Marker

by Robin Cook

  “What’s the matter?” Lou asked. Laurie had started to talk, but instead of saying anything, her eyes filled up with tears. She’d slapped a hand over her forehead, pressing in on her temples with her thumb and index finger.

  Lou closed the door. He pulled Riva’s chair over and sat down, then put his hand on Laurie’s shoulder.

  “Hey, come on! Tell me what’s going on here!”

  Laurie took her hand away. Her eyes were still brimming, but no tears had spilled out. She puffed up her cheeks then smiled weakly. “Sorry,” she managed.

  “Sorry? What are you talking about? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Come on! Tell me what’s cookin’? But wait! I think I know.”

  “You do?” Laurie questioned. She opened one of her desk drawers and took out a tissue to blot her eyes. Once she had the watery eyes under control, she looked back at Lou. “What makes you think you know what’s bothering me?”

  “I’ve gotten to know you over the years: both you and Jack. I also know you and him are on the outs. I mean it’s not like it’s a secret.”

  Laurie started to protest, but Lou took his hand off her shoulder and held it up to shush her. “I know it’s none of my business, but it is my business, since I’m crazy for both you guys. I know you’ve been seeing some other doctor, but I think you and Jack should patch things up. You guys were meant for each other.”

  Laurie had to smile in spite of herself. She gazed at Lou with loving eyes. The man was a dear. Back when she and Jack started to be romantically involved, she’d been concerned that he’d be jealous, since the three had become fast friends. Instead, he’d been generously supportive right from the beginning. Now it was Laurie’s turn to put her hand on Lou’s shoulder. “I appreciate your thoughts,” she said sincerely. If he wanted to think her little bout of emotionalism was due to her relationship with Jack, that was fine with her. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a discussion of the BRCA1 problem with Lou.

  “I know for a fact that your seeing this other guy is driving Jack crazy.”

  “Really,” Laurie said. “Well, you know something, Lou: I’m actually surprised about that. I didn’t think Jack would care one way or the other.”

  “How could you think that?” Lou questioned with an expression of total disbelief. “Did you forget about the way he acted when you almost got engaged to that arms dealer, Sutherland? Jack was a basket case.”

  “I thought that was because both you guys didn’t think Paul was the right man, which he wasn’t. I didn’t think it was jealousy on Jack’s part.”

  “Mark my words: It was jealousy, loud and clear.”

  “Well, we’ll see what we can do. I would like to talk to Jack if he’ll let me.”

  “Let you?” Lou questioned with equal disbelief. “Hey, I’ll box him around the ears if he doesn’t.”

  “I hardly think that would help,” Laurie said with another smile. She blew her nose with the tissue she had in her hand. “But be that as it may, to what do I owe this mid-morning visit, especially as decked out as you are? I know you didn’t come here solely as Jack’s advocate.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Lou said. He straightened up in his seat. “I got a problem, and I need some help.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “The reason I’m spiffed up is because I had to head out to Jersey with Michael O’Rourke, my captain. Unfortunately, his wife’s sister was murdered this morning here in the city, and we went out to tell the husband. Needless to say, I’m under a ton of pressure to come up with a suspect. The body’s already downstairs in the cooler. What I’m hoping is that either you or Jack could do the case. I need a break, and between the two of you, you always seem to come up with the unexpected.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry, Lou. I can’t do it now. If it can wait until later this afternoon, I’m sure I can help.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I have an appointment over at the Manhattan General.”

  “Really,” Lou commented with a wry smile. “That’s where Michael’s sister-in-law got mugged: right in the parking garage.”

  “That’s terrible. Was she on the hospital staff?”

  “Yeah, for years. She was a head nurse who worked nights. She got whacked getting into her car on her way home. It’s a crying shame. Two young kids, too, ten and eleven.”

  “Was she robbed or raped or both?”

  “Just robbed, or so it seems. Her credit cards were strewn about the car. Her husband guesses she had less than fifty bucks, and for that she loses her life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I’m going to be unless I make some headway. What about Jack? He wasn’t in his office when I went by.”

