Blindsight

15

Lou Soldano was back in the surgical lounge at Manhattan General for the second time that day. But on this visit he wouldn’t have long to wait. This time he’d called the operating room supervisor and asked when Dr. Scheffield would be through with his surgery. Lou had timed his arrival so that he’d catch Jordan just as he was coming out.

After waiting for less than five minutes, Lou was pleased to see the good doctor as he strode confidently through the lounge and into the locker room. Lou followed, hat in hand and trench coat over his arm. He kept his distance until Jordan had tossed his soiled scrub shirt and pants into the laundry bin. It had been Lou’s plan to catch the man in his skivvies, when he was psychologically vulnerable. It was Lou’s belief that interrogation worked better when the subject was off balance.

“Hey, Doc,” he called softly. Jordan spun around. The man was obviously tense.

“Excuse me,” Lou said, scratching his head. “I hate to be a bother, but I thought of something else.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jordan snapped. “Colombo?”

“Very good,” Lou said. “I didn’t think you’d get it. But now that I have your attention, there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Make it fast, Lieutenant,” Jordan said. “I’ve been stuck over here all day and I got an office full of unhappy patients.” He went to the sink and turned on the water.

“When I was here earlier, I mentioned that the patients who’d been killed were all waiting for surgery. But I failed to ask what kind of operations they were scheduled to have. I mean, I was told they were going to be corneal operations of some sort. Doc, fill me in. Just what was it you were going to do for these people?”

Jordan stood up from having been bent over the sink. Water dripped from his face. He nudged Lou to the side to get at the towels. He took one and vigorously dried his skin, making it glow.

“They were going to have corneal transplants,” Jordan said finally, eyeing himself in the mirror.

“That’s interesting,” Lou said. “They all had different diagnoses but they were all going to get the same treatment.”

“That’s right, Lieutenant,” Jordan said. He walked away from the sink to his locker. He spun the wheel on the combination lock.

Lou followed him like a dog. “I would have thought different diagnoses required different treatments.”

“It’s true these people all had different diagnoses,” Jordan explained. He began dressing. “But the physiological infirmity was the same. Their corneas weren’t clear.”

“But isn’t that treating the symptom and not the disease?” Lou asked.

Jordan stopped buttoning his shirt to stare at Lou. “I think I have underestimated you,” he said. “You are actually quite right. But often where the eye is concerned, we do precisely that. Of course, before you perform a transplant you have to treat the cause of the opacity. You do that so you can be reasonably sure the problem will not recur in the transplanted tissue, and with the proper treatment, it generally doesn’t.”

“Gee,” Lou said, “maybe I could have been a doctor if I’d had the chance to go to an Ivy League school like you.”

Jordan went back to his buttoning of his shirt. “That comment was much more in character,” he said.

“One way or the other,” Lou said, “isn’t it surprising that all your murdered patients were scheduled for the same operation?”

“Not at all,” Jordan said as he continued to dress. “I’m a superspecialist. Cornea is my area of expertise. I’ve just done four today.”

“Most of your operations are corneal transplants?” Lou asked.

“Maybe ninety percent. Even more, lately.”

“What about Cerino?” Lou asked.

“Same thing,” Jordan said. “But with Cerino I’ll be doing two procedures, since both eyes were affected equally.”

“Oh,” Lou said. Once again he was running out of questions.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lieutenant. I’m still shocked and distressed to know that these patients of mine were murdered. But knowing that these patients were killed, I’m not at all surprised to know they were all slated for corneal transplants. As my patients, almost by definition that would have to be expected. Now, is there anything else, Lieutenant?” He pulled on his jacket.

“Was there anything about the corneal transplants these people were waiting for that set them apart from other recipients?”

“Nope,” Jordan said.

“What about Marsha Schulman? Could she have been associated with these patients’ deaths?”

“She wasn’t waiting for an operation.”

“But she’d met the people,” Lou said.

“She was my main secretary. She met practically everyone who came into the office.”

Lou nodded.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant, I really must go to the recovery room to check on my last case. Good seeing you again.” With that, he was gone.

Discouraged again, Lou returned to his car. He’d been so sure that he’d hit on the crucial fact when Patrick O’Brian had come into his office to tell him that the dead patients were all to have the same operation. Now Lou thought it was just another dead end.

Lou pulled out into the street and instantly got bogged down in traffic. Rush hour was always murder in New York, and on rainy days it was even worse. When Lou glanced over at the sidewalk, he realized the pedestrians were moving faster than he was.

With time to think, Lou tried to review the facts of the case. He had a hard time getting past Dr. Jordan Scheffield’s personality. God, how he hated the guy. And it wasn’t just because of Laurie, although there was that. The guy was so smug and condescending. He was surprised Laurie didn’t see it.

Suddenly the car behind Lou’s rammed into his. His head snapped back, then forward. In a fit of anger, Lou jammed on the emergency brake and leaped out. The guy behind him had gotten out, too. Lou was chagrined to see that the man was at least two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle.

“Watch where you’re going,” Lou said, shaking his finger. He walked around to check the back of his Caprice. There was a bit of paint from the guy’s car on his bumper. He could have played tough cop but he chose not to. He rarely did; it took too much effort.

“Sorry, man,” the other driver said.

“No harm done,” Lou said. He got back into the car. Inching forward in the traffic, he turned his head to the left and right. He hoped he wouldn’t suffer any whiplash.

Suddenly the glimmer of an idea started to take shape in Lou’s head. Getting hit had worked some sense into him. How could he not have seen? For a moment he stared into space, mesmerized by the solution that had crystallized so suddenly in his brain. He was so deep in thought, the big guy behind him had to beep to get him to move ahead.

“Holy crap,” Lou said aloud. He wondered why it had not occurred to him before. As hideously outlandish as it was, all the facts seemed to fit.

Snapping up his cellular phone, he tried Laurie at the medical examiner’s office. The operator told him she’d been terminated.

“What?” Lou demanded.

“She’s been fired,” the operator said and hung up.

Lou quickly dialed Laurie’s home number. He kicked himself for not having tried to call her earlier to find out what had happened when she saw her chief. Obviously the meeting had not gone well.

Lou was disappointed to get Laurie’s answering machine. He left a message for her to call him ASAP at the office and if not there, at home.

Lou hung up the phone. He felt badly for Laurie. Losing her job had to have been an enormous blow for her. She was one of those rare people who liked her job as much as Lou liked his.

“There she is!” Tony cried. He gave Angelo a shove to wake him up.

Angelo shook his head, then squinted through the windshield. It had gotten dark during the short time he’d been asleep. His mind felt fuzzy. But he could see the woman Tony was pointing at. She was only ten feet from her building and heading for the door.

