Night Shift

Chapter 6

Tuesday, December 7, 9:55 a.m.

“Are you convinced now?” Jack asked Vinnie as he held the narrow wooden dowel alongside the head of the woman lying supine on the autopsy table. Her name was Sharron Seton, and she was suspected of having killed herself the night before. The dowel was lined up with a stellate gunshot entrance wound in her left temple, indicating the muzzle of the gun had been held against the skin when it discharged, and Jack had found the location of the bullet in the right mandible beneath one of her lower cuspids. In Jack’s experience and for most medical examiners, suicide with a handgun invariably entailed contact with the gun’s barrel, either against the temple or in the mouth.

“I’m convinced even if he isn’t,” Lou Soldano said when Vinnie hesitated to respond. Lou was lieutenant commander detective, a rank called LCD by those in the know. He had arrived while Jack was talking with Laurie in her office. He’d come in because Sharron Seton was the wife of Detective Third Grade Paul Seton, who worked under Lou, and Lou had gotten a call with the terrible news that Paul’s wife had killed herself. As the caring commander of a group of homicide detectives, Lou had wanted to get what information he could to help his young team member, but what he was learning was certainly not good news.

Lou Soldano was a distinctly masculine, quintessentially Southern Italian — appearing man who was getting a bit long in the tooth and past his pension age, meaning that by continuing to work, he was losing money over the long haul. But he didn’t care. Being a police officer completely defined him. There was no way he could imagine retiring, and as a particularly dedicated detective, he was frequent visitor to the OCME. Early in his career he had learned the value of forensic pathology in solving homicide cases, probably more than anyone else in the entire NYPD. And as a hopeless workaholic who had trouble sleeping more than a few hours, Lou frequently went out into the field on night homicide calls, and when he did, he would often follow the body to the morgue to observe the post. This appreciation of forensics led him to meet Laurie when she’d joined the OCME, and for a short time they had even seen each other socially. But it didn’t work out, more to do with what they admitted was a cultural difference than anything else. When Jack arrived on the scene as a medical examiner, Lou had found him to be especially copacetic, particularly appreciating Jack’s speed as well as his sarcastic humor. When Jack and Laurie became an item, Lou was a great advocate, and when they eventually married, he became one of their closest friends.

“Obviously the path of the bullet means the gun was angled from above the head and posterior to the midline,” Lou said. “That doesn’t compute.”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “Try to do it.” Jack formed his left hand into a gun by extending his index finger and thumb while keeping the rest of his fingers balled into his palm. In this fashion he tried to position it in a way that could align with the path of the bullet. “It’s impossible,” he said. “There’s no way this could have been a suicide. Zero!”

“I get it,” Vinnie said. “I’m just dumbfounded people can be so damn stupid. I mean, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to stage a goddamn suicide, especially if you are a police detective.”

“It’s probably more indicative that there wasn’t a lot of planning,” Jack said. “Then again, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions other than this wasn’t a suicide. I suppose it could have possibly been an intruder. Any sign of a break-in?”

“No, none,” Lou said with a shake of his head. “The only people in the apartment at the time of the shooting were Paul and Sharron. That’s been established. Paul told me that he’d been sleeping in the guest room because he and Sharron had a bad argument and that he came running when he heard the gunshot. Obviously, that was not true from what you have demonstrated here. But to be honest, I’m not terribly surprised. When the boys from the precinct arrived on the initial nine-one-one call from Paul, Paul’s father was already there, and he lives in New Jersey. That means Paul had called him long before placing the nine-one-one call, which in my book raises a red flag. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“It raised a red flag for the MLI, Janice Jaeger, as well,” Jack said. “She brought up the same facts in her report along with emphasizing the deceased was naked. All in all, it’s a good demonstration why all suicides need to be medical examiner cases.”

“Yeah, well, it’s goddamn depressing,” Lou said. “Paul Seton is a promising detective. Two lives ruined in an instant of insanity! What a tragedy!” Lou let out a long sigh behind his mask and face shield.

