It had been five o’clock in the morning by the time Yuri had gotten home. Although exhausted, he’d sensed there was no chance that he’d sleep. He was too keyed up, so he’d taken his cab out for a jump on rush hour.

It had been a good decision. Not only had he been able to earn some decent money, but the work took his mind off his worries, at least while he’d been busy. As soon as there was a lull, it was a different story, and Yuri had started for home. Besides, he had other, more important things to do than spend the day driving. He was eager to get down into his lab.

Even though he wasn’t hungry, Yuri forced himself to eat some cold cereal. His empty stomach was growling from the previous night’s pizza and too much coffee, and now vodka. As he ate, he eyed the telephone. The forensic investigator had given him a number to call that afternoon to find out when Connie’s body would be released to the funeral home Yuri had selected. Yuri wondered if she was already set to be moved. As far as he was concerned, the sooner Connie was out of the medical examiner’s office the better.

Yuri dialed. To his surprise the phone was answered by a person rather than an answering machine. He identified himself and asked about his wife’s body.

“What was that name again?” the operator asked.

“Davydov,” Yuri reiterated. “Connie Davydov.”

“Hold on a second, let me check.”

Yuri felt his pulse quicken. He hated dealing with bureaucracy of any sort.

“I don’t seem to find a Davydov,” the operator said. “Are you sure your wife came to the Brooklyn office?”

“Of course!” Yuri said. “I was there myself.”

“How do you spell Davydov?”

Yuri spelled out his surname. His anxiety mounted. Maybe they’d made the diagnosis and the police were called. Maybe the police were already on their way to his house that very minute. Maybe ...

“Oh, here it is,” the woman said. “No wonder I couldn’t find it. Your wife wasn’t autopsied.”

“You mean they haven’t done it yet?” Yuri questioned.

“No, I mean the doctors decided she didn’t need to be posted,” the operator said.

“Why not?” Yuri asked. It sounded too good to be true.

“They don’t tell us operators anything like that. You’ll have to speak to the duty doctor. Today it’s Dr. Randolph Sanders. Just a moment!”

Yuri tried to get the operator’s attention, since he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to the duty doctor, but she’d put him on hold. Elevator music flowed out of the receiver.