Blindsight (33 page)

Laurie felt her heart sink. So much for superstition. "I'll be right in," she said.
Once she had changed into her full protective gear, Laurie went to Paul's table. He was working on the remains of a very young woman.
"How old?" Laurie asked.
"Twenty," Paul said. "College student at Columbia." "How awful!" Laurie said. This would be by far the youngest in her series. "That's not the worst of it," Paul said. "How so?" Laurie asked.
"Dr. Besserman is doing the boyfriend," Paul said. "He's a thirty-one-year-old banker. That's why I thought you'd be interested. Apparently they injected themselves simultaneously." "Oh no!" Laurie felt almost dizzy: as a double tragedy the incident was doubly poignant. She moved over to Dr. Besserman's table. He was just lifting the internal organs out of the body. Laurie looked at the dead man's face. There was a large discolored bruise on his forehead. "He convulsed," Dr. Besserman said, noticing Laurie's curiosity. "Must have hit his face on the floor. Or it could have happened in the refrigerator." Laurie switched her attention to Dr. Besserman. "This man was found in a refrigerator?" she asked. "That's what the tour doctor told us," Dr. Besserman said. "That's the third one, then," Laurie said. "Where was the girlfriend?" "She was in the bedroom on the floor," Dr. Besserman said. "Find anything special on the post so far?" Laurie asked. "Pretty routine for an overdose," Dr. Besserman said. Laurie stepped back to Paul's table and watched him slice off several samples of liver. "What kinds of specimens have you been sending up to Toxicology on these cases?" he asked when he noticed Laurie by his side.
"Liver, kidney, and brain," Laurie said. "In addition to the usual fluid samples." "That's what I thought," Paul said.
"Have you found anything remarkable on this case?" Laurie asked. "Not so far. Certainly consistent with a cocaine overdose. No surprises. But we have the head to go." "I hear you have a lot of cases today. Since I'm already here would you like me to help?"

"It's not necessary," Paul said. "Especially since Dr. Besserman's come in."
"Are you sure?" Laurie asked.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure."
Going through all the paperwork on the cases, Laurie got the names of the victims as well as the male's address. It had been at the male's apartment that the bodies had been found. Then she went back to the locker room and changed. She was extremely disheartened. There was something particularly tragic about two young lovers losing their lives so senselessly. She began to regret anew Bingham's decision not to inform the public about the potentially tainted drug. If he had, those two people might be alive today. With sudden resolve, Laurie decided to call Bingham. If this Romeo and Julietstyle tragedy didn't wake him up to the fact that they were potentially facing a major public-health crisis, nothing would. Upstairs in her office she found Bingham's home number in the directory. Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.
Bingham himself answered. "This is Sunday morning," he said crisply when he understood who was on the other end of the line.
Laurie immediately told him about the two new overdose cases. Once she had finished, she was met with silence. Then Bingham said sharply, "I fail to see why you felt compelled to call me about this on a Sunday."
"If we had made a statement, this couple might be alive today," Laurie said. "Obviously we can't help them, but perhaps we can help others. With these cases I now have sixteen in my series." "Look, Montgomery, I'm not even convinced you have a bona fide series, so stop throwing the term around as if it's an a priori assumption. Maybe you have a series, maybe you don't. I appreciate your good intentions, but have you come up with any proof? Has the lab come up with a contaminant?" "Not yet," Laurie admitted.
"Then as far as I'm concerned, this conversation is just a rehash of the one we had the other day." "But I'm convinced we can save lives--"
"I know you are," Bingham said. "But I'm also convinced it is not in the best interests of the department and for the city as a whole. The media will want names, and we are not prepared to give names, not with the pressure we're under. And it's more than Duncan Andrews' family who'd like to keep these cases out of the headlines. But I am meeting with the commissioner of health this week. In all fairness to you I will present the issue to him and he can decide." "But, Dr. Bingham--" Laurie protested.
"That's enough, Laurie. Goodbye!"
Laurie looked at the phone with frustration. Bingham had hung up on her. She slammed the phone down in anger. The idea that he would take the problem to the commissioner was not a consolation to her. As

