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said with a nod. "We'll have to see. Meanwhile, I'd better get back to the news conference. How about dinner sometime this week?" "Maybe," Laurie said. "I don't mean to be coy, but I do have to study if I want to pass those boards. Why don't you call and we'll talk about it?" Bob nodded as Laurie let the elevator door close. She pressed five. Back in her office, she called Dr. Murray at Manhattan General and told him what Dr. Washington had said. "Thank you for your trouble," Dr. Murray said when Laurie was finished. "It's good to have some guidelines to follow in this kind of circumstance." "Be sure to get good photos," Laurie advised. "If you don't, the policy could change."

"No need to worry," Dr. Murray said. "We have our own photography department. It will be done
professionally."
Hanging up the phone, Laurie went back to the hair curler. She took a half dozen photos from varying angles and with varying lighting conditions. With the curler out of the way, she turned her attention to the only Sunday case remaining, and the most disturbing for her: the twelve-year-old boy. Getting up from her desk, Laurie returned to the first floor and visited Cheryl Myers, one of the medical investigators. She explained that she needed more eyewitnesses of the episode when the boy was hit with the softball. Without any positive finding on the autopsy, she would need personal accounts to substantiate her diagnosis of commotio cordis, or death from a blow to the chest. Cheryl promised to get right on it.
Returning to the fifth floor, Laurie went to Histology to see if the boy's slides could be speeded up. Knowing how distraught the family was, she was eager to put her end of the tragedy to rest. She found that families seemed to come to some sort of acceptance once they knew the truth. The aura of uncertainty about a death of unknown cause made grieving more difficult. While she was in Histology, Laurie picked up slides that were ready from cases she'd autopsied the previous week. With those in hand she went down several flights of stairs and picked up reports from Toxicology and Serology. Carrying everything back to her office, she dumped all the material on her desk. Then she went to work. Except for a short break for lunch, Laurie spent the rest of the day going over the slides from Histology, collating the laboratory reports, making calls, and completing as many files as possible.
What fueled Laurie's anxiety was the knowledge that the following day she'd be assigned at least two and maybe as many as four new cases to autopsy. If she didn't stay abreast of the paperwork, she'd be swamped. There was never a dull moment at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner for the City of New York, since it handled between fifteen and twenty thousand assigned cases each year. That translated to approximately eight thousand autopsies. Each day the office averaged two homicides and two drug overdoses.
By four o'clock in the afternoon, Laurie was beginning to slow down. The volume of her work and its intensity had taken its toll. When her phone rang for the hundredth time, she answered with a tired voice. When she realized it was Mrs. Sanford, Dr. Bingham's secretary, she straightened up in her chair by reflex. It wasn't every day that she got a call from the chief. "Dr. Bingham would like to see you in his office if it is convenient," Mrs. Sanford said. "I'll be right down," Laurie answered. She smiled at Mrs. Sanford's phrase, "If it is convenient." Knowing Dr. Bingham, it was probably Mrs. Sanford's translation of: Get Dr. Montgomery down here ASAP. En route she vainly tried to imagine what Dr. Bingham wanted to see her about, but she had no idea.
"Go right in," Mrs. Sanford said. She looked at Laurie over the tops of her reading glasses and smiled. "Close the door!" Bingham commanded as soon as Laurie was in his office. He was sitting behind his massive desk. "Sit down!"
Laurie did as she was told. Bingham's angry tone was the first