“Let’s go,” Angelo said. He piled out of the car, then almost fell on his face. His left leg had gone to sleep in the weird position he’d assumed when he’d closed his eyes.

Tony was significantly ahead as Angelo tried to run on a leg that felt more like wood than bones and muscle. By the time he got to the door, the leg was feeling like pins and needles from the crotch down. He pulled open the door to see Tony already conversing with the woman.

“We want to talk with you down at the station,” Tony was saying, trying to imitate Angelo.

Angelo could see that he was holding his badge too high so that Laurie Montgomery could read what it said if she so chose.

Angelo pulled Tony’s arm down and smiled. He noticed that Laurie was as good-looking a woman as Tony had guessed from the photo.

“We’d like to talk to you just for a few moments,” Angelo said. “Purely routine. We’ll have you back here in less than an hour. It has to do with the medical examiner’s office.”

“I don’t have to go anyplace with you.”

“I don’t think you want to create a scene,” Angelo said.

“I don’t even have to talk with you.”

Angelo could tell Laurie was not going to be an easy broad. “I’m afraid we have to insist,” he said calmly.

“I don’t even recognize you men. What precinct are you from?”

Angelo cast a quick glance over his shoulder. No one was coming into the building. This pickup was going to take force. Angelo glanced at Tony and gave a tiny nod.

Getting the message, Tony reached into his jacket and pulled out his Beretta Bantam. He pointed it at Laurie.

Angelo winced as Laurie let out an ear-piercing scream that could have awakened the dead as far away as Saint John’s Cemetery in Rego Park.

With his free hand, Tony reached out and grabbed Laurie by the neck, intending to force her to the car. Instead, he got a briefcase in the groin. He doubled over in pain. As soon as he straightened back up, Tony pointed his gun at the woman’s chest and fired two quick shots. Laurie went down instantly.

The shots were deafening; Tony hadn’t put his silencer on, not thinking he’d have to resort to force. The smell of cordite hung in the air.

“What the hell did you shoot her for?” Angelo demanded. “We were supposed to bring her in alive.”

“I lost my head,” Tony said. “She hit me in the nuts with her goddamn briefcase.”

“Let’s get her the hell out of here,” Angelo ordered.

Together they each grabbed one of Laurie’s arms. Angelo bent down and grabbed her briefcase. Then the two men half-dragged, half-carried Laurie’s lifeless body to their car. Dead or alive, they could still get her to the Montego Bay.

As quickly as possible they shoved her into the backseat of the car. A few pedestrians eyed them suspiciously, but no one said anything. Tony climbed in beside her while Angelo jumped into the front seat and started the car. As soon as the engine responded, he pulled out into Nineteenth Street.

“She better not be bleeding on that upholstery,” Angelo said, glancing in the rearview mirror. He could see Tony struggling with the body. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get her purse out from under her,” Tony said. He grunted. “It’s like she’s got a death grip on it, as if it matters at this point.”

“She dead?” Angelo asked. He was still furious.

“She hasn’t moved,” Tony said. “Ah, got it!” He held up the purse as if it were a trophy.

“If Cerino asks me what happened,” Angelo snapped, “I’m going to have to tell him.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I told you. I lost my head. Hey, look at this! This broad is loaded.” He waved a handful of twenties that he pulled from a wallet.

“Just keep her out of view,” said Angelo.

“Oh, no!” Tony cried.

“What’s the matter now?” Angelo demanded.

“This chick isn’t Laurie Montgomery,” Tony said, looking up from a piece of identification. “It’s a Maureen Wharton, an Assistant D.A. But she looks just like that photo.” Tony leaned forward and picked up the newspaper with Laurie’s photo. Brushing Maureen’s hair to the side, he compared her face to the one in the photo. “Well, it’s pretty close,” he said.

Angelo gripped the steering wheel so hard that the blood drained from his hand. He was going to have to tell Cerino about Tony whether he asked or not. Because of Tony they had whacked the wrong woman, an Assistant D.A., no less. This kid was driving him berserk.

“It’s me-Ponti,” Franco said. He’d put a call through to Vinnie Dominick. “I’m in the car heading for the tunnel. I just wanted you to know that I just watched the two guys we’ve discussed hit another young woman in broad daylight. It’s crazy. It makes no sense.”

“I’m glad you called,” Vinnie said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. That snitch you set me up with, that friend of a friend of Tony Ruggerio’s girlfriend, just clued me in. He knows what they’re doing. It’s unbelievable. You’d never have figured it out.”

“Want me to come back?” Franco asked.

“No, stay on those two,” Vinnie said. “I’m heading out now to talk directly with some Lucia people. We’ll figure out what to do. We got to stop Cerino but in a way to take advantage of the situation. Capisce?”

Franco hung up the phone. Angelo’s car was about five carlengths ahead. Now that Vinnie knew what was going on, Franco was dying to know as well.

Cupping her hands around her face, Laurie pressed them against the locked glass doors of the converted brownstone on East Fifty-fifth Street. She could make out a set of marble steps that rose up to another closed door.

Laurie stepped back to view the front of the building. It was five stories tall with a bow front. The second floor had tall windows from which light poured. The third floor had lights as well. Above that the windows were dark.

To the right of the door was a brass plate that said MANHATTAN ORGAN REPOSITORY: HOURS NINE TO FIVE. Since it was after five, Laurie understood why the front doors were locked. But the lights on the second and third floors suggested that the building was still occupied, and Laurie was determined to talk with someone.

Going back to the door, Laurie knocked again just as loudly as she had when she’d first arrived. Still no one responded.

Looking to the left, Laurie noticed a service entrance. Walking over to this door, she tried to peer inside but saw nothing. It was totally black. Returning to the main door, Laurie was about to knock again when she noticed something she’d not seen. Below the brass plate and partially hidden from view by the ivy that snaked up the building’s facade was a small brass bell. Laurie pushed it and waited.

A few minutes later the foyer beyond the glass doors illuminated. Then the inner door opened and a woman in a long, tight, unadorned wool dress came down the few marble steps. She had to walk sideways because of the snugness of the dress about her legs. She appeared to be in her mid-fifties. Her humorless face was stern and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

Coming to the door, she pantomimed that they were closed. To emphasize her point, she repeatedly pointed at her watch.

Laurie mimed in return, indicating that she wanted to talk with someone by making her hand move as if she were operating a hand puppet. When that didn’t work, Laurie took out her medical examiner’s badge and flashed it despite Bingham’s dire warnings that he’d have her arrested. When that didn’t work its usual wonders, Laurie took out the business card she’d taken from Yvonne Andre’s apartment and pressed it against the glass. Finally the woman relented and unlatched the door.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the day,” the woman said.

