Pandemic

11

TUESDAY, 12:38 P.M.

Like most people, Jack thought of himself as having a reasonable amount of self-knowledge. A realist, he knew that some of his personality traits were not ideal, like his limited patience with lazy, self-indulgent people — a designation he unfortunately gave to most of the people he had to deal with. But there was one trait he prided himself on that had stood him in good stead, and that was determination. When he got something in his craw, such as this subway death case, he didn’t give up easily.

Turning on his monitor, Jack brought up the digital images of the three tattoos on the woman’s body. He looked at each carefully and was again impressed by the puzzle piece. Vinnie had said something about Pinterest, so that seemed like a good place to start. He was somewhat hesitant to sign up, not knowing if he’d be bombarded with unwanted emails, but he took the risk. Once he was on the site, he searched for “puzzle piece tattoo.” He was surprised by the variety available, including permutations of the one on the woman’s arm. Then he searched for “puzzle piece tattoo rainbow” and found the exact image, complete with the rainbow colors in the puzzle piece’s base, just as Vinnie had said.

He then Googled palm tree tattoos and discovered they were also extremely popular, even more so than the puzzle piece. He was interested to find that they appropriately stood for beach life, summer, and relaxation. Researching for the meaning of the Chinese character, he learned it meant “love.” He then read a long Wikipedia article about tattoos and how their popularity had grown in mainstream culture.

Jack sat back in his chair and thought about what he’d read and about tattoos in a general sense. He’d never understood why someone would be tempted to permanently mar his or her body with ink, what with the risks of infection or just a subsequent change of heart. But having seen the profusion of images on Pinterest, some of which, like the puzzle piece, were quite clever, he thought of the activity in a slightly different light. He was no more tempted to get a tattoo himself than he’d ever been, but he’d come to recognize that there was more artistry involved than he’d previously thought, which made him believe the tattooists probably thought of themselves as artists and not as mere technicians. Following that line of thinking made him wonder if the artists recognized one another’s work. With everything else going against him, Jack thought it was another possible line of attack in the ID effort.

Tipping forward again, Jack sent the three images he’d taken of the tattoos with zero compression down to the printer in the front office. He wanted some high-resolution photos. Then he Googled tattoo establishments in lower Manhattan and found a highly rated one not that far away called Tattoo Art and Piercings. Checking their website, he learned they had three supposedly vaunted tattoo artists. It was on the West Side, but his Trek would get him there in a flash. Grabbing his bomber jacket, he left his office to head down to get the photos. As he waited for the elevator, he worried about running into Laurie, who had already warned him about not making any field trips. He was in no mood to get into another argument. Unfortunately, since it was lunchtime, the possibility of a confrontation wasn’t a hypothetical concern. But he decided it was a risk he had to take, because for what he had in mind, he needed good pics.

Jack zipped into the front office and headed for the printer, with the idea of making it a very quick in-and-out visit. He waved a casual hello to Cheryl, who was on the phone, which he thought was auspicious because it precluded any conversation. But a moment later he noticed Laurie’s door was ajar, forcing him to make a snap decision of whether to proceed or retreat. An instant later the decision became academic when Laurie caught sight of him through the open door and waved at him to come into her office.

Jack got the photos first. They were as clear as a bell, with good color. He then went into the inner sanctum and tried to gird himself. In retrospect, he did feel a bit guilty for having snuck out of the apartment that morning without so much as leaving a note.

“I’m glad to see you, and it’s good timing,” Laurie said. She was sitting at her desk with blueprint architectural plans spread out in front of her. “I have a few minutes before my next conference call. I missed you this morning.” She spoke with a sincere and uncritical tone. Jack felt relieved, especially having been caught red-handed wearing his bomber jacket and advertising he was on his way out of the OCME. “I ended up oversleeping,” Laurie added. “I suppose I was counting on you waking me up before you left, which isn’t fair. It was my own fault. As usual, I stayed up much too late going over all that budget nonsense.”

“It was too early when I left,” Jack said. “The subway death had me awake before five. I was eager to get in here to find out why I hadn’t been called about an ID, but the explanation turned out to be pretty simple. There’d been no ID because there had been zero calls from family or friends.”

