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persuaded the insurance company to let Joanna do the autopsy on the supposed drowning victim. Something didn’t fit, Jake had said. A sixty-year-old entrepreneur-multimillionaire who had spent half his life on the sea doesn’t just suddenly fall off the back of his yacht while his young, pretty wife and a dozen other party goers are enjoying themselves. The sea had been calm, the yacht barely moving that night, yet no one heard screams or cries for help. It just didn’t make sense, Jake had commented, except maybe to the widow who would inherit twenty million dollars. Plus two million from a life insurance policy.
    Joanna smiled as a picture of the handsome homicide detective came into her mind. For over ten years he had been her lover and partner and confidant and best friend. Oh, they had had their ups and downs, but the last six months had been perfect. Jake was still tough as nails, but with Joanna he was becoming warmer and closer and more intimate than ever. He was even doing the little things that women love so much. Like giving her small gifts for no reason and sending flowers when she least expected them. And there were the subtle winks and touches when they were out in public. She adored that.
    The door to the autopsy room opened, and Detective Sgt. Lou Farelli entered. The receptionist pointed the way for him.
    Joanna stared at the swinging doors, waiting for Jake Sinclair to come through. The doors remained motionless. Farelli walked slowly toward her, a somber expression on his face.
    “Hello, Doc,” Farelli said flatly.
    “Hello, Sergeant,” Joanna said. “Where’s Jake?”
    “At a crime scene,” Farelli answered. “He sent me to get you. We need your help.”
    “I’m afraid she’s unavailable,” Murdock said at once.
    Farelli stared at Murdock as if he were a potted plant and then turned back to Joanna. “It’s a real tough case, and it’s going to be high-profile.”
    Joanna shook her head. “I’d like to help, but I’m really tied up here.”
    “Let me tell you what we’re up against,” Farelli said.
    Murdock stepped forward. “Dr. Blalock has told you she’s unavailable. That should end the conversation.”
    Farelli gave Murdock an icy stare. “I’m trying to talk to the doc here, so you put a lid on it until I’m finished. Understood?”
    Murdock hesitated and then backed off, mumbling under his breath.
    Farelli looked back to Joanna. “Some guy gets whacked in Santa Monica last night during a robbery. They dump his body into an excavation site where a high-rise is going up.”
    Joanna exhaled wearily. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”
    “No,” Farelli said. “We’ve only got a few hours of daylight left, and it’s supposed to rain. Jake wants you to see the crime scene before anything gets washed away.”
    “What’s so important about a murder victim at the bottom of an excavation site?”
    “It’s not the guy that’s important. It’s what we found buried around him.”
    “And what was that?”
    “Babies,” Farelli said gravely. “Premature little babies.”
    “Jesus! How many?”
    “A whole bunch,” Farelli told her. “Jake says it’s a cemetery of human fetuses.”
    Joanna stripped off her gloves and discarded them. “I’ll follow you over in my car.”
     
4
     
    “It doesn’t fit,” Jake Sinclair said. “The pieces don’t fit together here.”
    He was standing near the fence at the top of the excavation site in Santa Monica. Below him, medical examiners were sifting through sand and debris at the bottom of the pit.
    “We’ve got a big hole in the fence and an empty shoe box next to it,” Jake went on. “And at the bottom of this dig we’ve got a guy with half his head blown off. He’s got no watch, no wallet, not even loose change in his pockets.”
    “Did he have anything at all in his pockets?” Joanna asked.
    “A receipt for a candy bar bought last night at the mini mart on the corner.”
    “Does the receipt say what time the buy was