“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles,” Cyrill said. “But I haven’t heard anything about TB salpingitis in the usual CDC gossip. What I can do is ask over in bacteriology. If there has been anything at all, they’d be sure to have heard. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

After appropriate goodbyes, Marissa hung up. Following a slight pause, she asked Wendy what she thought of calling Rebecca Ziegler’s number.

Wendy looked at her watch. “I’m not sure I’d have the emotional fortitude,” she said. “Besides, it’s after ten.”

“I think it’s worth the risk,” Marissa said with determination. She got the number out and dialed. The line rang seven times before someone finally picked up. Loud music could be heard in the background. It sounded like a party.

Marissa asked if she had reached the Ziegler residence.

“Just a minute,” the voice at the other end said. Marissa and Wendy could hear the man yell to others to “pipe down a sec.” Then he came back on the line.

“Are you Rebecca Ziegler’s husband?” Marissa asked.

“I was,” the man said. “Who is this?”

“I’m Dr. Blumenthal,” Marissa said. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. I got your number from Resolve, the organization for infertile couples. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “What’s up?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother,” Marissa said, “I’d like to ask a personal question about Rebecca’s condition.”

“Is this some kind of crank call?” the man asked. There was a sudden burst of laughter in the background.

“No,” Marissa said. “I can assure you it isn’t. I just wanted to ask if Rebecca’s problem had anything to do with her fallopian tubes. Those are the tubes that transport the eggs to the uterus.”

“I know what fallopian tubes are,” the man said. “Just a minute.” Then to his guests, the man yelled: “Come on, you guys, shut up! I can’t hear!” Coming back on the line he apologized for the commotion. “My friends,” he explained. “They’re a bunch of animals.”

“About Rebecca?” Marissa questioned, rolling her eyes for Wendy’s benefit.

“Yeah,” the man said. “She had blocked tubes.”

“Do you happen to know how they became blocked?” Marissa persisted.

“I just know they were blocked. More than that, you’ll have to ask her doctor.” There was a crash in the background, and the shatter of broken glass. “Jesus!” the man said. “Hey, I gotta go.” Then the line went dead.

Marissa pushed the disconnect button.

They stared at each other. Finally Wendy broke the silence. “So much for the grieving widower.”