Marker

fourteen

WHEN LAURIE GOT OVER TO the Manhattan General Hospital, she was ushered directly into Roger's office, where he was waiting for her. The first thing he did was close the door. Then he gave her a sustained, silent hug. Laurie hugged him back, but not with equivalent ardor. On top of the residuals from the marriage flap, she knew she wasn't going to be entirely forthright with him about her own situation, and it made her feel self-conscious. If he noticed her restraint, he didn't mention it. After the embrace, he turned his two straight-backed chairs around to face each other just as he had done the day before. He had Laurie sit in one, and he took the other.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I missed you last night." He was leaning forward into her space with his hands clasped and his elbows on his knees. Laurie was close enough to smell his aftershave lotion. His day was just beginning. His fresh shirt still had the telltale creases from the laundry box.

"I'm glad to see you, too," Laurie said. She reached out and handed him the investigative reports and the death certificates on the six cases from Queens. She hadn't had time to make copies, but it didn't matter. She could just as easily download them again. By giving him the material, she hoped to deflect the conversation away from her mental state, at least for the moment. Besides, she was eager to tell him her idea.

Roger scanned the pages quickly. "My word! They do seem similar to ours, even to the extent of occurring at around the same time in the morning."

"That's my take. I'll know more details when I get the hospital charts. But for the sake of the discussion, let's assume they are mirror images. Does that suggest anything to you?"

Roger looked down at the papers, thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "It means the number of cases has doubled. We now have twelve cases, not six. No, we have thirteen, including the death last night. I assume you've heard about Clark Mulhausen. Are you going to be doing the autopsy?"

"No, Jack is doing it," Laurie said. She had told Roger a little about Jack during their five-week courtship, including the fact that she and Jack had been lovers. When Laurie had first met Roger, she had described herself as "mostly unattached." Later, when she and Roger had gotten to know each other better, she had admitted that she had used that particular description of herself because of unresolved issues with Jack. She had even gone to the extent of confiding that the problem involved Jack's reluctance to make a commitment. Roger had accepted the news with great equanimity, which had enhanced Laurie's estimation of his maturity and self-confidence, and the issue had never resurfaced.

"Look at the dates on the Queens cases," Laurie suggested.

Roger again glanced through the papers then looked up. "They were all in the late fall of last year. The last one was in the latter part of November."

"Exactly," Laurie said. "They were clumped pretty close together, at a frequency of slightly more than one a week. Then they stopped. Does that suggest anything to you?"

"I suppose, but it sounds like you have something specific in mind. Why don't you tell me?"

"Fair enough, but first listen! You and I are the only ones who suspect we might be dealing with a serial killer, but we've been effectively gagged. I can't get the OCME to take a stand on the manner of death, and you can't get the hospital authorities even to admit there's a problem. What we're fighting here is institutional inertia. Both bureaucracies would rather sweep the issue under the rug until something forces their hand."

"I can't argue with that."

"What's held us so effectively in check from your side is that your hospital has such a good mortality rate that these deaths aren't appearing on the radar. From my side, it is the failure of toxicology."

"They still haven't found anything remotely suspicious?"

Laurie shook her head. "And the chances they might in the near future just took a nosedive. I'm afraid our crotchety laboratory director discovered my undercover effort this morning. If I know him, from now on he'll make sure that any further work on our cases will go to the very back of the queue. And even when he does get around to them, he's surely not going to do anything special."

"So, where are you going with all this?"

"It means it's up to us alone to try to root out this possible serial killer, and we'd better do something if we're going to prevent any more senseless deaths."

"We've known that practically from day one."

"Yes, but up until now we have tried to work within the constraints of our institutions and our job descriptions. I think we have to try something else, and it seems to me these cases from Queens present an opportunity. If these deaths are homicides, my guess is that there is one serial killer, not two or more."

"I suppose I had assumed as much."

"Since Saint Francis is another AmeriCare institution you should have reasonable access to their personnel database. You're in the perfect position to get personnel information. What we need is a list of people, from janitors to anesthesiologists, who worked the eleven-to-seven shift at Saint Francis in the fall and Manhattan General in the winter. Once we have the list, then we could check the people out. This is where my idea gets a little fuzzy, but if we could come up with a couple of credible suspects, then maybe we'll be able to get the hospital or the OCME to take a stand."

