“And if you didn’t want the further emotional exhaustion of reinterment-to say nothing of the expense-you might elect a less emotional solution. And less expensive, if you were short of funds…You have the right to order the body cremated.”

“I didn’t realize that,” she said.

“I’m sure you never imagined that taking your husband’s body out of the ground would be so traumatic.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You might decide not to put yourself through it again.”

“That’s just how I feel,” she said.

Marty thought, I’ll bet you do. “Of course, if you knew there was going to be an investigation, you would not be permitted to cremate the body. Certainly I would never suggest you cremate. But you might decide on cremation yourself, for your own reasons. And if that happened soon-later today, or tomorrow morning-then it would just be one of those things. The body was unfortunately cremated before the inquest was called.”

“I understand.”

“I have to go,” he said.

“I appreciate your taking the time to call me,” she said. “Was there anything else?”

“No, that’s everything,” he said. “Thank you, Mrs. Weller.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Roberts.”

Click.

Marty Roberts leaned back in his chair. He was very pleased with how that call had gone. Very pleased indeed.

Just one more thing, for the moment, remained to be done.

“Fifth-Floor Lab. This is Jennie.”

“Jennie, this is Dr. Roberts down in Pathology. I need you to check on a lab result for me.”

“Is it stat, Dr. Roberts?”

“No, it’s an old test. Tox screen that was ordered eight days ago. Patient name is Weller.” He read off the serial number.

There was a brief pause. He heard the clicking of keys. “John J. Weller? White male, age forty-six?”

“Yes.”

“We did a full-panel tox screen at three thirty-seven a.m. on Sunday, May eighth. Tox screen and, uh, nine other tests.”

“And you kept the blood sample?”

“Yes, I’m sure we did. We keep all tissues these days.”

“Would you check for me?”

“Dr. Roberts, these days we keep everything. We even keep the heel stick cards whenever a child is born. It’s PKU testing required by law, but we keep the cards anyway. We keep cord blood. We keep placenta tissue. We keep surgical excisions. We keep everything-”

“I understand, but would you mind checking?”

“I can see it’s registered right here on my screen,” she said. “We have the frozen sample stored in freezer locker B-7. It’ll be taken to the offsite storage at the end of the month.”

“I’m sorry,” Marty said. “But this involves a potential legal issue. Would you physically check to make sure the sample is where it’s supposed to be?”

“Of course. I’ll send somebody down there and call you back.”

“Thank you, Jennie.”

He hung up and leaned back in his chair again. Through the glass wall, he watched Raza scrubbing down a steel table, in preparation for the next autopsy. Raza did a thorough job of cleaning. Marty gave him that: The guy was thorough. He paid attention to details.

Which meant that he was not above changing the hospital database to indicate the storage of a nonexistent sample. Either he did it, or he had someone do it for him.

The phone rang. “Dr. Roberts? It’s Jennie.”

“Yes, Jennie.”

“I’m afraid I spoke too soon. The sample for Weller is thirty cc’s of venous blood, frozen. But it’s not in B-7; it seems to have been misplaced. I have a trace on it now. I will let you know as soon as it’s found. Was there anything else?”

“No,” Marty said. “Thank you very much, Jennie.”