by Robin Cook
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Franco shouted as Angelo struggled to free his arm. “The place is crawling with cops. It’s suicide to go out there.”
Angelo stopped struggling, pulled his foot in, and closed the door. He knew Franco was right. There was no way he could approach Laurie under the circumstances. As tense with anticipation as he’d been all morning, he’d reacted by reflex when he’d caught sight of her getting out of a taxi on the opposite side of the street, obviously avoiding the crowd of protesters in front of the OCME. Suffering from acute and frustrating impotence, he was forced to watch Laurie a mere fifty or so feet away as she leaned back into the taxi and extracted a pair of crutches. Next to emerge was Jack.
“That’s her boyfriend,” Angelo growled. “I wouldn’t mind icing him at the same time.”
“Calm down!” Franco said again. “I feel like I’m sitting with a mad dog.”
For almost a minute, Laurie and Jack stood in plain sight, severely testing Angelo’s restraint, waiting for the light to change. Then, like a cat forced to watch a tempting mouse walk directly in front of its nose, Angelo had to find the self-control to witness their slow progress across First Avenue. When they turned to cross 30th Street, they were only the length of the Range Rover in front.
“This would have been perfect, if it hadn’t been for the protest.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Franco said philosophically. “So now you’ve seen her, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Angelo started the van. “I’m thinking,” he said. “She’s going to recognize me just as easily as I recognized her.”
“Maybe easier,” Franco agreed.
“That means we should have more people.” Angelo put the van in gear, looked behind him down First Avenue, and pulled away from the curb. “When we come back later this afternoon, I think we should have Freddie and Richie with us.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Franco agreed.
ADAM HAD SCOUTED the area around the OCME the night before and had come up with a plan to make a definitive ID on the target. He’d arrived that morning just before seven and had parked his Range Rover in an appropriate no-parking zone where he was reasonably confident the commercial plates would work their usual magic. He hadn’t been happy about the protest, which was just beginning to form, not because of the people and the confusion they would cause but because of the TV vans and crews he assumed would be sent to cover the event. Adam wanted to avoid at all costs being caught on film.
As he’d expected, the outer door to the OCME had been open, although it had been locked the night before. Why he’d been so sure it would be open in the morning was that by peering in the previous night, he had been able to see a reception desk inside and another set of glass doors beyond.
Once inside, Adam had retreated to a vinyl couch with a copy of The New York Times. The receptionist asked Adam if she could be of assistance. He had told her that he was told to wait for one of the medical examiners.
For fifteen minutes, Adam had sat in the reception area. Several people had come in, including one medical examiner whom the receptionist had greeted as Dr. Mehta. The other people had been addressed by their first names. The receptionist’s name he learned was Marlene Wilson.
At exactly seven-fifteen, the outer door opened. The first person to come in did so on crutches. Adam lowered the paper so he could see over the top. The second person looked encouraging. She was of medium height with sculptured features, brunette hair with auburn highlights, and a surprisingly pale, almost blond complexion. In Adam’s mind she matched the description, as meager as it was, but he had to be certain.
“Good morning, you two,” the receptionist said to Adam’s chagrin, meaning he was forced to go to plan B. He’d quickly learned the modus operandi for entry was for the receptionist to make verbal contact before buzzing the employees in. The regular employees went through the double doors directly opposite doors to the street. The one medical doctor who’d come in went to a door beyond the receptionist’s desk to be buzzed in, requiring her to walk across the room in front of Adam. The person Adam believed to be the target proceeded to follow the route of the previous doctor, as did the man on the crutches.
“Excuse me,” Adam called out. “Are you Dr. Laurie Montgomery?”
Laurie stopped a step beyond Adam, as did Jack, who was almost even with the man’s location.
Adam got to his feet and regarded Laurie for a beat. In keeping with her light complexion, her eyes were a pale blue-green. Adam asked again if she were Laurie Montgomery.
