Vector

Chapter 9

Tuesday, October 19

6:43 a.m.

Laurie surprised herself by waking up before her alarm. She couldn’t remember having done that for years. It was especially surprising considering her expected jet lag from having flown in from Paris the morning before. But then with a simple calculation she realized that at that moment it was already after noon in the French capital, and even though she’d only been in France for a couple of days, she must have made some adaption to the local time.

At Laurie’s first stirring, her eight-month-old cat, Tom-2, stood up, stretched, and came up to the head of the bed for his customary dose of petting. Laurie was happy to comply. In contrast to the mongrel Tom, Laurie’s first cat whom she’d rescued from Animal Control and who’d been brutally killed, Tom-2 was a pedigree Burmese she’d purchased from Fabulous Felines on Second Avenue. Tom’s hair color was not too dissimilar from Laurie’s, but lacked the reddish highlights.

Laurie bounded out of bed with more than the usual enthusiasm. Over the month since she’d met Paul, her spirits had been buoyant. In the kitchen she started her coffee machine, which she’d prepared the night before. Back in her tiny bathroom she climbed into the shower.

Laurie had lived in her small, one-bedroom apartment ever since she’d started working at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner for the City of New York eight years ago. By now she could afford cushier digs, but she’d grown accustomed to her old fifth-floor flat. Also, being only eleven blocks from the office, she often walked both directions. That was a convenience that few of her colleagues enjoyed.

As Laurie washed her hair, she mulled over the previous evening’s dinner party and couldn’t help suppressing a smile. Initially she’d been disappointed at Jack and Lou’s response to her news, but after she’d thought about their behavior, she changed her mind. Now she thought there was an element of humor in their obvious shock and inability to wish the best for her. And she had to admit to a sense of satisfaction. Neither had been willing to make even the most modest commitment. What had they expected her to do, let life pass her by?

Laurie had long suspected that both men were attracted to her romantically but were afraid to follow up on their feelings. Although she valued their friendship, the situation had been frustrating for Laurie, especially since she’d always known that she’d wanted children. She understood that Jack in particular needed plenty of time to recover from the painful loss of his family. So she’d been patient. But could she really put her future on hold indefinitely? In the years that Laurie had known him, Jack had shown no signs of getting over his grief. To Laurie, his whole life still seemed defined as a reaction to that tragic incident.

With Lou, it was different. His ingrained inferiority complex seemed to be immune to Laurie’s efforts. Laurie had tried to dent his defensive shield with multiple ploys, but with no luck. In fact, the harder she had tried, the more defensive he’d become, to the point of argument. Ultimately, she’d given up and was content with his enduring friendship.

Laurie vigorously toweled her hair, then combed it out before using the electric hair drier. As far as she was concerned, it was far better to concentrate on the positive, and that meant thinking about Paul Sutherland. Such thoughts brought an even bigger smile to her face.

Over the last few years Laurie had developed progressively greater insights into her personality. She realized that she’d made careful, rational decisions all her life, a trait that had obviously stood her in good stead career-wise but that at times might have been limiting. She’d taken few chances except for a minor teenage rebellion or two. Now with Paul there was an opportunity. It was like being offered the brass ring on the whirling carousel of life. All she had to do was reach out and seize it.

With her hair done to her satisfaction, Laurie turned to her makeup routine. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, so it didn’t take long. While she was applying it, she mused about her whirlwind romance with Paul. Thanks to his generosity and spontaneity, they’d not only been to Paris, they’d spent weekends in Los Angeles and Caracas as well. In New York they’d eaten out almost every night at some of the best restaurants in the city. They’d been to the theater, dance recitals, and the symphony.

After dressing, Laurie went back into her kitchen for her breakfast of cereal, fruit, yogurt, and coffee. While she ate, she admitted to herself that she was a bit overwhelmed by the speed of the courtship. She was still somewhat stunned by Paul’s proposal. He’d taken her totally by surprise. She was also immensely pleased and flattered to be with a man who seemed to appreciate her and was desperate not to let her get away.

