Dead Ringer by Allen Wyler

whiz-bang new artificial knee. How do you train surgeons on how to implant the appliance correctly?”
    “You tell me.”
    “The company conducts training seminars. You might hold a few at the big national meetings, but you also set up a series of workshops in major cities around the country. However you choose to do it, you’ll need a constant supply of actual knees. And they have to come from somewhere. That’s where DFHsteps in. They’re a major supplier. Not only that, but their fancy building over by Lake Union … you ever been inside?”
    “Yes, but only the lobby and Ditto’s office.”
    “Well, it has some of the most elegant teaching facilities I’ve ever seen. HDTVs, webcasting pods, wood-paneled lecture halls … I’m telling you, this building”—he held out his arms—“sucks in comparison.”
    From the little she’d seen, it sucked regardless. The West Precinct was the Taj Mahal in comparison.
    “The demand for cadavers isn’t just for medical education, either. There’re other needs you might not think about. Forensic studies, as an example. There’s a guy in Tennessee who’s made a name for himself by studying the life cycle of maggots in decomposing bodies. He’s the world expert on the subject. He had fields of corpses and adds new corpses to them all the time. Can you imagine a field of rotting bodies? I’m sure you must have heard of him.”
    Wendy nodded, but in truth this was the first mention she’d heard of him and what she envisioned made her nauseous.
    “Then you have accident reenactments. Although there are companies that make gelatin body simulations for those, the biomechanics are never as accurate as a human corpse, so the demand remains high,” Boynton said with a shrug.
    He’s really getting into it . Probably one of the few times he’s lectured to someone actually interested .
    “These are all legitimate uses that make us as people better off.” He paused. “But back to your point. Have any idea how much Ditto is paid for a whole body? Especially one in prime condition?”
    She assumed from the way he asked that it would be high. “Tell me.”
    “Get this.” Boynton leaned closer as if disclosing confidential information. “How does three hundred thousand dollars grab you?” He sat back and crossed his arms with a smug expression.
    “That’s three hundred thousand?”
    He smiled. “Staggering, isn’t it?”
    She whistled. “Man!”
    His smile widened as he laid down his trump card. “But selling bodies is illegal.”
    “Then I don’t—”
    Boynton raised a hand, cutting her off. “Here’s how it works. Say your father has a massive heart attack and dies, and you don’t have the money for a casket, much less a funeral. You’re torn. You want to do something nice for dear old Dad, but you simply don’t have the money. And God knows, you have to do something with the body. Can’t very well just toss him in the Dumpster late at night. What do you do?”
    “You call DFH Inc.”
    He flashed a thumbs-up. “You bet you do. And what’s not to like? Ditto’s crew promptly arrives, whisks away the body. If you opt for his medical research program,” making quotes with his fingers, “there is no charge. It’s free. He cremates the body and gives you the ashes or disposes of them for you if you prefer. But wait,” he said with a dramatic flourish, mimicking a TV ad, “there’s more. If you want, they’ll even give your loved one a nice memorial service in their own chapel free of charge. It’s a huge win for everyone involved. Not only does Dad get a funeral, but he’s contributed to the advancement of science.Whether you’re down on your luck or rolling in the dough, you don’t have to end up paying several thousand bucks to have Dad cremated or buried with a ceremony. You got to love it. And people do.”
    “So how—?”
    Up went his hand again. “How can Ditto get three hundred grand for Dad and stay legal? Easy. He charges the