Pia took one of the newly vacated seats and tried to be patient. While she waited she tried to decide what approach to take with the medical examiner. Should she be aggressive or coy? Eventually she decided she’d have to wait and see what kind of man Dr. McGovern turned out to be. She was hoping for someone on the youngish side, someone she could flirt with to a degree. Over the years she’d learned she had an effect on most men, and she thought that this was one of those situations where it could work to her advantage. Usually it was the opposite.

A few minutes later her prayers were answered when a youngish man came through the inner doors in a long white lab coat with the confident air of a doctor. When he took one look at Pia, who was the only person in the waiting room, his face lit up. Pia recognized the reaction. She’d seen it too many times not to. He appeared to be in his forties, early fifties at most. He was blond and good-looking in a masculine, all-American way, somewhat like George, and Pia could tell he was in good shape.

He came right over to Pia like a bee to honey and introduced himself. Pia did the same, avoiding his stare. She recognized the type immediately: an irrepressible Lothario who undoubtedly saw every attractive single woman younger than him as a challenge. She was encouraged.

After the introductions, which included him repeating proudly that he was indeed the current coordinator for teaching at the OCME, he said, “Let’s go up to my office and see if we can’t help you out. Thanks, Marlene.”

McGovern winked at Marlene behind Pia’s back, and Marlene rolled her eyes.

As McGovern escorted Pia to his third-floor office he peppered her with questions about where she was at medical school, what year, and what she thought she might like to specialize in. He mentioned how interesting medical forensics was and offered up his credentials.

Pia played along, answering McGovern’s questions, acting as if she were interested in his life story and achievements. They entered McGovern’s small office and sat on either side of McGovern’s untidy desk.

“Sorry about the mess. So what can I do for you, Miss, er . . .” McGovern’s eyes shone with the struggle he was having remembering her name.

“Grazdani. Thank you for seeing me with so little warning.”

“My pleasure, I’m sure.”

“I want to know about autopsies that were performed here on Dr. Tobias Rothman and Dr. Junichi Yamamoto from Columbia University Medical Center. They died the morning of March twenty-fourth—yesterday—of typhoid fever.” Pia was all business, taking McGovern aback. “I’m assuming autopsies have already been done,” she said.