Nobody debated that Melbourne Fitch was in the morgue.
The problem was, there were three of him.
Three Melbourne Fitches, completely identical.
Well, except in how they died.
One had a gaping gunshot wound.
The second had been poisoned.
And the third, drowned.
But everything else, they were the same.
Melbourne had no brothers, so he wasn’t any kind of triplet set.
Nor did any of the three show signs of plastic surgery to render two identical to the third.
The coroner shrugged, released one body, and dismembered the other two for disposal as medical waste.
So much less paperwork.