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

"Too big." He rolled his tongue and used it to probe one of the gaps in
his dental work. The tip appeared and disappeared between the teeth like
a worm testing for daylight.

"Anything else?"

"What do you mean?" The worm withdrew. "Did you find anything besides
bones?"

"Yeah. That's what don't seem right." He spread his arms wide,
indicating a dimension with his hands. "There's a big plastic sack
around all this Stuff, and. . ." He shrugged, turning his palms up and
leaving the sentence unfinished.

"And?" My uneasiness was escalating.

"Une ventouse." He said it quickly, embarrassed and excited at the same
time. Gil was traveling with me, his apprehension matching mine. His
eyes had left the ground and were roving in double time.

"A what?" I asked, thinking perhaps I'd misunderstood the word. "Une
ventouse. A plunger. For the bathroom." He imitated its use, his body
thrust forward, hands wrapped around an invisible handle, arms driving
upward and downward. The macabre little pantomime was so out of context
it was jarring. Gil let out a "Sacre. . ." and locked his eyes back on
to the earth. I just stared at him. This wasn't right. I finished my
notes and closed the spiral.

"Is it wet down there?" I didn't really want to wear the boots and
coveralls unless it was necessary.

"Nah," he said, again looking to Gil for confirmation. Gil shook his
head, eyes never leaving the dirt at his feet.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go." I hoped that I appeared calmer than I felt.
Ponytail led the way across the grass and into the woods. We descended
gradually into a small ravine, the trees and brush growing thicker as we
approached the bottom. I followed into the thicket, taking the larger
branches in my right hand as he bent them back for me, then handing them
off to Gil. Still small branches tugged at my hair. The place smelled of
damp earth, grass, and rotting leaves. Sunlight penetrated the foliage
unevenly, dappling the ground with puzzle piece splotches. Here and
there a beam found an opening and sliced straight through to the ground.
Dust particles danced in the slanted shafts. Flying insects swarmed
around my face and whined in my ears, and creepers grabbed my ankles. At
the bottom of the trench the worker stopped to get his bearings, then
turned to the right. I followed, slapping at mosquitoes, handing off
vegetation, squinting through clouds of gnats around my eyes, and the
occasional loner that went straight for the cornea. Sweat beaded my lip