  “He’s down in the pit, or he was when I left about a half hour ago.”

  Lou stood up and rolled Riva’s chair over to her desk.

  “Wait, Lou,” Laurie said. “As long as you’re here, there’s something I want to mention to you.”

  “Oh, yeah? What?”

  Laurie briefly told Lou about her series of six cases. She touched on only the highlights, but it was enough for Lou to pull Riva’s chair back so he could sit down again.

  “So you really think these cases are homicides?” Lou questioned when Laurie fell silent.

  Laurie chuckled mostly at herself. “You know, I’m not sure,” she admitted.

  “But you just said you thought someone was doing this to these patients. That’s homicide.”

  “I know,” Laurie said. “The problem is, I don’t know how much I believe it myself. Let me explain. Starting this morning, I’ve been on a self-honesty gig that’s making me rethink a lot of things. I’ve been stressed emotionally over the last month and a half with Jack, with my mother, and other things, and I know I’ve been looking for a diversion. This series of mine certainly falls into that category.”

  Lou nodded in understanding. “So you think you might be making a mountain out of a molehill.”

  Laurie shrugged.

  “Have you run this serial-killer idea by anybody else here at the OCME?”

  “Just about everybody who will listen, including Calvin.”

  “And?”

  “Everybody thinks I’m jumping to conclusions, because toxicology can’t find anything remotely suspicious, like insulin or digitalis, which was used in documented healthcare institution serial murders in the past. Well, it’s not completely accurate to say that everybody has disagreed. The doctor I’ve been seeing socially, whose name, by the way, is Roger and who works at the General, has supported me, but this morning I’ve found myself questioning his motives. But that’s another issue entirely. Anyway, that’s the whole story about the serial-killer idea.”

  “You’ve run it by Jack?”

  “Certainly. He thinks I’m off the wall.”

  Lou stood back up and returned Riva’s chair. “Well, keep me informed. After that corneal-cocaine conspiracy you ferreted out ten years ago, I probably would give your intuition more credit than you.”

  “That was twelve years ago,” Laurie said.

  Lou laughed. “That just shows to go you that time flies when you’re having fun.”

  ten

  HOW’S THAT?” JACK ASKED. He backed up a step to survey his handiwork.

  “Okay, I suppose,” Lou answered.

  Jack had helped Lou into a moon suit and connected his battery pack. Jack could hear the hum of the ventilation fan pulling air through the HEPA filter. “Can you feel the breeze?”

  “Some breeze,” Lou commented derisively. “I don’t understand how you can work in this contraption every day. For me once a month is too much.”

  “It’s not my idea of a good time,” Jack admitted as he began climbing into his own suit. “When I’m on call on weekends, I sometimes surreptitiously revert to the old mask and gown, but every time Calvin finds out, I get read the riot act.”

  They gloved in the anteroom, then pushed into the autopsy roo
m proper. Five of the eight tables were in operation. On the fifth lay the naked remains of Susan Chapman. Vinnie was busy arranging the specimen bottles.

  “You remember Detective Soldano, don’t you, Vinnie?”

  “Yeah, sure. Welcome again, Lieutenant.”

  “Thanks, Vinnie,” Lou said as he stopped some six feet from the table.

  “Are you okay?” Jack asked. Lou was a relatively frequent autopsy observer, so Jack was not worried that he’d pass out and fall over backward, as some visitors did. Jack had no idea why he’d stopped, although he did notice the detective’s facemask had fogged, suggesting he was overbreathing.

  “I’m okay,” Lou murmured. “It’s a little hard seeing someone you know rudely stretched out like this, waiting to be gutted like a fish.”

  “You didn’t say you knew her,” Jack responded.

  “I suppose I’m exaggerating. I didn’t actually know her. I’d met her a few times at Captain O’Rourke’s house.”

  “Well, move on in here! You’re not going to see anything from left field.”

  Lou took a couple of tentative steps forward.