“That’s strange,” Laurie said. “Especially the way you described her. She certainly wasn’t a homeless person.” Laurie stood up from her desk, walked around Jack, and closed her office door for privacy. Then she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. Jack took it as a gesture of reconciliation and felt encouraged.

“It’s more than strange,” Jack said. “And it’s driving me to distraction.”

“And now that it has been more than twenty-four hours, it’s beginning to remind me of my Japanese subway homicide, which took days to get an ID. You remember the case, don’t you?”

“Absolutely, and I thought the exact same thing,” Jack said. “And since ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,’ I’ve been faithfully reenacting your efforts.”

Laurie failed to suppress a laugh. “Isn’t that ironic. I remember at the time you made fun of what I was doing and thought I was wasting my time.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jack confessed. “But in my defense, I haven’t gone to the extent of getting transit videotapes. My victim certainly wasn’t the victim of a homicide.”

“Then how did you imitate me?”

“I called your nine-one-one supervisor friend, Cynthia Bellows, just like you did. By the way, she said hello and offered congrats for your becoming chief. Just like you did, I got the name and number of the person who made the nine-one-one call from the R train. Talking with her, I confirmed that the victim had appeared entirely normal when she boarded the train in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. I also learned she had a backpack and a phone, which obviously got stolen.”

“Did you make the effort to talk with the assigned Missing Persons detective?”

“I did,” Jack said. “But Detective Pauli Cosenza was no help at all. I had the feeling the lazy bum just pushed papers around his desk. Just to get ahold of him I had to let the phone ring almost forty times.”

“My Missing Persons detective contact was also no help on the first call. I even remember his name: Detective Stedman. But the second time I called, he was like a different person. Maybe you should give your PD contact another chance.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. “But I’m far from optimistic. I did tell Sergeant Murphy to make sure the detective got all the information from here as it becomes available, like the fingerprints and these photos of the victim’s tattoos.” Jack handed the three photos to Laurie.

“I’m not a tattoo fan by any means,” Laurie said as she studied each photo in turn. “But these are rather tasteful and interesting, and I guess she was a lesbian.”

“That’s the assumption, for whatever it’s worth,” Jack said.

“Well, the tattoos should help identify her,” Laurie said. She handed the photos back to Jack. “What a fascinating case. I have to say, I’m jealous. Forensic pathology is so much more interesting than arguing with politicians and city employees about budgets and construction plans.” She gestured dismissively over to her desk and the blueprints.

“You can always put in your resignation as the chief,” Jack said. “As soon as they find someone else, you could come back and be one of us grunts.”

Laurie sighed. “I’ve accepted this challenge, and I am going to see it through,” she said. “I can’t give up now. What about your virologist friend: Any more word from her?” When Jack had returned from playing basketball the previous evening, he’d told Laurie that all the rapid screens for the usual viruses that caused respiratory illness had been negative, not once but twice.

“Yes! I spoke with her around nine o’clock,” Jack said. “She thinks she sees some early cytopathic changes in a human kidney cell culture that she inoculated yesterday. If it turns out to be true, then she believes some unknown pathogenic virus is involved. I’ll be talking with her later today to confirm.”

“Damn! That’s not good.” Laurie pressed her lips together and shook her head in dismay. “An unknown, rapidly lethal virus lurking on a New York City subway is a terrifying proposition.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jack said, “which is why I still think we should alert the Commissioner of Health about what’s potentially brewing.”

“No!” Laurie said without hesitation. “I still feel the opposite. As I said yesterday, we are going to wait until we have a confirmed, verifiable diagnosis. In some respects, an unknown virus could cause more panic than a known one. What did your virologist friend suggest was the timeline for what she’s doing?”

“She didn’t say. She only commented that if a virus is present, then she’ll have to try to identify it.”

“Did she use the phrase ‘try to identify it’?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Good grief! That’s not very reassuring. Did she give you an idea of how she might go about trying to identify it and maybe an idea of how long it would take?”

“She didn’t. I should have asked, but I didn’t think of it. I’m not thinking right these days.”

