“I don’t have to think about it,” Dr. Wingate said. “It is impossible for me to give you authorization. And that’s final. Now if you will excuse me.”

At the elevators the women regarded each other. “Don’t tell me that Robert was right,” Marissa warned. “If you do, I’ll scream.”

On the first floor near the information booth, they stopped.

“Do you know anybody well enough on the staff here to get them to try to access the computer?” Wendy asked.

Marissa shook her head. “Unfortunately no, but I just had another idea that won’t help our problem here but might answer some questions about Rebecca Ziegler. As a suicide, she must have gone to the medical examiner. They’d have done a post. Maybe they looked at her fallopian tubes.”

“It’s worth a try,” Wendy said. “Let’s go down to the city morgue and see. But first I’d better call my office and make sure things are going okay without me.”

“I’ll call the medical examiner,” Marissa said.

Together they walked over to a bank of public phones. Wendy was finished first and she waited for Marissa to hang up.

“I’m still clear,” Wendy told Marissa.

“Good,” Marissa said. “It was a lucky thing I called the ME’s office. Although Rebecca Ziegler was an ME’s case, they authorized the Memorial to do the post. Let’s head over there.”

After the disappointment and lack of success at the Women’s Clinic, Marissa was encouraged to find that her friend Ken Mueller had done the post on Rebecca Ziegler. She was confident there wouldn’t be any problem finding out the results.

“Ken is in the autopsy room,” a secretary told Marissa. “He just went in a few minutes ago and I don’t expect him to be out for an hour or so.”

“Which room?” Marissa asked.

“Three,” the secretary said.

“Can’t we wait?” Wendy asked as they walked through pathology toward the autopsy area. Autopsies had never been a favorite of Wendy’s. Some of her medical school recollections were already making her feel queasy.

“I think we’d better talk to him while we can,” Marissa said. But then as she was about to back into the autopsy room, she caught sight of Wendy’s pale face. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Wendy confessed that autopsies had never been her strong suit.

“You wait out here,” Marissa said. “I’ll be quick. I’m not fond of them either.”

Stepping through the door, Marissa was immediately assaulted by the offensive odor of the autopsy room. Her eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on two gowned and gloved men wearing protective goggles. Between the men was a pale nude body of a young male stretched out on a stainless-steel table.

“Ken?” Marissa called timidly. Both men looked up. They were in the process of eviscerating the corpse.