A slight smile played across Roger's craggy face as he nodded. "An elegant ideal I'm glad I thought of it." He laughed and gave Laurie's thigh a playful pat. "You make it sound so simple. But that's okay. I think I should be able to cajole that kind of information out of someone, and wouldn't it be interesting if it really came to something? I mean, I wonder if there really will be such a list. I know another list that exists for sure, a list of the professional staff with admitting privileges at both institutions. I have direct access to it as chief of the medical staff."

"That might even be a better idea than mine," Laurie admitted. "If I were asked who I would consider the most likely suspect in the hospital community, I'd have to say a deranged doctor. It's passed through my mind that if these deaths are homicides, then whoever is responsible must have a significant knowledge of physiology, pharmacology, and maybe even forensics. Otherwise, we'd already know how he or she is pulling it off."

"And we both know which group of doctors is the most knowledgeable in those regards."

"Who?"

"Anesthesiologists."

Laurie nodded. It was true that anesthesiologists would be the most skillful at dispatching patients, yet despite her comments, she had trouble believing as a doctor herself that a doctor could be behind the killings. It seemed so contrary to a doctor's role, but then again, it was contrary to the role of all healthcare professionals. And, of course, there was the staggering case in England of a doctor suspected of murdering upwards of two hundred people.

"How about jumping on this idea," Laurie suggested. "I know it's Friday, and people are not excited about having a new task plopped in their laps just before the weekend. But we have to do something, and we have to do it fast, and not only because it might prevent more deaths. It might be that our supposed serial killer is also smart enough to know that it would be safer for him to move to another hospital after a certain number of episodes. The assumption here is that he has moved once after six episodes, so there's reason to believe he could move again after seven. If he does, then our equivalent colleagues at some other hospital, maybe even in another city, will be starting from square one. That was one of the reasons that the other recent, infamous healthcare serial killer here in the metropolitan area wasn't caught for so long."

"Hey, Queens might not have been his first hospital."

"You're right," Laurie said with a shiver. "I never thought of that."

"I'll get right on it," Roger promised.

"I'm on call all weekend," Laurie said, "which means I'll probably be at the OCME, so call me there. Whatever I can do to help, I'd be happy to do. I know the whole process will be more difficult than I have suggested."

"We'll see. Maybe I'll be able to find a computer nerd in personnel who could help us." Roger aligned the pages Laurie had given him. "Now, I have something rather interesting to tell you about our cases. By chance, I've uncovered a curious commonality."

"Oh?" Laurie questioned. She was fascinated. "What is it?"

"Now, I don't mean to suggest that this is significant, but it holds for all seven cases, including Mulhausen last night. All of them were relatively recent AmeriCare subscribers, having joined the plan within the year. I actually discovered it by accident, looking at their subscriber numbers."

For a moment, Laurie stared at Roger, and Roger stared back. Laurie mulled over this new fact and tried to think how it could be connected. Nothing came to mind although it reminded her of Jack's comment the day before during the afternoon conference when he learned St. Francis, another AmeriCare institution, had seemingly had a similar series of deaths like hers. He'd said, "The plot thickens." She'd not had a chance to ask him what he had meant, nor did she follow up this morning when he'd said the new cases "cast a pall over AmeriCare," but now that Roger had told her this new fact, she was even more eager to ask him to explain. Laurie knew that Jack had a visceral hatred for AmeriCare, which colored his thinking, but still, he was smart and also intuitive.

"I really don't know if this is significant," Roger repeated. "But it is curious."

"Then it has to be significant in some form or fashion," Laurie said. "But I don't know how. These victims have all been young and healthy. AmeriCare actively recruits such customers. It's to their detriment to lose them."

"I know. It doesn't make sense, but I thought I should inform you anyway."

"I'm glad you did," Laurie said. She stood up. "Well, I've got to get back. The reason I'm not doing Mulhausen's autopsy is that I was supposed to go right up to my office and sign out McGillin and Morgan's deaths as being natural this very morning."

"Not so fast!" Roger said. He caught Laurie's arm and, with a little pressure, eased her back down into her seat. "You're not getting away that easy. But first, who's forcing you to sign out the cases as natural?"

"The deputy chief, Calvin Washington. He claims that the Chief, Harold Bingham, is getting pressure from the mayor's office."

Roger shook his head. He had a disgusted expression on his face. "I'm not surprised, considering what the hospital president said to me yesterday. He said that I should know for my own good that AmeriCare wants this problem to fade into the woodwork."

