Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Suspense Fiction, #Fiction - Espionage, #Thriller, #Detective and mystery stories, #Espionage, #Onbekend, #Medical, #Medical novels, #New York (N.Y.), #Forensic pathologists, #Equatorial Guinea, #Forensic pathologists - Fiction, #Robin - Prose & Criticism, #Equatorial Guinea - Fiction, #Cook, #New York (N.Y.) - Fiction
Chromosome 6 (29 page)
paddle boat. Once we get to the island, we'll paddle up the Rio Diviso. Maybe we won't even have to go
on land at all. All we want to do is observe the animals for a while." Kevin nodded. He looked back and forth between the two women who were relentlessly staring at him. Acutely uncomfortable, he scraped back his chair and started from the room. "Where are you going?" Melanie asked.
"To get more wine," Kevin said.
With strange emotion akin to anger, Kevin got a third bottle of white Burgundy, opened it, and brought it back into the dining room. He gestured with it toward Melanie and she nodded. Kevin filled her glass. He did the same to Candace. Then he filled his own. After taking his seat, Kevin took a healthy swig of wine. He coughed a little after swallowing, and then asked when they planned on going on their great expedition. "Tomorrow, bright and early," Melanie said. "We figure it will take a little over an hour to get to the island, and we'd like to be back before the sun gets really strong." "We already got food and drink from the commissary," Candace said. "And I got a portable cooler from the hospital to pack it in."
"We'll stay far away from the bridge and the staging area," Melanie said. "So that won't be a problem." "I think it's going to be kind of fun," Candace said. "I'd love to see a hippopotamus." Kevin took another gulp of wine.
"I suppose you don't mind if we take those electronic gizmos to locate the animals," Melanie said. "And we could use the contour map. Of course, we'll be careful with them." Kevin sighed and sagged in his chair. "All right, I give up. What time is this mission scheduled?" "Oh goody," Candace said, clapping her hands together. "I knew you'd come." "The sun comes up after six," Melanie said. "I'd like to be in the boat and on our way by then. My plan is to head west, then swing way out into the estuary before going east. That way we won't evoke any suspicions here in town if anyone sees us getting into the boat. I'd like them to think we were going off to Acalayong."
"What about work?" Kevin asked. "Won't you be missed?" "Nope," Melanie said. "I told the people in the lab I'd be unreachable at the animal center. Whereas the people in the animal center I told..."
"I get the picture," Kevin interjected. "What about you, Candace?" "No problem," Candace said. "As long as Mr. Winchester keeps doing as well as he's doing, I'm essentially unemployed. The surgeons are golfing and playing tennis all day. I can do what I like."
on land at all. All we want to do is observe the animals for a while." Kevin nodded. He looked back and forth between the two women who were relentlessly staring at him. Acutely uncomfortable, he scraped back his chair and started from the room. "Where are you going?" Melanie asked.
"To get more wine," Kevin said.
With strange emotion akin to anger, Kevin got a third bottle of white Burgundy, opened it, and brought it back into the dining room. He gestured with it toward Melanie and she nodded. Kevin filled her glass. He did the same to Candace. Then he filled his own. After taking his seat, Kevin took a healthy swig of wine. He coughed a little after swallowing, and then asked when they planned on going on their great expedition. "Tomorrow, bright and early," Melanie said. "We figure it will take a little over an hour to get to the island, and we'd like to be back before the sun gets really strong." "We already got food and drink from the commissary," Candace said. "And I got a portable cooler from the hospital to pack it in."
"We'll stay far away from the bridge and the staging area," Melanie said. "So that won't be a problem." "I think it's going to be kind of fun," Candace said. "I'd love to see a hippopotamus." Kevin took another gulp of wine.
"I suppose you don't mind if we take those electronic gizmos to locate the animals," Melanie said. "And we could use the contour map. Of course, we'll be careful with them." Kevin sighed and sagged in his chair. "All right, I give up. What time is this mission scheduled?" "Oh goody," Candace said, clapping her hands together. "I knew you'd come." "The sun comes up after six," Melanie said. "I'd like to be in the boat and on our way by then. My plan is to head west, then swing way out into the estuary before going east. That way we won't evoke any suspicions here in town if anyone sees us getting into the boat. I'd like them to think we were going off to Acalayong."
