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"And?"

"Everybody thinks I'm jumping to conclusions, because toxicology can't find anything remotely suspicious, like insulin or digitalis, which was used in documented healthcare institution serial murders in the past. Well, it's not completely accurate to say that everybody has disagreed. The doctor I've been seeing socially, whose name, by the way, is Roger and who works at the General, has supported me, but this morning I've found myself questioning his motives. But that's another issue entirely. Anyway, that's the whole story about the serial-killer idea."

"You've run it by Jack?"

"Certainly. He thinks I'm off the wall."

Lou stood back up and returned Riva's chair. "Well, keep me informed. After that corneal-cocaine conspiracy you ferreted out ten years ago, I probably would give your intuition more credit than you."

"That was twelve years ago," Laurie said.

Lou laughed. "That just shows to go you that time flies when you're having fun."

TEN

"HOW'S THAT?" JACK ASKED.

He backed up a step to survey his handiwork.

"Okay, I suppose," Lou answered.

Jack had helped Lou into a moon suit and connected his battery pack. Jack could hear the hum of the ventilation fan pulling air through the HEPA filter. "Can you feel the breeze?"

"Some breeze," Lou commented derisively. "I don't understand how you can work in this contraption every day. For me once a month is too much."

"It's not my idea of a good time," Jack admitted as he began climbing into his own suit. "When I'm on call on weekends, I sometimes surreptitiously revert to the old mask and gown, but every time Calvin finds out, I get read the riot act."

They gloved in the anteroom, then pushed into the autopsy room proper. Five of the eight tables were in operation. On the fifth lay the naked remains of Susan Chapman.

Vinnie was busy arranging the specimen bottles.

"You remember Detective Soldano, don't you, Vinnie?"

"Yeah, sure. Welcome again, Lieutenant."

"Thanks, Vinnie," Lou said as he stopped some six feet from the table.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked. Lou was a relatively frequent autopsy observer, so Jack was not worried that he'd pass out and fall over backward, as some visitors did. Jack had no idea why he'd stopped, although he did notice the detective's facemask had fogged, suggesting he was overbreathing.

"I'm okay," Lou murmured. "It's a little hard seeing someone you know rudely stretched out like this, waiting to be gutted like a fish."

"You didn't say you knew her," Jack responded.

"I suppose I'm exaggerating. I didn't actually know her. I'd met her a few times at Captain O'Rourke's house."

"Well, move on in here! You're not going to see anything from left field."

Lou took a couple of tentative steps forward.

"Looks like she had a thing for Krispy Kremes," Jack said, surveying the body. "What did she weigh out as, Vinnie, old boy?"

"A hundred and eighty-three."

Jack whistled, which sounded muffled behind his plastic mask. "That's a bit much for what I'd say is about a five-foot-three-frame."

"Five-four," Vinnie said. He went back to the cabinet for syringes.

"I stand corrected," Jack said. "Okay, Lou, fill me in! You railroaded me in here so fast, I haven't read the investigator's report. Where was she found?"

"She was sitting upright in the driver's seat of her SUV like she was taking a nap. Her head was resting down on her chest. That was why she wasn't discovered right away. A few people had seen her but thought she was sleeping."

"What else can you tell me?"

"Not much. She was apparently shot in the right chest."

"And your impression was that of a robbery?"

"Certainly looked like it. Her cash was gone, her wallet and credit cards were thrown on the floor, and her clothes were intact."

"Where were her arms?"

"Poked through the steering wheel."

"Really? That's odd."

"How so?"

"Sounds to me like she was positioned."

Lou shrugged. "Could be. If so, what do you read into it?"

"It's just not common with a garden-variety mugging." Jack picked up the woman's right hand. A section of the thenar eminence below the thumb was gone, causing a grooved defect. The rest of the ball of the thumb and most of the palm was heavily stippled with tiny penetrations. Part of the first metacarpal bone was visible in the defect. "My guess, this is a defensive wound."

Lou nodded. He was still a full step away from the table.

