Page 38 - Just Deserts

Excessories

in pursuit of that goal was remarkable, considering his youth. He
took a step forward.
“I do understand the value of your time, doctor,” he pleaded, “but
I also serve the public. What you have to say about this—this
headdress, I guess you’d call it—may have a direct impact on some
very important issues. And I will be glad to quote you directly in an
article I plan to write about it.”
A span of time elapsed before the stalemate was resolved.
Dr. Tuccifili groaned and got to his feet again. “Since you do not
seem inclined to leave, I must accede to your demand. Come here,
and put the blasted thing under the light.” He ambled over to a table
with a small uncluttered space beneath an old gooseneck lamp.
“Thank you, sir!” Swerdlow undid the wrappings with alacrity and
exposed an object consisting of bands of beads sewn into twisted
lengths of raw silk. The reporter laid it down gently and the beads
shone brightly at the base of a cone of incandescence. Tuccifili bent
over the table, pulling one of the bands up to his face for closer
scrutiny. He grunted.
“Well,” he said, tossing the ornament down in a heap. “What do
you need to know about this?”
The journalist winced. “The main thing is its age. I understand
ivory is considered an antique if it is more than a century old.”
“That is the government’s opinion,” sneered Tuccifili. “And
irrelevant in this case. This pastiche was made yesterday, and it
contains not a particle of ivory.”
Swerdlow blinked. “What? Not ivory? Wait a minute: I didn’t want
to give you any hints, but isn’t this part of the royal regalia of
Rasgullah?”
The ursine expert lumbered back to the corner of his lair in
which the reporter had found him. He wiped his hands on his
vest. “Never heard of the place. I’d say you were the victim of a
rather cruel hoax, young man. Those beads look to me like human
teeth. Or some other primate of similar dentition—at any rate a
lovely collection of incisors and canines. Perhaps the tooth fairy will
shower blessings upon you.”
Edwin Swerdlow grabbed the headdress and subjected it to his
own lay scrutiny. “My God. They really could be. Just ground off at
37