Death Canyon by David Riley Bertsch

over to a black lab table and focused a large magnifying light on it. The contrast of the colors made the tooth’s virgin white gloss stand out even more than it had last night.
    â€œMighty clean,” Keith said immediately.
    Noelle nodded and studied Keith, trying to gain some understanding of his meaning, and then eventually said: “How do you mean?”
    â€œI mean that I can tell you right off that this tooth probably wasn’t hanging out in the mouth of any wild animal recently.”
    â€œYou’re sure?” Noelle asked.
    He picked it up. “It should have at least some plaque gunk up on the gum line there. Who knows? It might be fake, and if it’s not fake it might have been cleaned and bleached and had some type of sealant applied.” Keith walked with the tooth to another table. Noelle followed.
    â€œI’m happy to crack it open to try and confirm it, but it’s unlikely a real bear tooth would be this clean into adulthood, and the size of this canine—that’s the tooth type . . . canine—tells us that it is definitely from an adult bear if it is in fact real. Even more obviously, there is no gum flesh left on the roots of the tooth suggesting that it was torn or bumped out of place. This tooth is either a good fake or a great refurb. Either way, a quick chemical test can show you what I mean.”
    â€œThe chemical test I can agree to, as long as the cops won’t know I messed with it.”
    â€œYou’re gonna tell the police?” Keith smirked.
    Noelle shrugged. “Still plotting my next move.” It was Keith’s turn to cluck his tongue.
    Keith went to a drawer and picked out a large bone, from a bear’s hind legs, as far as Noelle could tell. Then he grabbed a clear condiment squirt bottle filled with blue liquid and a tool that reminded Noelle of the dentist’s office—chrome, sterile clean, and with a jagged, hooked end.
    He squirted a tablespoon of the liquid into two small plastic cups. “The natural biological matter,” he intoned as he scraped off a bit of the bone’s surface, which fell into the cup in the form of a fine powder, “will dissolve easily into the solution.” Sure enough, as he gave the mixture one quick swirl with the tool, the powder disappeared and left no trace. The liquid retained its transparent blue color.
    â€œThe exterior on this tooth—or this impostor—or whatever it is, will fail to dissolve in the solution. Instead, it will cloud the liquid and flakes or particles of the solid will remain visible. To dissolve this epoxy or sealant, we’d need acetone or some commercial formula designed for that very purpose.”
    Again, the results were exactly as Keith predicted. The coating on the tooth fell in larger, thin flakes into the solution. Despite a few vigorous stirs with a wandlike chrome tool, Keith couldn’t dissolve the particles.
    â€œSo, this tooth”—he held Noelle’s discovery in the air as if he were completing a magic trick—“has some epoxy, lacquer, or finish on it to preserve it and to give that shiny surface. It’s likely not real, and if it is, it looks like a human got ahold of it after it was in the bear’s mouth.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Noelle asked herself aloud.
    â€œDon’t know, Noelle. Above my pay grade. Your guess is as good as mine and mine’s not too good.”
    â€œHumor me,” Noelle instructed.
    â€œGosh—who knows? Everybody whitens these days . . .” He trailed off as Noelle gave him another look. Get serious.
    â€œKeith, can you buy bear teeth or replicas anywhere?”
    â€œI’m sure you can buy replicas online, hell, probably authentic ones, too. It’s hard to imagine something that you can’t buy online. That’s where I got my Noelle Klimpton blow-up doll. Complete with uniform.”
    â€œEw! That’s not