"What about work?" Kevin asked. "Won't you be missed?" "Nope," Melanie said. "I told the people in the lab I'd be unreachable at the animal center. Whereas the people in the animal center I told..."
"I get the picture," Kevin interjected. "What about you, Candace?" "No problem," Candace said. "As long as Mr. Winchester keeps doing as well as he's doing, I'm essentially unemployed. The surgeons are golfing and playing tennis all day. I can do what I like."
"I'll call my head tech," Kevin said. "I'll tell him I'm under the weather with an acute attack of insanity."
"Wait a second," Candace said suddenly. "I just thought of a problem." Kevin sat bolt upright. "What?" he asked. "I don't have any sunblock," Candace said. "I didn't bring any because on my three previous visits I never saw the sun."
CHAPTER 16: MARCH 6, 1997 2:30 P.M.
NEW YORK CITY
WITH all the tests on Franconi pending, Jack had forced himself to go to his office and try to concentrate on some of his other outstanding cases. To his surprise, he'd made reasonable headway until the phone rang at two-thirty.
"Is this Dr. Stapleton?" a female voice with an Italian accent asked. "It is indeed," Jack said. "Is this Mrs. Franconi?" "Imogene Franconi. I got a message to call you." "I appreciate it, Mrs. Franconi," Jack said. "First let me extend my sympathies to you in regards to your son."
"Thank you," Imogene said. "Carlo was a good boy. He didn't do any of those things they said in the newspapers. He worked for the American Fresh Fruit Company here in Queens. I don't know where all that talk about organized crime came from. The newspapers just make stuff up." "It's terrible what they'll do to sell papers," Jack said. "The man that came this morning said that you got his body back," Imogene said. "We believe so," Jack said. "That's why we needed some blood from you to confirm it. Thank you for being cooperative."
"I asked him why he didn't want me to come down there and identify it like I did last time," Imogene said. "But he told me he didn't know."
Jack tried to think of a graceful way of explaining the identity problem, but he couldn't think of any. "Some parts of the body are still missing," he said vaguely, hoping that Mrs. Franconi would be satisfied. "Oh?" Imogene commented.
"Let me tell you why I called," Jack said quickly. He was afraid that if Mrs. Franconi became offended, she might not be receptive to his question. "You told the investigator that your son's health had improved after a trip. Do you remember saying that?" "Of course," Imogene said.
"Wait a second," Candace said suddenly. "I just thought of a problem." Kevin sat bolt upright. "What?" he asked. "I don't have any sunblock," Candace said. "I didn't bring any because on my three previous visits I never saw the sun."
CHAPTER 16: MARCH 6, 1997 2:30 P.M.
NEW YORK CITY
WITH all the tests on Franconi pending, Jack had forced himself to go to his office and try to concentrate on some of his other outstanding cases. To his surprise, he'd made reasonable headway until the phone rang at two-thirty.
"Is this Dr. Stapleton?" a female voice with an Italian accent asked. "It is indeed," Jack said. "Is this Mrs. Franconi?" "Imogene Franconi. I got a message to call you." "I appreciate it, Mrs. Franconi," Jack said. "First let me extend my sympathies to you in regards to your son."
"Thank you," Imogene said. "Carlo was a good boy. He didn't do any of those things they said in the newspapers. He worked for the American Fresh Fruit Company here in Queens. I don't know where all that talk about organized crime came from. The newspapers just make stuff up." "It's terrible what they'll do to sell papers," Jack said. "The man that came this morning said that you got his body back," Imogene said. "We believe so," Jack said. "That's why we needed some blood from you to confirm it. Thank you for being cooperative."
"I asked him why he didn't want me to come down there and identify it like I did last time," Imogene said. "But he told me he didn't know."
Jack tried to think of a graceful way of explaining the identity problem, but he couldn't think of any. "Some parts of the body are still missing," he said vaguely, hoping that Mrs. Franconi would be satisfied. "Oh?" Imogene commented.
"Let me tell you why I called," Jack said quickly. He was afraid that if Mrs. Franconi became offended, she might not be receptive to his question. "You told the investigator that your son's health had improved after a trip. Do you remember saying that?" "Of course," Imogene said.