“Misery loves company,” Jack said with an equivalent sigh. “Obviously this case is going to end up being a major murder trial, which is going to involve me, and I hate court cases.” All medical examiners invariably worked closely with the District Attorney’s Office and were frequent participants in trials, which is why the OCME was so careful about chain-of-custody issues. Most medical examiners appreciated the legal role they were required to play, and some of them enjoyed the participation. Jack wasn’t one of them. Going to court and sitting for hours on end while lawyers bickered and tried to bully him wasn’t his idea of time well spent. It also kept him out of the autopsy room. In the end, he’d come to resent the court experience.

“But being dragged into court isn’t the worst of it,” Jack continued. “I was counting on this case to be a forensic challenge and keep me occupied for a couple of days, which it would have been if the husband had an ounce of criminal caginess. Instead, it’s turned out straightforward and simple. That’s not what I wanted. I’m in desperate need of a diversion from my own rather tumultuous home scene.”

“Uh-oh,” Lou said with concern. “What’s up at home?”

“Don’t get me started,” Jack said. “At least not until this case gets done, and we’re away from prying ears.”

“Ha ha!” Vinnie voiced derisively. “As if I’d give a flying crap.”

Lou was a good enough and close enough friend that Jack had confided in him on numerous occasions to get his opinion about issues involving Laurie, as he had insights about her that Jack had learned to respect. There had even been a time years ago that the two had conspired to try to prevent her from marrying a man they were convinced was a two-faced, unprincipled, shady arms dealer who would have made Laurie’s life a misery.

“You bum,” Lou mockingly complained. “Now I have to stick around longer than I’d planned.”

After the retrieval of the slug from the mandible, which was handled with great care for ballistics purposes, the rest of the case went rapidly, as it involved an entirely healthy thirty-three-year-old woman. There was little conversation until Jack slit open the uterus, at which point there was a silent pause.

“Is that what I think it is?” Lou questioned finally. He bent down to look a little closer.

“Afraid so,” Vinnie said.

Jack picked up a metal ruler to measure. “Almost two and a half centimeters. That, my friends, is about a ten-week-old fetus.”

“Good grief,” Lou commented. “That compounds the tragedy. I wonder if they knew. Paul never let on his wife was pregnant.”

“He might not have known, but she undoubtedly did,” Jack said. “One way or the other, it’s certainly not going to help his case.”

“Nor should it,” Lou said with a shake of his head.

For the rest of the autopsy, there was little talk. The discovery of the fetus was unsettling. By the time they were finished, the autopsy room was in full swing with all the tables occupied. A low-level din of multiple conversations prevailed, punctuated intermittently by the sound of power tools, particularly the vibrating saws used to open the craniums.

“If you and Lou want to talk, I’ll finish up here,” Vinnie said as soon as Sharron Seton was sewn up and thereby returned to a semblance of normalcy, at least outwardly. The internal organs had been returned to the body cavity inside a large plastic bag, except for the brain, which was in a jar filled with formalin.

“You’re being uncharacteristically gracious,” Jack teased. Normally Jack made it a point to help with the post-autopsy chores, as did most of the medical examiners, as it speeded up the schedule considerably. When things went smoothly, the day’s cases were usually done around noon.

“I’m assuming we’re done for the day,” Vinnie added.

“That would be my guess,” Jack said, as he waved to Lou to follow. On the way out of the room, Jack stopped briefly at Jennifer’s table and reintroduced Lou. They had met previously, but Jack was intent on keeping Lou feeling welcome.

“Any more cases for me today?” Jack asked her.

“You are all done. Sorry that your supposed suicide case wasn’t as challenging as you had hoped. Word has it that it was rather cut and dried.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured her. He wasn’t surprised she already knew. It was just another indication among many that the grapevine at the OCME was alive and well. As a rule, there were few secrets. “Maybe I’ll be more lucky tomorrow.”

“I’ll try my best,” Jennifer kidded, and Jack responded with a thumbs-up.

Jack also stopped at the table of his old office mate, Dr. Chet McGovern, so Chet could say hello to Lou as well. Back when Jack and Chet shared an office, Chet had met Lou on innumerable occasions when Jack and Lou had collaborated on various cases. Chet responded by introducing both Jack and Lou to Margaret Townsend, one of the two new senior NYU pathology residents who were rotating through the OCME to get a hands-on taste of forensic pathology. They had arrived at the beginning of the month and would stay on until the new year.

Jack and Lou then pushed through the swinging doors leading out into the main hallway. After appropriately disposing of their personal protective gear, they ended up sitting at either end of the bench that ran between the lockers in the changing room. Both were still dressed in scrubs.

