Cure (22 page)

“Good pickup,” Laurie repeated wistfully. It was just the kind of case she wished she’d come back to. It required experience, knowledge, and a certain creativity to put it all together, and in return it provided a true feeling of accomplishment that justice might be served.

“So how long will you need to write up the report about the hair dryer?”

“About a half-hour.”

“Okay. As soon as you finish, come down to my office and we’ll head home.”

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“Has everything been okay with Leticia and JJ?”

“Apparently I’m not quite as indispensable as I thought. Everything’s gone smoothly. Leticia even told me not to call so often.”

“In so many words.”

“In so many words.”

“I have to say, such a comment seems mildly inappropriate.”

“I have to agree with you.”

“See you in thirty minutes.”

Laurie pulled out her cell phone as she walked the quiet third-floor hallway. With Jack’s comment as encouragement, she dialed Leticia. She waved as she passed the deputy chief’s door, but Calvin Washington was too busy to notice. As she approached her office, Leticia still had not picked up. As she entered, she began to count the rings. By the time she’d put down her bag and the two computer disks, she’d reached ten. By the time she’d hung up her coat, she was nearing fifteen. Finally, on the seventeenth ring, the phone was picked up. By that time, Laurie’s heart rate had reached approximately one hundred and fifty.

“Hello,” Leticia said calmly, to the point of suggesting boredom.

“Is everything all right?” Laurie blurted, although she was already reassured that everything was fine by Leticia’s forced serenity.

“We’re doing just fine,” Leticia said.

“The phone rang so long.”

“Well, that was because we were having a little bath here after a particularly dirty diaper.”

Once again Laurie felt mildly embarrassed at her overreaction. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be home in an hour or so.”

“We’ll be here,” Leticia said.

“How about dinner?”

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“That’s next on the agenda.”

“Tell the little guy we miss him.”

“I’ll let him know,” Leticia said apathetically.

Laurie hung up the phone feeling some ambivalence. It was obvious Leticia was annoyed at the call, but so was Laurie, at Leticia’s inability to cut her a little slack on the first day. Laurie recognized that a dozen or so calls over the course of the day was over the top without there being any problems. At the same time, Laurie realized she should be giving Leticia a little slack as well, since calls could be distracting with the amount of attention a one-and-a-half-year-old child required.

Sitting down at her desk, Laurie picked up the lab slip that Jack had mentioned.

It indicated the BAC, or blood alcohol level, was 0.03 percent, meaning it was well under the legal limit, but not zero, suggesting the man had had a drink or two within a couple of hours of his death, a fact that Laurie confidently felt had nothing to do with his demise.

Adding the lab slip to the victim’s case file, Laurie caught sight of a plain white envelope on her keyboard with her complete name typed out: Dr. Laurie Montgomery-Stapleton. Stuck to the front was a Post-it note from Marlene saying the envelope had been found in the foyer, having been slipped under the front door. Taking out the single sheet of white paper it contained, Laurie unfolded it and saw it was a short typed message addressed to her simply as “Doctor.”

Doctor,

Excuse me for interfering, but I have been threatened if I do not do so. I happen to know that there are some terribly nasty people who wish you to stop your investigation into the natural death of an Asian man on the A-train subway platform. If you do not do this immediately, you and your family will suffer serious consequences. Going to the police about this warning will cause the same consequences. Be smart. It is not worth your time.

Although having caught her breath on the first reading, as Laurie read it again a slight smile formed at the corners of her mouth. When she read it a third time, the smile turned into a suppressed giggle. When Laurie asked herself who could have been responsible for writing such a note, she immediately thought it had to have been Jack. Childishly inappropriate, it was his type of humor, and he did want her to stop obsessing about the case. In fact, the more she thought about 133

it, the more sure she was that it had been Jack. The strange way he’d asked her if she’d been in her office before visiting his was a dead giveaway. It was also an indication that he expected her to run to him and be all out of sorts, having gotten such a scary letter. She then read it for the fourth time, and again laughed. It was so improbable. If someone was concerned about her investigation and wanted her to stop, the last thing they’d want to do was call attention to it, as it would undoubtedly solidify her interest in investigating it more intensely.