Jack lifted the right arm away from the body. Within the armpit were two small dark red circles with some adherent fabric fibers. The surface within the circles looked like dried chopped meat with a bit of yellow adipose tissue peeking out.

Vinnie came back with the syringes and after dumping them alongside the corpse, pointed to the view box on the wall. "I forgot to tell you I put up the X-rays. There are two slugs in the chest to match the two entrance wounds."

"How right you are!" Jack said. He stepped over to the view box and peered at the films. Lou came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. The two bullets stood out dramatically as two pure white defects in the mottled, varying gray field. "My guess is that one is in the left lung and the other's in the heart."

"That confirms the two nine-millimeter shell casings found in the vehicle," Lou said.

"Let's see what else we can find," Jack said as he returned to the table and recommenced his external exam. He was meticulous, literally going from the top of the head to the bottom of the feet. In the process, he pointed out the fine stippling around the entrance wounds.

"What's that mean?" Lou asked. He'd finally moved close enough to see.

"Since this area was clothed, it tells me the muzzle of the gun was close, maybe only a foot away, but not as close as it was to the hand."

"Is that significant?"

"You tell me. It raises the question whether the attacker was sitting in the car when the gun was fired rather than just reaching in."

"Yeah, so?"

Jack shrugged. "If the attacker was sitting in the car, you may want to question if the victim knew the attacker."

Lou nodded. "Good point."

For the internal portion of the autopsy, Jack stood on the victim's right, with Vinnie on the left. Lou stood at the head and bent over when Jack pointed out a particular finding.

The autopsy was routine, except when Jack traced the bullets' trajectories. Both had penetrated ribs, which Jack thought probably accounted for the lack of exit wounds. One bullet had gone through the aortic arch to lodge in the left lung. The other had passed through the right side of the heart to embed itself in the wall of the left ventricle. Jack retrieved both slugs, handling them with extreme care so as not to alter their external markings. He dropped them into evidence pouches with custody tags that Vinnie had prepared.

"I'm afraid this is all I'm going to be able to give you," Jack said, handing the sealed pouches to Lou. "Maybe your ballistics people can help out."

"I hope so," Lou said. "We got no prints from the scene, even from the passenger-side door handle. There weren't even any latents on the wallet other than the victim's, so we got zilch from the scene. On top of that, the nighttime attendants didn't see anybody suspicious coming in or hanging around."

"It sounds like it's going to be a tough case."

"You got that right."

Leaving Vinnie to clean up, Jack and Lou went into the storeroom to get out of the protective suits. From there, they walked into the locker room to change from scrubs to street clothes.

"Once a doctor, always a doctor, so I hope you don't mind my saying that it looks like you're getting a paunch there, Lieutenant."

Lou's eyes dropped to take in his expanded girth. "Sad, isn't it?"

"Sad and unhealthy," Jack said. "You're not doing yourself any favors with that extra weight, especially since you haven't stopped smoking."

"What do you mean?" Lou questioned as if offended. "I've stopped smoking a hundred times. Why, the last time was just two days ago."

"How long did that last?"

"Till I could bum one off my partner: about an hour." He laughed. "I know, I'm pathetic. But the reason I'm carrying around all this extra baggage is that I can't find the time to work out with all the homicides in this fair city." He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it over his protruding waist.

"You're going to have to be indicted for your own death if you don't change your ways."

Standing alongside Jack in front of the mirror Lou slipped the loop of his tie over his head. He hadn't untied the knot earlier. He cinched it up to his neck, thrusting out his chin in the process. "I had a conversation with Laurie before I came down here to find you."

"Oh?" Jack questioned. He paused, tying his knit tie, and stared at Lou in the mirror.

"She was upset about you guys and got all teary-eyed."

"That's curious, considering she's having a mad, passionate affair with some creep over at the Manhattan General."

"His name is Roger."

"Whatever. Actually, he's not a creep, and that's part of the problem. In fact, he sounds kind of perfect."

