” Dorbandt grinned. “Sort of a reunion celebration to the forces of serendipity.”
    Chloe cocked her head in consideration. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to macerate another skull before I start your reconstruction. That means first removing the skin and muscles with dissecting tools, scraping away tissue, separating the jaw and removing the teeth, boiling everything in separate pots with a bleach solution, and then carefully simmering the pieces again in water for up to eight hours.”
    Dorbandt looked at the watch. “How about a really late meal?”
    â€œWell, the trick is making sure I don’t boil and cool things too much, especially the teeth, or they’ll crack. And if I don’t get the tissues, grease, and odor out of the bone, leftover bleach can degrade the bone surfaces even after drying. Any un-removed grease will smell, seep through the bone, and attract dust and grime. I can’t risk careless processing which would damage the bone and obscure or remove morphological traits. Worse, I could create ‘pseudotrauma’ that could be mistaken for real perimortem trauma.”
    â€œIs that a yes or a no?”
    â€œYes. I guess we can do a late super. I have to eat sometime.”
    â€œGreat.”His cell phone rang. “Hold that thought, Chloe.” He grabbed it from inside his suit pocket. “Lieutenant Dorbandt.”
    â€œReid, It’s Odie,” boomed the deep voice of fellow detective Oden Fiskar. “McKenzie told me to call. Get back here pronto. All hell has broke lose.”
    Dorbandt looked at Chloe, his excitement over having dinner at a five-star Billings restaurant, and maybe something else, with a charming, ex-girlfriend dashed to smithereens. “What’s happened?”
    â€œChief Flynn has disappeared.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHe’s gone. Dropped off the edge of the earth. Flynn was last seen leaving the police station at seven last night. He never got home. The city cops have been trying to locate him since ten last night when his wife called them. Now the search has spilled over to us. Sheriff Combs thinks it may be related to the poaching case.”
    â€œHokay,” Dorbandt replied. “I’m heading back.” He replaced the phone.
    â€œTrouble?”
    Dorbandt nodded. “Always in this business. “Listen, I’ve got to leave. I’m sorry about tonight.” His eyes locked onto hers. He felt terribly cheated by fate.
    Chloe smiled. “I’ll accept a rain check. Don’t worry about it, Reid.”
    â€œGive me your phone number, and I’ll call you.”
    She pulled a business card off a table and passed it to him. Then, she bent forward and pecked him lightly on the right cheek. “I’ll be waiting. Drive safely.”
    Dorbandt hurried from the studio and slammed into the summer heat again, but this time he was floating on hot air.

Chapter 11
    â€œAll who have died are equal.”
    Comanche
    The remote next to Ansel’s bed awoke her from peaceful slumber with brutal efficiency. She jerked upright like a marionette, eyes wide, heart pounding, and brain disorientated. Jesus, what was happening? Eight rings. Why didn’t her answering machine kick in? Nine rings. Ten.
    Groaning, she rolled toward the night stand, flailed her right arm, and snatched the device. “Hello,” she said, projecting the angry tone she intended.
    â€œAnsel, this is Permelia Chance. Sounds like your belly cinch is too tight. You all right?”
    Damn. She’d forgotten her promise to call Permelia. Ansel rubbed a hand over her