The main reason she’d not officially accepted was her desire to have a last word with Jack and with Lou, but particularly with Jack. She knew they’d squirm, but they deserved to. And she felt she owed it to them and to herself to present her situation openly and honestly. They could act if they so chose, or forever hold their peace. And if they decided to hold their peace, Laurie intended to grab the brass ring and make her future with Paul, even if she and Paul didn’t share that immediate animal attraction she’d had so abundantly with Jack.

Laurie’s door buzzer pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock. She couldn’t imagine who could be there at seven-thirty in the morning. Laurie moved over to the ancient intercom device and put the earphone to her ear. She pushed the speak button and said hello. Despite the static she recognized the voice that came back. It was Paul.

Laurie buzzed him in. Then she raced around the apartment snatching panties off the arm of the couch, a bra from a side table, and stockings from the floor. When she’d arrived home the night before, she’d been exhausted and had undressed en route to her bed, dropping clothing in her wake.

When there was a knock on her door, Laurie checked through the peephole by reflex. She found herself looking directly into one of Paul’s dark eyes. He’d put his face up to the tiny lens.

Laurie undid the extensive array of locks a former tenant had installed on her front door and pulled it open. “You clown,” she commented teasingly at Paul’s antics. He had a playful side that was unpredictable but which could embarrass her in public, like when he surprisingly joined her in the Lilliputian commode on the Concorde. Laurie had been mortified when she’d emerged, but later she’d laughed at herself and the stodgy businessmen who pretended not to have noticed.

“Surprise,” Paul said as he pulled a bouquet of fall flowers from behind his back.

“What’s the occasion?” Laurie asked.

“No occasion,” Paul said. “I just thought they looked attractive at one of those all-night Korean convenience stores.”

“Well, thank you,” Laurie said. She gave him a light kiss and took the flowers. While she went for a vase, Paul took off his coat. He was dressed for business in a suit similar to the one he had on the previous evening.

“Come on in here if you want any coffee,” Laurie called from the kitchen. Paul appeared a moment later. He was carrying Tom-2, who was purring loudly. “What’ll it be?” Laurie asked. “I’m having filtered coffee, but I could make you an espresso.” She finished with the flowers and put the vase on the table.

“Nothing for me,” Paul said energetically. “I’ve had enough coffee to last me the whole day, maybe the week. The phone woke me up early. If only Europe wasn’t six hours ahead of us, my life would be ten times easier.”

“Do you mind that I finish my breakfast?” Laurie said. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Of course not,” Paul said. He sat down across from her at the tiny table. He continued to stroke the cat, who was content in his lap.

“You’re certainly full of surprises,” Laurie said between mouthfuls. “I never expected to see you this morning.”

“I know,” Paul said with a sly smile. “But I had a specific surprise I wanted to share with you. I thought it would be better in person.”

“That sounds intriguing,” Laurie said. “What kind of a surprise?”

“First, let me tell you how much I enjoyed meeting your friends last night,” Paul said. “Certainly impressive guys.”

“I’m glad,” Laurie said. “Thank you. But what is this surprise you’re talking about?”

Paul smiled. Knowing Laurie’s curiosity, he was purposefully stringing her along. “I was particularly impressed by Jack riding his bike around the city,” Paul continued.

“Paul!” Laurie intoned with frustration.

“And Lou,” Paul said. “I can’t remember the last time I met a more modest guy.”

“I’m going to flip some of my yogurt onto your silk tie if you don’t tell me what you’re trying to say.” Laurie held the bowl of her spoon back with her left index finger, turning the spoon into a potential miniature catapult.

“Okay, okay,” Paul laughed. He raised his palms in surrender. Sensing trouble, Tom-2 bailed out from Paul’s lap and disappeared into the living room.

“You have five seconds,” Laurie teased.