far as she was concerned, it was merely shuffling the problem from one political hack to another. She
also felt Bingham had been closest to the real reason for keeping a lid on the series when he mentioned Duncan Andrews. Bingham was still worried about the political ramifications of going public with a connected name.
Laurie decided to give Jordan a call. Since he didn't work for the city and was beholden to no special group or interest, maybe he could speak out. Laurie wasn't sure he'd be inclined to get involved, but she decided to chance it. Jordan picked up on the second ring but sounded out of breath when he answered. "I'm on my exercise bike," he explained when Laurie asked. "Good to hear from you so soon. I hope you had a nice evening. I know I did."
"It was lovely," she said. "Thank you again." It had been a nice evening and Laurie had been relieved when Jordan didn't pressure her after that brief, aborted kiss. Laurie filled Jordan in on the latest additions to her overdose series. To her relief he sounded genuinely upset.
"Now I have a question for you," Laurie said. "And a favor to ask. The medical examiner is not willing to make a public statement about my series. I want it made because I'm convinced it will save lives. Do you know any other way to get this information to the public and might you be willing to put the word out?"
"Wait a second," Jordan said. "I'm an ophthalmologist. This isn't exactly my area of expertise. You want me to make some kind of statement about a series of drug deaths? No way, it's inappropriate." Laurie sighed. "Would you think about it?" "I don't need to think about it," Jordan said. "This is the type of thing I have to stay clear of, pure and simple. Remember, you and I are coming at medicine from the opposite ends of the spectrum. I'm in the clinical end. I've got a very high profile clientele. I'm sure they wouldn't want to hear I'm mixed up in any drug affair no matter which side of the law I'm on. They'd start to wonder about me, and before I knew what was happening, they'd be going to someone else. Ophthalmology is extremely competitive these days."
Laurie didn't even try to argue. She understood more clearly than ever: Jordan Scheffield was not about to help her. She merely thanked him for his time and hung up. There was only one other person to whom Laurie could turn. Although she was far from optimistic about the reception she'd meet there, she swallowed her pride and called Lou. Since she didn't have his home number, she called police headquarters to leave word for him. To her surprise, he returned her call almost immediately.
"Hey, how are you?" He sounded pleased to have heard from her. "I knew I should have given you my home number. Here, let me give it to you now." Laurie got a pen and paper and jotted the number down. "I'm glad you called," Lou continued. "I got my kids here. You want to come down to SoHo for some brunch?"
"Another time," Laurie said. "I've got a problem."

"Uh-oh," Lou said. "What is it?"
Laurie told him about the double overdose and her conversations with Bingham and Jordan. "Nice to know I'm at the bottom of your list," Lou commented. "Please, Lou," Laurie said. "Don't play wounded. I'm desperate." "Laurie, why are you doing this to me?" Lou complained. "I'd love to help you, but this is not a police matter. I told you that the last time you brought it up. I can understand your problem, but I don't have any suggestions. And if you want my opinion, it's not really your problem. You've done what you could and you've informed your superiors. That's all you can expect from yourself." "My conscience won't let me leave it at that," Laurie said. "Not while people are dying." "What did big bucks Jordan say?" Lou asked. "He was afraid his patients wouldn't understand," Laurie said. "He said he couldn't help me." "That's a pretty flimsy excuse," Lou said. "I'm surprised he's not falling all over himself trying to prove what a man he is by helping his damsel in distress." "I'm not his damsel," Laurie said. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she shouldn't be rising to his bait.
"Not always charming, that prince of yours, eh?" Laurie hung up on Lou. The man could be so infuriatingly rude. She got her things together, including the address of the double-overdose scene, and was ready to go when the phone started to ring. Figuring it was Lou, she avoided answering. The phone rang about twenty times before it stopped just as she reached the elevator.
Laurie hailed a cab and headed for the address on Sutton Place South. When she arrived, she flashed her medical examiner's badge at the doorman on duty and asked to see the superintendent. The doorman readily obliged her. "Carl will be down in a minute. He lives right here in the building so he's almost always available."
A diminutive man with dark hair and a thin black moustache soon appeared and introduced himself as Carl Bethany. "I guess you're here about George VanDeusen?" Carl asked. Laurie nodded. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to view the scene where the bodies were found. Is the apartment empty?"
"Oh, yeah," Carl said. "They took the bodies out last night." "That's not what I meant," Laurie said. "I want to be sure there aren't any family members up there. I don't want to disturb anyone."
Carl said he'd have to check. He conferred with the doorman, then returned to assure Laurie that the VanDeusen apartment was vacant. Then he took her up to the tenth floor and unlocked the door for her. Stepping aside, he let Laurie go in first.

