"It certainly was a disagreement," Craig said defensively. Some of the original sullenness returned to his voice. "Mr. Stanhope had said on the phone, and I quote, 'She looked rather blue', whereas when I got to the house, she was floridly cyanotic."

"Would you have labeled it central cyanosis like Ms. O'Keefe?"

"Central or peripheral, what's the difference in this kind of case? Her heart wasn't pumping her blood fast enough through her lungs. There was a lot of deoxygenated blood in her system. That's what generally causes cyanosis."

"The issue is the amount of cyanosis. I agree the deep cyanosis certainly suggests not enough blood was going through her lungs or that not enough air was getting into her lungs. If it were peripheral cyanosis, meaning blood just pooling in her extremities, it wouldn't have been so conspicuous or even."

"What are you implying?" Craig asked aggressively.

"To be honest, I don't know. As a medical examiner, I try to keep an open mind. Let me ask you this: What kind of relationship did the deceased have with her surviving husband?"

"Somewhat strange, I suppose. They certainly weren't affectionate in public. I doubt they were close, since he did commiserate with me about her hypochondriasis."

"You see, we medical examiners from experience are naturally suspicious. If I were doing this autopsy and considering the cyanosis, I would look for any signs of smothering or strangulation just to rule out homicide."

"That's absurd," Craig snapped. "This wasn't a homicide. Good grief, man!"

"I'm not suggesting it was. I'm just thinking about it as a possibility. Another possibility could be the woman had an undiagnosed right-to-left cardiac shunt."

Craig impatiently ran his fingers through his hair, which changed his appearance from looking tired but neat to tired and mildly disheveled. "She didn't have a right-to-left shunt!"

"How do you know? She didn't let you do any non-invasive cardiac imagery like you wanted after her questionable stress test, which, by the way I couldn't find."

"We haven't been able to locate the tracing yet at the office, but we have the results. But you're right. She refused any cardiac studies."

"So she could have had a congenital right-to-left shunt that was undiagnosed."

"What difference would it make if she had?"

"She could have had a serious structural problem with her heart or major vessels, which raises the issue of contributing negligence, since she refused follow-up studies to your stress test. More importantly, if she had a serious structural defect, then one might argue the outcome would have been the same even if she had been taken to the hospital immediately. If that had been the case, then the jury would have to find for you and you'd prevail."

"Those are interesting arguments, but unfortunately for me, it is all academic. An autopsy was not done, so it will never be known if she had a structural abnormality."

"Not necessarily," Jack said. "An autopsy wasn't done, but that doesn't mean one couldn't still be done."

"You mean exhume the body?" Alexis asked from the kitchen area. She'd obviously been listening.

"Provided it wasn't cremated," Jack added.

"It wasn't cremated," Craig said. "It was buried in Park Meadow Cemetery. I know because I was invited to the funeral by Jordan Stanhope."

"I guess that was before he sued you for malpractice."

"Obviously. It was another reason I was so taken aback when I was served with the summons and the complaint. Why would the man invite me to the service and then sue me? Like everything else, it doesn't make sense."

"Did you go?"

"I did. I felt obligated. I mean, I was upset I'd not been able to resuscitate the woman."

"Is it difficult doing an autopsy after being buried for almost a year?" Alexis asked. She'd come over and taken a seat on the couch. "It sounds so ghoulish."

"You never know," Jack said. "Two factors are the most important. First: how well the body was embalmed. Second: whether the grave stayed dry or if the seal on the casket remained intact. The reality is you never know until you open up the grave. But regardless of the situation, a lot of information can be gleaned."

"What are you guys talking about?" Christina yelled from the table. The two other girls had disappeared upstairs.

"Nothing, sweetie," Alexis said. "Run up and get your things. The school bus is going to be here any minute."

"This could be my contribution to the case," Jack said. "I could find out the procedure for exhumation here in Massachusetts and do an autopsy. Short of my providing mere moral support, it's probably the only way I could offer to help in this affair. But it's up to you guys. You tell me."

Alexis looked at Craig. "What do you think?" she asked.

Craig shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know what to think. I mean, if an autopsy were to prove she had some major congenital cardiovascular problem such that any delay getting her to a hospital had no significance, I'd be all for it. But what are the chances? I'd have to guess rather small. On the flip side, if an autopsy were to show her myocardial infarction was even more extensive than one might expect, maybe the autopsy would make things worse. It seems to me to be a wash."

"I'll tell you what," Jack said. "I'll look into it. I'll find out all the details, and I'll let you know. Meanwhile, both of you can give it some thought. What do you say?"

"I say it's a plan," Alexis responded. She looked at Craig.

"Why not?" Craig said with a shrug. "I've always said more information is better than less."

"All rise!" the court officer called as Judge Marvin Davidson emerged from his chambers and mounted the stairs to the bench. The black robes shielded his feet, so he seemed to glide like an apparition. "Be seated," the court officer called out after the judge had done so.

Jack looked behind himself so he could lower his posterior onto the seat without knocking over his Starbucks coffee. After the fact, he'd noted that no one else had brought any refreshments into the courtroom, so he'd guiltily stashed his coffee beside him on the bench.

He was sitting next to Alexis in the crowded spectators' section. He'd asked her why there were so many observers, but she'd told him she had no idea whatsoever. Almost all the spectator seats were taken.

The morning at the Bowman residence had gone better than Jack had imagined. Although Craig had flip-flopped to a degree from being conversational to brooding, they'd at least had a mutually honest talk, and Jack felt infinitely better being a guest in their home. After the girls had left for school, there'd been more conversation, but then it was mostly between Alexis and Jack. Craig had reverted to his sullen, preoccupied state.

There'd been a long discussion about transportation to and from town, but ultimately Jack had firmly insisted he'd drive. He wanted to come to the courtroom to get a feel for the principals, particularly the lawyers, but then around midmorning, he wanted to drive to the Boston medical examiner's office, where he'd start his investigation about Massachusetts 's rules regarding exhumation. After that, he didn't know what he'd do. He'd told them he might come back to the courtroom, but if he didn't, he'd meet them at the Newton house in the late afternoon.

As the court took its time getting ready to begin by handling the usual housekeeping motions, Jack studied the principal actors. The African-American judge looked like a former college football player gone to seed, yet the sense of authority he radiated through the confident deliberativeness with which he handled the paperwork on his desk and conversed sotto voce with his clerk gave Jack the reassuring feeling he knew what he was doing. The two lawyers were exactly as Alexis had described. Randolph Bingham was the picture of the elegant, polished, big-firm attorney in the way he dressed, moved, and spoke. In sharp contrast, Tony Fasano was the brazen, flashy young lawyer who flaunted his trendy clothes and clunky gold accessories. Yet the characteristic of Tony that Jack noticed right off and which Alexis had not mentioned was that Tony appeared to be enjoying himself. Although the bereaved plaintiff sat rigidly, Tony and his assistant were carrying on an animated conversation with smiles and suppressed laughter, which was a far cry from the defense table, which sat in either frozen propriety or defiant despair.