“I gathered that,” Laurie said, putting a hand on the door, “but I must speak with you. I only need a few minutes of your time. I’m with the medical examiner’s office. My name is Dr. Laurie Montgomery.”

“What is it you wish to discuss?” the woman asked.

“Can I come in?” Laurie suggested.

“I suppose,” the woman said with a sigh. She opened the door wide and let Laurie in. Then she locked the door behind them.

“This is quite lovely,” Laurie said. Most of the building’s nineteenth-century detailing had been preserved when it had been converted from a private residence to office space.

“We’re lucky to have the building,” the woman said. “By the way, my name is Gertrude Robeson.”

They shook hands.

“Would you care to come up to my office?”

Laurie said that she would, and Gertrude led her up an elegant Georgian staircase that curved up to the floor above.

“I appreciate your time,” Laurie said. “It is rather important.”

“I’m the only one here,” Gertrude said. “Trying to finish up some work.”

Gertrude’s office was in the front, and it accounted for the light streaming out of the windows from the second floor. It was a large office with a crystal chandelier. Vaguely Laurie wondered how it was that so many nonprofit organizations had such sumptuous surroundings.

Once they were seated, Laurie got to the point. She again took out the business card she’d picked up at Yvonne’s and passed it to Gertrude. “Is this individual a member of the staff here?” Laurie questioned.

“Yes, he is,” Gertrude said. She gave the card back. “Jerome Hoskins is in charge of our recruiting efforts.”

“What exactly is the Manhattan Organ Repository?” Laurie asked.

“I’d be happy to give you our literature,” Gertrude said, “but essentially we’re a nonprofit organization devoted to the donation and reallocation of human organs for transplantation.”

“What do you mean by your “recruiting efforts’?” Laurie asked.

“We try to get people to register as potential donors,” Gertrude said. “The simplest commitment is just to agree that in the event of an accident that renders one brain dead, one would be willing to have the appropriate organs given to a needy recipient.”

“If that’s the simplest commitment,” Laurie said, “what’s a more complicated one?”

“Complicated is not the right word,” Gertrude said. “It is all simple. But the next step is to get the potential donor to be blood and tissue typed. That is particularly helpful in replenishable organs like bone marrow.”

“How does your organization do its recruiting?” Laurie asked.

“The usual methods,” Gertrude said. “We have charitable fund-raisers, telethons, active college groups, that sort of thing. It’s really a matter of getting the word out.

That’s why it’s so helpful when a recipient can command media attention, like a child needing a heart or liver.”

“Do you have a large staff?” Laurie questioned.

“It’s rather small, actually,” Gertrude said. “We use a lot of volunteers.”

“Who responds to your appeals?” Laurie asked.

“Mostly college-educated people,” Gertrude said, “particularly those who are civic-minded. People who are interested in social issues and are willing to give something back to society.”

“Have you ever heard the name Yvonne Andre?” Laurie asked.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Gertrude said. “Is this someone I should meet?”

“I don’t think so,” Laurie said. “She’s dead.”

“Oh, dear,” Gertrude said. “Why did you ask if I knew her?”

“Just curious,” Laurie said. “Could you tell me if Yvonne Andre was someone Mr. Hoskins recruited?”

“I’m sorry,” Gertrude said. “That’s confidential information. I cannot give it out.”

“I am a medical examiner,” Laurie said. “My interest in this is not casual. I was speaking with Yvonne Andre’s mother today, and she told me her daughter was committed to your cause before her untimely death. Mr. Hoskins’ card was in her apartment. I don’t want to know any details, but I would appreciate knowing if she’d signed up with your organization.”

“Did Ms. Yvonne Andre’s death occur under questionable circumstances?” Gertrude asked.

“It will be signed out as accidental,” Laurie said. “But there are some aspects to her death that bother me.”

“You know, generally speaking, that for organs to be transplanted the donor must be in a vegetative state. In other words, everything but the brain must still be physiologically alive.”

“Of course,” Laurie said. “I’m well aware of that caveat. Yvonne Andre was not in a vegetative state before her death. Nevertheless, her status in your organization is something I need to know.”

“Just a moment,” Gertrude said. She walked over to her desk and punched some information into her computer terminal. “Yes,” she said. “Yvonne was registered. But that is all I can say.”

“I appreciate what you have told me,” Laurie said. “I have one more question. Have there been any break-ins here at your offices in the last year?”

Gertrude rolled her eyes. “I really don’t know if I’m at liberty to divulge this kind of information, but I guess it’s a matter of public record. You could always check with the police. Yes, we were broken into a couple of months ago. Luckily not too much was taken and there was no vandalism.”

Laurie rose from her chair. “Thank you very much. You’ve been generous with your time. I really appreciate it.”

“Would you like to take some of our literature?” Gertrude asked.

“I would,” Laurie said. Gertrude opened a cabinet and pulled out a number of brochures which she handed to Laurie. Laurie put them in her briefcase. Then Gertrude saw her to the door.

Emerging onto Fifty-fifth Street, Laurie walked over to Lexington Avenue to catch a cab downtown. She directed the taxi driver to take her to the medical examiner’s office.

With her suspicions strengthening and her confidence renewed, she wanted to talk with George Fontworth. There was something about that day’s overdose cases that she wanted to ask about. Even though it was after six o’clock, she thought that he might still be at work. He usually worked late.

But as Laurie approached the office, she began to worry about Bingham still being there. She knew that on a number of evenings he also stayed late. Consequently Laurie instructed the cab driver to turn from First Avenue onto Thirtieth Street. When they came abreast of the morgue loading dock, she had him turn in. It was good that she had. There was Bingham’s official city car, one of the perks of being the chief medical examiner.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Laurie called to the driver through the Plexiglas screen. She gave him her home address. With some cursing in a language Laurie had never heard, he pulled out of the morgue driveway and returned to First Avenue. Fifteen minutes later she was in front of her tenement building.

It was still raining, so Laurie bolted for the door. She was surprised to find that the lock to the inner door was broken. She’d have to call the super about it in case no one else had reported it yet.

Laurie headed straight for the elevator. She didn’t bother collecting her mail. Just then she had one thing in mind: calling Lou.

As the elevator doors began to slide shut, Laurie saw a hand come around its edge to try to stop the doors from closing. Laurie tried to hit the open button but hit the close instead. The hand pulled back, the doors closed, and the elevator ascended.

Laurie was just unlocking her locks when she heard Debra Engler’s door open behind her.

“There were two men at your door,” Debra said. “I’ve never seen them before. They rang your bell twice.”

