Pandemic

23

WEDNESDAY, 1:40 P.M.

The Bannon homestead gave a totally different impression than the Stewarts’. Whereas the Stewart house was on the shabby side and in need of paint and attention to its gutters and downspouts, the Bannon dwelling appeared as if it had just undergone a major renovation, including a new roof. As Jack parked directly in front and looked at it, he wondered if the Bannons had recently won the lottery. There was even a new red Ford F-150 in the driveway, which made him optimistic that someone would be home.

Climbing out of the Escalade, Jack started for the house. Its architectural style was also different. It had an attractive gambrel roof with dormers. The Stewarts’ had been the more typical and unimaginative ranch style. After just talking with Laurie and being reminded that using his ME badge in New Jersey was probably illegal, Jack reluctantly decided not to use it. Actually, he didn’t really care. It just meant a bit more talking.

He pressed the doorbell and could hear it ring within. As he waited, he glanced around at the neighborhood. The Bannons’ house was clearly the most well tended. On the house directly across the street, several of the shutters were hanging off precariously.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

Jack found himself facing a full-figured woman in yoga pants and a tank top. Her hair was piled on top of her head. In the background Jack could hear music that reminded him of the distant disco era. A bit of perspiration dotted her forehead. She appeared genuinely friendly, in contrast to the Stewarts.

“Hello,” Jack said. “My name is Dr. Jack Stapleton. I’m a medical examiner from New York.” He then pulled out his badge and held it up so the woman could plainly see it. At the last second, he’d changed his mind about using it, with the idea that by adding the New York part he was avoiding any illegality. He thought he needed the aura of authority, coming out of the blue and bringing up the sensitive issue of the lost son.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to talk with you and your husband for a brief moment about your late son, James.”

“James?” she questioned. Her face clouded over. “Just a moment. Let me turn down the music.”

A moment later the music stopped, and then the lady of the house reappeared. Also, in contrast to the Stewarts, she opened the screen door and motioned for Jack to come inside. With the Stewarts, Jack had been forced to have the entire conversation through the screen door.

“My husband, Clarence, is not here,” she said. “He’s at work at the Dover Valley Hospital. I’m Gertrude Bannon. Can I get you anything to drink? Water or a soda?”

“No, thank you,” Jack said. Again, he was surprised. Somewhat similar to what had happened at the Dover Valley Hospital, he had not expected to be so well received. He’d even thought there was a chance the Bannons would refuse to talk with him at all.

“Would you like to sit?” Gertrude asked. She gestured to the living room.

“I’m not going to be here that long,” Jack said, “but if you would be more comfortable, I don’t mind.”

“I think we will be more comfortable,” Gertrude said. She led the way through an archway.

The room was modest in size and pleasant. But what caught Jack’s eye was that all the furniture and the rug appeared to be new. Gertrude gestured for Jack to take the striped gingham couch. She sat in a faux leather La-Z-Boy recliner.

“First of all, I want to express my sincerest sympathies,” Jack said. He was being truly sincere. He knew all too well what it was like to lose a child.

“Thank you,” Gertrude said. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink. Maybe a coffee?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jack said. He looked at his host. She fidgeted. He was confused. She seemed to be nervous instead of saddened.

“You mentioned New York,” Gertrude said. “Why are you here in New Jersey?”

“That’s a good question,” Jack said. “I’m here because of a death that happened in Manhattan. I don’t know if you know this, but Carol Stewart, the young woman who benefited from your generosity by receiving your son’s heart, has passed away.”

“Oh.” Gertrude drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry to hear that. What did she die of?”

“That is still to be determined,” Jack said. “But it wasn’t because of your son’s heart. That was in perfect shape.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Gertrude said.

Jack studied the woman. She returned his stare and then modestly looked away. At first he was impressed by her stoicism, that she could deal with such information with such equanimity. But a second later he found himself feeling that her response was somehow inappropriate. She was still more nervous than distressed.

“Allowing your son’s organs to save others was a very magnanimous gesture on your part and your husband’s,” Jack said. “I’m sure your generosity saved many lives, which must have been a source of some comfort. Nowadays almost everything can be used — lungs, liver, pancreas, even intestines. Have you had any contact with any of the people who were recipients of James’s organs? I’m hoping that they can be a consolation to you, just as Carol Stewart was.”

“No, we haven’t,” Gertrude said.

“Oh,” Jack said simply. He was surprised but unwilling to make any kind of value judgment. It must have been the Bannons’ wish to remain anonymous.

“What I have learned is that your son’s heart was a perfect match for Carol Stewart,” Jack said. “Are you and the Stewarts related somehow?”

“Not that I know of,” Gertrude said. “We’ve never met the Stewarts.”

“I see,” Jack said. He scratched his head and then smoothed his hair. Every time he thought he had a grasp on the Carol Stewart story, he was proved wrong. Suddenly he had another idea. “Was James a biological child or was he adopted?”

“A biological child,” Gertrude said without hesitation.

“Okay,” Jack said, trying to maintain his own equanimity. “Out of curiosity, how long has your husband been working at the Dover Valley Hospital?”

“It’s going on three months now,” Gertrude said.

“Does he like it?”

“Very much,” Gertrude said. “He thinks it is the best job he’s ever had.”

“Well, that’s it,” Jack said. “I don’t have any more questions. Well... maybe I have one more. Were you and your husband paid to donate your son’s organs?”

For a moment the question hung in the air like a ball of static electricity. Jack could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere in another room. Gertrude stared back at him with unblinking eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Then, as if waking from a brief psychomotor seizure, she said, “No, we weren’t paid.”

“Then I have another question,” Jack said. “Do you know what your son’s blood type was?”

“I don’t,” Gertrude said.

“How about yours and your husband’s?” Jack asked.

“Mine is O-negative, but I don’t know what Clarence’s is.”

“Well, I want to thank you for your time,” Jack said. He stood and headed for the front door, where he thanked her again and went out and got into his car. He was relatively sure the Bannons had been paid and Clarence had been given a job at the Dover Valley Hospital. The only problem was that he didn’t know by whom and for what. Of course, the leading suspect was the boss, Wei Zhao.

For a few minutes Jack sat in the car, massaging his temples with his head down, staring into his lap. There were so many questions and so few answers. In some respects, his trip to New Jersey had been a success, and in some ways, it had been a disappointment. He now knew a bit more than he had that morning, and yet in other ways he knew less. Certainly, with the biggest conundrum, why the CODIS profiles matched, he had no clue, provided they did match. He felt like he wasn’t sure of anything.

Sitting up straight, he looked back at the Bannon house, with its new paint job and new roof tiles, plus the new Ford F-150 in the driveway. It was obvious the Bannons had had a payday, and Jack could guess the source. With his suspicion that money had changed hands, he wondered if it was time to turn the whole caboodle over to law enforcement, such as the FBI. But as soon as the idea occurred to him he saw the negative side. The biggest negative was selfish. He needed the distraction and had nothing to take its place. With sudden resolve, he decided he’d hold off on letting the authorities in on what he suspected until he knew more.

With that thought in mind, Jack again consulted Google Maps. He knew he needed to get back to the OCME after having spoken to Laurie, but there was one more stop he wanted to make.

Jack started the SUV, put it in gear, and drove off. He wanted to make a quick stop at Carol Stewart’s apartment in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and try to figure out why no one had missed her when she died. Since there had been no subsequent sudden pulmonary deaths, he thought the exposure risk was small.