“Why do you ask?” Laurie questioned.
“I’m from ABC Collection,” Adam said. “Could you tell me if you have ever lived in the SoHo section of Greenwich Village?”
Laurie exchanged a questioning glance with Jack. “No, I haven’t,” Laurie said.
“But your name is Laurie Montgomery.”
“Yes, but I’ve never lived in SoHo.”
“Sorry to bother you, then,” Adam said and started for the door.
“Why are you looking for a Laurie Montgomery in SoHo, if I may ask?”
“For a phone bill which was unpaid when she moved.”
“Sorry,” Laurie said as she turned toward the ID room door.
Adam continued outside. The protest was in full swing, with the protesters marching in a circle in front of the building, chanting over and over in unison, “Police brutality must be stopped! Cover-up! Cover-up!”
Being careful to avoid any chance of being caught by any of the cameras, Adam returned to his vehicle, climbed in, and then skirted the commotion. Heading north on First Avenue, he thought he’d return to the hotel, do a little planning over a second cup of coffee, and then head up to the Metropolitan Museum. It had been a favorite destination in his youth. He was quite certain he’d not see Laurie Montgomery until late that afternoon. Since he had yet to have her home address, he was going to have to rely on the OCME to provide access.
19
APRIL 4, 2007
7:20 A.M.
Well, it’s about time, you guys,” Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano said. He tossed his newspaper aside and made a production out of examining his watch. “You’ve always bragged how early you get here. This ain’t that early.”
“What is this?” Jack questioned. “Is this today, or is it yesterday? We don’t see you for months, and here you are two days in a row. What gives?”
“I imagine my appearance gives away the fact that once again I’ve been up all night.”
“How come you don’t let anyone else in your department do any work?”
Lou thought for a minute. It was a question he’d never asked himself. “I guess because I don’t have anything else to do. I suppose that sounds rather pathetic.”
“You said it, I didn’t,” Jack said, as he settled into one of the brown vinyl chairs and elevated his bad knee.
“We would have been earlier,” Laurie said, “but we had to stop at the hospital for Jack’s pre-op workup.”
Lou looked from Laurie to Jack. “Are you still going through with the surgery tomorrow?”
“Let’s not get into that,” Jack said. “Rather, let’s hear why you were up all night!”
“It was a bit of déjà vu,” Lou said.
Laurie called over to Jack to ask if he wanted coffee, and he gave the usual thumbs-up sign. He then motioned for Lou to continue.
“I was out with the harbor guys once again. Just like the previous night, they’d come across a floater who’d been shot in the exact same fashion as the one the previous night. I’d left word to call me if it happened, and they did. It’s just what I didn’t want to see. Most of the other wars the competing organized-crime syndicates have waged have started out the same way. First a hit, then another, and then a goddamn avalanche.”
Laurie brought over Jack’s coffee in one hand and hers in another. She sat on the arm of Jack’s chair, listening to Lou.
“The only hopeful sign is th
at this hit was a little different.”
“How so?” Jack asked.
“The victim’s a girl,” Lou said, but then quickly added, “I mean, a woman.” He glanced up guiltily at Laurie. He knew she was sensitive to feminist issues, such as calling women girls. “That’s rather novel,” he continued. “We haven’t seen too many women bumped off gangland-style, so I suppose there’s hope this episode is unrelated to yesterday’s, meaning it’s not necessarily an escalation of whatever was the cause of yesterday’s hit.”
“The floater is not the only bit of déjà vu,” Dr. Riva Mehta called out from the desk where she was going over all the cases that had come in overnight and deciding which ones needed to be autopsied and who in the ME staff would do them. “Laurie, you asked about MRSA cases. There’s another one here. I assume you want it.”
“Absolutely,” Laurie said, slipping off the arm of Jack’s chair and scooting over toward Riva. “Is it from an Angels Healthcare hospital?”
“Nope. It’s from University Hospital.”
