“I did not look,” she said. “I heard Dr. Roque gasping for air, I heard his body fall. I was sixty-five miles away and terrified; I called the guard at the state lab and finally he looked at his monitor and saw the doctor on the floor. If only he had been more alert—! But in any event, Dr. Roque was hospitalized, the dead woman’s body disappeared, I did not know if there was any point. However, I see she had two old gold teeth with a great deal of decay underneath.” Malik pointed at two of the teeth, an upper molar and a bottom front tooth.

“These weren’t American crowns, which are usually porcelain with gold inlays. They were gold that you see flashing when the person smiles. Dr. Roque said that was typically Eastern European.”

My stomach twisted: I’ve seen gold teeth in Chicago—some South Side dentists used to make them. And someone closer to Roque’s age than to McKinnon’s—that description fit Emerald Ferring.

“The dead woman,” I said, my throat tight. “Did Dr. Roque say what he thought her race was?”

“No, no. Dr. Roque was only starting the autopsy, and of course everything was going to take twice as long since he had to do all the tech support himself. Oh, why did I not say to hell with state regulations and go with him? I could have gotten him to a hospital as soon as he felt ill. By himself he would never leave the morgue if he felt unwell. His sense of duty was very keen. By the time he fainted, it was too late for medical help.”

She started to weep again.

I let her cry into the computer a bit longer but finally asked if she’d told the sheriff’s deputies anything about the dental X-rays.

“No. They were so rude. They wanted to take apart his office, look at his mail. Rhoda was crying, I was trying not to cry: I would not tell them anything.”

“Splendid,” I said. “Let’s not tell them yet. They’re being rather annoying, and I don’t feel like helping them. I know you’re tired, but I have one last question. Dr. Roque wrote a letter to McKinnon—at least I think he might have. All I have is the fragment of the envelope with his name on it.”

I held up the torn scrap for her inspection. “Dr. Roque’s secretary didn’t know anything about it. Do you?”

Malik frowned in puzzlement for a moment, then said, “Oh, she must have written one of the mold letters!”

“Mold letters?” I echoed, bewildered.