“Do you think they’d tell us the results if we called?” George asked.

“You mean call the ME’s office?” Simonov smiled and let out a quick, knowing laugh. “You think in this great big city bureaucracy you can just call and they jump and tell you results? Not in a million years. This case is important, they were important guys. It’s going to be a media event. There’s probably going to be lawsuits about safety, that kind of thing. Since it’s an infectious case, the autopsies have probably already been done, but they’re not going to release any results for three, four weeks after the toxicology screens are completed. But there’s not going to be general access to the information, and they definitely won’t give the results to a couple of green medical students.”

“You’re probably right,” Pia said. She knew more than most people about city institutions.

“If I were you, find something else to do. But it’s your life. If you insist on looking into the case, I’d go down there. I wouldn’t try calling on the phone. If you’re there in person and meet with someone who more or less takes pity on you or likes you, you might learn something.” Simonov winked at Pia. She got his inference but ignored it.

“So if you’re really committed,” Simonov continued, “go to the OCME. Just don’t count on getting any answers. As for calling, you might as well call three-one-one.” Simonov was referring to the citizens’ help line—people called to report a cat stuck up a tree or a loud movie set on the street. Simonov checked his watch and picked up his coffee.

“If you decide to call three-one-one, tell them there’s still a big pothole on my street. Been there since Thanksgiving.”

Back out in the rainy night, Pia and George slogged along 168th Street, keeping as far away from the curb as they could. Every time a yellow cab zipped by, it splashed water up onto the sidewalk.

“Well, that was almost useless,” Pia managed against the wind.

“I’m not sure I’d write it off as useless. He reminded us about the politics involved. He also emphasized that there’s undoubtedly going to be a thorough investigation as a prelude to any legal action. I think that’s information you should take to heart. It’s time to drop all this, Pia.”

“Dreamer,” Pia said. “I’m in this until I get some answers.”

“You are impossible,” George commented, as a sudden gust of wind came down from Haven Avenue, halting their forward progress for a moment. They had reached Fort Washington Avenue. Looking to the side, Pia realized they had come abreast of the Black research building.

“What time is it?” Pia asked.