Having changed back into his suit and tie, Asten stood with his arms crossed over his chest behind his desk, a tense glare creasing his forehead. Quincy sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, Brill in the other, while Monahan paced, hands in his pockets.

"You can't think of any reason your brother would have come to Los Angeles?" Monahan pushed.

The vulnerability in Quincy's voice made Asten's muscles tighten further. "I told you, lieutenant, my brother and I haven't spoken in 20 years, I have no idea what he was doing here. He's a corporate lawyer in Las Vegas, that's all I know."

But the seasoned cop could sense the doctor's reticence. "Quincy, your brother was shot to death in a parking lot off Sunset Blvd., and all the evidence points to a professional hit. Are you gonna just sit there and pretend you can't think of any reason why?"

The coroner's jaw clenched slightly, which wasn't lost on Monahan. "We didn't speak, I don't know anything about my brother's business."

"All right, fine. Tell me why you stopped speaking to each other."

Quincy's angry eyes darted up to Monahan's. "That's none of your business."

"It is if it might help with this case. Now what the hell are you holding back, Quincy, because I can tell there's somethin'..."

"Are you calling me a liar, Monahan?"

"If the shoe fits, Quincy..."

And Asten had heard all he was going to. "All right, that's enough." He glared at Monahan. "Lieutenant, I realize you're just trying to do your job, but Quincy's been through enough for one day, don't you think?"

Frustrated, Monahan shook his head. "I'm just trying to get to the bottom of it, Dr. Asten, and I can't for the life of me understand why Dr. Truth-At-Any-Cost here suddenly has no desire to get to the facts, especially since it involves the death of his own brother."

Quincy stood in a rage, closing in on Monahan, causing Brill to stand defensively. "I told you I don't know who killed my brother," his agitated voice resonated through gritted teeth, "And if I were you, I'd leave it alone."

Monahan's brow furrowed. "Are you threatening me, Dr. Quincy?"

The medical examiner swallowed hard then, searching his friend's hurt and confused eyes. He looked away. "No," he answered softly, "no, Monahan, of course not. I'm...I'm sorry."

Quincy sat back down in his chair, no longer having the strength to remain standing. Monahan glanced up at Asten, concern coloring his light eyes. The director moved around his desk, putting a soft hand on his coroner's shoulder.

"You're overwrought, Quincy, and I'm putting an end to this right now," Asten said. "I'm sorry, Lt. Monahan, but any further questions will have to take place at a later time."

Reluctantly, Monahan nodded at Asten and motioned to Brill that it was time to leave. The sergeant headed for the door, but Monahan looked down at the medical examiner once more.

"Quincy," the lieutenant's voice softened, "I didn't mean to upset you, I just want to find out what happened to your brother."

The wet gray eyes flicked up to Monahan's face, the sadness in them slicing through the cop like a sharp knife. "I know that, Monahan. I didn't mean to take this out on you..."

Monahan looked up at Asten. "We'll try this again tomorrow, after Quincy's had a chance to get used to this whole thing, and after we've reviewed the autopsy report."

Asten nodded. "Very well, lieutenant." He waited until the two cops had exited the room, before he moved into the chair next to the coroner. "What is it, Quincy?" He asked softly.

The medical examiner's mouth pulled into a straight line. "I...I should have known I couldn't keep this quiet any longer, not after what's happened, but I wanted to give you my resignation before telling Monahan the truth..."

Asten's forehead crinkled into a deep frown. "Quincy, what are you talking about? I don't want your resignation."

"You will," the doctor's voice stated quietly. "My brother's affiliations will reflect badly on me, and by association, you and the department..."

"Quincy..."

"I said he was a corporate attorney, but that wasn't entirely truthful." He looked into Asten's eyes, which were filled with concern, and putting a voice to the truth was suddenly much harder than Quincy thought it would be. "My brother worked for the mob."

Asten's face paled. "The mob? As in the mafia? As in Jimmy Hoffa and the East River?"

"I'm afraid so, Dr. Asten." Quincy stood then. "You'll have my signed resignation in a few hours..."

Asten grabbed the man's sleeve as he turned to go. "Hold on a minute. I don't want your resignation, Quincy. I want to help you find out what happened to your brother and why."

The coroner's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear me, Dr. Asten? My brother was a mafia lawyer. They probably put the hit out on him, and knowing Michael, he probably deserved it."

"Quincy!"

He let out a tired sigh. "I didn't mean it exactly that way; I just meant Michael probably embezzled money or something and they found out about it. But no matter what the situation, once the media gets a hold of it, the coroner's office will be dragged through the mud because of me. The clean record of this department, everything that you, Sam, Mark and the entire staff have worked so hard for will be blemished. And I can't let that happen, Dr. Asten. I just can't."

