"I'll be damned!" he said. "It's the quack."

Robertson faced the Wilsons. "Sorry this has happened to you folks," he said. "But I recognize the victim despite the fact that he looks a little worse for wear. His name is Dr. Dennis Hodges. In fact, this was his house, as you probably are aware."

Angela's eyes met David's and she stifled a shiver. Gooseflesh had appeared on the back of her neck.

"What we have to do is knock the rest of this wall down so we can remove the body," Robertson continued. "Do you folks have any problem with that?"

David said that they didn't.

"What about calling the medical examiner?" Angela asked. Through her interest in forensics, she knew it was protocol to call the medical examiner on any suspicious death. This one certainly qualified.

Robertson regarded Angela for a few moments trying to think of something to say. He didn't like anyone telling him how to do his job, especially a woman. The only problem was that Angela was right. And now that he'd been reminded he couldn't ignore it.

"Where's the phone?" Robertson said.

"In the kitchen," Angela said.

Nikki had to be pried from the phone. She'd been back and forth between Caroline and Arni with the exciting news about finding a body in their basement.

Once the medical examiner had been called, Robertson and Morris set to work removing the cinder block wall.

David brought down an extension cord and a floor lamp to help them see what they were doing. The added light also gave them all a better look at the body. Although it was generally well preserved, there was some skeletonization of the lower half of the face. Some of the jawbones and most of the teeth were garishly exposed. The upper part of the face was surprisingly intact. The eyes were hideously open. In the center of the forehead at the hairline was a caved-in area covered with a green mold.

"That pile of stuff in the corner looks like empty cement bags," Robertson said. He was using the beam of the flashlight as a pointer. "And there's the trowel. Hell, he's got everything in there with him. Maybe it was a suicide."

David and Angela looked at each other with the same thought: Robertson was either the world's worst detective or a devotee of crude humor.

"I wonder what those papers are?" Robertson said, directing the light at a number of scattered sheets of paper in the depths of the makeshift tomb.

"Looks like copy machine paper," David said.

"Well, look at that," Robertson said as he directed the flashlight at a tool that was partially concealed under the body. It resembled a flat crowbar.

"What is it?" David asked.

"That's a pry bar," Robertson said. "It's an all-purpose tool, used mostly for demolition."

Nikki called down the stairs to say that the medical examiner had arrived. Angela went up to meet him.

Dr. Tracy Cornish was a thin man of medium height with wire-rimmed spectacles. He carried a large, old-fashioned black leather doctor's bag.

Angela introduced herself and explained that she was a pathologist at Bartlet Community Hospital. She asked Dr. Cornish if he'd had formal forensic training. He admitted he hadn't, and he explained that he filled in as a district medical examiner to supplement his practice. "But I've been doing it for quite a number of years," Dr. Cornish added.

"I was only asking because I have an interest in forensics myself," Angela said. She hadn't meant to embarrass the man.

Angela led Dr. Cornish down to the tomb. He stood and stared at the scene for a few minutes. "Interesting," he said finally. "The body is in a particularly good state of preservation. How long has he been missing?"

"About eight months," Robertson said.

"Shows what a cool, dry place will do," Dr. Cornish said. "This tomb has been like a root cellar. It's even dry after all this rain."

"Why is there some skeletonization around the jaws?" David asked.

"Rodents, probably," Dr. Cornish answered as he bent down and snapped open his bag.

David shuddered. His mouth had gone dry at the thought of rodents gnawing on the body. Glancing at Angela, he could tell that she had taken this information in stride and was fascinated by the proceedings.

The first thing Dr. Cornish did was take a number of photos, including extreme close-ups. Then he donned rubber gloves and began removing the objects from the tomb, placing them in plastic evidence bags. When he got to the papers, everyone crowded around to look at them. Dr. Cornish made certain that no one touched them.

"They're part of medical records from Bartlet Community Hospital," David said.

"I'll bet these stains are all blood," Dr. Cornish said, pointing to large brown areas on the papers. He put all the papers into a plastic bag which he then sealed and labeled.

When all the objects had been removed, Dr. Cornish turned his attention to the body. The first thing he did was search the pockets. He immediately found the wallet with bills still inside. There were also a number of credit cards in Dennis Hodges' name.

"Well, it wasn't a robbery," Robertson said.

Dr. Cornish then removed Hodges' watch, which was still running. The time was correct.

"One of the battery manufacturers should use this for one of their zany commercials," Robertson suggested. Morris laughed until he realized no one else was.

Dr. Cornish then pulled a body bag out of his satchel and asked Morris to give him a hand getting Hodges into it.

"What about bagging the hands?" Angela suggested.

Dr. Cornish thought for a moment, then nodded. "Good idea," he said. He got paper bags from his kit and secured them over Hodges' hands. That done, he and Morris got the body into the bag and zipped it closed.

Fifteen minutes later the Wilsons watched as the police cruiser and the medical examiner's van turned around, descended their driveway, and disappeared into the night.

"Anyone hungry?" Angela asked.

Both Nikki and David groaned.

"I'm not either," Angela admitted. "What a night."

They adjourned to the family room where David stoked the fire and added wood. Nikki turned on the television. Angela sat down to read.

By eight o'clock all three decided they might eat something after all. Angela reheated the dinner she had made while David and Nikki set the table.

"Every family has a skeleton in the closet," David said when they were midway through the meal. "Ours just happened to be in the cellar."

"I don't think that's very funny," Angela said.

Nikki said she didn't get it, and Angela had to explain the figurative meaning. Once Nikki understood, she didn't think it was funny either.

David was not pleased about the gruesome discovery in their basement. He was particularly concerned about the potential effect on Nikki. He'd hoped bringing a little humor to the situation might defuse the tension. But even he had to admit his joke fell flat.

After Nikki's respiratory treatment, they all went to bed. Though not an antidote, sleep seemed to be the best alternative. Although Nikki and David were sleepy, Angela wasn't, and as she lay in bed she became acutely aware of all the sounds the house made. She had never realized how noisy it was, particularly on a windy, rainy night. From deep in the basement she heard the oil burner kick on. There was even an intermittent, very low-pitched whine from wind coming down the master bedroom flue.

A sudden series of thumps made Angela jump, and she sat upright.

"What's that?" Angela whispered nervously. She gave David a shove.

"What's what?" David asked, only half awake.

Angela told him to listen. The thumping occurred again. "There," Angela cried. "That banging."

"That's the shutters hitting against the house," David said. "Goodness sake, calm down!"

Angela lay back against the pillow, but her eyes were wide open. She was even less sleepy than she was when she'd gotten into bed.