Although Laurie didn’t like having Debra meddle in her affairs, she wondered who the two men were and what they could have wanted. It was difficult not to think of “two men” in anything but the context relating to the overdose cases, and the thought sent a chill down her spine. She wondered how they’d gotten as far as her door, since she hadn’t been there to buzz them in. Then she remembered the broken lock in the second door. She asked Debra what they looked like.

“Didn’t get a good look at their faces,” Debra said. “But they seemed no good to me. And as I said, they rang your bell twice.”

Laurie turned back to her door and unlocked the last lock. It occurred to her that if the two men had malicious intentions, they could have gone up the service stairs and broken in through her rear door in the kitchen.

Laurie pushed open her door. It creaked on its hinges, which had been coated with a hundred layers of paint. From her vantage point in the hall, her apartment appeared as she had left it. She didn’t hear anything abnormal or see anything suspicious. Cautiously she stepped over the threshold, ready to flee at the slightest unexpected sound.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laurie saw something coming at her. Letting out a small involuntary cry that was more of a gasp than a scream, Laurie let go of her briefcase and raised her arms to defend herself. At the moment the briefcase hit the floor, the cat was on her, but only for a second. In the next instant it had leaped to the foyer table, and with its ears held flat against its skull, it scampered into the living room.

For a second Laurie stood in her doorway, clutching her chest. Her heart was beating as fast as it did after several games of racquetball. Only after she’d caught her breath did she turn back to her door, close it, and secure the multitude of locks.

Picking up her briefcase, Laurie went into the living room. The manic cat rushed from his hiding place and leaped to the top of the bookcase and from there to the top of the valance over the windows. From that vantage point it glared down at Laurie with playful anger.

Laurie went directly to her phone. Her answering machine light was blinking, but she didn’t listen to her messages. Instead she dialed Lou’s work number. Unfortunately, he didn’t pick up. Laurie hung up and started to dial his home number. But before she could finish dialing, her doorbell rang. Startled, she hung up.

At first she was afraid to go to the door, even to look out the peephole. The doorbell sounded a second time. She knew she had to act. She would see who it was, she told herself. She didn’t have to open up.

Laurie tiptoed to the door and peered out into the hall. Two men she didn’t recognize were standing there, their faces distorted by the wide-angle lens into exaggerated corpulence.

“Who is it?” Laurie asked.

“Police,” a voice called.

A feeling of relief spread over her as she began to unlock her locks. Could Bingham have made good on his threat to have her picked up? But he hadn’t said he’d do it, he’d only said he might.

After undoing the chain lock, Laurie paused. She again put her eye to the peephole. “Do you have identification?” she asked. She knew enough not to let anyone in on their word alone as to who they were.

The two men quickly flashed police badges in front of the peephole. “We only want to talk with you for a moment,” the same voice explained.

Laurie backed away from the door. Although she’d initially been relieved to learn that her visitors were police, now she was beginning to wonder. What if they were here to arrest her? That would mean they’d have to take her to the police station to be booked. She’d be questioned, held, maybe arraigned. Who knew how long that would take? She had to talk to Lou about much more important matters. Besides, he’d undoubtedly be able to help her if she were to be arrested.

“Just a moment,” Laurie called to them. “I have to put on some clothes.”

Laurie headed straight for her kitchen and the back door.

Tony exchanged looks with Angelo. “Should we tell her not to bother dressing?” he asked.

“Shut up!” Angelo whispered.

The click of old hardware sounded behind them. Tony turned around to see Debra Engler’s door opening a crack. Tony lunged toward the door and clapped his hands loudly to give Debra a scare. The tactic worked. Debra’s door slammed shut. About a dozen locks were audibly being secured.

“For Chrissake!” Angelo whispered. “What’s the matter with you? This is no time for screwing around.”

“I don’t like that witch looking at us.”

“Get over here!” Angelo ordered. He looked away from Tony, shaking his head. That’s when he caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s silhouette dashing by the wire-embedded, smoked glass of a door to the fire stairs.

It took Angelo a second to appreciate what was happening. “Come on,” he said as soon as it hit him. “She’s going down the back stairs!”

Angelo ran over to the stairwell door and yanked it open. Tony sprinted through. They both halted momentarily at the banister and peered down a dirty stairwell that dropped in a series of short flights to the ground floor five stories below. They could see Laurie several floors lower and hear the echo of her heels on the bare concrete treads.

“Get her before she reaches the street,” Angelo snarled.

Tony took off like a rabbit, taking the stairs four at a time. He gained steadily on Laurie, but wasn’t able to catch her before she went through a door on the ground floor leading to the backyard.

Tony reached the door before it had a chance to swing shut. He pushed through to the outside and found himself in a rubble-strewn backyard overgrown with weeds. He could hear Laurie’s running footsteps echo as she sprinted down a narrow passageway leading to the street. Leaping over a short handrail, Tony ran after her. Laurie was only twenty feet away. He’d have her in a moment.

Laurie had known that she’d not slipped out unnoticed and that the police were behind her. She’d heard them coming down the stairwell. As she fled, she’d questioned the advisability of having done so. But, having started, she couldn’t stop. Now that she’d run, she was even more determined not to be caught. She knew that resisting arrest was a crime in and of itself. On top of that, the thought of whether they were bona fide police crossed her mind.

As she mounted the final steps to the street, Laurie knew that one of her pursuers was almost on her. At the lip of the steps, pushed against the wall of the building, was a collection of old, dented, metal garbage cans. In a fit of desperation Laurie grabbed the top edge of one and pulled it behind her, sending it clattering down the steps to the floor of the pass-through to the backyard.

Seeing her pursuer stumble on the can and fall, Laurie quickly rolled the rest of the cans to the lip of the stairs and sent them crashing down. A few pedestrians passing on the street slowed their pace at this spectacle, but none stopped and no one said anything.

Hoping that her pursuer was momentarily occupied, Laurie ran down to First Avenue. She praised her luck as the first cab she saw came over to her and stopped. Completely out of breath, Laurie jumped in and yelled that she wanted to go to Thirtieth Street.

As the taxi accelerated into the traffic, Laurie was afraid to look back. She was also trembling, wondering what she had done now. As she thought about the consequences of resisting arrest, she changed her mind about her destination. She leaned forward and told the driver that she wanted to go to police headquarters instead of Thirtieth Street.

The driver didn’t say anything as he turned left to head over to Second Avenue. Laurie sat back and tried to relax. Her chest was still heaving.

As they worked their way south on Second Avenue, Laurie had a change of heart again. Worrying that Lou might not be at police headquarters, Laurie decided her first destination was better. Scooting forward again, she told the driver. This time he cursed but turned left to go back to First Avenue.

