Blindsight (13 page)

"I hope so," Bingham said. He looked down at the work on his desk. "That will be all, Dr.
Montgomery."
Laurie walked out of the chief's office and took a deep breath. This was the closest she had ever come to being fired. Two unpleasant summonses to the chief's office in three days. Laurie couldn't help but think that one more time in front of Bingham and she would be out. "You and the chief square things away?" Calvin asked when Laurie reappeared. "I hope so," Laurie said.
"Me too," Calvin said. "Because I need you in top form." He handed her a pack of folders. "You've got four cases today. Two more overdoses like the Duncan Andrews case and two more floaters. Fresh floaters, I might add. I figured since you did the same kind of cases yesterday, you'd be the fastest today. There's a lot of work for everyone. I had to give several people five cases, so consider yourself lucky." Laurie flipped through the folders to make sure that they were complete. Then she took them, her briefcase, and her box of roses up to her office. Before she did anything else, she went to the lab and borrowed the largest flask she could find. Taking the roses from the box, she arranged them and filled the flask with water. After putting the flowers on the lab bench, she stepped back. She had to smile; they were so glaringly out of place.
Sitting down at her desk, Laurie started with the first folder. She didn't get far. The moment she opened it there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she said. The door opened slowly and Lou Soldano poked his face in. "Hope I'm not bothering you too much," he said. "I'm sure you didn't expect to see me." He looked as though he'd never gone to bed the previous night. He was wearing the same baggy, unpressed suit and he still hadn't managed to shave. "You're not bothering me," Laurie said. "Come in!" "So how are you today?" he asked once he'd come in and sat down. He put his hat in his lap. "Except for a little run-in with the boss, I guess I'm fine." "Wasn't about my being here yesterday, was it?" Lou asked. "No," Laurie said. "Something I did yesterday afternoon which I suppose I shouldn't have. But it's always easy to say that after the fact." "I hope you don't mind my coming back today, but I understand you have a couple more cases like poor Frankie's. They were found almost in the same spot by the same night security guard. So I was back out at the South Street Sea Port at five in the morning. Wow!" he said, suddenly spotting Laurie's flask. "Fancy flowers. They weren't here yesterday." "You like them?" she asked.
"Pretty impressive," Lou said. "They from an admirer?"

Laurie wasn't sure how to answer. "I guess you'd call him that."
"Well, that's nice," Lou said. He looked down at his hat and straightened the brim. "Anyway, Dr. Washington said he assigned the cases to you, so here I am. Do you mind if I tag along again?" "Not at all," Laurie said. "If you think you can take several more autopsies, I'm glad to have you." "I'm pretty sure at least one of the deaths is related to Frankie's," Lou said, moving forward in his chair. "The name is Bruno Marchese. Same age as Frankie and about the same position in the organization. The reason we know so much so quickly is that his wallet was found on his body, just as Frankie's was. Obviously whoever killed him wanted the fact of his death to be immediately known, like an advertisement. When it happened with Frankie we thought it had been a lucky accident. When it happens twice, we know it's deliberate. And it has us worried: something big might be about to happen, like an all-out war between the two organizations. If that's the case, we've got to stop it. A lot of innocent people get killed in any war."
"Was he killed the same way?" Laurie asked as she went through the folders until she came across Bruno's.
"Same way," Lou said. "Gangland-style execution. Shot in the back of the head from close range." "And with a small-caliber bullet," Laurie added as she finished with Bruno's folder and picked up the phone. She dialed the morgue. When someone answered, she asked for Vinnie. "Are we together again today?" Laurie asked. "You're stuck with me all week," Vinnie said. "We got two floaters," Laurie said. "Bruno Marchese and..." Laurie looked over at Lou. "What's the name of the other one."
"We don't know," Lou said. "There's been no ID." "No wallet?" Laurie asked.
"Worse than that," Lou said. "Both the head and the hands are missing. This one they didn't want us to identify at all."
"Lovely!" Laurie said sarcastically. "The post will be of limited value without the head." To Vinnie she said, "I want to be sure Bruno Marchese and the headless man get X-rayed." "We're already working on it," Vinnie said. "But it's going to be a while. They're in line. Busy down here today. There was some kind of gang war up in Harlem last night, so we're knee deep in gunshot wounds. And by the way, the headless corpse is a woman, not a man. When will you be down here?" "Shortly," Laurie said. "Make sure we have a rape-kit for the female." She hung up and looked over at Lou. "You didn't tell me one of the floaters was a woman." "I didn't have a chance," Lou said.