"I was told you don't know where he went," Jack said. "Is there any way you could find out?"
"I don't think so," Imogene said. "He told me it had nothing to do with his work and that it was very private."
"Do you remember when it was?" Jack asked. "Not exactly," Imogene said. "Maybe five or six weeks ago." "Was it in this country?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Imogene said. "All he said was that it was very private." "If you find out where it was, would you give me a call back?" Jack asked. "I suppose," Imogene said.
"Thank you," Jack said.
"Wait," Imogene said. "I just remembered he did say something strange just before he left. He said that if he didn't come back that he loved me very much." "Did that surprise you?" Jack asked.
"Well, yes," Imogene said. "I thought that was a fine thing to say to your mother." Jack thanked Mrs. Franconi again and hung up the phone. Hardly had he had his hand off the receiver when it rang again. It was Ted Lynch.
"I think you'd better come up here," Ted said. "I'm on my way," Jack said.
Jack found Ted sitting at his desk, literally scratching his head. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to put one over on me," Ted spat. "Sit down!" Jack sat. Ted was holding a ream of computer-generated paper plus a number of sheets of developed film with hundreds of small dark bands. Ted reached over and dropped the mass into Jack's lap. "What the hell's this?" Jack questioned. He picked up several of the celluloid sheets and held them up to the light.
Ted leaned over and with the eraser end of an old-fashioned wooden pencil pointed to the films. "These are the results of the DNA polymarker test." He fingered the computer printout. "And this mass of data compares the nucleotide sequences of the DQ alpha regions of the MHC." "Come on, Ted!" Jack urged. "Talk English to me, would you please? You know I'm a babe in the woods when it comes to this stuff."
"Fine," Ted exclaimed as if vexed. "The polymarker test shows that Franconi's DNA and the DNA of
"I don't think so," Imogene said. "He told me it had nothing to do with his work and that it was very private."
"Do you remember when it was?" Jack asked. "Not exactly," Imogene said. "Maybe five or six weeks ago." "Was it in this country?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Imogene said. "All he said was that it was very private." "If you find out where it was, would you give me a call back?" Jack asked. "I suppose," Imogene said.
"Thank you," Jack said.
"Wait," Imogene said. "I just remembered he did say something strange just before he left. He said that if he didn't come back that he loved me very much." "Did that surprise you?" Jack asked.
"Well, yes," Imogene said. "I thought that was a fine thing to say to your mother." Jack thanked Mrs. Franconi again and hung up the phone. Hardly had he had his hand off the receiver when it rang again. It was Ted Lynch.
"I think you'd better come up here," Ted said. "I'm on my way," Jack said.
Jack found Ted sitting at his desk, literally scratching his head. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to put one over on me," Ted spat. "Sit down!" Jack sat. Ted was holding a ream of computer-generated paper plus a number of sheets of developed film with hundreds of small dark bands. Ted reached over and dropped the mass into Jack's lap. "What the hell's this?" Jack questioned. He picked up several of the celluloid sheets and held them up to the light.
Ted leaned over and with the eraser end of an old-fashioned wooden pencil pointed to the films. "These are the results of the DNA polymarker test." He fingered the computer printout. "And this mass of data compares the nucleotide sequences of the DQ alpha regions of the MHC." "Come on, Ted!" Jack urged. "Talk English to me, would you please? You know I'm a babe in the woods when it comes to this stuff."
"Fine," Ted exclaimed as if vexed. "The polymarker test shows that Franconi's DNA and the DNA of
the liver tissue you found inside him could not be any more different."
"Hey, that's good news," Jack said. "Then, it was a transplant." "I guess," Ted said without conviction. "But the sequence with the DQ alpha is identical, right down to the last nucleotide."
"What does that mean?" Jack asked.