As she’d done with the previous cab, Laurie had this driver turn on Thirtieth and pull into the morgue loading area. She was relieved to see that Bingham’s car had left. After paying the fare, she ran into the morgue.

Tony paid the driver and got out of the cab. Angelo’s car was where they’d left it, with Angelo behind the wheel. Tony climbed in.

“Well?” Angelo asked.

“I missed her,” Tony said.

“That much is clear,” Angelo said. “Where is she?”

“She tried to lose me,” Tony said. “She had her driver make a loop. But I stayed with her. She went back to the medical examiner’s office.”

Angelo leaned forward and started his car. “Cerino doesn’t know how right he was when he said that this girl could be trouble. We’ll have to nab her from the medical examiner’s office.”

“Maybe it will be easier there,” Tony suggested. “Shouldn’t be many people there at this hour.”

“It better go more smoothly than it did here,” Angelo said as he looked back before pulling out into the street.

They rode up First Avenue in silence. Angelo had to hand one thing to Tony: at least he was fast on his feet.

Angelo turned onto Thirtieth Street and killed the engine. He wasn’t happy to be back at the medical examiner’s office again. But what choice did they have? There could be no more screw-ups.

“What’s the plan?” Tony asked eagerly.

“I’m thinking,” Angelo said. “Obviously she wasn’t so impressed with our police badges.”

Laurie felt relatively safe in the dark, deserted medical examiner’s building. She got into her office and locked the door behind her. The first thing she did was dial Lou’s home number. She was pleased when he picked up on the first ring.

“Am I glad to hear from you,” Lou said the moment Laurie identified herself.

“Not as glad as I am to get you.”

“Where are you?” Lou asked. “I’ve been calling your apartment every five minutes. If I hear your answering machine message one more time, I’ll scream.”

“I’m at my office,” Laurie said. “There’s been some trouble.”

“I heard,” Lou said. “I’m sorry about your being fired. Is it final or will you get a hearing?”

“It’s final at the moment. But that’s not why I called. Two men came to my apartment door a few minutes ago. They were policemen. I got scared and ran. I think I’m in big trouble.”

“Uniformed policemen?” Lou asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “They were in street clothes. Suits.”

“That’s strange,” Lou said. “I can’t imagine any of my boys going to your apartment. What were their names?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Laurie said.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t ask them their names,” Lou said. “That’s ridiculous. You should have gotten their names and badge numbers and called the police to check on them. I mean, how do you know they were really police?”

“I didn’t think of getting their names,” Laurie said. “I asked to see their badges.”

“Come on, Laurie,” Lou complained. “You’ve lived in New York too long to act like that. You should know better.”

“All right!” Laurie snapped. She was still overwrought. The last thing she needed from Lou was a lecture. “What should I do now?”

“Nothing,” Lou said. “I’ll check into it. Meanwhile, if anybody else shows up, get their names and badge numbers. Do you think you can remember that?”

Laurie wondered if Lou was deliberately trying to provoke her. She tried to remain calm. This was no time to let him get to her. “Let’s change the subject,” she said. “There’s something even more important we have to talk about. I think I’ve come up with an explanation about my cocaine overdose/toxicity cases, and it involves someone you know. I finally even have some evidence that I think you’ll find convincing. Maybe you should come over here now. I want to show you some preliminary DNA matches. Obviously I can’t meet you here in the daytime.”

“What a coincidence,” Lou said. “Sounds like we’ve both made some progress. I think I’ve solved my gangland murder cases. I wanted to run it by you.”

“How did you manage to solve them?”

“I went by to see your boyfriend, Jordan,” Lou said. “In fact I saw him a couple of times today. I think he’s getting tired of me.”

“Lou, are you deliberately trying to irritate me?” Laurie questioned. “If so, you are doing a wonderful job. For the tenth time, Jordan is not my boyfriend!”

“Put it this way,” Lou said. “I’m trying to get your attention. You see, the more time I spend with that guy, the more I think he’s a creep and a sleazeball, and this is going beyond that jealousy crap I admitted to in a moment of weakness. I can’t imagine what you see in him.”

“I didn’t call you to get a lecture,” Laurie said wearily.

“I can’t help it,” Lou said. “You need some advice from someone who cares. I don’t think you should see that guy anymore.”

“OK, Dad, I’ll keep it in mind.” With that, she hung up the phone. She was tired of Lou’s condescending paternalism, and for the moment she couldn’t talk with him. She had to give herself some time to calm down. The man could be so infuriating, especially when she needed support, not criticism.

Laurie’s phone started ringing almost as soon as she’d hung up, but she ignored it. She’d let Lou stew for a little while. She unlocked her office door and walked down the silent hallway and took the elevator to the morgue. At that hour the morgue was desolate, with most of the skeleton evening staff on dinner break. Bruce Pomowski, however, was in the mortuary office. She hoped he hadn’t heard about her being fired.

“Excuse me!” Laurie called from the doorway.

Bruce looked up from his newspaper.

“Is the Fletcher body still here?” she asked.

Bruce consulted the log book. “Nope,” he said. “Went out this afternoon.”

“How about Andre or Haberlin?” Laurie asked.

Bruce referred to the book again. “Andre went out this afternoon, but Haberlin is still here. The body is going out to Long Island someplace any minute. It’s in the walk-in.”

“Thanks,” Laurie said. She turned to leave. Obviously Bruce hadn’t heard she’d been taken off the payroll.

“Dr. Montgomery,” Bruce called. “Peter Letterman was looking for you earlier and I’m supposed to tell you to be sure to go up and see him if I run into you. He said it was important and that he was going to be around for a while tonight.”

Laurie felt torn. She wanted to view the Haberlin body, thinking that a brief examination could very well substantiate her suspicions. At the same time she didn’t want to miss Peter if he had something to tell her.

“Listen,” Laurie said to Bruce. “I’m going to run up and see if Peter is still here. Don’t let that Haberlin body go until I see it.”

“You got it,” Bruce said with a wave.

Laurie went to the fourth floor and the toxicology lab. When she saw a light coming from Peter’s door, she breathed a sigh of relief: Peter was still there.

“Knock, knock,” Laurie called out, pausing at the door. She didn’t want to give Peter a scare.

Peter looked up from a long computer printout he was studying. “Laurie! Am I glad to see you! I have something I want to show you.”

Laurie followed Peter to the gas chromatograph/mass spectrometry unit. Peter picked up another computer printout and handed it to Laurie. She studied it with little comprehension.

“It’s from Robert Evans,” Peter said proudly. “Just as you suggested.”

“What am I looking at?” Laurie asked.