Laurie took the case folder and walked over to the chair next to Vinnie’s, who was engrossed as per usual in the sports section of the Daily News.
“Damn!” Jack whispered, returning his attention to Lou. “She’s probably going to use this new case as more grist for her mill about canceling my surgery tomorrow. So please, don’t bring it up.”
“I’ll try, but when it comes to common sense, you are not even in Laurie’s league. Are you sure you shouldn’t follow her advice?”
“Don’t start,” Jack said, holding up his hand as if to ward off a literal attack. “Let’s get back to your case. Was the floater clothed or naked?”
“Interesting you should ask. She was half and half.”
“What the hell does that mean? Bottom but no top or vice versa?”
“Sort of. She had outerwear but no underwear. She had on one of those shirtdresses. I think that’s what you call them, and she was wearing a coat but no bra and no panties. I don’t know if it’s significant or not. I mean, isn’t it kind of a fad these days for some girls, I mean women, to go out without underwear?”
“You got me,” Jack said. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Regardless, we’re obligated to use a rape kit to cover all bases.”
“I think I was born too early,” Lou said with a laugh.
“Has this floater been IDed?”
“No, in that way, it’s similar to yesterday’s.”
“How about yesterday’s? Have you identified the victim?”
“No. And I put some serious time in on it yesterday. I can’t figure it out. The guy was wearing a wedding ring and was well dressed. I don’t understand why the family hasn’t called in. In such a case, Missing Persons ordinarily solves the mystery in twenty-four hours or less. My only thought is that maybe he’s a foreigner. Now, with today’s case, who I suspect is single, I will be less surprised if it takes a few days, unless the woman has a roommate or the kind of employment where a supervisor or a coworker will call the police.”
“How old approximately?”
“Young, late teens, early twenties.”
“Does she look like a hooker?”
“How can you tell these days the way the kids dress? The only thing unique is some lime-green highlights in her hair.”
“Lime green?” Jack questioned with disbelief.
“As I said, it’s unique.”
“Does she have the same depressions in her legs like she was chained, possibly to a weight, like yesterday’s?”
“She does, which is why I’ve tried to keep that fact quiet. If there is to be more of these gangland executions, I want them to keep bobbing up. I want the perps to continue making the same mistake.”
“What do you expect out of the autopsy?”
“Hey, I don’t know,” Lou said, throwing his hands into the air. “You’re the magician.”
“I wish that were the case.”
“I do want the slug. If it’s again a Remington high-velocity hollow point like I believe yesterday’s was, we’ll at least have to consider the same gun was used for both cases.”
“Was the body found where the other one was?”
“Not really, but not that far away, either. The way the current and tides move around out there, it’s anybody’s guess where flotsam will end up.”
“All right, let’s do it,” Jack said. He got to his feet and collected his crutches, then hobbled over to Riva. “Is the new floater file handy?” he asked her. “And can I do the case?” Riva was happy to hand over the case file, and Jack used it to swat Vinnie’s newspaper. “Let’s go, big guy,” Jack said, as he dropped the case file into Vinnie’s lap. “Let’s lend a hand to the halls of justice.”
Vinnie groused, as was his habit, but to his credit, he put away the paper and got to his feet.
“We’ll need a rape kit,” Jack added.
Vinnie nodded and headed toward communications on his way down to the autopsy room.
Jack looked over Riva’s shoulder at the stack of cases she was reviewing. “Looks like a busy day.”
“Even busier than yesterday,” Riva said.
“Hey, I’ll meet you downstairs,” Lou called over to Jack. Jack waved for him to go ahead.
“Have any corkers?” Jack asked. He tried to rifle through several of Riva’s carefully organized case files, but she smacked the back of his hand with the ruler she kept handy for that very purpose. “Ouch,” Jack said as he grabbed his hand and rubbed it, pretending he’d been truly hurt.
“There’s a couple in here which I think will be a challenge,” Riva said.