“The surprise is that we’re going back to Europe this weekend,” Paul said. “We’ll take the Concorde to Paris on Friday, then connect to Budapest. And let me tell you, Budapest has become one of the more interesting cities in Europe. You’re going to love it. I even got us a suite at the Hilton overlooking the Danube.”

Paul stared at Laurie with a self-satisfied smile. Laurie returned the gaze but didn’t respond. Paul’s smile faded. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I can’t go to Budapest this weekend,” Laurie said.

“Why not?” Paul questioned.

“I’ve got to catch up with work,” Laurie said with a half laugh. “I’ve never had so many uncompleted folders on my desk.”

“You’re not going to let work interfere with our weekends, are you?” Paul asked. He was astonished. “You can work all week.”

“I’ve got too much to do,” Laurie said. “I’ve had to let things slide as it is, especially after spending most of yesterday with the FBI over the skinhead case.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you what: we’ll cut back on what we have planned for the rest of the week. After all, today is only Tuesday. We’ll even scrap the ballet Thursday night even though I had to beg, borrow, and steal for the tickets. It’s not as important as a weekend in Budapest.”

“I can’t go to Budapest!” Laurie said with a tone that precluded debate.

There was a lull in the conversation. Laurie looked at her near-fiancé. He wasn’t returning her stare but rather looking down at his hands while shaking his head in a way that was almost imperceptible. “This is a surprise for me,” he admitted, breaking the silence. Now he was nodding ever so slightly but still looking down at his lap. “I was so sure you’d want to go.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go,” Laurie said. She softened. “It’s just that I have other obligations because of my work.”

“I don’t think it’s healthy that you are letting your work control you,” Paul said. Finally he raised his coal-black eyes to hers. “Life’s too short for that.”

“Now that’s hardly a fair thing to say,” Laurie responded. “The real reason we went to Paris last weekend was for your work, not that we didn’t enjoy ourselves when you were free. I’m assuming the same situation holds for Budapest. I mean, the reason you’re going there is for business. In other words, you’re working on weekends, so why is it so different if I have to do the same?”

“It’s different,” Paul said.

“Really?” Laurie questioned. “I fail to see how it’s different.”

Paul stared back at Laurie. His face had reddened.

“As far as I can see the only way it’s different is that I can’t work in Budapest.”

“There are other differences than that,” Paul snapped.

“Give me some examples!” Laurie said.

Paul sighed and shook his head. “It’s not important.”

“But it must be, otherwise you wouldn’t be upset.”

“I’m upset because you’re not willing to go.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to,” Laurie explained. “You do understand that point, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Paul said unconvincingly.

“What kind of work do you do anyway?” Laurie asked. She could remember Jack asking the same question the night before. She truly had no idea, and until then it had never occurred to her to ask. She’d always thought he’d just tell her when it was relevant. Having dated so many men who could talk only about their business, she’d found Paul a relief. Yet she was beginning to feel that it was strange that she had no idea what field he was in.

“Does it matter?” Paul questioned contentiously.

“No, it doesn’t,” Laurie said. She could tell she’d hurt his feelings by suggesting it did. “And I don’t think this should be an argument.”

“You’re right,” Paul said. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I have. The problem is, I don’t have a choice about this trip. I have to go, and frankly it’s lonely. With you along it would actually be a pleasure.”

“Thank you for saying that,” Laurie said. “And I’m grateful for your asking me. It’s just that I can’t go away every weekend. And we have gone away three weekends in a row.”

“I understand,” Paul said. He smiled weakly.

Laurie looked into his eyes. She wondered if he was being sincere.

Paul had a radio-dispatched Town Car waiting for him outside of Laurie’s building. He was happy to give her a ride. He said he was going in the same direction. His first meeting for the day was at the United Nations. Laurie was impressed and even more curious about the nature of his business. She was tempted to ask who he was seeing, but was afraid her motive would be too transparent.