Peter pointed with his pencil. “There,” he said. “That’s a positive for ethylene, and it’s a lot more evident than it had been in Randall Thatcher’s case. It is no laboratory error or false positive. It’s real.”

“That’s weird,” Laurie said. She’d really come to think the ethylene reading in the Thatcher case had been an error.

“It might be weird,” Peter said, “but it’s real. No doubt about it.”

“I need another favor,” Laurie said. “Can you open the DNA lab for me?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “You want me to open it now?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Peter got his keys and led Laurie down a flight of stairs to the lab on the third floor.

As they went in, Laurie explained what she was up to. “I was shown a Polaroid of a match but it was just a preliminary. It concerns the Julia Myerholtz case. You probably recognize the name.”

“Certainly,” Peter said. “I’ve run lots of samples on her.”

“I want to find that Polaroid,” Laurie said. “I need a copy of it. I don’t need a duplicate photograph; a copy from the copy machine will be fine.”

“No problem,” Peter said. He knew exactly where to look. Once he had the Polaroid in hand, he went to the copy machine. Laurie followed.

While the copy machine warmed up, Peter looked at the photo. “It’s pretty obvious they don’t match,” he said. “Is that what you expected?”

“No,” Laurie said. “It was a shot in the dark.”

“Interesting,” Peter said. “Do you think it is significant?”

“Absolutely,” Laurie said. “I think it means Julia was fighting for her life.”

“You think she’s still in there?” Tony asked. He was more antsy than usual. “She could have left while I was going back to get you. And if she’s not in there, then we’re wasting our time sitting here like a couple of chumps.”

“You’ve got a good point,” Angelo said. “But before we move in I wish we could make sure she didn’t call the cops. I still don’t understand why she split unless she didn’t think we were real cops. I mean, isn’t she the solid-citizen type? What does she have to hide from cops? It doesn’t make sense, and when something doesn’t make sense, it means I’m missing something. And when I’m missing something, it scares me.”

“God, you’re always worrying,” Tony said. “Let’s just go in there, get her, and be done with it.”

“All right,” Angelo said. “But take it easy. And bring the bag. We’re going to have to play this one by ear.”

“I’m with you all the way,” Tony said eagerly. Due to the unconsummated chase after Laurie, Tony’s appetite for action had been honed to a razor’s edge. He was a bundle of nervous energy.

“I think we’d better put the silencers on our guns,” Angelo said. “No telling what we’re going to meet. And we’re going to have to work fast.”

“Great!” Tony exclaimed. With obvious excitement he pulled out his Bantam and attached the silencer. It took him a moment because his hand trembled with pleasurable anticipation.

Angelo gave him a hard look, then shook his head in exasperation. “Try to stay calm. Let’s go!”

They got out of the car and ran across the street and between the two mortuary vans. They ran hunched over, trying to avoid the drizzle as much as possible. They entered the same way they had that afternoon, through the morgue loading dock. Angelo was in the lead. Tony followed with the black doctor’s bag in one hand and his gun in the other. In an attempt to conceal the gun, he had it partially under his jacket.

Angelo was almost past the open door to the security office when someone inside yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in there.”

Tony collided with Angelo when his partner stopped abruptly. A guard in a blue uniform was sitting at his desk. In front of him was a game of solitaire.

“Where you guys think you’re going?” he asked.

Before Angelo could respond, Tony raised his Bantam and aimed it at the surprised guard’s forehead. He pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. The slug hit the guard in his head, just above his left eye, so that he fell over onto his desk, his head landing with a solid thump on his card game. Except for the pool of blood forming on the desk top, a passerby might have thought the man was simply asleep on the job.

“What the hell did you shoot him for?” Angelo snarled. “You could have given me a chance to talk with him.”

“He was going to give us trouble,” Tony said. “You said we had to be fast.”

“What if he has a partner?” Angelo said. “What if the partner comes back? Where will we be then?”

Tony frowned.

“Come on!” Angelo said.

They peered into the mortuary office. There was cigarette smoke in the air and a live butt in an ashtray by the desk, but no one was in sight. Leaving the office and advancing cautiously into the morgue proper, Angelo glanced into the small auxiliary autopsy room used for decomposed bodies. The dissecting table was barely visible in the half-light.

“This place gives me the creeps,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Tony said. “It’s nothing like the funeral home I worked at. Look at the floor. This place is disgusting.”

“Why are so many lights off?” Angelo asked.

“Saving money?” Tony suggested.

They came to the huge U-shaped mass of refrigerator compartments stacked four-high, each with its own heavily hinged door. “You think all the bodies are in here?” Angelo asked, pointing toward the bank of cooler doors.

“I guess so,” Tony said. “This is just like in those old movies when they have to identify somebody.”

“It doesn’t smell like this in the movies,” Angelo said. “What the hell are all those simple coffins for? They expecting the bubonic plague?”

“Beats me,” Tony said.

They wandered past the large walk-in cooler, heading for the light that was coming through the windows of the double doors that led into the main autopsy room. Just before they got there, the doors burst open and out walked Bruce Pomowski.

Everyone recoiled in surprise. Tony hid his gun behind his back.

“You guys scared me,” Bruce admitted with a nervous laugh.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Angelo said.

“You must be here for the Haberlin body,” Bruce said. “Well, I got good news and bad news. The good news is that it’s ready. The bad news is you have to wait until one of the doctors examines it.”

“That’s too bad,” Angelo said. “But as long as we’re waiting around, have you seen Dr. Laurie Montgomery?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “I just saw her a few minutes ago.”

“Can you tell us where she went?” Angelo asked.

“She went up to Toxicology,” Bruce said. He was becoming curious and even a little suspicious about these two men.

“And where might Toxicology be?” Angelo asked.

“Fourth floor.” Bruce tried to remember if he’d ever seen these two on a body pickup before.

“Thanks,” Angelo said. He turned, motioning for Tony to follow him.

“Hey, you can’t go up there,” said Bruce. “And what funeral home are you from?”

“Spoletto,” Angelo said.

“That’s not the one I’ve been expecting,” Bruce said. “I think I’d better make a call. What are your names?”

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Angelo said. “We’d just like to talk with Laurie Montgomery.”

Bruce took a step backward and eyed Angelo and Tony. “I think I’ll give Security a call.”

Tony’s gun appeared and pointed at the mortuary tech. Bruce froze in place, looking cross-eyed at the barrel. Tony pulled the trigger before Angelo could say anything.

Similar to the security man, the slug hit Bruce in the forehead, and he swayed for a second, then crumbled to the floor.

“Damn!” Angelo said. “You can’t shoot everybody.”