"That's hardly surprising. It would be a PR nightmare. But how does it come through the mayor's office?"

"I'm new to the organization, but I've gotten the sense that AmeriCare puts a lot of stock on being politically connected, as evidenced by them landing the city contract. I don't have to remind you that healthcare is big business, and there's always a lot of lobbying going on about a myriad of issues."

Laurie nodded as if she understood, but she didn't. "I'm going to sign them out as natural deaths, but I'm hoping with your help I'll be changing the certificates in the near future."

"Enough of this business talk," Roger said. "More important, how are you? I've been really concerned, and frankly, I've had to hold myself back from calling you every fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry I've made you concerned," Laurie said as her mind frantically searched for a way to placate Roger without lying and without telling him the crux of the problem. "But as I said yesterday, I'm holding my own. It's just a difficult time for me."

"I understand. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I had been told I had a marker for a gene that was associated with developing cancer and then allowed to walk out the door. The burgeoning field of medical genetics has to come up with a better way to present this kind of information to patients than they do now, along with some reasonable cures."

"As someone who's in the process of going through it, I'd have to agree, although the social worker did make an attempt. But American medicine has always been like that. Technology has been the driving force, pulling the sociology of patient care behind."

"I wish I knew how to be more supportive for you."

"I'm afraid at the moment you really can't be. I'm caught up in my own personal odyssey. But that doesn't mean I'm not appreciative of your thoughts, and you have been supportive."

"What about tonight? Can we get together?"

Laurie peered into Roger's pale eyes. It bothered her that she wasn't being forthright, but she could not get herself to tell him she was pregnant and was having dinner with Jack because she and Jack had conceived a child. It wasn't that she thought he couldn't handle it, because she thought he could. It was more because of her sense of privacy, and until she told Jack, she didn't want to share it with anyone, even someone she cared for, such as Roger.

"We could have an early dinner," Roger urged. "We don't even have to talk about the BRCA issue if you don't want to. Maybe I'll already have some personnel data from here or Saint Francis. I mean, it's possible I could get some, even though, as you say, it's Friday."

"Roger, with everything that has happened to me recently, I need some space, at least for a few days. That's the kind of support I need. Can you try to live with that?"

"Yes, but I don't like it."

"I appreciate your understanding. Thank you." Laurie stood up again, and Roger did the same.

"Can I at least call you?"

"I suppose, but I don't know how much I'll want to talk. Maybe it would be better for me to call you. I'm taking it a day at a time."

Roger nodded and Laurie did the same. There was a brief, awkward moment of silence before Roger reached out and gave Laurie another hug. Her response was as restrained as it had been earlier. Laurie flashed a weak smile and started to leave.

"One other question," Roger said. He stepped between Laurie and the door. "Does any part of this 'difficult time' you've described have anything to do with my still being married?"

"To be honest, I suppose a small amount," Laurie admitted.

"I certainly regret not telling you, and I'm sorry. I know I should have earlier on, but at first it seemed presumptuous you'd care. I mean, I'd gotten to the point I didn't care myself, like it was a non-issue. Then, when we got to know each other, and I'd fallen in love, and I knew you would care, I was embarrassed for not having told you sooner."

"Thank you for apologizing and explaining. I'm sure it will help put the issue behind us."

"That's my hope," Roger said. He gave Laurie's shoulder a tender squeeze, then opened his office door. "We'll talk."

Laurie nodded. "For sure," she agreed, and then walked out.

Roger watched Laurie wend her way among the desks and start down the long corridor. He watched her until she was out of sight, then closed his door. As he moved around his desk and sat down, her scent wafted in the air like a wraith. He was concerned about her, and he was worried that he'd botched their relationship by not being forthright with her, and, more damning, he hadn't come clean. He was still holding back things that she had the right to know if their relationship was to grow, and, worse yet, he wasn't telling her the truth about things that he'd already told her. Contrary to what he had suggested, there were unresolved aspects of his relationship with his wife, including unrequited love on his part, which he had not had the courage to tell Laurie, even though she had had the courage to tell him something similar regarding her former boyfriend, Jack.