"I have something to say about this, Quincy...and I'm not accepting your resignation."

But Dr. Asten--"

"--No. You cannot be held responsible for the sins of your brother; I'm certainly not going to do that, nor is anyone else around here. And as for the media, well, frankly, I don't care what they think."

"I appreciate your support, Dr. Asten, I really do, but what about the supervisor, the board, and all the other people you have to answer to? What are they going to say?"

"You let me worry about that, okay? For now, you should go home and get some rest, Quincy. We can talk tomorrow." Quincy stared hard at the director instead of moving, so Asten gently guided him toward the door. "I mean it, get some rest. I've asked Sam to drive you home."

"He doesn't need to--"

"--Quincy, for once, just let us take care of you and stop arguing about it."

The medical examiner nodded then, and smiled weakly. "Thanks, Dr. Asten. I really do appreciate your concern."

"Go home," Asten growled in a tone that the doctor recognized as feigned annoyance.

Quincy left the office and headed back toward the main lab and Sam Fujiyama, whom he knew would be unable to say no to him when he asked for a copy of the autopsy report on his brother.


Sam shook his head in exasperation. "Quince, please, please don't ask me to do this..."

"Sam, I need to see the report."

"But Quincy, Dr. Asten wants you to go home and take it easy. Besides, it's a conflict of interest for you to have anything to do with this case."

"I'm not gonna have anything to do with it, Sam, honest. I just wanna see the report, that's all."

Sam inhaled a long sigh of air as he handed Quincy a xerox copy inside a manilla folder.

"You already made me a copy?"

Sam simply rolled his eyes. "Don't make me regret this, Quince, please."

"Thanks Sam, I won't."

The medical examiner started for the door and Sam called out to him. "Hey, Quince, I thought I was supposed to drive you home."

"I'm fine, Sam, really, there's no need for you to go out of your way like that."

"But--"

"--I'll be fine, don't worry."

And before Sam could present any further arguments, Quincy was gone.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," Sam muttered, "But when Asten finds out, I'm sushi..."


Asten wrote down the address as it was read to him. "Yes, operator, thank you very much, I've made a note of it. Yes, thank you... good-bye."

Melissa walked into her husband's study as Asten hung up the receiver. "Honey...it's getting late, what are you still doing in here?"

"Oh, just a little investigative work, nothing more. I'm finished now," he said as he folded the piece of paper he'd been writing on, and slipped it into his pocket.

He'd been edgy and upset since he'd come home, and Melissa knew he hadn't told her everything that had transpired at work. She moved up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, gently squeezing them. Asten groaned in response to the pressure on his taut muscles.

"Bob, you need to relax, I haven't seen you this uptight in a long time..."

"It was a pretty rough day, 'Liss."

She rubbed him for several minutes, and then she leaned over, placing a light kiss on his forehead. "Come on, let's go to bed..."

The suggestion wasn't lost on him, but there was still pressing business that he felt could not wait. He smiled at her though, holding out his arms. Melissa slid onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him. He stretched up and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I'll come to bed in awhile, honey, but I'm afraid there's still one thing I need to do tonight."

"Bob, what in the world could you possibly have to do at this hour that can't wait until morning?"

He sighed, kissed her quickly again, and then gently pushing her off of him, he stood. "I need to go check on Quincy."

"What?"

"Honey, he was in an awful state today, and he really wasn't feeling well when I sent him home, and..." He stared into her eyes. "'Liss, I'm not going to be able to sleep unless I know he's okay."

She smiled up at him. "For all the arguments and complaints, you're really very fond of him, aren't you?"

He kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Quincy sort of grows on people...like cancer."

She swatted him lightly. "Oh Bob, that's not funny." She looked into his tired eyes that had picked up dark rings underneath them. "Can't you just call him?"

He shook his head. "He'll just tell me what I want to hear. Look, it won't take long. I'm just going to make sure he's all right, and then I'll come right back home." He kissed her forehead. "You'll wait up for me?"

A sultry smile curved her lips. "I'll be waiting..." She kissed him again. "Don't be too long..."

"I won't."

Asten grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for the marina.


Quincy felt his eyes sting with moisture as he read the autopsy report. He noted that Sam had kindly left out any related photos, and only included the written transcription of the autopsy itself, and the results of tox and blood screens. Still, it made for difficult reading. He set the folder down and opened a built-in drawer in the bedframe. He shuffled a few things and extracted a framed picture. The two twin boys were about six years old, and they had been playing in their father's garage. One was perfectly pristine; clean clothes, face and hands. He was holding his twin brother, who while dressed in an exact outfit, was covered from head to toe in engine oil. The grin on the clean twin's face was one of victory and dominance, a look that Quincy noted had become a hallmark of Michael's throughout his life whenever he mowed people down in the name of winning. The expression of sorrow and betrayal on Quincy's face in the photograph was also to become customary in any dealings he had with his twin brother, although all contact had ceased the day Quincy discovered his brother's connection to the mob.