“Hell!” Tony said. “He was about to call Security.”

“A lot of good that would have done him,” Angelo said. “You already took care of Security. You have to learn to restrain yourself.”

“So I overreacted,” Tony said. “At least we know the chick’s still here. We even know where to find her.”

“But first we have to hide this body,” Angelo said. “What if somebody comes along.” Angelo glanced around. His eyes settled on the cooler compartments. “Let’s stick him in one of the refrigerators,” Angelo said.

Quickly Angelo and Tony began checking compartments, searching for an empty one. In every one the first thing they spotted was a pair of bare feet with a manila tag around the big toe.

“This is disgusting,” Angelo said.

“Here’s an empty one,” Tony said. He pulled out the drawer.

They went back to Bruce’s limp body. Tony discovered the man was still alive and making weird noises when he breathed. “Should I give him another slug?” he asked.

“No!” Angelo snapped. He didn’t want any more shooting. “It’s not necessary. He won’t be making much noise in the refrigerator.”

Together they dragged the body to the open refrigerator compartment and managed to lift him onto the drawer.

“Sleep tight,” Tony said as he slid the drawer into the wall and closed the door.

“Now put your goddamned gun away,” Angelo commanded.

“All right,” Tony said. He stuck his Bantam into his shoulder holster. With the silencer in place, the butt of the gun showed at Tony’s lapel.

“Let’s get up to the fourth floor,” Angelo said nervously. “This isn’t going very well. We have to get the woman and get out of here. All hell is going to break loose if someone comes across this trail of corpses you’ve been leaving.”

Tony picked up his doctor’s bag and hurried after Angelo, who’d already headed for the stairs. Angelo did not want to chance running into anyone in the elevator.

Emerging on the fourth floor, they saw only one room was lit. Assuming that had to be the toxicology lab, they headed straight for it. They entered cautiously, only to find Peter cleaning some equipment.

“Excuse me,” Angelo said, “we’re looking for Dr. Laurie Montgomery.”

Peter turned around. “You just missed her,” he said. “She went down to the morgue to look at a body in the walk-in cooler.”

“Thanks,” Angelo said.

“Not at all,” Peter said.

Angelo took Tony by the arm and quickly led him out into the hall. “Nice of you not to shoot him,” Angelo said sarcastically.

The two retraced their steps, heading back downstairs to the morgue.

After looking in the mortuary office and the main autopsy room, Laurie gave up on finding Bruce. He’d probably gone on break. She had it in her mind to ask him for help, but she decided to check the walk-in for the Haberlin body herself.

Laurie put on rubber gloves before entering the large refrigerator. Straining against the door’s weight, she pulled it open, reached in, and switched on the light.

The walk-in looked much as it had when she’d gone in in search of Julia Myerholtz. Most of the bodies on the wooden shelves had not been disturbed since her last visit. Those on gurneys represented a new batch. Unfortunately, there were more bodies than there had been before. In an attempt to be methodical, she began by checking the bodies closest to the door. As usual, all the bodies had been tagged for identification. Laurie had to lift the sheets shrouding the feet to check the names. After checking each gurney, she moved it aside to allow her to work deeper into the cooler.

Finally, near the back of the walk-in, and after checking a dozen bodies, she found the tag with Stephanie Haberlin written on it. It was none too soon; Laurie was shivering.

Covering the feet back up, Laurie jockeyed the gurney around to get to its head. Then she pulled back the sheet.

Laurie winced at the sight. Seeing a young person’s pale corpse was never a pleasant sight. No matter how long she stuck with forensics, Laurie didn’t think she’d ever get used to this part of the job. With uncharacteristic reluctance, Laurie reached over and placed her thumb and index finger on Stephanie’s upper eyelids.

For a moment Laurie hesitated, wondering what she wished for more: to be wrong or right. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lids.

Laurie winced for the second time. She even felt her legs go weak. In a split second her suspicions had been validated. She’d been correct. It could no longer be considered a coincidence. The dead woman’s eyes were gone!

“You awful, awful man,” Laurie said aloud through chattering teeth. How could any human being perpetrate such a heinous crime? This scheme was truly diabolical.

The resonant click of the cooler’s latch shocked Laurie from her musing. Anticipating Bruce, she was surprised to see two strangers enter, one carrying an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.

“Dr. Montgomery?” the tall one called out.

“Yes,” Laurie answered. She was afraid she recognized these two as the same men who’d come to her door.

“We want to talk with you downtown,” Angelo said. “Would you mind coming with us?”

“Who are you?” she demanded. She began to tremble.

“I don’t think that really matters,” the shorter one said as he started pushing gurneys to the side with his free hand. He was cutting a path to Laurie. Angelo started to move toward her, too.

“What do you want with me?” Laurie asked, her terror mounting.

“We just want to talk,” Tony said.

Laurie was trapped. She had no place to run. She was snared in a virtual sea of corpse-laden gurneys. Tony was already pushing aside the last two of the remaining gurneys that lay between them.

With no other recourse, Laurie stripped her shoulder purse from her arm and let it drop to the floor. She then stepped to the head of Stephanie Haberlin’s gurney and grasped the sides.

Screaming to bolster her courage, Laurie started wheeling Stephanie’s gurney, desperately trying to build up speed in the confined space. She aimed the gurney directly at the surprised Tony. At first Tony suggested he would stand his ground. But as Laurie’s efforts accelerated, he tried to get out of the way.

Laurie crashed the gurney into Tony with enough force to knock him off balance as well as to cause Stephanie’s corpse to topple off. Haphazardly a stiff dead arm draped itself around Tony’s neck as he fought to regain his footing.

Not allowing the man to recover, Laurie grabbed another gurney and ran it into Stephanie’s. Grabbing still another, she ran it at Angelo, who slipped on the tile floor trying to avoid being struck, and totally disappeared from view.

Tony struggled from Stephanie’s embrace, pushing the corpse away from him. He was wedged between the gurneys, which he attempted to push away as he pulled out his gun. He tried to take aim, but Laurie crashed another gurney into the others, throwing him off balance once again. Angelo struggled to his feet and tried to make a space for himself to stand upright, pushing more gurneys in Tony’s direction.

Tony fired as Laurie crashed one last gurney. The sound, even with the silencer, was deafening within the insulated cooler. The bullet passed over Laurie’s shoulder as she scrambled for the door. She was out of the cooler in an instant, slamming the heavy door behind her. Frantically she searched for a lock to secure the walk-in refrigerator, but there wasn’t one. She had no other choice but to make a run for it. She hadn’t gotten far when she heard the cooler door open behind her.

Running as fast as she could, she rounded the corner of the mortuary office. Seeing no one, she continued on to the security office. Dashing inside she called out to the sleeping guard.