Roger's biggest secret from everyone, including his current employers, was that he was a former addict. While in Thailand, he had fallen into the trap of heroin addiction. It had started innocently enough, as a kind of experiment ostensibly so he could better understand and treat patients with the problem. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the drug's seductiveness and his own weaknesses, especially since the heroin was so freely available. It was at this time that his wife and children left him for the protection of her powerful family. It was also the reason he was transferred to Africa and eventually dismissed from the organization. And even though he had gone through an extensive program of rehabilitation and had been reasonably drug-free for years, the specter of the addiction problem still haunted him every day. One problem was that he knew he drank too much. He loved wine and was surreptitiously drinking at least a bottle a night, which made him worry that he was allowing alcohol to become a substitute for heroin. As a physician, particularly one who'd gone through rehab, he knew the risks.

Roger would have agonized longer, but luckily he had the series of suspicious deaths to occupy his thoughts. Although he had been curious about them on his own, it was Laurie's commitment to them that had fanned his interest. He'd used the series to foster a relationship with her, and it had worked superbly. As the weeks had gone by, he'd become enthralled with her and began to think that his idea of coming back to the States to salvage some kind of normal life with a new wife, new kids, and the proverbial white picket fence were within his grasp. Then, with a slip of the tongue, disaster had struck. Now he needed the series more than ever as a kind of glue to hold things together. The sooner he got the employee lists she suggested, the better. If he was really lucky and came up with something, he could call her that evening and take it over to her apartment.

Roger used the intercom on the phone to get in touch with Caroline, the most efficient secretary. He asked her to come into his office. Next, he got out the hospital phone directory and looked up the director of the human resources department. His name was Bruce Martin. Roger copied down his extension number, and while he was doing so, Caroline appeared and hovered expectantly in the doorway.

"I need some names and phone numbers over at Saint Francis hospital," Roger called out. His voice reflected his sudden zeal. "I want to talk to the chief of the medical staff and the director of human resources as soon as possible."

"Should I get them on the line," Caroline asked, "or do you want to make the call yourself?"

"Get them on the line!" Roger ordered. "Meanwhile, I'll have a quick chat with our own Mr. Bruce Martin."

As Laurie came through the front door of the OCME office, she glanced at her watch. She was appalled. It was almost noon. The taxi ride from the Manhattan General Hospital had taken an incredible hour and a half. She shook her head. New York could be like that, with all of midtown snarled in traffic like an enormous blood clot. The driver had explained that some major dignitary was in town, although he didn't know whom. Unfortunately, the visit required certain streets to be closed off for the motorcade. As soon as that happened, the entire central portion of the city came to a screeching halt.

Marlene buzzed Laurie in through the main door such that Laurie had to pass the administration area. She was afraid to look through open door, lest Calvin catch sight of her. If she had known she was going to be gone for so long, she would have filled out the two pesky death certificates before she left.

Luckily, the elevator was waiting, so Laurie didn't have to stand fully exposed in the main hall to anyone coming out of administration. As she rode up, she wondered if Roger would follow up on her suggestion and do the detective work she proposed. The more she thought about the idea, the more optimistic she became that it would lead to something. But even if it didn't, it would at least give her the feeling that something was being done about the problem. She didn't even want to think about the individual tragedies that the deaths of young, healthy people in the prime of their lives were causing for their families and loved ones.

Getting off on the fifth floor, Laurie walked quickly down to her office. The door was ajar. Riva was there but on the phone. Laurie hung up her coat and sat down. Centered on her blotter were a series of Post-it notes in Riva's crisp handwriting. Three said merely "Jack came in." Two said "Calvin came in," followed by several exclamation points. The final one said to call Cheryl Meyers.

Hastily, Laurie opened the drawer where she kept the material from her potential serial-killer series and pulled out the McGillin and Morgan folders. From each she took the partially completed death certificates, then reached for a pen. The first certificate was McGillin's, and she positioned the pen over the place on the form where she had to indicate the manner of death. But she hesitated as a mental battle raged between her responsibility of duty as ordered by a superior and her sense of ethics. For her, it was akin to a soldier being ordered to do something that wasn't right, for which he could be held responsible. The only saving grace was that in Laurie's situation, it was not an irrevocable act, and it could be changed. With a sigh, she completed both forms.

At that point, Riva hung up her phone and spun around. "Where have you been? I've tried your cell phone a dozen times."

"I was over at the Manhattan General," Laurie said. She opened her bag, felt around for her phone, took it out, and checked the LCD screen. "Well, that's the explanation why I didn't get your call. I can't seem to remember to turn the blasted thing on. I'm sorry."

