“Well, he could have gotten her drunk or drugged enough to put her in the car while it was running in the garage,” Jack said. “Or better still, with the exhaust piped directly into it. Then when she was nearly dead, he could have carried her into the bathroom and called nine-one-one.”

“He couldn’t have carried her anyplace,” Flash said. “She was about three hundred fifty pounds.”

“I’m just giving you a hypothetical situation,” Jack said. “Jeez, you guys! Come on, let’s go!”

“You gotta tell me where to,” Warren said.

“Kings County Hospital,” Jack said. “It’s southeast of Prospect Park over in Brooklyn.”

“Should I take the FDR Drive?” Warren asked.

“Yes,” Jack said. “And go over the Brooklyn Bridge. Then get on Flatbush Ave.”

Warren started his car and they set off.

“Flash,” Jack called from the back seat as they were heading along the East River. “What are the chances that your sister could have committed suicide?”

“No way!” Flash said without hesitation. “She wasn’t the type.”

“Was she ever depressed?”

“Not in the usual sense,” Flash said. “But maybe a little. It could have been why she ate so much. She knew she’d married a mental case.”

“How so?” Jack asked.

“The dude did nothing,” Flash said angrily. “He’d come home from work and drink in front of the television. That was it, at least until a few months ago, when he started spending all his time in the basement.”

“Doing what?” Jack asked.

“Tinkering around, I guess,” Flash said. “Connie didn’t tell me what he did. I don’t think she knew.”

“Did she drink a lot herself?”

“Nope,” Flash said. “Provided you’re talking about booze. Milkshakes are another story.”

“What about drugs?” Jack asked.

“She wasn’t into drugs,” Flash said. “Never was.”

“Where in Brooklyn did she live?” Jack asked.

“Fifteen Oceanview Lane,” Flash said.

“Where’s that?”

“Brighton Beach,” Flash said. “She lived in a kinda cute area with a bunch of small wooden cottages. In the summer she could walk to the beach and take a swim. It was pretty nice.”

“Hmmm,” Jack commented. He wondered what the place looked like. He couldn’t imagine cottages within the New York City limits.

Parking around Kings County Hospital was a nightmare come true, but it didn’t rattle Warren. In the trunk he had an old beat-up ash can with the bottom cut out. All he did was find a spot in front of a fire hydrant, park, and then cover the hydrant with the modified garbage can. Jack marveled at the adaptations that city living required.

Outside of the medical examiner’s office both Warren and Flash paused.

“Maybe we should wait out here,” Warren said. He looked at Flash. Flash nodded.

“Fine by me,” Jack said. “I’ll try to make it fast.”