“Help me!” she cried. “You’ve got to help me. There are two men-”

When the guard did not move, Laurie desperately reached out and roughly grabbed the man’s shoulder, yanking him to an upright sitting position. But to Laurie’s shock, the man’s head flopped back like a rag doll, dragging playing cards with it. With horror she saw the bullet hole in his forehead, his unseeing eyes, and bloody froth oozing from his mouth. Where his head had been on the desk was a pool of partially dried blood.

Laurie screamed and let go of the guard. He collapsed backward in the chair, his head hyperextending, and his arms limply dangling with his fingers just brushing the floor.

Laurie wheeled around to flee, but it was too late. The shorter of the two men came flying through the door, his gun held out in front of him, a demonic smile spread like a gaping wound across his face. He pointed the gun directly at Laurie. At such close range she could even see a short distance up the barrel of the silencer.

The man advanced toward her as if in slow motion until the tip of the gun was a mere inch from Laurie’s nose. She didn’t move. She was paralyzed with dread.

“Don’t shoot her!” cried the other, taller man, who suddenly appeared over Tony’s shoulder. “Please don’t shoot her!”

“It would be so rewarding,” Tony said.

“Come on,” Angelo urged. “Gas her!” Angelo put the black doctor’s bag on the corner of the desk. With his foot, he gave the desk chair a shove to get it out of the way. The dead guard rolled out of the chair and fell to the floor. Then Angelo stepped into the corridor to look in both directions. He’d heard voices.

Tony lowered his gun. It had been all he could do to keep from firing it. Placing it in his jacket pocket, he opened the black bag and took out the gas cylinder and the plastic bag. After inflating the bag, he stepped over to Laurie, who’d backed up against a table.

“This will be a nice rest,” Tony said.

Wide-eyed with terror, Laurie was shocked when Tony crammed the bag over her head. The force bent her back over the table. Both hands splayed out to support herself. As they did, her right hand hit up against a glass paperweight. Clutching it, Laurie swung it underhand, hitting Tony in the groin.

Tony’s grip on the plastic bag released as he reflexively grabbed his genitals. After their recent run-in with the briefcase, they were particularly sensitive.

Laurie took advantage of his pain to tear the plastic bag from her head. The smell inside it had been sickeningly sweet. Pushing off the table, Laurie dashed by Tony, who was still doubled over, and then Angelo, who’d been standing guard outside.

“Goddamn it!” Angelo shouted. He started after Laurie. Tony, partially recovered, limped after Angelo, carrying the black bag, the plastic bag, and the gas cylinder.

Laurie ran out the way she’d come, passing the stack of Potter’s Field coffins and the walk-in refrigerator. She was hoping to run into some of the custodial staff-anyone who might be able to help her.

When she saw the light in the main autopsy room, she was encouraged. She went through the swinging doors at a full run. Inside, Laurie was thrilled to find a man mopping the floor. “You’ve got to help me!” she gasped.

The janitor was shocked by her sudden appearance.

“There are two men chasing me,” Laurie cried. She dashed to the sink and snatched up one of the large autopsy knives. She knew it wouldn’t be much help against a gun, but it was the only defense she could think of.

The confused janitor looked at her as if she were crazy, and before she could say anything else, the door burst open a second time. Angelo entered at a run with his gun drawn.

“It’s over!” Angelo snarled between harsh, winded breaths. Behind him the door opened again. Tony came charging inside, clutching the black bag and the gas paraphernalia in one hand, his gun in the other.

“What’s happening?” the janitor demanded. His shock had changed to fear with the sight of the guns. He gripped his mop in both hands as if he were prepared to use it as a weapon.

With no further provocation, Tony raised his gun and shot the man in the head. The janitor staggered and collapsed. Tony stepped over to shoot the man a second time.

“It’s the girl we want,” Angelo yelled. “Forget the janitor! Gas her!”

As he’d done in the security office, Tony inflated the plastic bag and approached Laurie.

Paralyzed with shock from having seen the janitor killed in front of her, Laurie was temporarily incapable of resisting. The autopsy knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Tony went behind her and pulled the bag over her head. After taking a few breaths of the sweet gas inside the bag, Laurie reached up as if to pull the plastic off her. But her efforts came too late. Her knees gave way and she sank to the floor, unconscious.

“Run out and get one of those pine coffins,” Angelo said. “Make it quick!”

A few minutes later Tony returned with a coffin, nails, and a hammer. He put the coffin down next to Laurie. With Angelo at her head and Tony at her feet, they lifted her into the box, then pulled off the plastic bag. Tony put on the lid and was about to nail it shut when Angelo suggested putting more of the gas inside.

Tony held the cylinder under the lid and tried to fill the coffin. Quickly he smelled the gas. Pulling his hand out, he closed the lid.

“That’s about all I can get in,” Tony said.

“Let’s hope it holds her,” Angelo said. “Get one of those wagons over here.” He pointed to a gurney pushed against the far wall.

Tony wheeled the gurney over, while Angelo nailed down the coffin’s lid. Then they both lifted the coffin onto it. Tony threw the plastic bag and gas cylinder into the doctor’s bag and set the bag on top of the coffin. Together he and Angelo wheeled the gurney out the door. They headed for the loading dock. Moving at a run, they passed the mortuary office, then turned and passed the security office.

While Tony waited on the lip of the loading dock and made sure the gurney didn’t roll away, Angelo went to check inside the mortuary vans. In the first one he found the keys in the ignition. Running back to Tony, he told him they’d use the truck. As quickly as possible, and using the keys to unlock the rear doors, they loaded the coffin containing Laurie into the back of the van. Angelo dropped the keys into Tony’s hand.

“You drive her,” Angelo said. “Go directly to the pier. I’ll see you there.”

Tony climbed into the front of the van and started the engine.

“Move it out,” Angelo yelled. Frantically waving, he guided Tony as Tony backed up into Thirtieth Street. Again Angelo could hear voices within the morgue.

“Get moving,” Angelo said as he slapped the side of the mortuary van. He watched until Tony had turned onto First Avenue, then he sprinted over to his own car, started it, and followed.

As soon as Angelo caught up to the van, he gave Cerino a call from his cellular phone. “We got the merchandise,” he said.

“Beautiful,” Cerino said. “Bring her to the pier. I’ll call Doc Travino. We’ll meet you there.”

“This wasn’t a clean operation,” Angelo said. “But we seem to be clear. No one is following us.”

“As long as you got her, it’s OK,” Cerino said. “And your timing is perfect. The Montego Bay departs tomorrow morning. Our little lady doc is due for a cruise.”