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presence could only mean that a crime had been committed. I know that Dr. Steig occasionally performs postmortems for the city. His presence indicated that violence had been done. Knowing the doctor’s commitment to his patients, it’s a simple deduction that if this victim were still alive, Dr. Steig would have been away attending her.”
    “You said ‘her.’ How did you know the prostitute bit?” asked Lean.
    “Ah, I gleaned that from the mayor’s attendance.”
    Lean opened his mouth to comment, but Grey cut him off. “I only mean that the mayor certainly wouldn’t be about at three in the morning for a simple murder. The victim was someone of social significance, or else the murder was so sensational it warranted his immediate involvement. I observed his comportment. He was not outraged or distressed as he would be if some woman of substance had been murdered. Rather, his movements displayed a gross aversion to this entire matter.”
    Grey motioned as if wafting a smell toward his nose. “Also, I detected inexpensive perfume when shaking the doctor’s hand. He had touched the victim, a woman. So what type of woman, not earning the sympathy of our municipal leaders and wearing cheap perfume, is out at night, in danger of meeting her end in a manner so startling as to rouse the mayor?”
    “All plain enough when you explain it that way.”
    Grey turned his face toward the small window, glancing at the buildings as they passed. “Everything that can be observed offers the opportunity to draw conclusions as to what must have occurred previously.”
    As they turned off onto Bramhall Street and topped a short rise, Maine General came into full view. The four-story brick hospital, fronted by a spirelike tower, was still faint in the dawn light. The cab moved down Brackett Street to the hospital compound’s side entrance.
    “One more thing, though. Inside the machine shop, you made a comment about my wife. I don’t wear a wedding band.”
    “A man can be viewed the same as a crime scene. His appearance, his habits, his expressions, the questions he asks. They all reveal clues to his nature and his history. It’s just a matter of training oneself to note these traits, then cataloging them in the memory, contrasting them against those of different social classes, professions, and generations.”
    “And so you figured I’m married. What else have you deduced about me?”
    “It’s not really my place to say.”
    “We’ve already stood together over a woman’s naked corpse, discussing her lunatic killer. I think we can speak openly.”
    The cab drew to a halt, and the men hopped down.
    “Very well, then. I should congratulate you on the impending birth of your child.”
    Lean stopped dead in his tracks. “How …? Remove your hat a moment.”
    Grey did so, with a bemused caution.
    “No horns on you. So how the devil did you know that? Dr. Steig said something.”
    Grey smirked. “There’s no magic trick. As I said, my conclusions about you follow the same path as the adduction of proof in a criminal inquiry. Drawing from the truth of one fact the existence of those other facts that most probably preceded it.”
    Lean stared at him, silently demanding a more concrete explanation.
    “In this instance your hat and your shoes.”
    “What of them?” Lean inspected what looked to be a perfectly innocent bowler.
    “The hat is on the far side of its better days but has been well tended. The ribbon about the base of the crown has been replaced recently, and the felt has been brushed within the past day.”
    “So?”
    “Having observed you over the past several hours, I note that you are not overly attentive to the finer points of your own grooming.” Grey gestured toward Lean’s coat pocket, from which dangled his crumpled handkerchief. “The care of your hat indicates a woman who takes pride in your appearance. A mistress is more concerned with her own. It’s a wife who takes such pains with a man’s