“Okay, you’ve kept me in suspense long enough,” Lou said. “Out with it! What’s got you bummed out on the home front?”

“Before I get into that,” Jack said, “do you remember Dr. Sue Passero? She and her husband were at that Halloween costume party Laurie and I had three years ago. I remember introducing you two.”

“Of course I remember her,” Lou said. “She came to the party as the Giants running back and looked the part. Now that you have reminded me, I think the Giants could have used her this year. Kidding aside, what’s with her?”

“She did appear very athletic, and I happen to know that she worked out regularly and was a vegetarian. Yet despite all that, she suffered a terminal event last night in her car in the MMH parking garage. She was autopsied this morning, and at Laurie’s specific request, I did it.”

Lou shook his head in dismay. “That couldn’t have been pleasant.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Good God!” Lou moaned. “Having someone that’s fit suddenly kick the bucket is a shock and a reminder we are all living on borrowed time. I do remember her looking as healthy as a goddamn horse. Or is it healthy as an ox?”

“Either one works,” Jack said, waving off the distinction. “And you are right, the autopsy proved it. Even though she did have diabetes, which often affects the heart, I found no pathology, nothing. Of course, there’s the outside chance microscopic sections might offer some explanation, but I sincerely doubt it, as carefully as I went over the heart. To be honest, I’ve never had a case quite like this, and it’s bothering me big-time, especially because of Laurie’s connection with the woman and her family.”

“I’m sorry to hear all this,” Lou said. “But why are you telling me? Are you suspecting foul play here or something in that vein?”

“Laurie spoke to the husband by phone this morning who, I might add, was suddenly against an autopsy, supposedly because he was Muslim, which was completely new information to us even though his wife and Laurie were good friends. We even had socialized all together maybe a dozen times, and his being Muslim never came up once. And on top of that, he told Laurie that he wants to get the death certificate ASAP for a life insurance claim.”

“Okay,” Lou said, rolling his eyes before looking back at Jack. “Suddenly I see how those wheels are turning in that overly inventive brain of yours. So, you are suspecting foul play here on the husband’s part. Am I right, or am I completely off base?”

“Well...” Jack fumbled for words because now that he was giving vent to his thoughts, he realized how much he was jumping to conclusions on very little evidence. Lou had mocked him in the past when he tried to play detective — and warned him on multiple occasions not to do so. Here was yet another instance.

“You’ve been watching too many run-of-the-mill TV dramas! If you want to know what I think, here it is. Whatever is bothering you at home is making you look for a diversion and playing detective has been your method in the past. I mean, listen to yourself! You’re telling me a woman with diabetes died in her car with no signs of trauma and you are suspecting the husband. Please! I mean, what could be involved here? Some kind of mysterious poison or possibly carbon monoxide somehow? Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but your Toxicology Department will be looking into all that stuff. Am I right?”

“You are right,” Jack said, feeling embarrassed. What Lou was saying was all true.

“And if the husband was guilty, would he offer the life insurance information right off the bat? I don’t think so.”

“Okay, you are right. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Don’t be,” Lou said. “There’s a lesson to be learned here. As I have reminded you time and time again, playing detective is dangerous and not for amateurs, and you are exactly that: a goddamn amateur when it comes to homicide investigation. Hell, just looking at you is a reminder of the danger. That chipped front tooth and that hairline scar, if I remember correctly, came from your playing detective a number of years ago. Am I right?”

“Okay, okay!” Jack repeated, holding up his hands as if to ward off Lou’s derision. Lou was entirely correct. The scar and the chipped tooth had come from Jack investigating a conspiracy pitting one major managed care company against another by starting outbreaks of infectious disease in the other’s primary hospital. “I get the message.”

“Fine and dandy,” Lou said. “You’re a forensic pathologist and a damn good one. Leave it at that. If and when you have any suspicions about criminal and particularly homicidal malfeasance, you call me. Understood?”

“Understood,” Jack said.

“All right, let’s hear about what’s really bothering you. Let me guess. It’s either your mother-in-law and her anti-vax stance, Emma’s autism, or JJ’s possible ADHD. Which is it?”

“All three,” Jack said. He then explained the latest developments, and Lou dutifully listened, nodding in support whenever appropriate.