Genesis

Chapter 32

May 10th

6:25 P.M.

More discouraged than when she arrived, Aria wandered out of the OCME front office and into the public lobby. A large group of people, half of whom were crying, were mostly congregating at the far end of the room. They were also occupying most of the ample seating. Aria stopped and observed them for a moment, feeling some kinship with their distress, although she was more irritably depressed than sad. Coming as close as she had to Lover Boy’s identity and yet still being denied success didn’t seem at all fair to her. Yet what could she do? Coming to the OCME in an attempt to snare Laurie’s help with the DA’s office had been the last gasp of her search for the missing father. Short of walking into the DA’s office herself come morning, which she was convinced would be a total waste of time, she had no more ideas except possibly going to the police. Unfortunately, David Goldberg had nixed that idea by explaining that the police didn’t like to make paperwork for themselves except when it was reasonably clear homicide was involved, which certainly didn’t include overdose cases.

All of the sudden one of the grief-stricken mourners let out a particularly loud wail that grated on Aria’s nerves. She glanced at the uniformed security guard, whose expression didn’t change, suggesting that he’d seen it all over the years and was immune. Aria felt otherwise, and quickly pushed out through the front door onto First Avenue. The scene in the lobby was making her feel more depressed.

Just being outside helped, despite the roar and exhaust of the rush-hour traffic. What made it somewhat pleasant was that the weather continued to be almost perfect, with the late-afternoon sun again bathing the tops of the buildings in a golden glow. Intending to summon a rideshare to get her over to the Upper West Side, Aria pulled out her phone. Once she did, she hesitated before opening the Uber app. Something about merely holding the phone keyed off the memory of having gotten the surprising text from Dr. Henderson while she was talking with David Goldberg two days ago. It had been just about the same time of day. Out of curiosity, she pulled up the message and reread it, which brought to mind the rather strange meeting she had with the head of Pathology that the text had initiated. What particularly popped into her mind was his being supportive of her search for Lover Boy and his interest in being kept up to date on her progress. He’d also expressed immediate fascination with her idea of using genetic genealogy when she’d mentioned it.

For a few moments she stared blindly into the chaotic traffic scene playing out in front of her while she thought about Dr. Carl Henderson. As the chief of the Department of Pathology at a major academic medical center, he was, by definition alone, a connected individual who might be not only willing to help but also possibly highly capable. As soon as the idea occurred to her, Aria wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Suddenly it seemed so obvious.

Without a second’s hesitation, Aria used the text from Carl to call him. It certainly wasn’t too late to be calling, especially since it had been slightly later when she’d called him two nights ago. With each ring, her optimism lessened, but then on the fourth, he picked up.

“Aria?”

“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time,” she said, even though she didn’t care if she was.

“Not at all,” Carl said. “What’s up?”

“I’m wondering if you might be free. I’ve made some significant progress in finding the missing lover, but I’ve hit up against a problem. I need to ask for your help, but I’d rather explain it to you in person. To explain it, I would like to show you something I think you will find fascinating.”

“This sounds intriguing. By all means, I can meet you. Are you in the neighborhood?”

“Yes, I’m at the OCME. Are you in your office?”

“No, but I could be in a matter of minutes,” Carl said. “I’m nearby in my lab. Coincidentally, your question about channelopathies and fentanyl keyed off my interest. Since there was nothing in the literature when I looked, I’m putting in for a grant to investigate the association.”

“I can be at your office in ten minutes,” Aria said, ignoring the channelopathy and fentanyl issue.

“Fine! See you there!” he said sprightly.

After pocketing her phone, Aria set out at a good pace, walking north. Once again, her mood had changed and was now on the upswing. Even so, she couldn’t help question why she hadn’t considered Dr. Henderson’s help before she had. It now seemed so intuitive.

With her newly regained motivation, she was on the floor where Carl had his office in just over five minutes. The scene was an exact repeat of when she’d visited last, including the same janitors vacuuming the carpet in the otherwise deserted office area. Even Dr. Henderson’s corner office door was ajar, and, also like that visit, Aria walked directly in without any hesitation. On this occasion Dr. Henderson saw her the moment she appeared and stood up and began to come around from behind his desk.

“Why don’t you stay at your desk, Dr. Henderson,” Aria half suggested, half commanded. She didn’t want a repeat of the couch scene. Besides, she wanted to be able to put the family tree diagrams she’d brought on the desk surface so Dr. Henderson could check them out to his satisfaction. She was certain he would find them captivating.

