Genesis

Chapter 2

May 8th

6:57 A.M.

As Laurie mounted the front steps and entered the aged and admittedly ugly OCME building on the corner of First Avenue and 30th Street, she realized it was approximately the time that Jack liked to arrive to allow him to pick through the night’s ME cases and choose the most interesting. Although Laurie wasn’t planning on following suit and arriving this early as a matter of course, she could already see the benefits. The biggest by far was that the trip from their home on West 106th Street had taken less than half the time it did during her normal eight A.M. commute. There had been monumentally less traffic. She also didn’t have to greet and make conversation with so many people since she was probably the first of the day shift to arrive.

Laurie nodded to the night security person manning the front desk where Marlene Wilson normally held court. Laurie had never met the man, but he certainly recognized her and said a cheery hello before buzzing her into the building. Coming into her windowless outer office, Laurie was surprised at how dark it was. Cheryl Sanford, her secretary, sat out here and always turned the lights on but had yet to arrive and wouldn’t for another hour. Laurie went to the wall switch and turned on the overhead illumination.

Within her inner office, there was more ambient light since there were windows, yet it still wasn’t nearly adequate. The windows were high, faced north, and were only feet away from the NYU Medical Center building. Laurie turned on the lights as she entered. She loved her office since she and Jack had painted it. When Bingham had occupied it, it had been dark and gloomy, with gray walls, dark trim, and heavy mahogany furniture. Now the walls and trim were white with a pink blush, and to jazz things up even more, brightly colored drapes and a matching sofa had been added. Although Laurie still used Bingham’s ponderous desk, the dark library table and dark glass-fronted bookcases had been removed. Also, all the dark paintings of black-suited brooding old men had been moved to the neighboring OCME conference room and replaced with framed, colorful impressionist prints.

Laurie put her backpack on the floor next to her desk chair before hanging her spring coat in the closet. She briefly thought about heading into the ID room, where the communal coffee pot lived, as the caffeine from her first cup had worn off, but she guessed that Vinnie Amendola, who was tasked with making the morning coffee, was most likely not in yet. Instead, she sat down at the massive desk, took out the presentation she’d prepared for the morning City Council Health Committee meeting, and started to go over it all yet again. As she did so, she felt her anxiety ratchet upward. It was hopelessly clear to her that she would most likely never get over her aversion to speaking in front of groups, just like she was likely never to get over her fear of authority figures thanks to her emotionally distant and domineering father.

The first person who interrupted Laurie’s concentration was Cheryl, who gently knocked on the partially open door just after 7:30. Stepping in but maintaining a hold on the doorknob, she said, “Lordy, what in heaven’s name are you doing in here so early?” Cheryl, a buxom African American woman, had been working at the OCME for centuries, or at least that was the way she described it. She’d been the chief’s secretary starting with Dr. Bingham’s predecessor before becoming Bingham’s secretary for his entire tenure. Laurie was glad to have her, as she had made Laurie’s transition to being chief infinitely easier. She’d also become somewhat of a family friend. She and Jack had taken a liking to each other during the countless times Jack had been called on the carpet in front of Bingham for his inclination to ignore rules and regulations in his dogged determination to solve forensic cases. Jack had also gotten Cheryl’s son, Arnold, to play on the neighborhood basketball court.

“Trying to prepare for the early-morning meeting down at 250 Broadway,” Laurie said.

“Pardon the pun, but you’ll knock them dead,” Cheryl said with a wry smile. Then she added, “Usually Mr. Amendola has the coffee ready by now. Can I bring you a cup?”

“That would be terrific,” Laurie said. “Thank you.”

Cheryl nodded and started to back out of Laurie’s office.

“Wait, Cheryl,” Laurie called out. “I’m expecting Dr. McGovern any minute. Would you send him right in when he appears?”

“Will do,” Cheryl said. “And I’ll have the coffee back here in a flash.”

As it turned out, Chet arrived just as Cheryl was delivering Laurie’s coffee. Graciously she asked him if he would like some, but he brandished his cup, saying he’d already been to the communal pot.

Laurie gestured toward the couch and then followed Chet, bringing her coffee. She often preferred sitting there instead of remaining behind the imposing desk. She felt the latter was more appropriate for confrontations than for discussions.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Chet began. “And I’m sorry I’m a little late.”