Ted spread his hands like a supplicant and wrinkled his forehead. "I don't know. I can't explain it. Mathematically, it couldn't happen. I mean the chances are so infinitesimally small, it's beyond belief. We're talking about an identical match of thousands upon thousands of base pairs even in areas of long repeats. Absolutely identical. That's why we got the results that we did with the DQ alpha screen." "Well, the bottom line is that it was a transplant," Jack said. "That's the issue here." "If pressed, I'd have to agree it was a transplant," Ted said. "But how they found a donor with the identical DQ alpha is beyond me. It's the kind of coincidence that smacks of the supernatural." "What about the test with the mitochondrial DNA to confirm the floater is Franconi?" Jack asked. "Jeez, you give a guy an inch and he wants a mile," Ted complained. "We just got the blood, for crissake. You'll have to wait on the results. After all, we turned the lab upside down to get what you got so quickly. Besides I'm more interested in this DQ alpha situation compared to the polymarker results. Something doesn't jibe."
"Well, don't lose any sleep over it," Jack said. He stood up and gave Ted back all the material Ted had dumped in his lap. "I appreciate what you've done. Thanks! It's the information I needed. And when the mitochondrial results are back, give me a call." Jack was elated by Ted's results, and he wasn't worried about the mitochondrial study. With the correlation of the X rays, he was already confident the floater and Franconi were one and the same. Jack got on the elevator. Now that he'd documented that it had been a transplant, he was counting on Bart Arnold to come up with the answers to solve the rest of the mystery. As he descended, Jack found himself wondering about Ted's emotional reaction to the DQ alpha results. Jack was aware that Ted didn't get excited about too many things. Consequently, it had to be significant. Unfortunately, Jack didn't know enough about the test to have much of an opinion. He vowed that when he had the chance he'd read up on it.
Jack's elation was short-lived; it faded the moment he walked into Bart's office. The forensic investigator was on the phone, but he shook his head the moment he caught sight of Jack. Jack interpreted the gesture as bad news. He sat down to wait. "No luck?" Jack asked as soon as Bart disconnected. "I'm afraid not," Bart said. "I really expected UNOS to come through, and when they said that they had not provided a liver for Carlo Franconi and that he'd not even been on their waiting list, I knew the chances of tracing where he'd gotten the liver fell precipitously. Just now I was on the phone with Columbia-Presbyterian, and it wasn't done there. So I've heard from just about every center doing liver transplants, and no one takes credit for Carlo Franconi."
"Hey, that's good news," Jack said. "Then, it was a transplant." "I guess," Ted said without conviction. "But the sequence with the DQ alpha is identical, right down to the last nucleotide."
"What does that mean?" Jack asked.
Ted spread his hands like a supplicant and wrinkled his forehead. "I don't know. I can't explain it. Mathematically, it couldn't happen. I mean the chances are so infinitesimally small, it's beyond belief. We're talking about an identical match of thousands upon thousands of base pairs even in areas of long repeats. Absolutely identical. That's why we got the results that we did with the DQ alpha screen." "Well, the bottom line is that it was a transplant," Jack said. "That's the issue here." "If pressed, I'd have to agree it was a transplant," Ted said. "But how they found a donor with the identical DQ alpha is beyond me. It's the kind of coincidence that smacks of the supernatural." "What about the test with the mitochondrial DNA to confirm the floater is Franconi?" Jack asked. "Jeez, you give a guy an inch and he wants a mile," Ted complained. "We just got the blood, for crissake. You'll have to wait on the results. After all, we turned the lab upside down to get what you got so quickly. Besides I'm more interested in this DQ alpha situation compared to the polymarker results. Something doesn't jibe."
"Well, don't lose any sleep over it," Jack said. He stood up and gave Ted back all the material Ted had dumped in his lap. "I appreciate what you've done. Thanks! It's the information I needed. And when the mitochondrial results are back, give me a call." Jack was elated by Ted's results, and he wasn't worried about the mitochondrial study. With the correlation of the X rays, he was already confident the floater and Franconi were one and the same. Jack got on the elevator. Now that he'd documented that it had been a transplant, he was counting on Bart Arnold to come up with the answers to solve the rest of the mystery. As he descended, Jack found himself wondering about Ted's emotional reaction to the DQ alpha results. Jack was aware that Ted didn't get excited about too many things. Consequently, it had to be significant. Unfortunately, Jack didn't know enough about the test to have much of an opinion. He vowed that when he had the chance he'd read up on it.
