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Bart and hurried back to his own office. Chet looked up as Jack dashed in. “Learn anything?” he asked. “Not a thing,” Jack said happily. He pulled out Nodelman’s folder and rapidly shuffled through the pages until he found the completed identification sheet.
         On it were phone numbers for the next of kin. With his index finger marking Nodelman’s wife’s number, Jack made the call. It was an exchange in the Bronx.
         Mrs. Nodelman answered on the second ring.
         “I’m Dr. Stapleton,” Jack said. “I’m a medical examiner for the City of New York.”
         At that point Jack had to explain the role of a medical examiner, because even the archaic term “coroner” didn’t register with Mrs. Nodelman.
         “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Jack said once Mrs. Nodelman understood who he was.
         “It was so sudden,” Mrs. Nodelman said. She had started to cry. “He had diabetes, that’s true. But he wasn’t supposed to die.”
         “I’m very sorry for your loss,” Jack said. “But did your late husband do any recent traveling?”
         “He went to New Jersey a week or so ago,” Mrs. Nodelman said. Jack could hear her blow her nose.
         “I was thinking of travel to more distant destinations,” Jack said. “Like to the Southwest or maybe India.”
         “Just to Manhattan every day,” Mrs. Nodelman said.
         “How about a visitor from some exotic locale?” Jack asked.
         “Donald’s aunt visited in December,” Mrs. Nodelman said.
         “And where is she from?”
         “Queens,” Mrs. Nodelman said.
         “Queens,” Jack repeated. “That’s not quite what I had in mind. How about contact with any wild animals? Like rabbits.”
         “No,” Mrs. Nodelman said. “Donald hated rabbits.”
         “How about pets?” Jack asked.
         “We have a cat,” Mrs. Nodelman said.
         “Is the cat sick?” Jack asked. “Or has the cat brought home any rodents?”
         “The cat is fine,” Mrs. Nodelman said. “She’s a house cat and never goes outside.”
         “How about rats?” Jack asked. “Do you see many rats around your house? Have you seen any dead ones lately?”
         “We don’t have any rats,” Mrs. Nodelman said indignantly. “We live in a nice, clean apartment.”
         Jack tried to think of something else to ask, but for the moment nothing came to mind. “Mrs. Nodelman,” he said, “you’ve been most kind. The reason I’m asking you these questions is because we have reason to believe that your husband died of a serious infectious disease. We think he died of plague.”
         There was a brief silence.
         “You mean bubonic plague like they had in Europe long ago?” Mrs. Nodelman asked.
         “Sort of,” Jack said. “Plague comes in two clinical forms, bubonic and pneumonic. Your husband seems to have had the pneumonic form, which happens to be the more contagious. I would advise you to go to your doctor and inform him of your potential exposure. I’m sure he’ll want you to take some precautionary antibiotics. I would also advise you to take your pet to your vet and tell him the same thing.”
         “Is this serious?” Mrs. Nodelman asked.
         “It’s very serious,” Jack said. He then gave her his phone number in case she had any questions later. He also asked her to call him if the vet found anything suspicious with the cat.
         Jack hung up the phone and turned to Chet. “The mystery is deepening,” he said. Then he added cheerfully: “AmeriCare is going to have some severe indigestion over this.”
         “There’s that facial expression again that scares me,” Chet said. Jack laughed, got up, and started out of the room. “Where are you going now?” Chet asked nervously.
         “To tell Laurie Montgomery what’s going on,” Jack said. “She’s supposed to