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burned. But the wrappings were often kept as souvenirs. That’s why you still find stashes of them for sale.”
    “So these wrappings
could
be ancient,” said Frost, “even if the body isn’t.”
    “It would explain the carbon fourteen dating. But as for Madam X herself…” Robinson shook his head in bewilderment.
    “We still can’t prove this was homicide,” said Frost. “You can’t convict someone based on a gunshot wound that was already healing.”
    “I kind of doubt she volunteered for mummification,” said Jane.
    “Actually,” said Robinson, “it’s possible that she did.”
    Everyone turned to stare at the curator, who looked perfectly serious.
    “Volunteer to have her brains and organs ripped out?” said Jane. “No, thanks.”
    “Some people
have
bequeathed their bodies for precisely that purpose.”
    “Hey, I saw that show, too,” said Frost. “Another one on Discovery Channel. Some archaeologist actually mummified a guy.”
    Jane stared down at the wrapped cadaver. She imagined being encased in layer after layer of smothering bandages. Being bound in a linen straitjacket for a thousand, two thousand years, until a day when some curious archaeologist would decide to strip away the cloth and reveal her shriveled remains. Not dust to dust, but flesh to leather. She swallowed. “Why would anyone volunteer for that?”
    “It’s a type of immortality, don’t you think?” said Robinson.
    “An alternative to rotting away. Your body preserved. Those who love you never have to surrender you to decay.”
    Those who love you.
Jane glanced up. “You’re saying this could have been an act of affection?”
    “It would be a way to hold on to someone you love. To keep them safe from the worms. From rotting.”
    The way of all flesh, thought Jane, and the temperature in the room suddenly seemed to plummet. “Maybe it’s not about love at all. Maybe it’s about ownership.”
    Robinson met her gaze, clearly unsettled by that possibility. He said softly: “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
    Jane turned to Maura. “Let’s get on with the autopsy, Doc. We need more information to work with.”
    Maura crossed to the light box, removed the leg X-rays, and replaced them with the CT scan films. “Let’s turn her onto her back again.”
    This time, as Maura cut through the linen strips covering the torso, she wasted no effort on preservation. They now knew this was no ancient cadaver she was cutting into; this was a death investigation, and the answers lay not in the linen strips but in the flesh and bone itself. The cloth parted, revealing the torso’s brown and shrunken skin through which the outlines of ribs were visible, arching up in a bony vault beneath its parchment tent. Moving toward the head, Maura pried off the painted cartonnage mask and began to snip at the strips covering the face.
    Jane looked at the CT films hanging on the light box, then frowned at the exposed torso. “The organs are all taken out during mummification, right?”
    Robinson nodded. “Removal of the viscera slows down the process of putrefaction. It’s one of the reasons the bodies don’t decay.”
    “But there’s only one little wound on the belly.” Jane pointed to a small incision on the left, sewn closed by ungainly stitches.
    “How do you get everything out through that opening?”
    “That’s exactly how the Egyptians would have removed the viscera. Through a small wound on the left side. Whoever preserved this body was familiar with the ancient methods. And clearly adhered to them.”
    “What
are
these ancient methods? How, exactly, do you make a mummy?” asked Jane.
    Dr. Robinson looked at his associate. “Josephine knows more about it than I do. Maybe she’ll explain it.”
    “Dr. Pulcillo?” said Jane.
    The young woman still looked shaken by the discovery of the bullet. She cleared her throat and straightened. “A large part of what we know comes down to us from Herodotus,” she said. “I