Outside of the office of the Chief Medical Examiner Laurie waved as Paul’s car accelerated north on First Avenue. Then she turned and mounted the steps of the blue-glazed brick building. As she entered, she felt vaguely out of sorts, which was not how she’d started the day. Although she and Paul had not had an argument, they’d come close. It had been the first such episode in their wildly romantic relationship. She hoped it wasn’t a premonition of things to come, and that the hint of male chauvinism in his responses didn’t mask outright sexist views.

Laurie crossed the empty waiting area and approached the main interior entrance that led to the first-floor corridor. “Excuse me!” she called out to Marlene Wilson, the African-American receptionist. Laurie needed Marlene to buzz her in.

“Dr. Montgomery! Hold on!” Marlene said when she caught sight of Laurie. “You’ve got some visitors who’ve been waiting for you.”

A middle-aged couple whom Laurie had never seen stood up from one of the waiting room’s vinyl couches. The burly man was in a heavy red-checked wool jacket and needed a shave. He was holding a hunting cap with earmuffs tied over the top. The woman seemed frail. There was a lace collar around her coat. The two looked as if they belonged in a small town in the Midwest. They were plainly intimidated, and exhausted, as if they’d been traveling all night.

“Can I help you?” Laurie asked.

“We hope so,” the man said. “I’m Chester Cassidy and this here is my wife, Shirley.”

Laurie recoiled at the surname, realizing that she was most likely facing the parents of Brad Cassidy. Instantly, the horrific image of the tortured young man she’d posted the day before sprang unbidden into her mind’s eye. She remembered the gouged eye sockets, the huge nail that had been pounded through the boy’s palm, and the naked part of his chest and abdomen where he’d been skinned alive. She shuddered.

“What can I do for you?” Laurie managed to say.

“We understand you are the doctor who took care of our son, Brad,” Chester said. His large, gnarled hands were unconsciously worrying his hat.

Laurie nodded, although “taking care of Brad” was hardly an appropriate euphemism for what she’d had to do.

“We would like to talk to you for a few moments,” Chester added. “Provided you have the time.”

“Of course,” Laurie said, although she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. Dealing with bereaved parents was not easy for her. “But I’m just arriving at this very moment. You’ll have to give me about fifteen minutes.”

“We understand,” Chester said. With an arm around his wife, Chester retreated to the couch.

Laurie had herself buzzed into the building. Preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with the Cassidy family, she took the elevator up to the fifth floor and went into her office. She hung her coat behind the door. A quick glance at the mound of unfinished folders on her desk made her thankful she’d been steadfast in her decision not to go on the Budapest trip.

Laurie found Brad Cassidy’s folder near the top of the stack. Using her index finger she went through the contents until she came to the identification sheet. She pulled it out. She was curious who had made the ID. The name was listed as Helen Trautman, the deceased’s sister.

Back down on the first floor she took the circuitous route through communications to the ID room. She wanted a bolt of coffee before facing the Cassidys. As she entered, she ran into Jack and Vinnie on their way down to the autopsy room. As usual, they were getting a jump on the day.

“Could we talk for a moment?” Jack asked sheepishly the moment he saw Laurie.

“Can it wait?” Laurie asked. She looked at Jack curiously; sheepishness was hardly one of Jack’s typical behavioral traits. “There’s a couple waiting for me out in the waiting room. I have a feeling they’ve been here for a long time.”

“It’ll only take a second,” Jack promised. “Vinnie, run down and get set up in the autopsy room! I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

“Why don’t I just go back to my newspaper?” Vinnie suggested. “I don’t want to be standing down there in the deserted pit twiddling my thumbs. Some of your spontaneous conversations go on for half an hour.”

“Not this time,” Jack said. “Get!”

Vinnie slunk off. Jack watched him go until he was out of earshot. Then he stepped over to Laurie who was helping herself to the community coffee. Jack cast a quick glance at George Fontworth, but he was ignoring them while busily sorting the cases that had come in over the night.

