“Forget lobster. Change wants to see us right away.” McCain groaned. “It’s over.”

“Apparently not. Want me to ignore the head ghoul?” “Yeah,” McCain said. “No.” He snatched the phone from her. “Call him back but do it after dinner.”

The basement lab was pitch-dark until Change flicked on the fluorescent lights. The ceiling fixtures blinked in succession until the room was awash in glare. After Dorothy’s eyes adjusted, she took off her coat and hung it on the rack. Then she changed her mind and put it back on. It was an igloo inside.

Change said, “Evening, Detectives.”

“Just don’t tell me Julius died of a gunshot wound. Pappy’s been dealt down.”

“No, he didn’t die of a gunshot wound.” Change switched on the lights to a wall box mount, then searched through a series of large manila envelopes. “Sorry about the temperature. This shouldn’t take long at all.”

“So why couldn’t it wait until the morning?” McCain grumped.

“I thought you might want to see this,” Change said. “It could change your schedule for tomorrow.”

McCain mumbled, “Then show it to us tomorrow.”

Dorothy nudged him in the ribs. “What is it, Doc?”

“Here we go.” Change pulled a large X-ray out of an envelope and placed it on the backlit monitor.

“A chest X-ray,” McCain said.

“Exactly.”

“You found the aneurysm?” said Dorothy.

“No aneurysm. But now more than ever, I believe that Julius died of one.” Change picked up a pointer. “It should have been right around here. See this area of gray, this arch? This is where the aorta splits into the subclavian and the carotid.”

“I don’t see nothing except a bunch of ribs,” McCain groused.

“We’ll get to that in a moment,” Change said. “There’s nothing anatomically suspicious in this radiograph. Everything looks normal- No, let me modify that. Everything looks normal in the vascular department.” He turned to McCain. “So since you’re focused on the ribs, let’s look at the ribs. Twelve ribs in all.”

“Looks to me like a lot more than twelve,” McCain said.

“That’s ‘cause you’re seeing a double image. Ten ribs are attached. They come from the spine, swing around, and attach to the sternum.” He picked up a pointer and traced. “Because the image is two-dimensional, what we’re seeing is the same rib from both front and back projections.”

“Got it,” McCain said. “Go on.”

“Here we have what we call the floating ribs-these projections on either side of the spine that appear to hang.”

“And that’s not normal?” Dorothy asked.

“No, that’s very normal. Stay with me.” Again, Change traced the ribs. “This twelfth rib is easy-nothing in its way. The eleventh rib in this X-ray is a little shorter than normal, meaning the tip is partially obscured by the rib cage, specifically by the tenth rib’s arch. But if you look really carefully at what I’m pointing to, tell me what you see.”

The detectives stared at the X-ray. McCain said, “It’s like split.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dorothy said. “I see it.”

“It isn’t like split,” Change said. “It is split. It’s called a supernumerary rib, in this case a bifid rib, and the condition is somewhat unusual but not really rare-one in twenty.”

He faced them. “I autopsied the boy. I studied him from the inside out. The extra rib has nothing to do with Julius’s death. But it also has nothing to do with Julius. This X-ray isn’t from the body that I autopsied. The body I autopsied did not-I repeat did not-have a supernumerary rib. I would have seen it clearly, and I would have noted it.”

Change’s eyes heated. First time the detectives had seen that.

Dorothy said, “It’s not Julius’s X-ray.”

Change said, “You’re the detectives. You might want to find out what’s going on.”

Silence.

The ME tapped the X-ray with his pointer. “If I were you, I’d go back and look at all of Julius’s medical records, not just those from his most recent year. ”The one that the school gave seemed fine at the time, but now we’ll want to see all of them. What was Julius, a senior?“

Dorothy nodded.

“So Boston Ferris Health Services should have other chest radiographs. Go back and see if you can find different X-rays-at least one that really belongs to Julius.”

He removed the film and placed it back in the manila envelope. “I’ll keep this as part of my files.”

“Oh my God, you know what this means, Dorothy?” McCain exclaimed. “It means we gotta go back to Boston Ferris and deal with Violet Smaltz.”

Dorothy said, “This woman is impossible. She’s just going to stonewall us-not because I think she has something to hide, but she loves drowning people in paperwork.”

“I know the type,” Change said. “Tell you what. I’ll come with you. Maybe that’ll speed things up.”

“It would also speed things up if we enlisted President McCallum again,” Dorothy said.

“He better help us out,” McCain said. “Something’s wrong at his damn school.”

15

At eight in the morning, the campus was grayed by a heavy, moist sky. Somewhere behind the pewter mist the sun was trying to poke through, adding a little light but no warmth. The pathways that wound through the college were still slick with ice. McCain’s boots crunched. His nose was brittle from the cold. He and Dorothy and Change had to work to keep pace with President McCallum.

“I’m sure it’s an oversight.” McCallum tightened his coat. “A simple mix-up.” His voice lacked conviction. “It happens, you know. Mistakes in hospitals.”

“This was a fatal mistake.” McCain’s teeth were chattering. “No doctor in his right mind would have allowed Julius Van Beest to play with a major aneurysm.”

McCallum frowned and flung open the double glass doors to the health center, allowing the three of them to step inside. The waiting room was already packed with red-nosed, wan students, coughing, sneezing, slumping, shivering. The nurses greeted McCallum with surprise and deference as he blew past them and marched into the records room, where Violet Smaltz was worshiping her paperwork.

She looked up from her desk, her eyes darting back and forth between her visitors’ faces. Then she stood up and tried to suppress a sneer. “President McCallum.”

“Get me all of Julius Van Beest’s medical records.”

The woman went slack-jawed. “Sir, that’s not standard procedure. I need permission-”

“The boy is dead!” McCallum shouted. “Get me his records, and get them now!”

Violet bit her lip. “It’ll take a few moments.”

“Then don’t waste any more time!” McCallum bit his thumbnail. Inhaled, exhaled. Softened his tone: “It’s of extreme importance, Violet. The reputation of the college hinges on it.”

Smaltz nodded solemnly and disappeared behind the stacks of medical folders.

McCallum rubbed his hands together. “And you’re positive, Dr. Change, that the X-ray that you saw couldn’t possibly be that of Julius Van Beest?”

“One hundred percent positive.”

“Well, then, we’ll just wait and…” McCallum’s voice faded.

No one spoke until Violet came back with the files. “These are all of them.” She handed them to McCallum, who passed them to Change.

The ME pulled out the chest X-rays. “Do you have a light box?”

“Of course,” said Violet. “We’re not working out of tents, you know.” She led them to an empty examination room and turned on the light box switch. Change mounted the X-rays to the clips and stared at the images.

It was McCain who spoke first. “The rib is still split.”

“Indeed,” Change said. “None of these images are of Julius.”

“How can you be so sure?” McCallum challenged. “Isn’t it possible he had surgery to remove the extra rib?”

Change considered the question. “When’s he due to be buried?”

“He was buried yesterday,” Dorothy said.

“I’ll write out an exhumation order.”