I rode over his sarcasm. “I think DuPage only gave him a brief look-see and it’s really important that they do a complete autopsy before they release him to the family tomorrow”

“On your say-so?” Vishnikov was sarcastic.

“No, Dr. Vishnikov, on yours. The sheriff is saying he was drunk, but it doesn’t seem likely. They need to do a thorough exam, see if they’ve overlooked something.”

“Like what?” he growled.

“I don’t know. A blow to the head or sternum, or curare in the blood

stream, or-I’m not a pathologist. Anything. Anything that might have made him go into that pond. If he even drowned there. Maybe he died in Lake Michigan and someone carried him out to Larchmont”

“You’ve been watching too many Law F7 Order reruns. Give it a rest, and let me get back to sleep.”

“Not until you tell me you’ll talk to the DuPage County ME.”

“Do you have any idea-no, apparently not. This is not like calling one of my own colleagues at Cook County. I only know Jerry Hastings very slightly, and if he called me to tell me to go back over a body I’d tell him to go to hell. So that’s what I’d expect him to do to me.”

“Can’t you say you have a body that died in a similar way and you want to compare notes? Or get them to let you look at Marcus Whitby yourself for the same reason?” I started coughing again and had to stop to drink more tea.

“No. What I can do is a private autopsy if the family hires me. If DuPage is releasing the body to them, it’s within their rights to make that decision.”

I covered the mouthpiece and explained his advice to Amy and Harriet, who frowned in worry. “Mother-she won’t agree to that. All she wants is to get Marc away from this place as fast as possible. Isn’t there anything else you can do?”

When I relayed that back to Bryant, he said, “Then there’s nothing I can do to help you. You want the autopsy, you’ve got to get the family to release the body to me or someone else who will perform a private exam. Or come up with some compelling reason for Jerry Hastings to revisit the body.”

“I need to buy time for an investigation!” I exclaimed, frustrated. “Look, Warshawski, if the family won’t agree to a private autopsy, then you’ll just have to let them take the body away in the morning. Speaking of which, the dawn is not far distant. I’m going back to sleep. And you, you start gargling, or your next stop will be one of my slabs-assuming you die in Cook County.”

Vishnikov hung up, but just as I was explaining the problem to Harriet he called back. “In my morgue, I’m always having to battle with low-level clerks who lose the paperwork on bodies.”

He hung up again before I could speak. I waved a hand at my visitors, urging them to silence, while I frowned over his advice. I only had one possibility. I combed through the papers I’d dumped from my briefcase until I found Stephanie Protheroe’s cell phone number.