“Doc,” said Dorothy, “maybe before we start unearthing the dead, we should think this out. First step: You’re sure he died of an aneurysm.”

“I would stake my reputation that this boy had some kind of preexisting vessel abnormality. And I see no reason for him to ever undergo surgery to remove a supernumerary rib. In fact, I’m certain he didn’t-there were no old scars indicating such. These X-rays are not of Julius Van Beest.”

Violet said, “I don’t know if they’re Julius’s X-rays or not. But I’ll tell you one thing. None of them were taken on school premises.”

Four sets of eyes locked into hers. She pointed to markings at the bottom of the films. “Says here Professional Urban Imaging. I never even heard of this lab. Probably some fly-by-night operation, if you ask me.”

McCain turned to the president. “Do most of the athletes have their chest X-rays done on school premises?”

“Why are you asking him!” Violet grumped. “I know the answer to that.”

McCain waited.

“The answer is yes. Usually, the physicals are done two weeks before school starts. I come in here to personally supervise the record keeping. I once left it to some subordinate, and boy was it a mess.”

“I’m sure it took you hours to clean up,” McCain quipped.

Violet gave him the force of her angry eyes, but she held her tongue. “Not only was this X-ray taken off campus but it was done late. Look at the date-a month after the semester started. That is not procedure.”

Dorothy turned to Change. “You’re saying no doctor in his right mind would permit Julius to play with an aneurysm.”

“Correct.”

“What if the team doctor hid it from Julius?”

“He’d have to be a psychopath,” Change said.

“That’s absurd!” McCallum protested. “Our staff is first-rate, and I will not tolerate such accusa-”

“Accusations or not,” said Dorothy, “we’d be derelict if we didn’t talk to the team doctor.”

“I’m sure,” said McCain, “that he’d be as concerned about this as we are. Seeing as he’s first-rate and all.”

McCallum grimaced. Stared at the ceiling. Threw up his hands. “I don’t know if he’s even on the premises.”

“The coach is in,” Dorothy said. “The team had an eight o’clock meeting today to talk about Julius. No exceptions. I’m betting that includes the team’s doctor.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Violet said.

“What are we waiting for?” McCain asked.

“The boy got his X-rays done off campus and as a result probably died from it. He shouldn’t have been allowed to do that. This whole thing has impugned my record keeping and my system. That will not be tolerated!” Violet grabbed her coat from the rack. “Come on, people. Let’s get the lead out.”

The boys were working through some nominal drills, probably to keep up the appearance of normality. But Dorothy could tell by her son’s drooped posture that he wasn’t focused, and the others probably weren’t, either. They were taking their cue from Coach Albert Ryan, a former Celtics journeyman and a twenty-year veteran of college coaching. Ryan, six-five and pole-thin and bald, normally a taciturn man, appeared paralyzed by the tragedy. His expression was captain-going-down-with-the-ship. When the group confronted him, he shook his head and pointed to a tall, paunchy man in his late fifties, wearing a blue blazer, gray slacks, and blue polo shirt, standing on the sidelines.

Martin Green was an orthopedic surgeon specializing in sports medicine. Besides running a full-time private practice, he’d been associated with Boston Ferris for fifteen years. He spoke with authority, but Dorothy could barely hear over echoing footsteps and ball bounces.

“Guys, maybe we can talk where it’s a little quieter?”

McCallum said, “Coach, let’s call it a day.”

Ryan nodded and blew the whistle, told the boys to pack it in. Slowly, they filed out of the gym. Marcus acknowledged Dorothy with the faintest of nods but stuck with his teammates.

McCallum tapped his foot. Empty, the room reverberated like a cathedral.

Dr. Green said, “Julius insisted on getting his X-ray off campus. He was terrified of the procedure and wanted his own physician to do it.”

“Afraid of X-rays?” said McCain.

“Apparently, his grandfather died of cancer due to excess radiation exposure. He didn’t trust the school’s machinery. Too much leakage or some such nonsense.”

“Total nonsense!” Violet agreed.

“What kind of radiation exposure did this grandfather experience?” McCallum asked.

“Apparently, he worked as an assistant in a university lab.” Green shrugged. “I never got the full story, and the little Julius did tell me seemed strange. But the upshot was Julius was anxious, and he’d already made plans to have his own lab take the X-rays. I saw no reason to argue with him.”

“That’s not procedure!” Violet chimed in.

“No, it is not,” Green said. “But I didn’t see the harm in it. He’d been doing it this way since high school. I actually called up the coach there, and at least that part of the story was true. Like most superathletes, Julius was super-particular. He had his superstitions, his rituals and routines, and I figured this was just another on a long list. Besides, as long as his chest X-ray was clean, what did it matter where it was taken?”

Change said, “So you examined the film.”

“Of course. He handed it to me personally and we went over it together.” Green’s eyes darkened. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Do you know how Julius died?” Change asked.

“He was shot.”

“He was shot, but he died of a burst vessel, probably of the subclavian artery. I’m sure the kid had a preexisting aneurysm.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Green blurted out. “I never ever saw any aneurysm.”

“That’s because you didn’t see an X-ray of Julius,” Dorothy said.

Green was completely perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

Dorothy looked at Change, who explained the situation.

Coach Ryan broke in: “What the hell are you saying? That the whack to Julius’s chest by that frickin‘ Duran is what caused his death?” He’d gone white and his face was sweat-drenched.

“Albert, sit down,” Dr. Green told him.

“No, I’m fine! I want to know what’s going on. Are you saying playing ball killed him?”

Change said, “Not exactly.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“Albert,” said McCallum.

Ryan drooped. “Sorry, sir. My nerves…”

McCallum patted his shoulder. “We’re all shaken up.” He turned to Change. “Can we have a comprehensive explanation, please?”

Change said, “Precisely what caused the artery to burst would be speculation. What is clear is that Julius should not have been playing any type of contact sport.”

“I wouldn’t have let him play,” said Green, “if I’d seen a damned aneurysm on a damned X-ray.”

“See what happens when you don’t follow procedure!” Violet broke in.

Everyone glared at her. But in this case, she happened to be right. Even McCain had to admit that.

He said, “If the kid’s been doing this since high school, substituting one X-ray for another, it means he knew about his condition. So somewhere along the line, there’s got to be an X-ray that showed an aneurysm.”

“We can only go on what was given to us, people,” McCallum stated. The relief in his voice was profound. “And these X-rays are clear. As far as we knew, the boy was healthy.”

“They are clear and they are not of Julius.”

Green said, “God, this is awful!”

“Detective McCain is right,” Dorothy said. “There has to be an X-ray somewhere. The question is, how far back do we have to go?”

McCain said, “I bet his pediatrician has an X-ray from when he was a little kid.”

“Which means he would have notified Julius’s mother about it,” Change said.

Dorothy said, “No mother in her right mind would let her son do something that would endanger his life. I’m positive Ellen didn’t know about it.”