"Well, no matter," Laurie said. "Unfortunately, the cases you are interested in won't be first. I'm sorry."
"No problem," Lou said. "I like to watch you work." Laurie scanned the material in the folder on the headless woman. Then she perused one of the overdose folders. She'd only got as far as the investigator's report before she reached for the last folder and scanned its investigator's report. "This is amazing," she said. She looked up at Lou. "Dr. Washington said these cases were the same as Duncan Andrews. I had no idea he was speaking so literally. What a coincidence."
"Are they cocaine overdoses?" Lou asked. "Yes," Laurie said. "But that's not what makes them such a coincidence. One's a banker, the other an editor."
"What's so amazing about that?" Lou asked. "It's the demographics," Laurie said. "All three were successful professionals, actively employed, young single people. Hardly the usual overdose we're accustomed to seeing around here." "Like I said: what's so amazing about that? Aren't these people the kind of yuppies who made coke popular? What's the big surprise?"
"The fact that they took cocaine is not the surprising aspect," Laurie began slowly. "I'm not naive. Behind the veneer of material success can lie some pretty serious addictions. But as I told you the overdose cases we get in here are usually the truly down and out. With crack you see a lot of very impoverished, lower-class people. We do see more prosperous people from time to time, but usually by the time the drugs kill them, they've already lost everything else: job, family, money. These recent cases just don't strike me as typical overdoses. It makes me wonder if there wasn't some kind of poison in the drug. Now where did I put that article from the
American Journal of Medicine?"
she said, talking more to herself. "Ah, here it is."
Laurie pulled out a reprint of an article and handed it to Lou. "Street cocaine is always cut with something, usually sugars or common stimulants, but sometimes with weird stuff. That article is about a series of poisonings resulting from a kilo of cocaine cut with strychnine." "Wow," Lou said as he scanned the article. "That would be quite a trip." "It'd be a quick trip in here to the morgue," Laurie agreed. "Seeing three rather atypical OD cases with such strikingly similar demographics in two days makes me wonder if they each got the cocaine from the same contaminated source."
"I think it's a long shot," Lou said. "Especially with only three cases. And quite frankly, even if your hunch is right, I'm not that interested." "Not interested?" Laurie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "With all the problems this city has, with all the violence and street crime going down, it's hard for me to muster much sympathy for a trio of fancy pants who have nothing better to do with their leisure time than do illegal drugs. Frankly I'm much more concerned about poor slobs like that headless female floater we got downstairs."

Laurie was stunned, but before she could launch into a rebuttal, her phone rang. She was surprised to
hear Jordan Scheffield on the other end when she picked up. "I finished my first case," he said. "Went perfectly. I'm sure the Baron will be pleased." "Glad to hear it," Laurie said, glancing self-consciously at Lou. "Did you get the flowers?" Jordan asked. "Yes," Laurie said. "I'm looking at them this very minute. Thank you. They were just what the doctor ordered."
"Very clever," Jordan laughed. "I thought it would be an appropriate way to let you know that I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight."
"The gesture might fall into the same category as your limo," Laurie said. "A bit on the extravagant side. But I appreciate your thinking of me."
"Well, I just wanted to check in. I've got to get back to surgery," Jordan said. "See you at eight." "I'm sorry," Lou said once Laurie had hung up. "You could have told me it was a personal call. I would have stepped out into the hall."
"I usually don't get personal calls here," Laurie said. "It took me by surprise." "A dozen roses. A limo. Must be an interesting guy." "He is interesting," Laurie said. "In fact, he said something last night that I think you'll find interesting." "That's hard to believe," Lou said. "But I'm all ears." "The man on the phone is a doctor," Laurie said. "His name is Jordan Scheffield. You may have heard of him. Supposedly he's quite well known. At any rate, he told me last night that he has been taking care of the man you are so interested in: Mr. Paul Cerino." "No fooling!" Lou said. He was surprised. He was also interested. "Jordan Scheffield is an ophthalmologist," Laurie said. "Wait a sec," Lou said. He held up a hand while he reached into his jacket and pulled out a tattered pad of paper and a ballpoint pen. "Let me write this down." While he bit on his tongue, he wrote out Jordan's name. Then he asked Laurie to spell ophthalmologist. "Is that the same as optometrist?" Lou asked. "No," Laurie said. "An ophthalmologist is a medical doctor trained to do surgery as well as manage medical eye care. An optometrist is trained more to correct visual problems with eyeglasses and contact lenses."
"What about opticians?" Lou asked. "I've always mixed these guys up. No one ever explained it to me."

