When the door opened, the young man who entered seemed as surprised as Laurie to meet someone in the apartment. Laurie recognized him as the man in many of the bedroom photos.

“Dr. Laurie Montgomery,” Laurie said, flipping open her badge. “I’m from the medical examiner’s office, investigating Miss Myerholtz’s death.”

“I’m Robert Nussman. I was Julia’s boyfriend.”

“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Laurie said, moving to leave. “I can come back at another time.” She did not want Bingham to get wind of this.

“No, it’s all right,” Robert said, holding up a hand. “Please stay. I’ll only be here a moment.”

“Terrible tragedy,” Laurie said. She felt the need to say something.

“Tell me about it,” Robert said. He suddenly looked very sad. He also acted as if he needed to talk.

“Did you know she took drugs?” Laurie asked.

“She didn’t,” he said. “I know that’s what you people say,” he added as his face flushed, “but I’m telling you, Julia never did drugs. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was totally into health. She got me into running.” He smiled at the memory. “Last spring she had me do my first triathlon. I just can’t figure it. My God, she didn’t even drink.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurie said.

“She was so gifted,” Robert said wistfully. “So strong-willed, so committed. She cared about people. She was religious: not overly, but enough. And she was involved in everything, like pro choice, the homeless, AIDS, you name it.”

“I understand you identified her here at the scene,” Laurie said. “Were you the one who found her?”

“Yes,” Robert managed. He looked away, struggling with tears.

“It must have been awful,” Laurie said. Memories of finding her brother crowded in with graphic intensity. She did her best to dismiss them. “Where was she when you came in?”

Robert pointed toward the bedroom.

“Was she still alive at that point?” Laurie asked gently.

“Sort of,” Robert said. “She was breathing off and on. I gave her CPR until the ambulance got here.”

“How did you happen to come by?” Laurie asked.

“She’d called me earlier,” Robert said. “She said to be sure to come over later on.”

“Was that customary?” Laurie asked.

Robert looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess.”

“Did she sound normal?” Laurie asked. “Could you tell if she’d taken any drugs yet?”

“I don’t think she’d taken anything,” Robert said. “She didn’t sound high. But I guess she didn’t seem normal either. She sounded tense. In fact, I was a little afraid she was planning on telling me something bad, like she wanted to break up or something.”

“Was there some problem in your relationship?” Laurie asked.

“No,” Robert said. “Things were great. I mean, I thought they were great. It’s just that she sounded a little funny.”

“What about that broken statue by the front door?”

“I saw that the second I came through the door last night,” Robert said. “It was her favorite possession. It was a couple of hundred years old. When I saw it was broken, I knew something bad was going on.”

Laurie glanced over at the shattered statue and wondered if Julia could have broken it while in the throes of a seizure. If so, how did she get from the foyer to the bedroom?

“Thank you for your help,” Laurie said. “I hope I haven’t upset you with my questions.”

“No,” Robert said. “But why are you going to all this trouble? I thought medical examiners just did autopsies and only got involved with murders, like Quincy.”

“We try to help the living,” Laurie said. “That’s our job. What I’d really like to do is prevent future tragedies like Julia’s. The more I learn, the more I may be able to do that.”

“If you have any more questions, call me,” Robert said. He handed Laurie his card. “And if it somehow turns out that it wasn’t drugs, please let me know. It would be important because…” Suddenly overcome with emotion, he wasn’t able to continue.

Laurie nodded. She gave Robert her own business card after scribbling her home phone number on the back. “If you have any questions for me or if you think of anything I should know, please give me a call. You can call anytime.”

Leaving Robert to grieve in private, Laurie left the apartment and boarded the elevator. As she was riding down, she recalled that Sara Wetherbee had said that Duncan had invited her over the night he’d overdosed. Laurie thought both Duncan’s and Julia’s invitations to their significant others were odd. If both were doing such a good job hiding their drug abuse, why invite someone over the very night they were indulging?

Laurie returned the key to Patrick the doorman and thanked him on her way out. She was a half dozen steps from the door when she turned around and went back.

“Were you on duty last night?” Laurie asked him.

“Indeed I was,” Patrick said. “Three to eleven. That’s my shift.”

“Did you happen to see Julia Myerholtz yesterday evening?” Laurie asked.

“I did,” Patrick said. “I’d see her most every evening.”

“I suppose you’ve heard what happened to her,” Laurie said. She didn’t want to offer any information the doorman might not be privy to.

“I have,” Patrick said. “She took drugs like a lot of young people. It’s a shame.”

“Did she seem depressed when she came in last night?” Laurie asked.

“I wouldn’t say depressed,” Patrick said. “But she didn’t act normal.”

“In what way?” Laurie asked.

“She didn’t say hello,” Patrick said. “She always said hello except for last night. But maybe that was because she wasn’t alone.”

“Do you remember who was with her?” Laurie questioned with interest.

“I do,” Patrick said. “Normally I can’t remember things like that since we have a lot of traffic going in and out. But since Ms. Myerholtz hadn’t said hello, I looked at her companions.”

“Did you recognize them?” Laurie said. “Had they been here before?”

“I didn’t know who they were,” Patrick said. “And I don’t think I’d ever seen them. One was tall, thin, and well dressed. The other was muscular and on the short side. No one said anything when they came in.”

“Did you see them when they went out?” Laurie asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Patrick said. “They must have left during my break.”

“What time did they come in?” Laurie asked.

“Early evening,” Patrick said. “Something like seven o’clock.”

Laurie thanked Patrick yet again and hailed a cab to return to her office. It was almost dusk. The skyscrapers were already lit and people were hurrying home from work. As the cab headed downtown in the heavy traffic, she thought about her conversations with the boyfriend and the doorman. She wondered about the two men Patrick had described. Although they were probably co-workers or friends of Julia’s, the fact that they had visited the same night that Julia overdosed made them important. Laurie wished there was some way she could find out their identities so she could talk with them. The thought even went through her mind that they could have been drug dealers. Could Julia Myerholtz have had a secret life her boyfriend wasn’t privy to?

Back at the medical examiner’s building, Laurie went first to George’s office to see if he’d returned from the dentist. Obviously he had come and gone; his office was dark.

Disappointed, Laurie tried the door, but it was locked. Not being able to talk with George, she’d had the sudden idea to get the address of the other overdose, Wendell Morrison.

Leaving her coat in her room and picking up some rubber gloves, Laurie went down to the morgue. She found the evening mortuary tech, Bruce Pomowski, in the mortuary office.

“Any idea of the dispensation of the Myerholtz remains?” Laurie asked. “Have they been picked up?”

“Was she one of today’s cases?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Laurie said.

Bruce opened a thick ledger and ran a finger down the day’s entries. When he got to Myerholtz, his finger ran across the page. “Hasn’t been picked up yet,” he said. “We’re waiting on a call from an out-of-town funeral home.”