"Nobody's cleaned in here yet," Carl said as he followed Laurie through the door. Laurie noticed a
musty, almost fishy smell as she entered the apartment. Laurie surveyed the living room. An antique butler's-style coffee table with only three legs lay at an odd angle. The fourth leg was on the floor just by it. Magazines and books were haphazardly scattered across the carpet; it looked as if they had been spilled when the leg was broken. A crystal lamp lay smashed between an end table and the couch. A large, old-master oil painting hung askew on the wall. "A lot of damage," Laurie said. In her mind's eye she tried to imagine the kind of seizure that could have resulted in such breakage.
"That's just the way it looked when I came in here last night," Carl said. Laurie started toward the kitchen. "Who found the bodies?" she said. "I did," Carl said.
Laurie was surprised. "What brought you in?" "The night doorman called me," Carl said. Laurie was going to ask about him next. She hoped to speak to him, too, and said so. "Why did he call you?" she asked.
"He said another tenant had called him to report strange noises coming from 10F. The caller was worried that someone was hurt."
"What did you do?" Laurie asked.
"I came up here and rang the bell," Carl said. "I rang it several times. Then I used my passkey. That's when I found the bodies."
Laurie blinked. Her mind was mulling over this scenario, and something wasn't making sense. She could remember reading an hour earlier in the investigator's report that both bodies had significant rigor mortis, even the woman in the bedroom. That meant that they had to have been dead at least several hours. "You said the tenant called down to the doorman because sounds were coming out of the apartment at that time? I mean at the same time he was calling." "I think so," Carl said.
Laurie began to wonder how the other victims in her series had been found. Duncan Andrews and Julia Myerholtz had been found by their lovers. But what about the others? Laurie had never considered the question before now. Now that she thought about it, she did recognize one strange thing: all the victims had been found relatively quickly. Their bodies were discovered in a matter of hours whereas in many cases single people who unexpectedly died in their apartments weren't found for days, sometimes only after the smell of decay had alerted neighbors. The scene in the kitchen was all too familiar. The contents of the refrigerator had been strewn helter-skelter across the floor. The refrigerator door was still ajar. Laurie noticed that the smell of spoiled

milk and rotting vegetables permeated the air.
"Someone is going to have to clean this up," Carl said. Laurie nodded. Leaving the kitchen, she looked into the bedroom. Again she started to feel incredibly sad. Seeing the apartment where these people had lived made them all the more real. It was easier to remain dispassionate down at the medical examiner's office than it was in the deceased's home. Laurie felt her eyes well with tears.
"Is there anything else I can do to help?" Carl asked. "I'd like to speak to that night doorman," she said, pulling herself together. "That's easily arranged," Carl said. "Anything else?" "Yes," Laurie said, gazing around the apartment. "Maybe you shouldn't let anyone clean this place up just yet. Let me talk to the police."
"They were here last night too," Carl said. "I know," Laurie said. "But I'm thinking of someone a little higher on the ladder in the homicide department."
Downstairs Carl got the night doorman's phone number for Laurie. The man's name was Scott Maybrie. He even offered to allow Laurie the use of his phone if she wanted to call immediately. "Wouldn't he be asleep at this time?" Laurie asked. "It won't hurt him," Carl insisted.
Carl's tiny apartment was on the first floor and faced the street, in contrast to VanDeusen's, which had faced out over the East River. Carl allowed Laurie to sit at his cluttered desk amid notes to plumbers and electricians. Being particularly helpful, Carl even dialed Scott's number and handed Laurie the phone. As she'd feared, the man's voice was hoarse with sleep when he answered. Laurie identified herself and explained that Carl had suggested she call. "I wanted to ask you a few questions about the VanDeusen case," she continued. "Did you see Mr. VanDeusen or his girlfriend last night?"
"No, I didn't," Scott said.
"Carl told me that one of the other tenants called you about noises coming from the VanDeusen apartment. What time was that?"
"Around two-thirty, three o'clock," Scott said. "Which tenant called?" Laurie asked.
"I don't know," Scott admitted. "He didn't say." "Was it one of the immediate neighbors?" Laurie suggested.