As soon as Laurie realized who was responsible for the note, she started to think how she could turn the tables—namely, get back at Jack, as it was inappropriate at best. Rather than overreact, she thought she’d play it cool. It would be more fun to ignore it and see how long Jack could tolerate her lack of response and not knowing whether she’d found it or not. Laurie slipped the refolded note back into its envelope and placed it in her center desk drawer. She was confident her total lack of response to this childish prank was going to drive Jack bananas.

She turned to her case file, a yellow pocket-like affair made of heavy, stiff paper.

It contained all the paperwork associated with the case: a case worksheet, a partially filled-out death certificate, an inventory of medicolegal case records, two sheets for autopsy notes that she’d already filled out, a telephone notice of death as received by communications, an identification sheet, an investigative report by the MLI, a sheet for the autopsy report, and a sheet to show the body had been x-rayed, fingerprinted, and photographed. The photographs were also in the files, and these Laurie removed. There was a full frontal photo, and ones of the back and profile of the body. Laurie put them in her bag, as she planned to refer to them that evening when she got around to watching at least some of the subway disks. Then she had another idea. Since Jack was right about how long it would take to watch the whole thing, she thought she’d narrow down the footage, if possible. Also in the case file were the phone numbers for the 911

operator and the 911 caller, Robert Delacroix. Laurie dialed Delacroix’s number, and this time the man answered. Laurie identified herself and apologized for bothering him again.

“No bother whatsoever,” Robert responded. “Anything I can do that makes me feel less guilty is good.”

“Can you tell me where you were on the platform when you saw the Asian man get into trouble?”

“Gosh,” Robert said, pausing to think. “It was so crowded, I never got too far from the staircase.”

“Could you see the end of the platform in either direction?”

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“Not that I can remember.”

“So you were somewhere in the middle? I guess that would be the only choice.”

“I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”

She thanked Delacroix and hung up, then decided to wait for Jack to finish writing up the autopsy on the hair dryer in his office. It was her thought that lingering around him would spur him to wrap it up more quickly. Now that she was ready to leave, she wanted to get home as soon as possible.

14

MARCH 25, 2010

THURSDAY, 5:30 p.m.

A
re you busy?” Carl Harris asked, poking his head in Ben Corey’s open doorway.

Ben looked up from the biomedical journal he was scanning. His desk was stacked with others that arrived daily. It was important for iPS USA to be aware of all advances in stem cell science to make sure their expanding control of intellectual property was up-to-date. Scanning all the appropriate biomedical literature was almost a full-time job.

“Never too busy for you,” Ben said. “What’s up? Come on in and have a seat.”

“I wanted to know how your meeting with Michael went this morning.”

“I guess I’d have to say it was mixed.”

“How so?”

“Our meeting this morning was fine, but as a result he went out to talk to Vinnie Dominick and the Yamaguchi-gumi head, Saboru Fukuda. Michael just called me a few minutes ago. He said that he discussed with them first about iPS RAPID, and that went well. Michael said that the two actually seemed happy to come up with more cash to increase their equity, especially after hearing about yesterday’s signing with Satoshi. Moneywise, everything was very positive, so we just have to decide how we are going to proceed: purchase or license? Have you made any progress on that?”

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“I’ve started due diligence. They haven’t been in business long enough to have much of a track record, but I believe I will be advising purchase over licensing. If they get the patent they’ve applied for, it’s going to be a big deal and lead us to litigation of their patent impinging on ours. I ran this by counsel, and Pauline agrees. I’m glad our two angels are standing with us.”

“Me, too,” Ben said. “But they’re not too happy about changing our relationship with them.”

“Well, we wouldn’t be changing it in the short run if we’re going back to them for a major second round.”

“No, but it doesn’t portend well for stepping away from them in the future.”

“I think we can wait until we’re ready for the IPO.”

