There was a pause on the other end. “That’s funny: I remember now, she came in at the end of the morning. I took a quick look at her—there was something unusual about her, so I wanted to do the autopsy myself, but she wasn’t—hold on while I check.”

He put the phone down. I heard chairs scraping, a murmur of voices, and then a door shutting. I waited a good five minutes before Vishnikov came back.

“Vic, this is one of the more infuriating moments in my tenure here. Some jag–off released the body last night. I can’t even find out who—a form was filed but not signed.”

“Released to the family?” I was puzzled. “When I called last night, they didn’t have a next of kin listed.”

“The form says the girl’s mother claimed it. How the hell they released it—well, that’s neither here nor there. I’ve got to go. I need to—”

I spoke quickly, before he could hang up. “What was it about her body that made you want to look at it yourself?”

“I don’t remember now. I’m too goddamned angry to think about anything except getting hold of the bastard who let this body out of here without authorization.” He slammed the receiver in my ear.

This was the first time I’d heard Vishnikov blow up in the four or five years I’ve worked with him. I wondered if Lemour had somehow engineered removal of the body, before an autopsy proved I hadn’t hit her, or maybe proved she hadn’t been hit by a car at all. I began to wonder if Lemour had killed her himself and was trying to find someone else to blame. When he couldn’t pin it on me he got a buddy in the morgue to quietly let the body go.

The Beth Israel fax had come in while I was talking to Vishnikov. I stuffed it into my briefcase and dashed out to the L to ride down to Freeman Carter’s office in the Loop.

Freeman rented a suite that held the requisite mahoganies and objets d’art of lawyers in the financial district. He rose to greet me when his secretary sent me into his inner office. His summer suit had been tailored to fit his tall body and even to make him look a little broader through the chest, and his white–blond hair had been cut as carefully as the suit. He makes a good impression in court, which I like, and has the brains to back it up, which I like even more.