“I took X rays,” Marvin said. He acted hurt that Laurie would suggest that he hadn’t. “I always take X rays when a body comes in unless one of the doctors tells me otherwise.”

“Then where’s the slip and where are the films?” Laurie asked.

“Hey, I don’t know what happened to the slip,” Marvin said. “But the films: They went with Doctor Bingham.”

“Bingham took them?” Laurie questioned. Even that was odd, yet she recognized that Bingham probably was planning on doing the post the following morning.

“He told me he was taking them up to his office,” Marvin said. “What am I supposed to do, tell the boss he can’t take the X rays. No way! Not this dude.”

“Right, of course,” Laurie said vaguely. She was preoccupied. Here was a new surprise. X rays existed of Franconi’s body! Of course, it didn’t matter much without the body itself, but she wondered why she’d not been told. Then again she’d not seen Bingham until after it was known that Franconi’s body had been stolen.

“Well, I’m glad I spoke to you,” Laurie said, coming out of her musing. “And I apologize for suggesting that you’d forgotten to take the films.”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Marvin said.

Laurie was about to leave when she thought about the Spoletto Funeral Home. On a whim, she asked Marvin about it.

Marvin shrugged. “What do you want to know?” he asked. “I don’t know much. I’ve never been there, you know what I’m saying.”

“What are the people like who come here from the home?” Laurie asked.

“Normal,” Marvin said with another shrug. “I’ve probably only seen them a couple of times. I mean, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Laurie nodded. “It was a silly question. I don’t know why I asked.”

Laurie left the mortuary office and exited the morgue through the loading area onto Thirtieth Street. It seemed to her that nothing about the Franconi case was routine.

As Laurie commenced walking south along First Avenue another whim hit her. Suddenly, the idea of visiting the Spoletto Funeral Home seemed very appealing. She hesitated for a second while considering the idea and then stepped out into the street to hail a cab.

“Where to, lady?” the driver asked. Laurie could see from his hackney license that his name was Michael Neu-man.

“Do you know where Ozone Park is?” Laurie asked.

“Sure, it’s over in Queens,” Michael said. He was an older man who, Laurie guessed, was in his late sixties. He was sitting on a foam rubber–stuffed pillow with a lot of foam rubber visible. His backrest was constructed of wooden beads.

“How long would it take to get there?” Laurie asked. If it was going to take hours, she wouldn’t do it.

Michael made a questioning expression by compressing his lips while thinking. “Not long,” he said vaguely. “Traffic’s light. In fact, I was just out at Kennedy Airport, and it was a breeze.”

“Let’s go,” Laurie said.