Night Shift

Chapter 29

Wednesday, December 8, 4:20 p.m.

With a definite sense of satisfaction, Jack put the newly completed death certificate in his outbox and moved its associated autopsy folder and rubber band — sheathed slide tray to the distant corner of his L-shaped desk, along with three other sets. With nothing to do concerning the Sue Passero case until his upcoming meeting with Ronald Cavanaugh or until John completed his full toxicology evaluation, Jack had turned to signing out the stack of cases he had pending on his desk and had already completed four. Since he didn’t have to leave until a bit after 5:00 for his 5:30 rendezvous, he picked up the next case in his considerable to-be-completed stack when his mobile rang. Checking the caller, he saw it was Lou.

“Are you checking up on me, Daddy?” Jack asked facetiously.

“Yeah,” Lou answered. “How did you guess? Are you behaving yourself?”

“Totally,” Jack said. “I’m working my butt off here in the safety of my cocoon-like office punching out old cases.”

“Actually, I’m calling to compliment you,” Lou said. “But I hesitate because I don’t want you to get a big head.”

“Try me!” Jack laughed.

“You were right about the Seton case,” Lou said. “Paul broke down and confessed, but it’s complicated. According to Paul, the whole sordid affair supposedly involves some crazy-ass therapist guru who had everyone convinced suicide was the right thing to do, including Sharron and her mother. Paul admits he was the one who screwed everything up, claiming he was so nervous that he did everything wrong. I have no idea how it is going to ultimately play out. Your Murder on the Orient Express analogy wasn’t so far from reality. How the hell did you even think of it?”

“Only because the forensics spoke for themselves,” Jack said. “It certainly wasn’t a typical suicide, considering all the factors, particularly the bullet’s trajectory. It was the only way to tie it all together if the suicide note was authentic.”

“Well, I give you full credit,” Lou said. “But let me ask you, what the hell are you doing working on old cases after you talked me into allowing you one more day to play detective on the Sue Passero case? The way you were talking, I thought sure you had something definite up your sleeve.”

“I did. For sure. I was planning on having a second go-round earlier with another of Sue’s colleagues who was tight with both Sue and Cherine. Unfortunately, he didn’t call me until just a few minutes ago when he woke up. He works the night shift and sleeps during the day. We’re going to meet up at five-thirty. It should be rewarding, especially since he’s a knowledgeable guy.”

“Okay,” Lou said. “Where is this going to happen?”

“He’s working tonight and he’s paranoid about being late, so he’s insisting we get together over at the MMH. On the plus side, we’re going to have our tête-à-tête in the Emergency Department, so I don’t need to go into the hospital proper, where I’m somewhat a persona non grata.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Lou said. “What about the toxicology confirmation of this morning’s case, have you gotten it?”

“It hasn’t even been eight hours,” Jack said. “Good God! You’re more impatient than I am.”

After a few more back-and-forth teasing comments, they terminated the call. With a bit of time remaining before he needed to leave to head uptown, Jack went back to try to sign out one more case. Luckily it was an easy one and only required confirmation by his looking at a handful of the slides, which he accomplished easily. With that out of the way, he turned off his microscope, pulled on his corduroy jacket, and headed down to the basement to get his bike. A few minutes later, with his helmet and gloves on and his scarf knotted around his neck, he climbed on his Trek and set off up 30th Street toward First Avenue.