"Well, you can relax about that. I definitely didn't get the impression she's so wild about the guy. She even said she wants to talk to you about patching things up."

"Hal" Jack grunted in disbelief. He went back to tying his tie.

Knowing that he was putting words into Laurie's mouth and feeling a little guilty about it, Lou avoided eye contact with Jack while he got his jacket out of the locker and slipped it on. He justified his machinations as a friend helping friends. He used his fingers to comb back his closely cropped hair.

Jack's eyes followed Lou until Lou finally looked at him. Jack then said, "I find it hard to believe she wants to talk about patching things up when a couple of weeks ago, she wouldn't give me the time of day outside of talking about cases here at the morgue. I tried to get together with her a number of nights in a row. She blew me off each time, saying she was busy going to the symphony or to the museum or the ballet or some other disgustingly cultural event. I mean, she was booked up solid and never suggested an alternate date." Like Lou, Jack used his fingers to sweep his Caesar-style hair off his forehead with rapid, irritated strokes.

"Maybe you should try again," Lou suggested. He sensed that he should tread rather softly. "As I told her, you guys are meant for each other."

"I'll think about it," Jack said evasively. "I'm not big on self-humiliation these days."

"She also mentioned her confusion about a series of suspicious deaths over at the Manhattan General. It almost sounded like she was trying to talk herself into them being homicides. She said she'd talked to you about it. What's your take? She said you thought, in her words, she was 'off the wall.' "

"That's a bit strong. I just think she's gotten a little ahead of herself with those four cases."

"Six! She got two more today."

"No kidding?"

"That's what she said. She also admitted she might be using the serial-killer idea as a diversion."

"She said that specifically? I mean, she actually used the word 'diversion'?"

"Scout's honor!"

Jack shook his head with surprise. "I'd say that was a reasonable assessment, considering toxicology has drawn a complete blank. I'd also have to say it was impressively self-aware."

With the March sun still making its diurnal transit in the southern sky, a shaft of midday sunlight that had suddenly knifed through the rapidly moving cloudcover penetrated into the Manhattan General's southerly oriented cafeteria window. It was like a laser beam, and Laurie had to lift her hand to shield her eyes from its sudden intensity.

Dr. Susan Passero, who was sitting across from her with her back to the window, became a featureless silhouette against the glare.

Keeping her hand over her forehead, Laurie dropped her eyes to her tray in front of her. She had hardly touched her food. Although her selections sounded appetizing when she got them, once she sat down, she realized she wasn't hungry at all. Having no appetite was not usual for Laurie. She attributed it to the stress she felt about her upcoming meeting with the social worker and the inevitable news she was about to get.

In some ways, she felt humiliated about being forced to see a mental-health professional.

When Laurie had arrived at the hospital forty minutes earlier, she'd first gone to Roger's office, but he still wasn't available. One of the secretaries had told her he was closeted with the hospital president. Laurie had then gone to seek out Sue, who was graciously willing to join her for lunch on short notice.

"Getting a call from one of the genetics lab social workers doesn't necessarily mean your test was positive," Sue said.

"Oh, come on," Laurie complained. "I just wish the woman would have told me."

"Actually, by law, they are not supposed to tell you over the phone," Sue said. "With the new Health Information Privacy Act, phone reporting is frowned upon. Laboratory personnel can never be sure exactly with whom they are speaking. They could inadvertently give the information to the wrong person, which is what the new HIPA is supposed to prevent."

"Why haven't they sent you my results?" Laurie asked. "You're my official primary-care physician."

"I wasn't, technically, when the test was ordered. But you're right. I should have heard. At the same time, I'm not surprised. The walk-in genetics lab is just getting their act together. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised they didn't require you to have a session with one of their specially trained social workers before they took your blood. That was my understanding of the proactive way they were going to handle things. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that genetic testing is going to be upsetting, no matter the outcome."

Tell me about it,
Laurie thought to herself.

"What's wrong with your food?" Sue asked, leaning over to look at it. "You haven't touched a bite. Do I have to take this personally?"