  “Looks like she had a thing for Krispy Kremes,” Jack said, surveying the body. “What did she weigh out as, Vinnie, old boy?”

  “A hundred and eighty-three.”

  Jack whistled, which sounded muffled behind his plastic mask. “That’s a bit much for what I’d say is about a five-foot-three-frame.”

  “Five-four,” Vinnie said. He went back to the cabinet for syringes.

  “I stand corrected,” Jack said. “Okay, Lou, fill me in! You railroaded me in here so fast, I haven’t read the investigator’s report. Where was she found?”

  “She was sitting upright in the driver’s seat of her SUV like she was taking a nap. Her head was resting down on her chest. That was why she wasn’t discovered right away. A few people had seen her but thought she was sleeping.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “Not much. She was apparently shot in the right chest.”

  “And your impression was that of a robbery?”

  “Certainly looked like it. Her cash was gone, her wallet and credit cards were thrown on the floor, and her clothes were intact.”

  “Where were her arms?”

  “Poked through the steering wheel.”

  “Really? That’s odd.”

  “How so?”

  “Sounds to me like she was positioned.”

  Lou shrugged. “Could be. If so, what do you read into it?”

  “It’s just not common with a garden-variety mugging.” Jack picked up the woman’s right hand. A section of the thenar eminence below the thumb was gone, causing a grooved defect. The rest of the ball of the thumb and most of the palm was heavily stippled with tiny penetrations. Part of the first metacarpal bone was visible in the defect. “My guess, this is a defensive wound.”

  Lou nodded. He was still a full step away from the table.

  Jack lifted the right arm away from the body. Within the armpit were two small dark red circles with some adherent fabric fibers. The surface within the circles looked like dried chopped meat with a bit of yellow adipose tissue peeking out.

  Vinnie came back with the syringes and after dumping them alongside the corpse, pointed to the view box on the wall. “I forgot to tell you I put up the X-rays. There are two slugs in the chest to match the two entrance wounds.”

  “How right you are!” Jack said. He stepped over to the view box and peered at the films. Lou came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. The two bullets stood out dramatically as two pure white defects in the mottled, varying gray field. “My guess is that one is in the left lung and the other’s in the heart.”

  “That confirms the two nine-millimeter shell casings found in the vehicle,” Lou said.

  “Let’s see what else we can find,” Jack said as he returned to the table and recommenced his external exam. He was meticulous, literally going from the top of the head to the bottom of the feet. In the process, he pointed out the fine stippling around the entrance wounds.

  “What’s that mean?” Lou asked. He’d finally moved close enough to see.

  “Since this area was clothed, it tells me the muzzle of the gun was close, maybe only a foot away, but not as close as it was to the hand.”

  “Is that significant?”

  “You tell me. It raises the question whether the attacker was sitting in the car when the gun was fired rather than just reaching in.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Jack shrugged. “If the attacker was sitting in the car, you may want to question if the victim knew the attacker.”

  Lou nodded. “Good point.”

  For the internal portion of the autopsy, Jack stood on the victim’s right, with Vinnie on the left. Lou stood at the head and bent over when Jack pointed out a particular finding.

  The autopsy was routine, except when Jack traced the bullets’ trajectories. Both had penetrated ribs, which Jack thought probably accounted for the lack of exit wounds. One bullet had gone through the aortic arch to lodge in the left lung. The other had passed through the right side of the heart to embed itself in the wall of the left ventricle. Jack retrieved both slugs, handling them with extreme care so as not to alter their external markings. He dropped them into evidence pouches with custody tags that Vinnie had prepared.

  “I’m afraid this is all I’m going to be able to give you,” Jack said, handing the sealed pouches to Lou. “Maybe your ballistics people can help out.”

  “I hope so,” Lou said. “We got no prints from the scene, even from the passenger-side door handle. There weren’t even any latents on the wallet other than the victim’s, so we got zilch from the scene. On top of that, the nighttime attendants didn’t see anybody suspicious coming in or hanging around.”

  “It sounds like it’s going to be a tough case.”

