Cure

33

March 26, 2010

Friday, 5:08 p.m.

On second thought, maybe I should leave,” Ben said, pushing back his chair and standing up to stretch. Although he’d been waiting only a few minutes for the medical examiner, he’d begun to have second thoughts about agreeing to additional questions. It had occurred to him that although he wanted to appear cooperative, providing more information before obtaining counsel was probably not in his best interest. He had no idea if Satoshi’s death had anything to do with the six deaths in New Jersey, but the chances were that it did. Having discovered the mass murder and identified Satoshi’s body, he was going to be involved no matter what. It was best to limit any additional exposure and say no more. Ben was certain any defense lawyer he might hire would say exactly that.

Rebecca climbed out of her chair. “I wonder where Dr. Montgomery-Stapleton is? She said she was coming right down. Let me check.” Rebecca opened the door, and as she did so she saw Laurie approaching across the expanse of the foyer registration area. Behind her were Dr. Jack Stapleton and another man whom she did not recognize.

“Here comes the doctor,” Rebecca said, opening the door wider. Laurie came in with a bit of attitude after the conversation about the threatening letter but quickly recovered when introduced to Ben.

Ben was immediately taken by Laurie’s attractiveness and smile. For a brief moment his newly realized concerns about talking with the authorities moved to the back of his mind. A moment later, when he was introduced to Detective Captain Lou Soldano, they all came tumbling back. Meeting Dr. Jack Stapleton had no effect at all, not even the fact that he and Laurie shared the same last name. Ben was overwhelmingly concerned about meeting another detective. His paranoia spiked upward.

“First I want to thank you sincerely for taking your time to help us identify one of our cases,” Laurie said. “I cannot tell you how important that is for us.”

“I’m pleased to be of assistance,” Ben said, hoping that his tenseness was not apparent. He noticed the detective pick up the identification form that contained his information and study it. “But I do have an important meeting in New Jersey that I’m already late for.”

“We’ll make it quick,” Laurie said. “We have a second body, another Asian man, who came in last night. We would be very appreciative if you would take a look and see if you recognize him as well. We know there is some connection with him and the person you already identified. Would you mind?”

“I suppose not,” Ben said without a lot of enthusiasm.

“It’s the case I did this morning,” Laurie said to Rebecca. “The case with the wild tattoos.”

“Got it,” Rebecca said, and slipped out of the room.

“Would you like to sit down?” Laurie said, gesturing at the table from which Ben had just arisen.

Laurie took the identification form from Lou and quickly glanced at it.

“How did Satoshi die?” Ben asked, trying to make the question sound like an unimportant afterthought.

“I’m sorry,” Laurie said, placing the completed identification form on the table. “The case is still open, and we cannot reveal anything to the general public until it is signed out, and then only through our public-relations department. If you were family it would be different. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Ben responded. “Just curious.” He was more than curious, but did not want it to show.

“So you were Mr. Machita’s employer,” Laurie said. “Can you tell us about that?”

Ben repeated what he’d told Rebecca, emphasizing that Satoshi was a very recent employee whom he did not know particularly well. Ben also described his company as being in the biotech field and that Satoshi had been a little-recognized but talented researcher.

“I understand you called the Missing Persons Squad this afternoon.”

“I personally did not call,” Ben said. “But I was concerned. Mr. Machita did not come into the office over the last two days, and he did not answer his cell phone.”

“When Mr. Machita collapsed on the subway platform, we have reason to believe a small piece of luggage was taken from him,” Laurie said, careful not to mention the fact that he’d been murdered. “Would you have any idea what could have been in the luggage? Could it have been anything specific or particularly valuable?”

“I have no idea,” Ben said, deliberately lying. If someone had pursued Satoshi to rob him, Ben would have guessed they had been looking for the man’s lab books, which were securely locked in the office safe.

Given the nature of Laurie’s questions, Ben knew that Satoshi’s death was surely not a natural one and that he had to have been murdered. Ben wanted to leave. He didn’t mind lying about something that could never be proved, but he wasn’t going to lie about something that could. He didn’t want to talk about what he’d been up to in New Jersey that very afternoon, and he was terrified the next question might be about something concerning Satoshi’s family that would naturally lead up to it.

A tentative sense of relief spread over Ben when Rebecca returned with the case file of the unidentified Yakuza hit man. She handed the file to Laurie, who proceeded to take out the photos of the corpse. These were not identification photos doctored to ease the sensibilities of lay visitors. They were the stark-naked full-body photos taken in the unremitting glare of sharp fluorescent light specifically designed to emphasize every defect and disfigurement. Although the tattoos reduced the ghastliness to a degree, the stark alabaster color of the exposed limbs and face from having been floating around in the brackish river water couldn’t be ignored.

Ben recoiled from the images, his response heightened by his general unease with a detective sitting right in front of him. Once again his medical training and experience came to his aid, and merely by sitting up straighter he was able to recover his poise. “I’ve never seen him,” he said with a squeaky voice that even surprised him. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but I have no idea who he is.”

“Are you certain?” Laurie asked. “I know the tattoos are a major distraction. Can you just look at the face and imagine it in the full color of life?”

“I’ve never seen him,” Ben repeated, “and I remember a face.” Ben pushed back his chair and made a performance about checking the time. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with this case, but I hope I have with the first.” He stood, and the others did as well.

“You have helped very much,” Laurie said. “I want to thank you again.”

Ben then reached out across the table to shake first Laurie’s hand, then Jack’s, who was sitting next to Laurie, and finally Lou’s. Ben noticed that Lou deliberately held on to his hand longer than expected while drilling Ben with his dark eyes. “Interesting to meet you, Dr. Corey,” Lou said, still clutching Ben’s hand. When he let go he did so with a slight, final tightening before the release. Ben worried that it was like a message that they would be seeing each other again.

Lou’s handshake had increased Ben’s unease, a feeling he carried out to his SUV. Was the detective really giving me a message? Ben questioned silently. He hesitated before starting his car. “Good God,” he said aloud. “I feel like I’m walking around in a goddamn mine-field.” Getting out his cell phone and Detective Tom Janow’s card, he reluctantly made the call, vainly hoping, since it was now after six p.m., that the detective might beg off and reschedule for the morning. But such was not the case, particularly when the detective heard that the identification had been positive: The corpse was Satoshi Machita. To make matters worse, the detective was still at the scene, meaning Ben had to return to the worst stench he had ever had to suffer, which seemed, at the moment, uncomfortably symbolic in his current, anxiety-ridden state of mind.