"Calvin's been in here twice. I wrote two notes so you'd get the message if you came in when I wasn't here. To say the least, he's not very happy you disappeared."

"I know what it's about," Laurie said as she held up the two death certificates. "This is what he was looking for, so all should be okay."

"I hope so. He was fit to be tied."

"I see Jack stopped by as well."

"That's the understatement of the year. He was here twenty times. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But even he got a little sarcastic with his comments toward the end."

Laurie inwardly groaned. After the effort she'd expended getting Jack to agree to have dinner that night, she hoped her absence hadn't frustrated him enough that he'd call off their date. "Did Jack say what he wanted?"

"No! Just that he was looking for you. As for the last message from Cheryl, she said it wasn't important, but for you to give her a call."

Laurie got up, clutching the two death certificates. "Thanks for being a messenger service. I owe you."

"It wasn't a problem," Riva said. "But out of curiosity, what were you doing over at the Manhattan General for so long?"

"Actually, I spent more time in the taxis than I did at the hospital. But I went over there because I had an idea that might help with my supposed serial-killer series."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later. Right now, I'm going to take these death certificates down to Calvin in person to smooth the waters."

"What should I say to Jack if he happens to come by yet again?"

"Tell him I'll be stopping by his office after I see Calvin."

Laurie retraced her steps to the elevator, feeling a twinge of guilt about not sharing her most current problem with Riva. Yet short of the OB office, she knew she didn't want to tell anyone that she was pregnant until she'd told Jack. Of course, she knew that if sharing it with Jack turned out to be as bad as it could possibly be, she might not be sharing it with anyone else.

As the elevator descended, Laurie glanced at the now-completed death certificates. Even though they could be changed, and in her estimation probably would, it still bothered her that she'd been forced to compromise her professionalism by filling them out as she had. It seemed to her that kowtowing to the needs of bureaucracy was not only ethically repugnant but also a disservice to the memory of the victims.

Once in administration, Laurie had to sit on the couch to wait. Calvin's door was closed, and his secretary, Connie Egan, told her the deputy chief was closeted with a police captain. Laurie wondered if it was Michael O'Rourke, Lou's immediate boss, who was an in-law to the Manhattan General mugging victim. While she waited, she thought about what she was going to say to Jack. If he'd been looking for her as hard as Riva had suggested, it was inevitable he'd ask where she'd been. If he were as jealous as Lou suggested, it was not going to help if he learned that Laurie had gone over to see Roger immediately after getting Jack to commit to having dinner. Yet Laurie promised herself that she wasn't going to fall into the trap of lying.

Thinking about Jack reminded her that she'd not made a dinner reservation. Since it was now afternoon, she knew it was an appropriate time. She eyed the phone on the side table next to where she was sitting. With no one paying her any heed, Laurie called Riva to get the number from her address book on her desk, and then put in the call. As she expected, the restaurant was heavily booked, and Laurie had to settle for a five-forty-five reservation.

Calvin's door opened and a bulky, quintessentially Irish-appearing police officer in his dress blues emerged. He shook hands with Calvin, nodded to Connie and even Laurie, put on his hat, and left. As Laurie's eyes turned back to Calvin, she found herself transfixed by his stare.

"Get in here!" Calvin barked.

Laurie got to her feet and sheepishly passed him to stand inside his office. Calvin shut his door, came over to Laurie, and snatched the papers from her hands. He leaned his backside against his desk while he checked the certificates. Satisfied, he tossed them onto his desk.

"It's about time," Calvin said. "Where the hell have you been? I gave you a paper day to do paperwork, not to go gallivanting around."

"I made what I thought was going to be a quick visit to the Manhattan General Hospital. Unfortunately, the traffic didn't cooperate, and it turned into a much longer errand than I'd expected."

Calvin eyed Laurie suspiciously. "And what were you doing over there, if I may ask?"

"I was talking with the gentleman I mentioned yesterday, the chief of the medical staff."

"You're not going to do anything that will turn out to be an embarrassment to the department, I trust."

"Not that I can imagine. I gave him the information about the Queens cases. It's in his hands to do whatever he thinks is appropriate."

"I don't want to hear you're overstepping your bounds like you've done in the past."

"As I said yesterday, I've learned my lesson." Laurie knew she was again being less than forthright.

