Laurie regarded her friend of at least a decade and lover of nearly four years. His irreverent gaiety and sarcasm could at times be wearing, and this was one of them. "So you're deigning to speak with me now?" she questioned with an equally affected tone.

Jack's smile faltered. "Of course I'm going to talk with you. What kind of question is that?"

"Except for that brief professorial game when I first came into the autopsy room, you've been ignoring me all morning."

"Ignoring you?" Jack questioned with knitted brows. "I think I should remind you we came to work separately, which was more your decision than mine, arrived at different times, and since then, we've been working on our own cases."

"We work most days, and most days we communicate almost continuously, particularly when we are in the same room. I even went over to your table during your second case and asked you a direct question."

"I didn't see or hear you. Scout's honor." Jack held up his index and middle finger in the form of a V. His smile returned.

Laurie arched her eyebrows and shrugged. She was being provocative by suggesting that she didn't believe him, but she didn't care. "Fine and dandy, and now I have more work to do." She turned her attention back to the sheet with the Westchester phone number.

"No doubt," Jack said, refusing to rise to the bait or be dismissed. "How were your cases this morning?"

Laurie looked up but not at Jack. "One was routine and rather uninteresting. The other was disappointing."

"In what regard?"

"I'd promised a couple whose son died at the Manhattan General to find out what killed him and let them know immediately, but the autopsy was clean; there was no gross pathology whatsoever. Now I've got to call and say we have to wait for the microscopic to be available. I know they are going to be disappointed, and I am, too."

"Janice briefed me on that case," Jack said. "You didn't find any emboli?"

"Nothing!"

"And the heart?"

Laurie looked back at Jack. "The heart, the lungs, and the great vessels were all completely normal."

"I'll wager you find something with the heart's conduction system or maybe micro emboli in the brainstem. You took adequate samples for toxicology? That would be my second thought."

"I did," Laurie said. "I'd also kept in mind he'd had anesthesia less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Well, sorry your cases were a letdown. Mine were the opposite. In fact, I'd have to say they were fun."

"Fun?"

"Truly! Both turned out to be the absolute opposite of what everybody thought."

"How so?"

"The first case was this well-known psychologist."

"Sara Cromwell."

"Supposedly, it was a brutal murder during a sexual assault."

"I saw the knife, remember?"

"That was what threw everybody for a loop. You see there was no other wound, and she hadn't been raped."

"How could all the blood that was described come from that single, nonfatal stab wound?"

"It didn't."

Jack stared at Laurie with a slight smile of anticipation. Laurie stared back. She was in no mood to play games. "So where did it come from?"

"Any ideas?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"I think you'd be able to guess if you thought about it for a minute. I mean, you did look at how gaunt she was, didn't you?"

"Jack, if you want to tell me, tell me. Otherwise, I have to make my call."

"The blood was from her stomach. It turns out there was a fatal engorgement of food, causing a rupture of her stomach and the lower part of her esophagus. Obviously, the woman had bulimia, and pushed herself over the edge. Can you believe it? Everybody was convinced it was homicide and it turns out to be accidental."

"What about the knife sticking out of her thigh?"

"That was the real teaser. It was self-inflicted, but not on purpose. In her final moments, while she was puking blood and putting away the cheese, she slipped on her own blood and fell on the knife she was holding. Isn't it too much? I tell you: This is going to be a good case to present at our Thursday conference."

For a moment, Laurie stared at Jack's satisfied face. The story had touched a chord in her inner life. There had been a time when she'd had self-esteem problems after her brother's death, causing her to have a brush with anorexia and bulimia. It was a secret she hadn't shared with anyone.

"And my next two cases were equally intriguing. It was a double suicide. Did you hear about it?"

"Vaguely," Laurie responded. She was still thinking about bulimia.

"I tell you, I have to give old Fontworth credit," Jack said. "I'd always considered him less than meticulous, but last night he seemed to have done a bang-up job. With the double suicide, he found a heavy Mag-Lite flashlight on the front seat of the SUV along with the victims and was smart enough to bring it with the bodies. He also noted the driver's-side door was ajar."

"What was important about the flashlight?" Laurie asked.

"Plenty," Jack replied. "First of all, let me say I was a bit suspicious when there was only one suicide note. In double suicides, it's usual to have two notes or one that is written by both parties. I mean, it makes sense, since they are doing it together. Anyway, that put up a red flag. Since the note was presumably from the woman, I elected to autopsy her first. What I expected to find after the fact was something toxicological, like a knock-out drug or the like. I didn't expect to find anything on gross, but I did. She had a literal indentation on her forehead just above the hairline that was curiously curved."

Jack paused. His smile returned.

"Don't tell me the flashlight and the indentation matched."

"You got it! A perfect match! It seems that the whole affair was an elaborate setup by the husband, who had prepared the scene and probably even wrote the note. After he knocked out his wife, got her into the passenger seat of the SUV, and started the engine, he probably went back in the house to wait. When he thought enough time had passed, he returned to check that his wife was dead, but didn't realize how quickly one can succumb to carbon monoxide if the level is high enough. Climbing behind the wheel, he rapidly fell unconscious and ended up joining his wife."

"What a story!" Laurie commented.

"Isn't it ironic? I mean, it was supposed to be a double suicide, and instead the manner of death turns out to be homicidal for the wife and accidental for the husband. Forensic pathology certainly can surprise."

Laurie nodded. She distinctly remembered having the same thought before she started her overdose case.

"Even the police case is turning out to be opposite of what was expected."

"How so?" Laurie asked.

"Everybody has been assuming it was a case of justifiable homicide by the police, since the police acknowledged shooting him a number of times, but Calvin just told me that as near as they can determine, it was suicide. They've been able to ascertain that the victim shot himself through the heart before he was hit by any of the police rounds."

"That should help quiet the neighborhood."

"We should hope," Jack said. "Anyway, it was an interesting morning, to say the least, and I just thought you'd like to hear that we've had a rash of cases this morning where the manner of death was the opposite of what was expected. With that said, are you going to pop down for some lunch soon?"

"I don't know. I'm not terribly hungry, and I've got a lot to do." "Well, maybe I'll catch you down there. If not, I'll see you later." Laurie waved at Jack as he disappeared down the hall. She turned her attention back to Sean McGillin Sr.'s phone number. She thought about what Jack had said about forensic surprises and considered what that could mean for Sean McGillin Jr. She'd expected his manner of death to be natural, a fatal clot or fat emboli or even a congenital anomaly. Since she'd not found anything of the kind, at least so far, she was now entertaining the idea that the cause of death could've been accidental, such as an unexpected late complication with anesthesia. But if the cause of death were to be truly opposite, like the cases Jack had just described, it would have to have been homicidal.