“Okay, fine by me,” Carl said with a shrug. “But I thought we had established that we’re on a first-name basis.”

“Whatever,” she said, even though she wasn’t happy about the familiarity it implied. Without asking permission, she grabbed one of the two straight-backed chairs from the office’s sitting area and brought it over in front of his desk. As she did so, she avoided looking at any of the various displayed memorabilia that reminded her of her father’s study back when she was a preteen. The moment she sat down, Carl did the same.

“This is a nice surprise,” Carl said. He leaned back in his ergonomic tiltable desk chair and briefly put his hands behind his head to stretch. Then he tipped forward again. “You’ve certainly stoked my curiosity. What have you brought to show me?”

Aria pulled out of her jacket pocket the two family trees, unfolded them, and smoothed them out. As she did so, the sound of the vacuum cleaners in the outer office reached a crescendo, meaning the janitors had reached the area just outside of his office. With an irritated shake of his head, Carl got up and closed his office door.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he retook his seat.

“Not a problem,” Aria said. She reached across the desk and placed the two diagrams side by side, directly in front of Carl. She then repeated almost word for word what she had told Laurie about what they represented.

After she finished her explanation, she fell silent and let him study the sheets. He was obviously totally absorbed. Finally, he looked up. “This is unbelievable,” he said in awe. “I’m shocked that you were able to find all this out so quickly. When you said you were going to use genetic genealogy in your search for the father of the fetus, I thought it might take months.”

“The credit goes to the computer geeks at a company called GenealogyDNA,” Aria said, “particularly with the help of one of the company’s founders, Vijay Srinivasan. I wouldn’t have been able to do it even if I had months.”

“To make sure I’m understanding,” Carl said, “these two family trees are really the family trees of the missing father, isn’t that correct?”

“Obviously,” she said. She restrained herself from adding something derogatory.

“Why is the embryo called Hansel?”

“Just disregard that,” Aria said. “It’s immaterial. It was just a label some computer techies came up with since there was no name attached to the fetus. The important thing to note is that Diane Hanna née Carlson is the missing father’s mother, and Eric Thompson is the father. That’s the long and short of it. Case closed!”

“That means the father’s name must be Thompson,” he said. “Why isn’t that written on these trees?” He raised his eyes to hers.

“I’m glad you asked,” Aria said. “On the phone I said I need your help. The last piece of this puzzle is the name of the fetus’s father. It has been determined that it is not Thompson because there was an adoption that has broken the genetic family tree away from the genealogical family tree. It seems that the father was an out-of-wedlock love child of Diane Carlson and Eric Thompson, neither of whom are willing even to acknowledge the blessed event.”

“You spoke to these people?” Carl asked, his awe of Aria’s investigative work magnifying dramatically. He went back and studied the family trees, which had him totally engrossed.

“I didn’t speak with Eric Thompson,” Aria admitted. “That was done by Vijay Srinivasan. But I did speak with Diane, whose surname is now Hanna. In fact, I was speaking with her just a little more than an hour ago.”

“Does she live here in the city?” Carl asked.

“On Fifth Avenue, overlooking the park,” she said. “I was just there.”

“Is she married to the well-known attorney Michael Hanna?” he questioned in wonderment.

“I have no idea,” Aria said. “Diane lives in decent splendor and acts and looks the part of a socialite, so I imagine her husband has some reasonably responsible position.”

Carl tipped back again in his chair and raised his eyes once again to look directly at her.

“Did you confront Diane Hanna with these family trees?” Carl asked.

“I never got to show them to her,” Aria said. “As soon as I told her that GenealogyDNA had determined she had a son that had been put up for adoption, it was the end of the conversation. She all but threw me out of her apartment.”

“Sounds like she has been trying to forget her wanton ways when she was young,” he said with an off-color chuckle.

“Something like that,” Aria said. “When I first walked in and got a look at her I didn’t have high hopes.”

“When you called you said you needed my help,” Carl said. “Are you thinking there might be a way for me to aid you with this final step of getting the surname of the father?”

“Exactly,” she said. “I wanted to ask you if by any chance you know someone who is acquainted with a New York district attorney.” She knew she could have said what she said in a less roundabout fashion, but she was hoping for any connection with the DA’s office, no matter how tenuous.

“That’s easy because I know someone particularly well,” Carl said with a broad smile. “Me! I’ve been friends with the Manhattan District Attorney Paul Sommers since we were in boarding school together. Why do you ask? How can the district attorney help?”