"Opticians fill the eyeglass prescriptions," Laurie said. "Either from an ophthalmologist or an
optometrist."
"Now that I have that straight," Lou said. "Tell me about Dr. Scheffield and Paul Cerino." "That's the most interesting part," Laurie said. "Jordan said that he was treating Mr. Cerino for acid burns of the eyes. Someone had thrown acid in Paul Cerino's eyes to blind him." "You don't say," Lou said. "That could explain a lot. Like maybe these two gangland-style executions of Lucia people. And what about Frankie's eye? Could that have been acid?" "Yes," Laurie said. "It could have been acid. It will be tough to determine since Frankie was in the East River, but on the whole, the damage to his eye was definitely consistent with an acid burn." "Can you try to have your lab document that it was acid? This could be the start of the lucky breakthrough I've been praying for."
"Of course we'll try," Laurie said. "But like I said, his having been in the river might make it tough. We'll also examine the bullet in the present case. Maybe it will match the one from Frankie." "I haven't been this excited for months," Lou said. "Come on," Laurie said. "Let's see what we can do." Together they went down to the lab. Laurie found the director, a toxicologist, Dr. John DeVries. He was a tall, thin man with gaunt cheeks and an academic's pallor. He was dressed in a soiled lab coat several sizes too small.
Laurie made introductions, then asked if any of the results on the previous day's cases were available. "Some might be," John told her. "You have the accession numbers?" "Absolutely," Laurie said.
"Come in my office," John said. He led them to his office, a narrow cubbyhole filled with books and stacks of scientific journals.
John leaned across his desk and punched a few keys on his computer. "What are the accession numbers?" he asked.
Laurie gave Duncan Andrews' number and John entered it. "There was cocaine in the blood and urine," John said, reading off the screen. "And apparently in high concentration. But this was only by thin-layer chromatography." "Any contaminants or other drugs?" Laurie asked. "Not so far," John said, straightening up. "But we'll be using gas chromatography and mass spectrometry as soon as we have time. We got a lot of work around here."

"This was a cocaine overdose case but it's a little atypical in that the deceased did not appear to be a
habitual user. And if he did use drugs--which his family swears he didn't--it wasn't interfering with his life. The man was very successful, a solid citizen: the kind of person you do not expect to overdose. So his death was unusual perhaps, but not extraordinary. Cocaine can be an upscale drug. But now I've got two more OD's with similar profiles the very next day. I'm concerned that a batch of cocaine may be poisoned with some kind of contaminant. That's what may be killing these seemingly casual users. I'd really appreciate it if you ran the samples sooner rather than later. We might be able to save some lives." "I'll do what I can," John said. "But as I told you, we're busy. Was there another case you wanted to know about now?"
Laurie gave Frank DePasquale's accession number and John consulted the screen. "Only a trace of cannabinoid in the urine. Otherwise, nothing on screening." "There was a sample of eye tissue," Laurie said. "Find anything there?" "Hasn't been processed yet," John said. "The eye appeared burned," Laurie added. "We now suspect acid. Could you look for acid? It might be important if we can document it."
"I'll do what I can."
Laurie thanked John, then motioned for Lou to follow her to the elevator. As they walked, Laurie shook her head. "It's like squeezing water out of a stone to get information out of him," she complained. "He seems exhausted," Lou said. "Or he hates his job. One of the two." "In his defense, he is busy," Laurie said. "Like everything else here, his funding is limited and getting progressively worse, so he's stretched thin when it comes to staff. But I hope he can find the time to search for a contaminant in the drug cases. The more I think about it the more sure I am." When they got to the elevators, Laurie glanced at her watch. "I have to get a move on!" She lifted her eyes to Lou. "I can't afford to have Dr. Washington mad at me as well as Dr. Bingham. I'll be out pounding the pavement, looking for a new job." Lou gazed into her eyes. "You really are upset about these overdose cases, aren't you?" "Yes, I am," Laurie admitted. She averted her eyes and glanced up at the floor indicator. Lou's comment brought up the memory of the nightmare she'd had that morning. She hoped that he wouldn't mention her brother. Thankfully the elevator door opened, and they boarded. They changed into scrub clothes and entered the main autopsy room. It was a beehive of activity; every table was occupied. Laurie saw that even Calvin was working at table one. Things were definitely hopping for him to be there; it was not customary for Calvin to do routine cases. Laurie's first case was on the table. Vinnie had taken the liberty of getting all the paraphernalia he anticipated she'd need. The deceased's name was Robert Evans, aged twenty-nine. Laurie set out her papers and switched into her professional persona, beginning her meticulous external exam. She was halfway through when she realized that Lou was not across from her. Raising her head,