“Wait a minute, Carly Ann. Slow down.”

“It’s been months…”

“Just the summer…”

“Whatever. I can’t work on salary forever. I’m doing all the work up here, getting some super settlements. I thought you’d be ecstatic!”

“Maybe I am ecstatic,” Nina told her. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ll consider your offer.”

Hanging up, she sipped her tea, wondering where Paul was. She had a sudden strong desire to run over to the condo to see him, but she really had to work. She took a break and walked down misty Eighth Street to the Tuck Box, a tiny establishment with the curving shingles usually associated with rural England. One cottage pie, a steaming Darjeeling, and an hour later she was back at the shack, the office rather, bending her head over Ginger’s report.

Stefan’s blood matched the blood found at Christina’s. It was unlikely such tiny amounts of blood had been planted. Ginger had some tests pending.

Stefan must be lying. The blood evidence had gone through the state’s lab and Ginger’s lab. He had to have gone there, a glass had to have been thrown. Had Alex Zhukovsky hired him to kill his sister?

But he swore he’d never been there, and he didn’t even know her.

Then there was the complete blank on Constantin’s samples. Yes, Christina was his daughter; that was about all Ginger could establish. What was so important about the bones? Why were the Romanovs haunting her case almost a century after their tragic ends?

“Hello, Ginger.”

“Just a minute.” A wheeze of machinery. Ginger got back on the phone. “How are you doing?”

“Tired.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m always tired on Sunday. So you’re working tonight, too,” Nina said.

“My night doesn’t start till midnight, my workaholic baby,” Ginger said, “but I’m glad you’re on the case tonight. You wouldn’t be as good as you are if you weren’t working all weekend. Never go to a lawyer who golfs or can talk to you about the latest movies, because those are sure signs of a procrastinator. Plus, I know you do it out of a sense of responsibility. I do it out of a sense of money, so I don’t get as many points. Did you get my bill?”

“Not yet.”

“Hold on to your baseball cap. It’s big. Figured out what day I’m testifying? Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?”

“I’m not sure yet. Ginger, I’m not sure about you testifying at all. You’re not helping us on this case.”

“I can sound dubious and talk at length about the unproved type of testing the state is doing, the rat-infested labs-wait a minute, I guess they want the rats there-but the news on the blood is bad. I got the second round of panels back this afternoon. I was just going over them one more time, trying to find some mistake I’d made. Bummer. My work is impeccable.”

“Then he did it,” Nina said, closing her eyes. She let a wave of exhaustion blank out her brain for an instant.

“He left his blood, unless the sample isn’t really from her apartment at all, and the cops are pulling something.”

“I’ve gone over the chain of custody. It’s solid. Thanks anyway, Ginger. Did you get anything from the bone samples?”

“There is something.”

“Judging by your voice, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“I have no idea if this will be a help or a hindrance to you. I know for sure it’s puzzling. Remember there was something I couldn’t remember the night I was attacked?”

“Yes.”

“Well, here’s what I was doing. I had the electrophoresis results for Constantin, Christina, and Stefan jumbled together on my bench, just kind of lying there side by side.”

“Electrophoresis?”

“It’s a way to separate out large molecules, like DNA fragments, from a mixture of similar molecules. You pass an electric current through a medium that contains your mixture. Each kind of molecule makes a trip through the medium at a different rate, and separates out. You get a picture that looks like a bar code in the supermarket, different for each person. Then you can compare them for similarities and differences.”

“I know you’ve explained it before. Someday I’ll go back and study chemistry and I’ll remember from one moment to the next. But I think I get the picture. You have bar codes that are different for each individual that you compare, and there are details you can read from those codes. Fifty-nine cents versus two bucks. Pringles versus Doritos. Check.”

“Right. Now, Nina, are you sitting down?”

“Why?”

“They’re related.”

Nina felt impatient. “You told me the paternity checked out-”

“They are all three related. The parallels are unmistakable.”

“Who?”

“Constantin, Christina, and Stefan.”

“No.”

“Im-peccable. No doubt.” Nina’s mouth was hanging open. She just couldn’t take it in.

“You’re saying…”

“It’s a close relationship. Christina was Stefan’s half-sister, I would say. Constantin was his father.”

“It’s all one family?”

“The mothers are probably different.”

“Of course! Of course!” She thought about Wanda’s money from Constantin. Wanda would have been in her mid-thirties between 1971, when Davida Zhukovsky died, and 1978, when Constantin died. And-Gabe had been born in 1974, Stefan in 1975.

“So Constantin and Wanda were lovers!”

“And had two children, I’m thinking,” Ginger said.

“But-what did Stefan know? Did he knowingly go there to kill his own sister and then dig up his own father? Could he want the money from her inheritance?” They talked all around the subject, speculating on the repercussions.

“Try to give me twenty-four hours notice on the testimony thing, if you decide to call me,” Ginger finally said, “so I can get down there from Sacramento. I’m leaving my calendar as open as I can. Look. Why don’t I drive down right now and take you out to a fashionably late dinner. You must be feeling like shit with the case in the dumper, and Paul…”

“Paul?”

“You don’t have to act all brave with me, babe. This is Ginger. Go ahead, cry on my shoulder. Or maybe you’re not crying? Maybe it’s okay? Which is it?”

“Which is what?”

“Who’s on first?” Ginger said, and laughed merrily, then went on in a kindhearted voice, “You know, I think I mentioned, there aren’t that many Japanese-American gal pathologists in California. In point of fact, there are only three of us. We keep in touch, tell autopsy horror stories late into the night and stuff. As I said, I know Susan.”

“You know Susan Misumi.”

“She told me she’s in love today.”

“With Paul? Well, he’s taken,” Nina said.

Ginger seemed to have dropped the phone. There was that rhythmic, awful, machinery wheeze again, like some monster coming to rip Nina’s heart out…

“Babe, I am about to become the bearer of seriously majorly bad tidings,” Ginger said. “Because you have to know, there’s no way I’m going to let you walk around with a foolish grin on your face. And I’m warning you right now, it’s going to blow your work tonight.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Nina said. “Get to it.”

“Okay. Susan spent the night with Paul last night. She’s in love. She couldn’t wait to tell me. She’s been alone a long time, and she’s dead earnest. So that puts you somewhere brand-new. I don’t understand why two smart babes like you let Paul do this to you. And I liked Paul, too, in spite of my reservations. I took him for basically cool. Nina?”

Nina said through her tears, “What?”

“Let me come down there.”

“No. I have another three or four hours of work tonight.”

A pause. “You sure?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Look, call me tomorrow. I’m going to stay up late in your honor and figure out this blood evidence thing. It’s the least I can do. I’ll think of something.”

At nine P.M., Paul came to the office. Nina went out front and let him in. He looked sporty in a red windbreaker and new white shoes. Relaxed. Happy.