Pandemic

24

WEDNESDAY, 3:05 P.M.

Visiting Brooklyn provided an additional layer of surprises in a day that had been full of them. First of all, Jack had had no idea Sunset Park was home to one of the largest Chinese American communities in the country. Most of the commercial signage was in Chinese.

The hardest part of the trip, which required going over the impressive Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, was finding a parking place once he had arrived outside of Carol Stewart’s building. With no other choice, he had to settle for a commercial spot and risk getting a parking ticket. It was another stimulus to make the visit as short as possible.

Carol’s building was a relatively modern five-story brick structure. He was glad to see it was large enough for a live-in superintendent. His given name was Ho and his family name was Chang, but on the buzzer it was written CHANG HO in the Chinese order. Jack rang the buzzer while nervously looking over his shoulder at the SUV, half expecting a metermaid to appear spontaneously. Jack knew that Warren would not take kindly to getting a parking ticket. Warren felt strongly that the more you got, the more problems you had with the city.

Ho was a man of indeterminate age and slight habitus, in sharp contrast to Wei Zhao’s muscular bulk. He also acted nervous and wary, which was equally as variant from Zhao’s commanding assertiveness. Without saying anything, Jack held up his ME badge in front of the man’s face and kept it there long enough for Ho to see it was a New York badge. It was immediately apparent that the badge had an unsettling effect on the super.

“What problem?” Ho asked with a heavy accent.

“You have a tenant by the name of Carol Stewart,” Jack began. He had already seen her name next to the buzzer for apartment 2A, confirming the address. “Unfortunately, Miss Stewart has passed away.”

“No, she still here,” Ho said.

For a second Jack thought he was about to be confronted with another shocking revelation, until he realized that Ho had misinterpreted the meaning of the expression passed away. Jack rephrased it: “What I meant to say is that Miss Stewart has died. She is no longer with us.”

“Ah, I see,” Ho said. “Very sorry. She was a nice person.”

“I’m sure she was,” Jack said. “I would like to take a quick look in her apartment. Would you be able to open it for me?”

“Yes, I can open apartment,” Ho said. He stepped aside so Jack could enter.

After one more reassuring glance over his shoulder at the Escalade, Jack stepped past Ho and started up the stairs. Ho followed close behind, getting out his keys in the process. At the top of the stairs, Ho pushed past Jack, who had paused, not knowing which direction to go.

A few minutes later, Jack entered a pleasant one-bedroom apartment that looked out onto 45th Street. Jack took the opportunity to glance yet again at the Escalade. So far, no metermaids.

Directing his attention back inside, Jack noticed that the furniture, although new, had a distinctively generic appearance, making him believe it was probably a rental. To Carol’s credit, the apartment was neat and spanking clean. On the coffee table were a MacBook Pro and several copies of Adweek, a professional advertising magazine. A book titled The Miseducation of Cameron Post sat on a side table. There was no bric-a-brac.

“Did Miss Stewart live alone?” Jack asked, as he walked into the kitchen area. There were no dishes in the sink.

“Yes, she live alone,” Ho said.

“How long was she a resident here?” Jack asked. He opened the refrigerator. It contained a moderate amount of food. Clearly, she was cooking for herself. There was also food in the pantry cabinet.

“Just a few months,” Ho said.

“Did you notice if she had many visitors?” Jack asked, as he walked back into the connected living area.

Ho didn’t answer immediately. Jack looked over at him. He seemed conflicted as to how much information he should reveal. “I’m not police,” Jack assured him. “I’m a medical doctor trying to understand why she died.”

“I see,” Ho said. “She had visitors the first month. A man and a woman. They came at night and play music too loud. I have to tell Miss Stewart. But then the man and the woman didn’t come back, so everything was good.”

“Has there been any sickness in the building that you know of?” Jack asked.

“Last winter many people had the flu,” Ho said. “This year so far okay.”

“How about problems with pests, like mice or rats or insects?” Jack asked, just to cover all the bases.

“No trouble with pests,” Ho said.

Jack walked into the bedroom. Ho followed at his heels. The bedroom was as neat as the living area. The queen-size bed was made. Jack opened the closet. There were a number of expensive-appearing dresses, blouses, and pants, all carefully hung up and appropriately grouped. There was an impressive collection of shoes both high heeled and flat and also a number of sneakers of varying colors. There were also boots. She obviously liked footwear.

Next Jack walked into the bathroom. It, too, was neat and clean, with the towels carefully hung and a bathmat folded over the edge of the bathtub.

“I guess she was a good tenant,” Jack said, as he opened the medicine cabinet.

“Yes, a good tenant,” Ho said. “Very nice person.”

“Did she pay her rent on time?” Jack asked. He noticed there were no prescription medications in the medicine cabinet.

“No need for Miss Stewart to pay rent,” Ho said.

“Oh,” Jack voiced. He looked at Ho questioningly. “Why did she not pay rent?”

“The owner not require rent from Miss Stewart,” Ho said. “She was special.”

“Well, that was nice for Miss Stewart,” Jack said, puzzled. “Do you know where Miss Stewart worked?”

“I don’t think she worked, unless she work here with her computer,” Ho said. “She didn’t go out much.”

“Did the owner come and visit her?” Jack asked.

“No, the owner never come here, even though he owns many buildings in the area.”

“He must be a wealthy man,” Jack said.

“Yes, very important man,” Ho agreed.

“What is his name?” Jack asked, unsure of whether Ho would be willing to divulge it.

“His name is Zhao Wei,” Ho said.

There it was, Jack thought. Somehow, he knew there was going to be a surprise if he visited Carol’s apartment, and now he knew what it was. Wei Zhao was paying Carol’s rent and possibly even paying her a salary, yet it most likely wasn’t for romantic or sexual purposes. Not only was he the executor of her estate, but he was also her benefactor. Why?

Jack thanked the superintendent for his cooperation and left the building feeling even more perplexed than he had when he’d arrived. To make matters worse, there was a parking ticket under the windshield wiper of the car. With a sense of aggravation, Jack pulled it out and looked at it. It wasn’t the amount involved that bothered him, it was having to tell Warren.

Once under way to OCME, Jack called Warren. The sooner he told him about the damn parking ticket, the easier it would be. To his surprise, Warren took it in stride.

“Don’t worry about it,” Warren said. “Check out the ticket carefully. A lot of times the metermaids make stupid little mistakes filling out the form. If they do, all you have to do is point it out to the authorities and they drop it. Are you running tonight?”

“I might have to,” Jack said, echoing what he’d said earlier to Aretha. He had no idea what to expect when he got home that evening or even what he’d confront when he got back to work. It was obvious that Laurie was not thrilled with his behavior.