"I should hope so. Now get your butt upstairs and sign out the rest of your cases or you'll be out pounding the pavement for alternative employment."

Laurie nodded respectfully and left Calvin's office. She was relieved. She had expected the worst, but the visit turned out to be surprisingly tame. She wondered if Calvin was mellowing.

While she was on the first floor, Laurie poked her head into the forensic investigators' office to see if she could save herself a call. She found Cheryl busy at her desk and asked her what was on her mind.

"I just wanted to let you know that I called Saint Francis and changed the chart request to urgent."

"Shucks! When I saw your message, I was hoping maybe you'd gotten them already."

Cheryl laughed. "Overnight hospital-chart service? That'll be the day! We'll be lucky to see them in a couple of weeks, even with the urgent classification."

Laurie went back to the front elevator, and as she waited, she wondered if it would be helpful if Roger intervened as far as the charts were concerned. In the back of her mind, she had the sense that somewhere in the charts from either St. Francis or the Manhattan General, there would be some hidden piece of information that would be the keystone of the mystery.

Gaining the fifth floor, Laurie hesitated for a moment, building up her courage. She wanted to drop in to Jack's office to talk with him but was concerned about what she'd be confronting, after what Riva had said. Although Laurie accepted that the current estrangement with Jack was largely her fault due to the affair with Roger, it didn't make it any easier. At the same time, she was not about to apologize.

Taking a fortifying breath, Laurie started down the hall. In contrast to the day before, she didn't hesitate. She let her momentum carry her all the way into the room, where she found both Jack and Chet bent over their respective desks, peering into their microscopes. Although she hadn't been trying, she'd come in silently, such that neither man knew she was there.

"I'd be willing to bet five bucks I'm right," Jack was saying.

"You're on," Chet responded.

"Excuse me!" Laurie called.

With obvious surprise, both men's heads bobbed up and turned to face their visitor.

"Forsooth!" Jack exclaimed. "Speak of the devil! The ghost of the missing Dr. Montgomery has just materialized in our midst."

"Miraculous!" Chet added. He drew back, pretending to be terrified.

"Come on, you guys!" Laurie said. "I'm in no mood to be made fun of."

"Thank God she's real!" Jack said as if relieved. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead in the stereotypical fainting gesture.

In a similar fashion, Chet put his hand to his chest as if he were experiencing palpitations.

"Come on! Knock it off!" Laurie said while looking from one to the other. It seemed to her that they were carrying the charade a bit too far.

"We thought you were gone for good," Chet explained with a snicker. "The rumor was that it had been a sudden dematerialization. As the day's scheduler, I was supposed to know where you were, but I had no idea. Even Marlene in reception didn't see you leave."

"Marlene had stepped away from her desk when I went out," Laurie said. It was apparent to her that her absence had been the subject of speculation, which, under the circumstances, was not a good sign.

"We're all a little curious about where you did go, since, according to Calvin, you were supposed to be in your office."

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" Laurie asked, hoping a bit of humor would deflect the question. She looked directly at Jack. "Riva said you stopped by, so I'm returning the favor. Was there something specific on your mind?"

"I was going to give you the final lowdown on Mulhausen's autopsy," Jack said. "But first, we are all truly curious about where you so mysteriously went. Can't you fill us in? We've got a lot of money riding on it."

Laurie's eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. They were watching her expectantly. This was the question she feared, and she frantically tried to think up an appropriate response without lying. Nothing came to mind.

"I went over to the Manhattan General Hospital -" Laurie began, but Jack cut her off.

"Bingo!" Jack said. He pointed at Chet with his fingers positioned to make his hand appear like a gun. "You owe me five bucks, hotshot."

Chet rolled his eyes in apparent disappointment, shifted his weight to get his wallet out of his back pocket, and plopped a five-dollar bill in Jack's waiting hand.

Jack clutched the money triumphantly and looked back at Laurie. "Looks like I get to profit from your assignation after all."

Laurie felt her ire rising, but she held it in check. She didn't like this public gamesmanship at her expense. "I went over to the Manhattan General because I had an idea that might solve the mystery of my serial-killer series."

"Oh, sure!" Jack said. "And just by coincidence, you had to share this idea with your current flame."

"I think I'll head down and get some coffee," Chet said, hastily getting to his feet.

"You don't have to go on my accord," Laurie said.

