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“I do not,”th e detective protested as if anguished by the suggestion that his use of language was inaccurate. “She died a fortnight ago.”

I was shocked and showed it.

“Died? But she was an exceptionally healthy young girl.Was there some sort of accident?”

“The girl died of”—Halloran checked his notebook—“died of virulent anemia in the Bon Secours Hospital.”

“You must be joking,”I said.

He was not joking, and he reproved me in a carefully phrased sentence for suggesting as much.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a paper, and thrust it at me. It was a death certificate. The certificate confirmed what the detective had already told me. The cause of death was massive blood loss.

“Her parents came up from Cork to collect the body.When they reached the hospital it was missing.”He paused and corrected himself gently. “The body, that is. It had been removed from the morgue.”

I stared blankly at him.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we, Doctor. At the moment we are following up every lead we can. We checked all the burials from the hospital. No one was buried in error for someone else. The only logical explanation we can come up with is that the body was removed for use in an anatomy school.”

“Are you suggesting body-snatching in this day and age?”I grimaced with dark humor. “Come on! Burke and Hare are a hundred and fifty years out-of-date.”

“Perhaps a simple case of mistaken identity of the body,”h e suggested smoothly.

“Then you would be left with the body that she was mistaken for,”I pointed out logically. “Do the hospital administrators agree with that?”

“They do not. They say it is not possible with their system of checks. But they are most likely covering their backs,”h e added cyni- cally. “However, the fact is that you are correct, we can’t trace any likely form of substitution. The body has simply vanished.”

“Things like that don’t happen,”I insisted. “You just can’t mislay a body these days.”

Halloran gazed at me with moody speculation.

“I don’t suppose you ever carry out anatomy experiments here?” There was a hopeful note in his voice.

“You are perfectly welcome to search in case I have the odd body tucked away,”I replied sarcastically. “We keep the choice cuts in the ’fridge.”

Halloran took that as a negative and began to rise. I held up a hand to stay him.

“What really intrigues me is how this girl could die of anemia? That would mean a massive blood loss. Death certificates just give the cause of death not the reasons behind the cause.When she was here, the test showed that she was absolutely normal. I don’t understand it.”

“Well, perhaps if we found the body we might be able to help you,”said the detective heavily.“My job is just to find the body. Then we can find out what she died of.”

“Have you consulted her friend?”

“Her friend?”H is eyes were suddenly bright upon me. “She had a friend?”

I went to my files, looked up the notes, and gave the name and address of the blond girl. He noted them down.

“I thought that both girls were supposed to be on tour in England as backing singers with some pop group . . .”

Halloran frowned.

“First I’ve heard of it. The redhead was found not far from here, in Artane. That’s why she was taken to the Bon Secours Hospital. Mr. Ronayne didn’t mention anything about her going on a tour. I’ll look into it. Thanks for all your help, Doctor.”

That afternoon I was busy with more clients; a sad-looking bass player who was going to America to join some band playing in a casino on the Pequod American Indian reservation in upstate New York. The Native Americans were, by all accounts, amassing large fortunes from old treaty rights by running nontaxable gambling casinos. I suppose it was about time they managed to get those treaties working for them.

When I reached home in the evening I found my sister, Étain, in the hall with a suitcase packed. She was beaming with joy.

“I’m glad that you came home before I left. I tried to raise you on your mobile, but you had it switched