“That’s okay,” Laurie said reassuringly. “But we might have to cut our discussion short, as I have a morning meeting down at City Hall. I’ll need to leave here in about twenty minutes.”

“That should be plenty of time,” he said. He had been with the OCME just a tad longer than Jack. They were hired the same year and ended up sharing an office. Consequently, they’d become such good friends that Laurie knew more about Chet than she knew about the other medical examiners. He was about Jack’s size, with a similar skin tone and athletic build, to the point that they appeared almost like brothers. In Laurie’s estimation, which she admitted was biased, both were seriously attractive men. The main difference was that Chet was experiencing a receding hairline, and to compensate he’d grown a mustache and a goatee. Laurie wasn’t a fan of facial hair but appreciated that Chet kept his well-trimmed.

“Before we start, I’d like to pay you a compliment,” she said. “You have been doing a bang-up job as director of education. Everything on the education front at the OCME has improved since you took over, even the conferences and lectures. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Chet said, obviously pleased with the recognition. “I do think education here at the OCME is important and deserves equal attention at all levels. The Forensic Fellowship Program has always been given a lot of emphasis and has been consistently top-notch. It’s the pathology resident rotation that’s been relatively ignored from an educational standpoint, and for good reason. First off, the residents are only here for a month out of a four-year NYU pathology residency, and second, the idea is just to give them a sense of forensic pathology without any real responsibility.”

“This is all true. Are you suggesting we change the program somehow?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Just more supervision. Generally, the program works as is. What’s really brought this issue to my attention is an isolated situation with a particular resident named Dr. Aria Nichols.”

“I remember you mentioning her name when you asked to speak with me,” Laurie said. “I had Cheryl check. Miss Nichols has been with us since the beginning of the month.”

“That’s right,” he said. “She and a Dr. Tad Muller rotated over here May first as part of their fourth-year anatomical pathology program, and there can’t be two more different residents. It’s like they’re from different planets. The program is clearly not working for Dr. Nichols.”

“Can you be more specific?” Laurie asked. She put her cup down on the side table and turned to look more directly at him. “What do you mean by ‘not working’?”

“After she’d been here almost a week, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen much of her whereas I’d run into Dr. Muller all the time. When I checked, I realized she’s often been skipping the cases she’s been assigned. Following my predecessor, here’s how the system is supposed to work: every morning I check all the scheduled cases, figure out which ones might be good for the residents, and then ask the assigned medical examiner if it would be okay if the resident observed and participated to whatever degree the ME was comfortable with. Invariably the MEs say yes, so I assign the residents two cases a day, usually. In the past, that was generally the end of it, meaning there wasn’t any follow-up to make sure the resident actually participated in the autopsy, mainly because they were not responsible for filling out and signing the death certificate.”

“They’re not allowed to sign death certificates,” Laurie interjected.

“Yes, I know,” Chet said. “But the problem is they have no real responsibility. When I realized I hadn’t been bumping into Aria Nichols, I talked to the MEs on the cases I’d assigned her and found out that she’d go into the pit in the morning, hang out for a time, maybe even ask a few questions, apparently good questions, since she’s no dummy, but then leave. Other cases that I had assigned her later in the day, for the most part, she just ignored.”

“That’s rather brazen,” she said.

“That’s only half of it,” he said. “When I approached her to call her on it, she just out-and-out lied to me, saying she’d stayed for all the cases she had been assigned. Several days ago, when she left the first case after about a half hour, I followed her out of the OCME without her knowing.”

“Where did she go?” Laurie asked. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more — a resident assigned to the OCME leaving in the middle of the morning or the director of education following her. The thought went through her mind that perhaps Jack could have been right about Chet’s motivation.

“Next door,” Chet said. “She went into one of the Pathology labs and started reviewing the day’s frozen sections. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Did you say anything to her?”

“Of course,” he said. “How could I not? I was appalled. I went up to her and asked her what the hell she thought she was doing.”

“And what was her response?”

“She said that if I didn’t know what she was doing that I was dumber than I looked.”

A slight laugh escaped from Laurie’s lips, although she regretted it the moment it happened. Chet had clearly been offended by the resident’s cheeky response. Quickly she said: “So, she made no attempt at explanation or any type of apology?”

“Hardly,” Chet said. “She then told me to fuck off and leave her the hell alone.”