"I think I will just the same," Chet responded. "It's time for lunch." He stepped out of the office and pulled the door shut behind him.

For a moment, Laurie and Jack eyed each other.

"Let's put it this way," Jack said, breaking the silence. "I find it demeaning that you would spend considerable effort convincing me to have dinner with you and then immediately disappear for four hours to see the man with whom you are currently having an affair."

"I can understand, and I'm sorry. It didn't dawn on me that it would affect you like this."

"Oh, please! Put yourself in my position!"

"Well, after the fact, I must admit I was afraid you would ask where I had gone. But, Jack, I went only for the reason I said. The Queens cases gave me an idea of how I might be able to come up with a list of potential suspects. It was not a tryst. Don't belittle me with that kind of talk!"

Jack tossed Chet's five-dollar bill onto his desk, lowered his eyes, and rubbed his forehead.

"Jack, believe me! Part of the reason I had the idea I did was your comments about the plot thickening and a pall being over AmeriCare. In fact, I wanted to ask you what you meant specifically."

"I'm not sure I had anything specific in mind," Jack said without taking his hand from his forehead. "It's just that if your series jumps to thirteen cases at two hospitals, both of which are AmeriCare institutions, it makes you wonder."

Laurie nodded. "I thought you had something about managed care in mind. If these are murders, I'm getting the impression they are not random. The demographics are too similar. For instance, I learned today that all of them, at least those at the Manhattan General, have been relatively recent AmeriCare subscribers. How that fits into the picture, I haven't a clue."

Jack took his hand away and looked up at Laurie. "So you're now thinking this might be some kind of conspiracy thing?"

Laurie nodded. "I thought that was what you were implying from your comments."

"Not really, and from a capitation standpoint, it doesn't make sense, so it can't have anything to do with managed care per se. On the other hand, medicine has become big business, and AmeriCare is one enormous organization. That means there are actuarial types and their bosses who are so far removed from patient care that they forget what the product of the company ultimately is. They see everything in terms of numbers."

"That may be true," Laurie said, "but getting rid of new, healthy subscribers is diametrically counterproductive to any actuarial goal."

"It might seem that way to us, but my point is that there are people involved, at high levels, whom we cannot hope to understand. Some kind of conspiracy still could be involved whose rationale might not be immediately apparent."

"Maybe so," Laurie said vaguely. She was disappointed. She thought Jack might have something specific to offer.

Laurie and Jack gazed at each other for a few beats. It was Jack who broke the silence. "Let me ask you something straight-out that I alluded to down in the pit. Is this dinner date tonight some kind of elaborate setup to tell me you're getting married, because if it is, I'm going to go ballistic. I just want to warn you about that."

Laurie didn't answer right away, because the comment reminded her of how complicated everything in her life had become. It was hard for her to keep everything and everybody in perspective.

"This silence is not giving me a good feeling," Jack warned.

"I am not getting married!" Laurie said with sudden vehemence, jabbing her finger at Jack. "I told you that in no uncertain terms down in the autopsy room. I told you that I needed to talk to you about something that involves you and me and no one else."

"I don't think you included that 'no one else' part down in the pit."

"Well, I am now!" Laurie barked.

"All right, all right. Calm down! I'm the one that's supposed to be upset, not you."

"You'd be upset if you were me."

"Now, that's a statement I can't interpret without a bit more information. But, you know, Laurie, I hate to see us going at each other like this. We're like two blind people flailing away in the dark."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Well, then, why don't you tell me whatever it is you need to tell me and put it behind us."

"I don't want to talk about it here in this setting. I want to be away from the OCME. It has nothing to do with work, and I don't want to be here. I made a reservation at Elios at five-forty-five."

"Whoa! Is that going to be dinner or a late lunch?"

"Very funny," Laurie said impatiently. "I warned you it might have to be early. It's Friday night, and they are booked. I was lucky to get what I did. Are you going to be there or not?"

"I'll be there, but it's going to be a big sacrifice. Warren is going to be disappointed I won't be showing up on the basketball court for the big Friday-night run. Well, actually, that's a lie. I've been playing so poorly since you left that he won't have me on his team. I've become a relative persona non grata on my own court."

"I'll see you at Elios," Laurie said, "provided you deign to show up." She turned and walked out of the office.