  “You got that right.”

  Leaving Vinnie to clean up, Jack and Lou went into the storeroom to get out of the protective suits. From there, they walked into the locker room to change from scrubs to street clothes.

  “Once a doctor, always a doctor, so I hope you don’t mind my saying that it looks like you’re getting a paunch there, Lieutenant.”

  Lou’s eyes dropped to take in his expanded girth. “Sad, isn’t it?”

  “Sad and unhealthy,” Jack said. “You’re not doing yourself any favors with that extra weight, especially since you haven’t stopped smoking.”

  “What do you mean?” Lou questioned as if offended. “I’ve stopped smoking a hundred times. Why, the last time was just two days ago.”

  “How long did that last?”

  “Till I could bum one off my partner: about an hour.” He laughed. “I know, I’m pathetic. But the reason I’m carrying around all this extra baggage is that I can’t find the time to work out with all the homicides in this fair city.” He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it over his protruding waist.

  “You’re going to have to be indicted for your own death if you don’t change your ways.”

  Standing alongside Jack in front of the mirror Lou slipped the loop of his tie over his head. He hadn’t untied the knot earlier. He cinched it up to his neck, thrusting out his chin in the process. “I had a conversation with Laurie before I came down here to find you.”

  “Oh?” Jack questioned. He paused, tying his knit tie, and stared at Lou in the mirror.

  “She was upset about you guys and got all teary-eyed.”

  “That’s curious, considering she’s having a mad, passionate affair with some creep over at the Manhattan General.”

  “His name is Roger.”

  “Whatever. Actually, he’s not a creep, and that’s part of the problem. In fact, he sounds kind of perfect.”

  “Well, you can relax about that. I definitely didn’t get the impression she’s so wild about the guy. She even said she wants to talk to you about patching things up.”

  “Ha!” Jack grunted in disb
elief. He went back to tying his tie.

  Knowing that he was putting words into Laurie’s mouth and feeling a little guilty about it, Lou avoided eye contact with Jack while he got his jacket out of the locker and slipped it on. He justified his machinations as a friend helping friends. He used his fingers to comb back his closely cropped hair.

  Jack’s eyes followed Lou until Lou finally looked at him. Jack then said, “I find it hard to believe she wants to talk about patching things up when a couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t give me the time of day outside of talking about cases here at the morgue. I tried to get together with her a number of nights in a row. She blew me off each time, saying she was busy going to the symphony or to the museum or the ballet or some other disgustingly cultural event. I mean, she was booked up solid and never suggested an alternate date.” Like Lou, Jack used his fingers to sweep his Caesar-style hair off his forehead with rapid, irritated strokes.

  “Maybe you should try again,” Lou suggested. He sensed that he should tread rather softly. “As I told her, you guys are meant for each other.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Jack said evasively. “I’m not big on self-humiliation these days.”

  “She also mentioned her confusion about a series of suspicious deaths over at the Manhattan General. It almost sounded like she was trying to talk herself into them being homicides. She said she’d talked to you about it. What’s your take? She said you thought, in her words, she was ‘off the wall.’ ”

  “That’s a bit strong. I just think she’s gotten a little ahead of herself with those four cases.”

  “Six! She got two more today.”

  “No kidding?”

  “That’s what she said. She also admitted she might be using the serial-killer idea as a diversion.”

  “She said that specifically? I mean, she actually used the word ‘diversion’?”

  “Scout’s honor!”

  Jack shook his head with surprise. “I’d say that was a reasonable assessment, considering toxicology has drawn a complete blank. I’d also have to say it was impressively self-aware.”

  With the March sun still making its diurnal transit in the southern sky, a shaft of midday sunlight that had suddenly knifed through the rapidly moving cloudcover penetrated into the Manhattan General’s southerly oriented cafeteria window. It was like a laser beam, and Laurie had to lift her hand to shield her eyes from its sudden intensity. Dr. Susan Passero, who was sitting across from her with her back to the window, became a featureless silhouette against the glare.