Jack's elation was short-lived; it faded the moment he walked into Bart's office. The forensic investigator was on the phone, but he shook his head the moment he caught sight of Jack. Jack interpreted the gesture as bad news. He sat down to wait. "No luck?" Jack asked as soon as Bart disconnected. "I'm afraid not," Bart said. "I really expected UNOS to come through, and when they said that they had not provided a liver for Carlo Franconi and that he'd not even been on their waiting list, I knew the chances of tracing where he'd gotten the liver fell precipitously. Just now I was on the phone with Columbia-Presbyterian, and it wasn't done there. So I've heard from just about every center doing liver transplants, and no one takes credit for Carlo Franconi."
"This is crazy," Jack said. He told Bart that Ted's findings confirmed that Franconi had had a transplant.
"I don't know what to say," Bart commented. "If someone didn't get their transplant in North America or Europe, where could it have taken place?" Jack asked.
Bart shrugged. "There are a few other possibilities. Australia, South Africa, even a couple of places in South America, but having talked to my contact at UNOS, I don't think any of them are likely." "No kidding?" Jack said. He was not hearing what he wanted to hear. "It's a mystery," Bart commented.
"Nothing about this case is easy," Jack complained as he got to his feet. "I'll keep at it," Bart offered.
"I'd appreciate it," Jack said.
Jack wandered out of the forensic area, feeling mildly depressed. He had the uncomfortable sensation that he was missing some major fact, but he had no idea what it could be or how to go about finding out what it was.
In the ID room he got himself another cup of coffee, which was more like sludge than a beverage by that time of the day. With cup in hand, he climbed the stairs to the lab. "I ran your samples," John DeVries said. "They were negative for both cyclosporin A and FK506." Jack was astounded. All he could do was stare at the pale, gaunt face of the laboratory director. Jack didn't know what was more surprising: the fact that John had already run the samples or that the results were negative.
"You must be joking," Jack managed to say. "Hardly," John said. "It's not my style." "But the patient had to be on immunosuppressants," Jack said. "He'd had a recent liver transplant. Is it possible you got a false negative?"
"We run controls as standard procedure," John said. "I expected one or the other drug to be present," Jack said. "I'm sorry that we don't gear our results to your expectations," John said sourly. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Jack watched the laboratory director walk over to an instrument and make some adjustments. Then Jack turned and made his way out of the lab. Now he was more depressed. Ted Lynch's DNA results and John DeVries's drug assays were contradictory. If there'd been a transplant, Franconi had to be on
"I don't know what to say," Bart commented. "If someone didn't get their transplant in North America or Europe, where could it have taken place?" Jack asked.
Bart shrugged. "There are a few other possibilities. Australia, South Africa, even a couple of places in South America, but having talked to my contact at UNOS, I don't think any of them are likely." "No kidding?" Jack said. He was not hearing what he wanted to hear. "It's a mystery," Bart commented.
"Nothing about this case is easy," Jack complained as he got to his feet. "I'll keep at it," Bart offered.
"I'd appreciate it," Jack said.
Jack wandered out of the forensic area, feeling mildly depressed. He had the uncomfortable sensation that he was missing some major fact, but he had no idea what it could be or how to go about finding out what it was.
In the ID room he got himself another cup of coffee, which was more like sludge than a beverage by that time of the day. With cup in hand, he climbed the stairs to the lab. "I ran your samples," John DeVries said. "They were negative for both cyclosporin A and FK506." Jack was astounded. All he could do was stare at the pale, gaunt face of the laboratory director. Jack didn't know what was more surprising: the fact that John had already run the samples or that the results were negative.
"You must be joking," Jack managed to say. "Hardly," John said. "It's not my style." "But the patient had to be on immunosuppressants," Jack said. "He'd had a recent liver transplant. Is it possible you got a false negative?"
"We run controls as standard procedure," John said. "I expected one or the other drug to be present," Jack said. "I'm sorry that we don't gear our results to your expectations," John said sourly. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Jack watched the laboratory director walk over to an instrument and make some adjustments. Then Jack turned and made his way out of the lab. Now he was more depressed. Ted Lynch's DNA results and John DeVries's drug assays were contradictory. If there'd been a transplant, Franconi had to be on
either cyclosporin A or FK506. That was standard medical procedure.
