“This is highly irregular,” Gordon voiced to no one in particular as they walked down the hall. “We haven’t heard anything from the Brooklyn ME’s office either. Maybe I should give them a call.”

“It would save time to call Dr. Harold Bingham directly,” Jack said. “Of course, you know the Brooklyn ME’s office is under the control of the Manhattan office.”

“I didn’t know that,” Gordon said.

Jack pulled out his cellular phone, punched the number to speed-dial the chief, and handed the phone to Gordon. Gordon took the phone and pressed it to his ear. Jack could hear Cheryl Sanford answer with her usual preamble: “Dr. Harold Bingham’s office, Chief Medical Examiner. How may I help you?”

The entire group slowed to a halt outside a second set of double doors as Gordon spoke to Cheryl. Jack could hear only bits of Cheryl’s side of the conversation. Gordon was nodding and saying “I see,” “yes,” and “I understand” several times. Finally he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Sanford. I understand perfectly and there is no need for you to apologize. I’ll do what I can to help Dr. Stapleton.”

Gordon disconnected and handed the phone back to Jack. As Jack took the phone he noticed that Gordon’s lip was twitching almost continuously. The man obviously wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, but at least he was momentarily mollified.

“In here,” Gordon said, pointing to the double doors.

The entire group entered the embalming room, which was redolent with the cloying smell of a sickly-sweet deodorant. The space was larger than Jack expected, about the size of the autopsy room where he worked most days. But in contrast to the autopsy room’s eight tables, here there were only four, two of which were occupied. The farthest table held a male who was in the process of being embalmed. The nearest held an obese woman.

“Mrs. Davydov is right here,” Gordon said, pointing to the nearest corpse.

“Right!” Jack said. He quickly put his satchel down on a nearby wheeled table and pulled it close. After snapping open the bag he looked up at his two friends. They were frozen in place near the door. Warren was transfixed by the embalming process going on in the end of the room; Flash was staring at his sister. Both their faces had gone slack. Jack could only imagine what they must be feeling.

Jack clapped his hands loudly to keep the situation from deteriorating. The sound was like a gunshot in the tiled room. Everyone was jolted. Even the two people doing the embalming looked up from their gruesome task. “Okay!” Jack said eagerly, as if he relished what he was about to do. “Let’s get this show on the road so these gentlemen can get on with their business. Frank Thomas, can you identify this woman?”

Flash nodded his head. “It’s my sister. Connie Thomas Davydov.”