“That sounds good,” Jack said. “How many can I expect?”
“At least three,” Riva said. “I’ve got two people who’ve requested paper days, so the rest of us will have to pick up the slack.” Paper days were days that medical examiners did not do autopsies but rather concentrated on getting all the information needed to finish their pending cases and finalize the death certificates.
“Jack, I’m afraid you have to look at this,” Laurie said. She’d gone through the MRSA case that Riva had given her.
Jack rolled his eyes. It wasn’t difficult for him to guess that Laurie was about to mount one more effort to get him to change his mind.
“This case is a repeat of David Jeffries’s,” Laurie began. “She also had been operated on at an Angels Healthcare hospital, only to suffer a fulminant MRSA infection, for which she was shipped off to the University Hospital in hope of saving her.”
“Thank the good Lord it wasn’t at the orthopedic hospital,” Jack said.
“Jack, be serious!” Laurie complained. “This is the second astoundingly fulminant staph infection in as many days. You must rethink your decision. The vast majority of MRSA infections don’t kill their victims, and surely not within hours of the initial symptoms. These are very unusual in all regards. Why can’t you see this?”
“I do see it. It is a mystery, and I’m supportive of your efforts to figure it out. As for me, I’ve put myself in Dr. Wendell Anderson’s very capable hands. If he’s confident, I’m confident. If you can come up with something specific why I am specifically at risk, I’ll consider it more seriously, but otherwise my mind is made up. I’ve even been tested for MRSA, and I don’t have it. Dr. Anderson has not had a case. In short, I’m going to have my surgery tomorrow, and that’s it.” Jack stopped and took several breaths. He’d worked himself up during his monologue. He and Laurie locked eyes for a beat, then he said, “Now I’m going down and do my first case. Okay?”
Laurie nodded. The melancholy she’d experienced on awakening drifted back. She felt tears bubble up from somewhere behind her eyes, but she fought them off. “Okay,” she said, with a slightly hesitant voice. “I’ll see you in the pit.”
“I’ll see you in the pit,” Jack echoed, and walked from the room.
Riva and Laurie stared at each other, with Laurie wanting support and Riva wanting to give it.
�
��The trouble with men,” Riva pontificated, “is that they are men, and they don’t think like we do. The irony is that they accuse us of emotionalism, whereas they are equally capable. He’d made an emotional decision to have the surgery and, at this point, he’s incapable of rationality.”
Laurie smiled in spite of herself. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed that.”
“Interesting that he did offer you an out,” Riva said. “And I can be the witness. He said if you could come up with something that could specifically put him at risk, he’d be amenable to hear it. Of course, he didn’t offer to change his mind, but he might. What you need to do is find out the how and the why of these infections. I know it is a tall order in less than twenty-four hours, but from your past record, if anybody could do it, you can.”
Laurie nodded agreement, not the part about her being the most capable of the challenge but rather the idea of her possibly changing Jack’s mind by her solving the apparent mystery. Suddenly, Laurie stood up and headed out of the room. Her melancholy had been overwhelmed by a surge of adrenaline. She was committed to the puzzle, no matter how unlikely the success, and undaunted by the seemingly impossible time constraint.
“I’m afraid I will have to assign you a few other cases,” Riva called after her.
Laurie waved to indicate she’d heard.
“Do you want the case files now or later?” Riva yelled.
Laurie stopped and hurried back to Riva.
“They should be both interesting and quick,” Riva said, while handing over the two envelopes. “Both are young, seemingly healthy people in their early thirties, so the posts will be quick and you can get back to your MRSA mystery.”
“What’s the presumed cause of death?”
“There isn’t any. One died at the dentist’s office after getting injected with a local anesthetic. I know it sounds like a drug reaction, but there were no symptoms of anaphylaxis. The other collapsed at a health club while riding a stationary bike.”
“I’m here!” a voice called out. “The day can now officially begin.”
