“What are they?” Vinnie asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Puncture wounds of some sort.”

“How many times do you suppose they shot him in the abdomen?” Vinnie asked.

“Hard to say,” Jack said.

“Boy, they weren’t taking any chances,” Vinnie said. “They sure as hell wanted him dead.”

A half hour later, when Jack was about to commence the internal part of the autopsy, the door opened and Laurie walked in. She was gowned and held a mask to her face, but she didn’t have on her moon suit. Since she was a stickler for rules and since moon suits were now required in the “pit,” Jack was immediately suspicious.

“At least your case wasn’t in the water for long,” Laurie said, looking down at the corpse. “It’s not decomposed at all.”

“Just a refreshing dip,” Jack quipped.

“What a shotgun wound!” Laurie marveled, gazing at the fearsome wound. Then looking at the multiple gashes, she added, “These look like they were done by a propeller.”

Jack straightened up. “Laurie, what’s on your mind? You didn’t come down here just to help us, did you?”

“No,” Laurie admitted. Her voice wavered behind her mask. “I guess I wanted a little moral support.”

“About what?” Jack questioned.

“Calvin just reamed me out,” Laurie said. “Apparently the night tech, Mike Passano, complained that I had been in last night accusing him of being involved in the theft of Franconi’s body. Can you imagine? Anyway, Calvin was really angry, and you know how I hate confrontation. I ended up crying, which made me furious at myself.”

Jack blew out through pursed lips. He tried to think of something to say other than “I told you so,” but nothing came to mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said limply.

“Thanks,” Laurie said.

“So you shed a few tears,” Jack said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“But I hate it,” Laurie complained. “It’s so unprofessional.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Sometimes I wish I could shed tears. Maybe if we could do some kind of partial trade, we’d both be better off.”

“Anytime!” Laurie said with conviction. This was the closest Jack had come to an admission of what Laurie had long suspected: his bottled-up grief was the major stumbling block for his own happiness.

“So, at least now you’ll drop your minicrusade,” Jack said.

“Heavens, no!” Laurie said. “If anything, it makes me more committed because it suggests just what I feared. Calvin and Bingham are going to try to sweep the episode under the carpet. It’s not right.”

“Oh, Laurie!” Jack moaned. “Please! This little run-in with Calvin will only be the beginning. You’re going to bring yourself nothing but grief.”

“It’s the principle,” Laurie said. “So don’t lecture me. I came to you for support.”

Jack sighed, fogging up his plastic face mask for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing in particular,” Laurie said. “Just be there for me.”

Fifteen minutes later, Laurie left the autopsy room. Jack had showed her all the external findings on his case, including the two puncture wounds. She’d listened with half an ear, obviously preoccupied with the Franconi business. Jack had had to restrain himself to keep from telling her again how he felt.