"Reichs, Kathy - Temperance Brennan 01 - Deja Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichs Kathy)

really relieve the pain, but it didn't hurt either. My spine seemed to
hurt a lot lately, and bending over an autopsy table for three hours
tended to aggravate it. I refused to believe or admit it was
age-related. My newly discovered need for reading glasses and the
seemingly permanent upgrade from 115 to 120 in my weight were likewise
not the result of aging. Nothing was.

I turned to see Daniel, one of the autopsy technicians, watching from
the outer office. A tic pulled his upper lip, and his eyes pinched shut
momentarily. With a jerk he shifted, placing all his weight on one leg
and cocking the other. He looked like a sandpiper waiting out a wave.

"When would you like me to do the radiography?" he asked. His glasses
rode low on his nose and he seemed to peer over rather than through
them.

"I should finish up by three," I said, tossing my gloves into the
biological waste receptacle. I suddenly realized how hungry I was. My
morning coffee sat on the counter, cold and untouched. I'd completely
forgotten it.

"Okay." He hopped backward, pivoted, and disappeared down the hall.

I flipped the goggles onto the counter, withdrew a white paper sheet
from a drawer below the side counter, unfolded it, and covered the body.
After washing my hands I returned to my office on the fifth floor,
changed into street clothes, and went out for lunch. This was rare for
me, but today I needed the sunshine. Claudel was true to his word. When
I returned at one-thirty he was already in my office. He sat opposite my
desk, his attention focused on the reconstructed skull on my worktable.
He turned his head when he heard me, but said nothing. I hung my coat on
the back of the door and moved past him and into my chair.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Claudel. Comment fa va?" I smiled at him across my
desk.

"Bonjour" Apparently, he was uninterested in how I was doing. Okay. I
waited. I would not succumb to his charm.

A folder lay on the desk in front of him. He placed his hand on it and
looked at me. His face brought to mind a parrot. The features angled
sharply from his ears to the midline, plunging forward into a beaklike
nose. Along this apex his chin, his mouth, and the tip of his nose
pointed downward in a series of V's. When he smiled, which was rare, the
V of his mouth sharpened, and the lips drew in, rather than back. He
sighed. He was being very patient with me. I hadn't worked with Claudel
before, but knew his reputation. He thought himself an exceptionally
intelligent man.

"I have several names," he said. "Possibles. They all disappeared within