Free Murder on the Silk Road by Stefanie Matteson

while ago,” said Bert. “I was planning to look you up right after dinner. We’re chomping at the bit to hear what you’ve found. What about it?” he asked eagerly. “Is there anything out there?”
    Larry’s eyes gleamed as he twirled the waxed tips of his mustache. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the others at the table.
    Peng took one, as did Charlotte. Though she wasn’t a smoker, she enjoyed a cigarette now and then. Then Larry took one for himself, and lit all three with a gold cigarette lighter. Leaning back in his seat, he took a long draw.
    “Okay, Fiske,” said Dogie. “Let’s quit this cigarette shit. We want to know what you’ve got. Pardon the language, ladies,” he added.
    Larry smiled, showing large teeth that were stained yellow from nicotine. He leaned forward. “I have found”—he paused for dramatic effect—“the richest fossil grounds that I have ever seen in my entire life.”
    “No shit?” said Dogie.
    Larry raised his right hand in a mock oath. “No shit.” He continued, this time speaking more rapidly: “It is absolutely paved with fossils out there.” He spread out his hands to illustrate. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a veritable paleontologist’s El Dorado.”
    “Damn,” said Dogie. His gaze was directed at the open door of the dining hall, where Gene Orecchio was standing with a young Chinese man.
    As Dogie spoke, Orecchio spotted them and started for their table, the young Chinese trailing behind. “May we join you?” he asked as he reached the table, indicating the two empty seats.
    “Of course,” said Bert, trying to be accommodating.
    Orecchio’s companion wore baggy Chinese trousers with a tie-dyed T-shirt, and a woven friendship bracelet of the type common among American students. He also wore round wire-rimmed glasses that accentuated his high, sharp cheekbones. His shoulder-length black hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
    “I’d like to introduce my new acquaintance,” said Orecchio. “This is Ned Chee,” he said. “Ned is a visiting scholar at the Dunhuang Research Academy. He’s from the University of California at Berkeley.”
    Charlotte reflected that she should have known by his T-shirt, bracelet, and ponytail that he was Chinese-American rather than Chinese, The Chinese government still frowned on any “unseemly” displays of individualism in style.
    “Ned has been here for eight weeks,” said Orecchio as they sat down, the geologist taking care to sit in the seat farthest away from Dogie. “This is his second trip to Dunhuang.”
    He spoke grudgingly; it was clear to Charlotte that Ned had attached himself to an unwilling host. If Ned had been here for eight weeks, however, he was probably desperate for fresh company.
    “What are you working on here?” asked Marsha.
    “My doctoral dissertation in art history,” he replied. “It’s on sculpture from the Northern Wei Dynasty.”
    “Then you must have known Averill Boardmann,” said Marsha. “He was supposed to be here with us, but …”
    Charlotte made a mental note that Ned might be useful in tracking down the Oglethorpe sculpture. If he’d been at the Academy for eight weeks, he would know if the sculpture had been returned.
    “Yes, I worked closely with him when I was here last year,” Ned replied. “I was very sorry to hear about his death.”
    After introductions were completed, the conversation turned back to dinosaurs, with Bert recapping Larry’s story for Orecchio.
    “It’s just as we had expected,” said Peng, explaining that satellite navigation photos had helped them pinpoint the Dunhuang area as having the type of rock formations that could be expected to yield bone.
    “Better,” exclaimed Larry. “It’s better than we ever could have expected. In our wildest dreams ,” he added, flinging out his arms expansively. “Best of all, it’s practically a stone’s throw from our