Getting off the elevator on the fifth floor, he walked down to histology while trying to come up with some rational explanation for the facts he'd been given. Nothing came to mind. "Well, if it isn't the good doctor yet again," Maureen O'Conner said in her Irish brogue. "What is it? You only have one case? Is that why you are dogging us so?" "I only have one that is driving me bananas," Jack said. "What's the story with the slides?" "There's a few that are ready," Maureen said. "Do you want to take them or wait for the whole batch?" "I'll take what I can get," Jack said.
Maureen's nimble fingers picked out a sampling of the sections that were dry and placed them in a microscopic slide holder. She handed the tray to Jack. "Are there liver sections among these?" Jack asked hopefully. "I believe so," Maureen said. "One or two. The rest you'll have later." Jack nodded and walked out. A few doors down the hall, he entered his office. Chet looked up from his work and smiled.
"Hey, sport, how's it going?" Chet said. "Not so good," Jack said. He sat down and turned on his microscope light. "Problems with the Franconi case?" Chet asked. Jack nodded. He began to hunt through the slides for liver sections. He only found one. "Everything about it is like squeezing water from a rock." "Listen, I'm glad you came back," Chet said. "I'm expecting a call from a doctor in North Carolina. I just want to find out if a patient had heart trouble. I have to duck out to get passport photos taken for my upcoming trip to India. Would you take the call for me?" "Sure," Jack said. "What's the patient's name?" "Clarence Potemkin," Chet said. "The folder is right here on my desk." "Fine," Jack said, while slipping the sole liver section onto his microscope's stage. He ignored Chet as Chet got his coat from behind the door and left. Jack ran the microscopic objective down to the slide and was about to peer into the eyepieces, when he paused. Chet's errand had started him thinking about international travel. If Franconi had gotten his transplant out of the country, which seemed increasingly probable, there might be a way to find out where he'd been. Jack picked up his phone and called police headquarters. He asked for Lieutenant Detective Lou Soldano. He expected to have to leave a message and was pleasantly surprised to get the man himself. "Hey, I'm glad you called," Lou said. "Remember what I told you this morning about the tip it was the
Getting off the elevator on the fifth floor, he walked down to histology while trying to come up with some rational explanation for the facts he'd been given. Nothing came to mind. "Well, if it isn't the good doctor yet again," Maureen O'Conner said in her Irish brogue. "What is it? You only have one case? Is that why you are dogging us so?" "I only have one that is driving me bananas," Jack said. "What's the story with the slides?" "There's a few that are ready," Maureen said. "Do you want to take them or wait for the whole batch?" "I'll take what I can get," Jack said.
Maureen's nimble fingers picked out a sampling of the sections that were dry and placed them in a microscopic slide holder. She handed the tray to Jack. "Are there liver sections among these?" Jack asked hopefully. "I believe so," Maureen said. "One or two. The rest you'll have later." Jack nodded and walked out. A few doors down the hall, he entered his office. Chet looked up from his work and smiled.
"Hey, sport, how's it going?" Chet said. "Not so good," Jack said. He sat down and turned on his microscope light. "Problems with the Franconi case?" Chet asked. Jack nodded. He began to hunt through the slides for liver sections. He only found one. "Everything about it is like squeezing water from a rock." "Listen, I'm glad you came back," Chet said. "I'm expecting a call from a doctor in North Carolina. I just want to find out if a patient had heart trouble. I have to duck out to get passport photos taken for my upcoming trip to India. Would you take the call for me?" "Sure," Jack said. "What's the patient's name?" "Clarence Potemkin," Chet said. "The folder is right here on my desk." "Fine," Jack said, while slipping the sole liver section onto his microscope's stage. He ignored Chet as Chet got his coat from behind the door and left. Jack ran the microscopic objective down to the slide and was about to peer into the eyepieces, when he paused. Chet's errand had started him thinking about international travel. If Franconi had gotten his transplant out of the country, which seemed increasingly probable, there might be a way to find out where he'd been. Jack picked up his phone and called police headquarters. He asked for Lieutenant Detective Lou Soldano. He expected to have to leave a message and was pleasantly surprised to get the man himself. "Hey, I'm glad you called," Lou said. "Remember what I told you this morning about the tip it was the
Lucia people who stole Franconi's remains from the morgue? We just got confirmation from another
source. I thought you might like to know." "Interesting," Jack said. "Now I have a question for you." "Shoot," Lou said.