Jack leaped from his chair, and, holding onto the doorjamb, he leaned out into the hall. Laurie was already a good distance down the corridor in the direction of her office. There was no hesitancy in her step, and she was moving at a good clip. "Hey," he called out. "Saying it was a sacrifice meeting you for dinner was supposed to be a joke!"

Laurie didn't slow or turn around and soon disappeared from view into her office.

Jack righted himself and regained his desk chair. He wondered if he had overdone his sarcasm. He shrugged because, knowing himself, it would have been hard for him not to do otherwise. Such repartee had become his defense against the uncertainties of life. In the current situation, he feared he was going to be blindsided by Laurie in some form or fashion. He had no idea what was on Laurie's mind. Yet Lou's comment that she wanted to patch things up still resonated and gave him a sliver of hope.

The combination of street basketball and work was usually Jack's solace, and with basketball not as satisfying, as he'd explained to Laurie, work had taken over. During the previous five weeks, Jack had been a virtual workhorse. Within the time frame of slightly more than a month, he'd gone from Calvin's nightmare in respect to getting cases signed out to Calvin's darling. Not only was Jack doing significantly more cases than anyone else, he was getting them out faster. Jack returned to his microscope and the trays of slides he'd just brought down from histology that morning.

Time flew by. Chet returned, and Jack insisted that Chet take back his fiver with the explanation that the bet hadn't been fair be- cause Jack had been a hundred percent certain. After a time, Chet had gone out again, but Jack labored on. The progress he made calmed him and gave him a sense of satisfaction, but best of all, it made it possible not to think about Laurie.

"Hey, come up for air," a voice said, breaking Jack's concentration. He'd been staring at a strange hepatic parasite he'd stumbled onto in the liver of a gunshot-wound case. He looked up to see Lou Soldano standing in his doorway. "I've been watching you for five minutes, and you haven't moved a damn muscle."

Jack waved the detective into the office with one hand while he turned Chet's chair around with the other.

Lou sat down heavily and tossed his hat onto Chet's desk. He was wearing his usual sleep-deprived face such that he had wrinkled his forehead to keep his eyes open.

"I just heard the good news," Lou said. "I think it's great."

"What are you talking about?"

"I just stuck my head in Laurie's office. She told me you and she have a date tonight at Elios and that she asked you out. What did I tell you? She wants to get back together."

"Did she tell you that specifically?"

"No, not specifically, but come on! I mean, she asked you out to dinner."

"She said she wanted to tell me something, but maybe it's something I don't want to hear."

"God, what a pessimist! You sound as bad as me. The woman loves you."

"Yeah, well, it's news to me! How did she happen to tell you we have a date, anyway?"

"I asked her. I don't hide the fact that I want you two back together, and she knows it."

"We'll see," Jack said. "Meanwhile, what's on your mind?"

"The freaking Chapman case, of course. We've been working flat out and have interviewed just about everybody over at the hospital. Unfortunately, nobody saw anybody suspicious, not that that's so strange. But we've got nothing. I was hoping that you might have come up with something. I know my captain came over to talk with Calvin Washington."

"That's weird. Calvin doesn't know anything about the case, and he didn't talk with me."

Lou shrugged. "I thought maybe you had. Anyway, do you have anything at all?"

"I haven't gotten the slides back, but they're not going to tell us anything. You got the slugs, which I think is about all you're going to get from the autopsy. What about the positioning of the victim and the fact that whoever shot her was probably sitting in the car? Are you working on the angle that the victim might have known the perpetrator?"

"We're working every angle. I tell you, we are interviewing everybody that had access to that garage. The problem is, we have no prints. Except for the shell casings, we've got nothing!"

"Sorry not to have been more help," Jack said. "On another subject, did Laurie say anything about her series of suspicious deaths that I mentioned to you yesterday?"

"No, she didn't."

"I'm surprised," Jack said. "Things are hopping in that regard. She's up to seven cases now at the Manhattan General, including one I posted today, plus she's come across six others at a hospital out in Queens."

"Interesting."

"I think it's more than interesting. In fact, I'm starting to believe she's was right about this from the start. I think she might be on to a serial killer."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding! So maybe you'd better start thinking about getting involved."

"What's the official take? Are Calvin and Bingham on board, too?"

"Hardly. In fact, I found out Laurie was pressured to sign out her first cases as natural deaths by Calvin, who was pressured by Bingham, who was pressured by somebody over in the mayor's office."

"Sounds political, which means our hands are tied."

"Well, at least I warned you."