“Where’s the Hope diamond ring?” Jack asked.

Laurie glanced at her naked finger as if she expected the ring to be there. “It’s hidden in the freezer compartment of my refrigerator.”

“On ice, so to speak,” Jack said.

Laurie couldn’t help but smile. Such a comment was much more like the Jack she knew. “I’m not officially engaged,” she said. “I mentioned that last night, in case you don’t remember.”

“I guess not until you tell your parents,” Jack said.

“That and a few other things,” Laurie said.

“Anyway,” Jack stammered. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Apologize for what?” Laurie asked. Apology wasn’t one of Jack’s strong suits either.

“For not being more positive about Paul,” Jack said. “He seems like a nice enough guy, and I’m impressed by you two going to Paris for the weekend. I could never do that in a million years.”

“Is that all you want to say?”

“I guess,” Jack said.

“Then your apology is accepted,” Laurie said matter-of-factly. She tossed back the quarter cup of coffee she’d poured for herself, flashed Jack a quick, fake smile, then headed for the meeting with the Cassidys. She knew Jack was transfixed and probably baffled by her behavior, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted an apology, especially not an insincere one. What she wanted to hear from him was how he felt about her possible plans to marry. But she now knew it wasn’t going to happen, and it frustrated her.

Laurie first checked one of the small side rooms used for relatives during the emotional identification process. In the past, people had to go down to the morgue and view the body, but that was an unnecessarily cruel procedure for individuals still coping with the shock of loss of a loved one. Now Polaroid pictures were used, and it was a lot easier on everyone.

Once Laurie was certain the room was reasonably clean, she went to get the Cassidys. They filed in silently and sat in two of the straight-back chairs. Laurie leaned against the scarred wooden desk. The only other things in the room were a box of tissues, a wastebasket, and several chipped ashtrays.

“Could I get either of you some coffee?” Laurie questioned as a way of introduction.

“I don’t reckon so,” Chester said. He’d taken off his coat. His plaid flannel shirt was buttoned to the neck. “We don’t want to take too much of your time.”

“It’s quite all right,” Laurie said. “We’re really here to serve the public, quite literally. And let me say that I’m very sorry about your son. I’m sure it was a big shock for you.”

“In some ways yes and in some ways no,” Chester said, “He’d been a kinda wayward kid. Nothing like his older sister or older brother. To tell you the truth, we were embarrassed by the way he dressed and looked, especially with that Nazi sign he tattooed on his forehead. My uncle died fighting those Nazis. Brad and I had a set-to about that tattoo, the good it did.”

“Teenage rebellion is sometimes hard to understand,” Laurie offered. She wanted to steer the conversation away from the boy’s appearance. One of her worries was that the Cassidys would request to see the pictures of their son that had been taken on his arrival at the morgue. Such photographs were not fit for any layperson to see, much less a parent.

“Trouble was, he was no longer a teenager,” Chester said. Shirley nodded in agreement. “But he’d gotten in with the wrong crowd. They all had that Nazi stuff. And then they started going around beating up on people who were different, like gays and Puerto Ricans.”

“That’s how he got in trouble the first time,” Shirley said, speaking up for the first time. She had an unexpectedly high, strident voice.

“I understand he’d had difficulties with the police,” Laurie said. She started to relax. It seemed as if the Cassidys merely wanted to talk. They could appreciate that kind of urge, considering their grief and bafflement at their son’s untimely death. The only problem was that there were things that Lou and Agent Tyrrell had told her about the victim that she wasn’t in a position to disclose, such as the fact that he’d been cooperating with the authorities as part of a plea bargain.

“We heard that some awful things had happened to Brad from our daughter, Helen,” Chester said. “Brad had come down here recently to stay with her in the city. But she couldn’t tell us very much about the details of his death. That’s why we came ourselves from where we live upstate.”

“What would you like to know?” Laurie asked. She was hoping she could speak in generalities.