Jack outlined the reasons for his belief that Carlo Franconi might have traveled abroad for his liver transplant. He added that according to the man's mother, he'd taken a trip to a supposed spa four to six weeks previously.
"What I want to know is, is there a way to find out by talking to Customs if Franconi left the country recently, and if so, where did he go?"
"Either Customs or the Immigration and Naturalization," Lou said. "Your best bet would be Immigration unless, of course, he brought back so much stuff he had to pay duty. Besides, I have a friend in Immigration. That way I can get the information much faster than going through the usual bureaucratic channels. Want me to check?"
"I'd love it," Jack said. "This case is bugging the hell out of me." "My pleasure," Lou said. "As I said this morning, I owe you." Jack hung up the phone with a tiny glimmer of hope that he'd thought of a new angle. Feeling a bit more optimistic, he leaned forward, looked into his microscope, and began to focus. Laurie's day had not gone anything like she'd anticipated. She'd planned on doing only one autopsy but ended up doing two. And then George Fontworth ran into trouble with his multiple gunshot wound case, and Laurie volunteered to help him. Even with no lunch, Laurie didn't get out of the pit until three. After changing into her street clothes, Laurie was on her way up to her office when she caught sight of Marvin in the mortuary office. He'd just come on duty and was busy putting the office in order after the tumult of a normal day. Laurie made a detour and stuck her head in the door. "We found Franconi's X rays," she said. "And it turned out that floater that came in the other night was our missing man."
"I saw it in the paper," Marvin said. "Far out." "The X rays made the identification," Laurie said. "So I'm extra glad you took them." "It's my job," Marvin said.
"I wanted to apologize again for suggesting you didn't take them," Laurie said. "No problem," Marvin said.
Laurie got about four steps away, when she turned around and returned to the mortuary office. This time she entered and closed the door behind her. Marvin looked at her questioningly.
source. I thought you might like to know." "Interesting," Jack said. "Now I have a question for you." "Shoot," Lou said.
Jack outlined the reasons for his belief that Carlo Franconi might have traveled abroad for his liver transplant. He added that according to the man's mother, he'd taken a trip to a supposed spa four to six weeks previously.
"What I want to know is, is there a way to find out by talking to Customs if Franconi left the country recently, and if so, where did he go?"
"Either Customs or the Immigration and Naturalization," Lou said. "Your best bet would be Immigration unless, of course, he brought back so much stuff he had to pay duty. Besides, I have a friend in Immigration. That way I can get the information much faster than going through the usual bureaucratic channels. Want me to check?"
"I'd love it," Jack said. "This case is bugging the hell out of me." "My pleasure," Lou said. "As I said this morning, I owe you." Jack hung up the phone with a tiny glimmer of hope that he'd thought of a new angle. Feeling a bit more optimistic, he leaned forward, looked into his microscope, and began to focus. Laurie's day had not gone anything like she'd anticipated. She'd planned on doing only one autopsy but ended up doing two. And then George Fontworth ran into trouble with his multiple gunshot wound case, and Laurie volunteered to help him. Even with no lunch, Laurie didn't get out of the pit until three. After changing into her street clothes, Laurie was on her way up to her office when she caught sight of Marvin in the mortuary office. He'd just come on duty and was busy putting the office in order after the tumult of a normal day. Laurie made a detour and stuck her head in the door. "We found Franconi's X rays," she said. "And it turned out that floater that came in the other night was our missing man."
"I saw it in the paper," Marvin said. "Far out." "The X rays made the identification," Laurie said. "So I'm extra glad you took them." "It's my job," Marvin said.
"I wanted to apologize again for suggesting you didn't take them," Laurie said. "No problem," Marvin said.
Laurie got about four steps away, when she turned around and returned to the mortuary office. This time she entered and closed the door behind her. Marvin looked at her questioningly.
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