“You’re kidding,” Laurie exclaimed. It was obvious to her that this woman was a far cry from being a typical pathology resident. In her role as the chief medical examiner, Laurie couldn’t help but see dealing with this behavior pattern as a potential problem in relation to the NYU Department of Pathology unless it was decided to kick the can down the road and let NYU worry about her. Good relations between OCME and the NYU Department of Pathology was a high priority for a multitude of reasons, including the Forensic Pathology Fellowship Program. The fellows trained at the OCME but got their certification from the NYU Medical School. At the same time there was an ethical issue involved.

“I don’t know how she got into medical school, wherever she went,” Chet added, “or how she got selected for a residency at such a high-powered institution. I couldn’t believe her audacity. So, I came back here to the OCME and sought out Tad Muller, who’s been behaving just the opposite. I was hoping for some perspective. I didn’t tell him exactly what had happened, but I did say that she seemed to be a unique individual and mentioned she was shirking responsibilities. His response was to laugh and admit she was one of a kind. Without any further provocation he said she was not very well liked by her fellow residents, although she was respected for her intelligence and encyclopedic knowledge of pathology. He said that some people thought she was so bookish that she comes across as somewhat of a sociopath.”

“Being a sociopath seems like an extreme diagnosis for a pathology resident,” Laurie said.

“I agree,” Chet added. “I said pretty much the same thing. I thought it had to be an exaggeration. But then Dr. Muller elaborated. He said she’s pretty damn manipulative and not all that empathetic when it comes to the on-call schedule. He even said that one time while having a conversation with her about dogs, she confided that she didn’t like them and that there was a yappy dog that lived in her building that she’d thought about doing in because it barked all the time.”

“Oh, people say things like that that they don’t really mean,” Laurie said.

“My feelings exactly,” he said. “But Dr. Muller swore that she said it and that she didn’t bat an eyelash.”

“Do you know if she’s married?” Laurie asked, still wondering if Jack could have been right about Chet’s motivation.

“She’s not married,” Chet said without hesitation.

“All right, what do you think we should do?” she asked while inwardly sighing. With everything else going on trying to keep the OCME on an even keel, she didn’t need another problem, which this was beginning to sound like Aria Nichols could become. She checked the time, feeling her anxiety rising again.

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” he said. “I could try reading her the riot act and say that if she doesn’t take this OCME rotation seriously, we’ll have to say she failed. To be honest, I don’t know whether that would mean she wouldn’t get her Pathology certification, since the month over here is more or less a survey course just to give them an idea of forensics.”

“I don’t know, either,” she said. “As far as I know, such a situation has never come up before. In all the time that NYU Department of Pathology residents have been required to spend one month here during their four-year residency there’s never been a problem.”

“What about if you talk to Dr. Henderson?” Chet suggested. Dr. Carl Henderson was chief of the NYC Department of Pathology. “I would think that he or the head of the pathology residency program would be able to talk some sense into her and get her to take her OCME rotation seriously. I mean, if nothing else, it’s damn disrespectful.”

“You know, maybe I should talk to her first,” Laurie said. Suddenly the idea that she could possibly prevent a problem between the OCME and the NYU Department of Pathology before it developed had a lot of appeal. Prevention was always vastly superior to cure.

“That’s probably the best approach,” Chet said. “The way she has responded to me makes me sense she’s not all that fond of men.”

“On second thought, better than just talking with her, maybe I should do a case with her. There’s a chance I could get her excited about forensic pathology. I’ve had some luck in the past. Our own Dr. Jennifer Hernandez is living proof.” When Jennifer was a teenager and having problems, Laurie arranged to have her come to the OCME as an extern. Not only did the experience turn her around, she ended up going to medical school and becoming a forensic pathologist.

“Now, that’s an idea,” he said. “If anybody could motivate her, you could. But I thought you didn’t do cases now that you’re chief.”

“This could be an exception,” she said, warming to the idea. It was only this morning that she was ruing the fact that she didn’t get to do forensics. Here was a good excuse to rectify that for a good cause, and she’d make sure it wasn’t publicized. “Tell Dr. Nichols when she comes in this morning that she will be working with me this afternoon and that I’m looking forward to meeting her. And check with the day ME to make sure I have a case to do, preferably an interesting one. And mum’s the word.”

“Got it,” he said. “About what time do you think you want to do this?”

“Let’s say, middle of the afternoon,” Laurie said, remembering all her commitments. It was also the time that the autopsy room was generally vacant.

“I’ll see that it happens,” Chet said.