The husband and wife glanced at each other to see who should go first. Chester cleared his throat: “One of the things we wanted to know was whether he was shot.”

“He was,” Laurie said. “Most definitely.”

“I told you so,” Shirley said to Chester, as if the news validated her position in an argument. “For all they who taketh the sword shall perish with the sword: Matthew twenty-six.”

“Do you know what kind of gun it was?” Chester asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “And I’m not sure we’ll ever know. The bullet, of course, will be examined, and if a particular gun was believed to be involved, it could be implicated.”

“Was he shot only once?” Chester asked.

“We believe so,” Laurie said with less emphasis. She was uncomfortable giving more than sketchy details, since Brad’s homicide was under investigation.

“Then maybe it wasn’t one of his guns,” Chester said to Shirley. “If it had been, then he probably would have been hit many times.”

“Did your son have a lot of guns?” Laurie asked.

“Too many guns,” Shirley said. “That’s how he got in trouble the second time. We thought he was going to go to prison. I tell you: I don’t know what men see in guns.”

“Now, it’s not all guns that are bad,” Chester said.

“Most of them, if you ask me,” Shirley snapped. “Particularly those automatic ones.” Then turning to Laurie she added: “That’s what Brad got involved in. He was selling assault rifles.”

“Where did he get them?” Laurie asked. The idea of a skinhead youth selling assault rifles in upstate New York gave her a shiver.

“We don’t rightly know,” Chester said. “They came from Bulgaria originally. At least that’s where they’d been made. I came across a bunch of them hidden in our barn.”

“That’s terrible,” Laurie said. She knew it was a trite response, but she meant it. With her particular interest in the forensics of gunshot wounds, she’d seen a lot of cases, more than anyone else at the office. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever autopsied anyone victimized by one of Brad Cassidy’s customers.

“There’s one other thing we’d like to ask,” Shirley said haltingly. “We’d like to know if our boy suffered.”

Laurie looked away for a moment while her mind wrestled with the question. She hated to have to choose between truth and compassion. It was undeniable that Brad Cassidy had been mercilessly tortured, but what purpose would it serve to relate such horror to his grieving parents? On the other hand, she hated to lie.

“You can tell us straight,” Chester said, as if sensing Laurie’s quandary.

“He was shot in the head, and I believe he died instantly,” Laurie said, suddenly realizing she had an out. By such a statement she wasn’t being entirely honest, since she was not answering Shirley’s question, yet she wasn’t Lying either. It was up to the Cassidys to ask the critical question about the order of events preceding Brad’s murder.

“Thank the Lord!” Shirley said. “He was a troubled boy and certainly not a good boy, but the idea that he might have suffered bothered me deeply.”

“I’m glad we could be of service,” Laurie said. She pushed off the desk, eager to avoid more questions by breaking up the meeting. “If there’s anything else I can do, please give me a call.”

Chester and Shirley stood up. They were grateful to Laurie, and the father pumped her hand enthusiastically. Laurie gave him one of her cards as she escorted them out of the cubicle and across the ID room. She opened the door to the waiting room, and the Cassidys filed out.

After a final goodbye, Laurie let the door close and lock. Then she breathe a sigh of relief.

“Were you doing an ID in there of a case I don’t know about?” George Fontworth asked. He was bent over the list of fatalities, trying to schedule the day’s autopsies.

“No! They were the parents of one of yesterday’s cases,” Laurie said while staring off into the middle distance. With the Cassidys gone, she found herself preoccupied by the horror of their son selling assault rifles, probably to other skinheads. With what she’d learned the day before from Special Agent Gordon Tyrrell, putting such deadly weapons in the hands of such violent and bigoted people was an invitation to disaster, especially since the far-right neo-Nazi militias were busily recruiting the skinheads as shock troops.

What’s this world coming to? Laurie voicelessly questioned to herself. Her strong support for gun control ratcheted up yet another notch.