“That’s a good point,” Ben said. “At that juncture, we’ll be able to show them how much they might profit from the IPO when we have the expected figures.

We’ll make sure they understand we can’t do the IPO unless they step back.”

“I think that sounds like a plan,” Carl said, getting to his feet. “Are you going to stay much later? It’s already after five.”

Ben tapped the stack of journals. “I’ll stay an hour or so longer. I’ve got to make this pile smaller. Besides, if I left now I’d hit so much traffic it would hardly be worth it.”

“See you in the morning,” Carl said, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Ben called out.

Carl stopped and turned around.

“Have you seen Satoshi or heard from him today? I got him the lab space up at Columbia and have these legal papers to be signed, but I don’t think he’s been in at all today.”

Carl shook his head. “I haven’t seen him. Did you call his cell?”

“Yeah, a half-dozen times. I think he has it switched off, because it goes directly to voicemail.”

“Maybe he went on the trip he was going to take.”

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“What are you talking about?”

“He asked me a couple of days ago where to stay in Washington, D.C. He said he wanted to take his family there.”

“Shit!” Ben groaned, shaking his head.

“What’s the matter?”

“He did this once before to me. He disappeared for a week with his family on a visit to Niagara Falls.”

“Well, you can’t blame him. He’s finally free for the first time in his life.”

“Yeah, wonderful,” Ben said sarcastically. “Now I have to worry about him like a wayward son.”

“Let’s think positively. Maybe he’ll come in in the morning.”

“That would be nice. Why do I have this feeling it’s not going to happen?”

15

MARCH 25, 2010

THURSDAY, 6:22 p.m.

S
itting in the back of what looked to her like a brand-new yellow cab, Laurie found herself silently counting off the street numbers as she and Jack sped northward on Central Park West. Passing the Museum of Natural History and then 86th Street, her excitement took another quantum leap. She could feel her pulse quickening; she was that excited. Though Jack sat next to her, carrying on about how he and Lou had confirmed the findings of the autopsy on their gunshot victim, she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying; she was too excited about seeing JJ. She let Jack drone on, since he did not seem to mind that she’d stopped giving him any feedback whatsoever about a mile or so earlier.

“What was the number again on One hundred and sixth?” the driver inquired.

Laurie blurted out the number, interrupting Jack in midsentence.

“Are you listening to me?” Jack asked as Laurie strained forward to look through 137

the plastic divider and the front windshield as their street rapidly approached. It wasn’t until the cabbie turned left that she settled back.

“Did you hear me?” Jack questioned.

“No,” Laurie admitted. To the right was the small playground that Jack had had renovated ten years earlier, adding outdoor lights to the basketball court, where there was currently a game in progress. He’d also restored the children’s section, adding slides, swings, and a large sandbox.

“I asked you if you’d been listening to me.”

“Should I lie or tell the truth?”

“Lie so I don’t get my feelings hurt.”

“Do you mind paying?” Laurie said as the taxi cruised to the curb in front of their renovated brownstone. Laurie had the door open before the vehicle was totally stopped. With bag in hand, she dashed up the stoop and inside. Without even removing her coat, she rushed up the stairs to the second-floor kitchen.

Leticia had heard the front door open, and picking up JJ, she met Laurie as Laurie topped the stairs. Leticia was an attractive, athletic African-American woman in her mid-twenties with a soft cloud of dark hair. She was rarely without a trace of a wry smile and refused, as a matter of principle, not to suffer fools.

As a cousin of Warren Wilson, Jack’s basketball buddy, she shared the family trait of a well-sculpted body, which was shown off to great effect with tight jeans and form-fitting tops. Unsure about pursuing her graduate studies after recently completing college, Warren had suggested she consider working as a nanny for Jack and Laurie.

“Hey, little guy,” Laurie crooned as she reached out to take the infant. But as eager as she was, she caught the child unaware, and JJ responded by turning back to Leticia and grabbing on fiercely. He cried as Laurie and Leticia peeled his little fingers away from Leticia’s neck.