“Precisely,” I said. “And that’s where Susan fits in. If I were the guard who made this mistake, I’d be very worried. The burning question for me would be whether one of the medical examiners opened that envelope in the morgue, or if the envelope was left sealed. If I, this guard, also happened to be the contact for Ben Stevens, the person forking over cash in exchange for making sure Waddell’s body wasn’t printed at the morgue, for example, then I’d know exactly where to turn.”

“You’d contact Stevens and tell him to find out if the envelope was opened. And if so, whether its contents made anybody suspicious or inclined to go around asking questions: It’s called tripping over your paranoia and ending up with many more problems than you would have had if you’d just been cool. But it would seem Stevens could have answered that question easily.”

“Not so,” I said. “He could ask Susan, but she didn’t witness the opening of the envelope. Fielding opened it upstairs, photocopied the contents, and sent the original out with Waddell’s other personal effects.”

“Stevens couldn’t have just pulled the case and looked at the photocopy?”

‘Not unless he broke the lock on my credenza,” I said.

“Then, in his mind, the only other alternative was the computer.”

“Unless he asked Fielding or me. He would know better than that. Neither of us would have divulged a confidential detail like that to him or Susan or anyone else.”

“Does he know enough about computers to break into your directory?”

“Not to my knowledge, but Susan had taken several courses and had UNIX books in her office.”

The telephone rang and I let Lucy answer it. When she came into the kitchen, her eyes were uneasy.

“It’s your lawyer, Aunt Kay.”

She moved the kitchen phone within reach, and ‘I picked it up without moving from my chair. Nicholas Grueman wasted no words on a greeting but went straight to his point.

“Dr. Scarpetta, on November twelfth you wrote a money market account check to the tune of ten thousand dollars cash. And I find no records in any of your bank statements that might indicate this money was deposited in any of your various accounts.”

“I didn’t deposit the money.”

“You walked out of the bank with ten thousand dollars.”

“No, I did not. I wrote the check at Signet Bank, downtown, and with it purchased a cashier’s check in British sterling.”

“To whom was the cashier’s check made out?” My former professor asked as Benton Wesley stared tensely at me.

“Mr. Grueman, the transaction was of a private nature and in no way has any bearing on my profession.”

“Come now, Dr. Scarpetta. You know that’s not good enough.”

I took a deep breath.