Still, it hurt as if it had all taken place the day before yesterday.

The footfalls on the steps of his boat made Quincy start.

"Quincy? You down there?"

Recognizing Asten's voice, the medical examiner quickly tossed the manilla folder into the drawer of his bed, and he was wiping his eyes on his sleeve when Asten landed in his galley. The director glanced over at his coroner, noting the moisture still on his face, despite the marred attempt at wiping it away. He walked cautiously into the main room, and stood in front of the table at which Quincy was sitting. Wordlessly, Asten's eyes came to rest on the old photograph. Gently he pulled it from Quincy's hand, and admired it for a moment, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He handed it back to the coroner.

"You two must have been quite a handful..."

"Yes, I suppose so," Quincy said as he set the photograph aside, the fact that it was now laying face down did not escape the director's notice.

Asten pulled a chair out from the table. "May I?"

"Of course," came the curt reply.

An awkward air filtered through the room as the two men stared at each other, both trying to ignore the elephant sitting on the table between them. Asten finally cleared his throat and Quincy's eyes darted to the dark brown ones holding him.

"I don't mean to be rude, Dr. Asten, but, why are you here?"

Asten swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm worried about you, Quincy."

But the medical examiner knew the man he worked for well. "While I'm sure that might be part of it, that's not why you drove all the way over here at this hour."

Asten stood then, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, pacing in front of the wooden table. "I'm...I'm not sure ...I'm not sure I've done the right thing here, Quincy."

Asten pulled his right hand from his pocket, and tossed the key with the claim stub attached onto the table. The medical examiner picked it up and stared at him. "Dr. Asten, I don't understand."

"That was with your brother's personal effects."

And then it hit him, and his eyes grew wide in surprise. "Are you telling me you removed what could be possible evidence in a murder case and withheld it from the police?"

Asten frowned. "Why does it sound so much worse when you say it?"

Quincy looked at the items in his hand. "What is this for?"

Asten shrugged. "I'm not sure. I did make some preliminary calls, but so far I haven't found any place with that name."

Quincy looked at the claim stub. "The Golden Tree. Sounds like a chinese restaurant..."

"Well if it is, it isn't located here in Los Angeles."

"Why did you do this?"

Asten shrugged again. "I don't honestly know. I've never tampered with evidence in an investigation in my life. I guess I figured whatever that key belongs to is by rights yours, and you should have the first look at it. After all of your dedicated service to the department, I owed you that much." He stared into the light gray eyes. "That was of course before I found out what your brother did for a living..."

"You've had plenty of time to give this to Monahan since I told you about that."

"Guess I just didn't want to have to explain to him how it must have fallen from the bag when I went through the effects and became lost under my desk until the cleaning people found it."

Asten headed for the stairs and Quincy said, "Dr. Asten?" The dark eyes pierced Quincy with their intensity. "Thanks."

Asten started up the steps and then turned back. "You might want to try Las Vegas information next," he said as he crumpled a piece of paper in his pocket, "maybe The Golden Tree is there."

Before Quincy could comment, Asten was gone.


From their boat several slips away, two men in dark suits watched the man known as Robert Asten leave the coroner's boat, 15 minutes after he had arrived. The short one turned to the tall one.

"What do we do?"

"Boss says to get 'em both..." The tall one pulled a 9mm handgun from under his jacket, and released the safety. "Let's go."


It was well after 3am by the time Monahan pulled into the parking lot near Quincy's slip in the marina. The panicked call from Melissa Asten had prompted the cop to drive over to Quincy's when he couldn't raise the coroner on the phone, but rationale had kept him from calling it in to the precinct. He glanced over at the blue sedan parked a few spaces away and recognized it as Robert Asten's car, and in the space beyond that was the coroner's wagon that Quincy always drove: at least the two of them hadn't gone anywhere. Monahan heaved a sigh and headed toward Quincy's moored boat. He called out to them as he boarded.

"Hey, Quincy... Asten? Are the two of you drunk or something? Asten, you're wife's gonna kill you when you get home..."

He started down the stairs into the cabin when the hair on his arms stood up straight. And the instinct of a seasoned detective took over, causing Monahan to draw his weapon. He froze on the stairs and called out again.

"Quincy? Asten? It's Monahan..." Cautiously the cop descended the stairs, but he wasn't prepared for the sight which greeted him. "Jesus..."

The inside of the cabin had been ripped apart, and there was no sign of either Quincy or Asten.