“New York State has strict rules governing adoption records, for obvious reasons,” Aria said. “But I’ve been told a district attorney can unseal the records. All we need is the adoptive family surname.”

“That shouldn’t be that difficult,” he said. “Actually, arranging it will provide me with a good excuse to get together with Paul. We’ve been trying for weeks, and this could be the reason to make it happen. Or better yet, I could stop in on my way home tonight. He’s been eager to show me the condo he bought recently at Fifteen Central Park West. It’s that gorgeous Robert Stern building on the corner of Sixty-First Street. Do you know which building I’m talking about?”

“I do,” Aria said. “It’s in my neighborhood. I live on Seventieth Street between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue.”

“You and two other of our residents live on the Upper West Side,” Carl said. “I remember when my wife and I were going over the resident list. I believe you are at Forty-five West Seventieth, if my memory serves me.”

“That’s right,” she said. She was impressed. “It’s a good neighborhood with restaurants and services a half block away on Columbus Avenue and the park close by in the other direction.”

“I really have to compliment you on your forensic work,” Carl said. He placed the flat of his hand on the Thompson family tree. “I can’t get over these genealogical family trees you’ve managed to come up with. It’s really been a terrific job. Tell me, have you changed your mind about forensics? Do you possibly see it in your future?”

“Hell, no!” Aria said. “Personally, I can’t stand it. The patients might be dead but dealing with the families is a pain. No, it’s probably the last pathology subspecialty I’d consider. But I have to say that this investigation has been captivating, even if it’s also been frustrating.”

“Has Dr. Montgomery been kept up to speed with your work on this case?” he asked.

“She has,” Aria said. “In fact, I was just in talking with her before calling you.”

“Has she seen these family trees?” Carl asked. “And is she as impressed as I am?”

“Yes, she’s seen the diagrams,” Aria said. “And she seemed impressed, but not as much as you. She’s more worried about possible fallout from my having gone over and talking to Diane Hanna. But I truly don’t think that there’s going to be any fallout. I can’t imagine Diane is going to complain to anyone because it risks exposing herself.”

“Has anyone else outside of the genealogy company seen these family tree diagrams?” Carl asked.

“Nope,” Aria said. “Just Dr. Montgomery a few minutes ago.”

“Did you ask her about interceding for you with the district attorney’s office?”

“I did, but she said she wanted to think about it over the weekend and let me know on Monday or Tuesday. She’s preoccupied because she is scheduled to have major surgery tomorrow.” Aria remembered that Laurie had told her not to say anything to anyone about her surgery, but what did it matter and how was she to know?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Is she having her surgery here at NYU?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I hope the surgery goes smoothly,” Carl said. “But this way, with me picking up the slack, I can assure you the records will get unsealed. I’m certain that my contact with Paul Sommers will be far superior to anything that Dr. Montgomery might be able to provide, regardless of her decision.”

“No doubt,” Aria said.

“Do you mind if I keep these family trees?” Carl asked. He held them up in the air. “I’d like to show them to Paul so that he can see exactly why the adoption records must be unsealed.”

“No problem,” Aria said. “You can even give them to him, if you’d like. And if he’d like to talk to me, I can make myself available.” She had to make an effort to restrain her excitement. This was suddenly turning out so much better than she could have imagined.

“I have a request,” he said. “This case is turning out so interesting, I think I’d like to have you present it at one of our Thursday Grand Rounds. I think the whole department would be interested. What do you say? We could even project the family tree diagrams on the big screen so you could explain exactly how they were constructed.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. She believed the idea had merit, but she never liked the extra work involved in preparing for Grand Rounds. “Thank you for being willing to help in this final stage. I wasn’t sure you would since from the start of the Kera Jacobsen case, you’ve been afraid of the tabloids getting hold of the story. If it turns out that the father of the fetus did play any role in Kera’s overdose, the tabloids certainly will be back in the picture.”

“Frankly, we’re not as concerned about that as we were,” Carl said. “Mainly because Vernon Pierce is less concerned, which is the reason I was concerned in the first place. It seems that the second death, the subway tragedy, has made the media sympathetic to our cause. It’s as if by our loss, we’re getting the credit for underlining the need for our subway system to be upgraded and made safer.”

Aria stood up. “Thank you for helping, Dr. Henderson,” she said. “You’ve saved the day.”

“My name is Carl. I think it’s you, Aria, who has saved the day by coming to me.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Needless to say, I’d like to hear the moment the DA agrees to unseal the records.”

“Absolutely,” he said, while he jokingly held up his index and middle fingers to form a V. “I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”