“It’s a tough time for all of us. Don’t be hard on yourself.” Laurie walked over and sat on the couch. She patted the cushion next to her as a way of inviting Jack to join her.

“I did learn something else about the case that is surprising,” Jack said as he came over and sat down. “John DeVries found no immunosuppressant drugs on a toxicological screen that he ran overnight. I confirmed with a nurse coordinator of the heart transplant team next door that that is totally unheard of, just like it is so strange that no one has seemingly missed this woman.”

“Well, I have full confidence that you and Bart Arnold will figure it all out,” Laurie said. “In the meantime, I wanted to tell you what I did this morning on the home front. I spoke with Caitlin about my mother.”

“That’s a start,” Jack said.

“You’re right that Caitlin is upset, and she’s finding dealing with my mother difficult,” Laurie said. “But you’re wrong about her threatening to leave.”

“She told me she was upset enough that she was thinking of leaving,” Jack snapped. “I didn’t make it up.”

“Well, I just spoke with her this morning,” Laurie said. “She admitted that my mother was hard for her to get along with, but she said she was dedicated to the children.”

“Then she’s telling you one thing and telling me something else entirely,” Jack said. “Rather than debate who is getting the truth, I think the cause of her discontent has to be addressed. Did you talk with your mother this morning?”

“Of course I spoke with her.”

“Did you talk about her giving us a break?”

“She’s not all bad, Jack,” Laurie countered. “She’s getting JJ to interact with Emma. And she is spearheading getting a second opinion on Emma’s diagnosis.”

“But that doesn’t require her to be living with us and tormenting both Caitlin and me. I feel guilty enough about Emma’s autism and don’t need her to continually blame the Stapleton genes. And if she mouths off about the MMR vaccine again, I’m going to scream. Why can’t you just tell her we need some privacy? We have enough problems, especially if Caitlin were to leave.”

“You know why I can’t. It would devastate her, and she is already having a difficult time dealing with Emma’s diagnosis and being eighty-three years old with some medical problems of her own. But I have thought of a possible solution.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m going to talk with my father. Over the last few years, particularly after JJ’s illness, I’ve been progressively able to talk with him about issues like this. He understands my mother better than anyone. Besides, he can’t be happy she’s been away for as long as she has.”

“Fine,” Jack said. “Talk to Sheldon. If you think he can help, that’s great. We need some peace in our household so that we can deal with this new challenge.”

A sudden knock on the office door diverted their attention.

“Come in!” Laurie called out.

The door opened. It was Cheryl. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But the conference call will be starting in just a few minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” Laurie said.

Cheryl closed the door.

Both Laurie and Jack got to their feet. “I’ll try to call my father after my conference call,” Laurie said. “And I’ll see when we might be able to get together.”

“I hope it’s as soon as possible,” Jack said.

Laurie reached out and gave one of the lapels of Jack’s bomber jacket a playful tug. “And I hope you’re going out for a bite of lunch and not to cause trouble.”

“I’ll try to behave myself,” Jack said with uncamouflaged sarcasm. He knew exactly what Laurie was referring to — namely, what she’d warned him about the day before. She didn’t want him to become overly invested in the subway death case as a diversion from their domestic issues and create havoc for her as the OCME chief. And like the day before, Jack felt immediate irritation. He needed a diversion, and he wasn’t going to be denied.

“Exactly where are you going?” Laurie demanded. Her tone had also changed. She was back to her role as the chief medical examiner, with all its attendant responsibilities.

“I’m going to a tattoo parlor,” Jack snapped. “I realized it’s a craze that had more or less passed me by. I want to rectify that. I used to think it was for drunken sailors and badasses, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“I hope by this visit you’re not hijacking Bart Arnold’s job,” Laurie said, refusing to take the bait that he might be interested in getting a tattoo himself. “I would prefer you don’t go out in the field doing your own investigations. But if you must, Jack, please don’t put me in a difficult situation. This job is already stressful enough.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Jack said. He opened the office door and walked out with the tattoo photos clutched in his hand. He didn’t say goodbye. He also avoided talking to or even looking at Cheryl. For the moment he thought it best to keep to himself.