Laurie looked at the name of the victim and his age: Frank DePasquale. “Poor fellow was only eighteen,” she said. “Such a waste. And like most of these homicides, the case will probably never be solved.”
“Probably not,” Vinnie agreed as he struggled to fold his newspaper to the next page.
Laurie said good morning to Paul Plodgett when he appeared at the door. He had dark circles under his eyes. She asked him how his famous case was progressing.
“Don’t ask,” Paul said. “It’s a nightmare.”
Laurie got herself a cup of coffee and picked up the three folders for her day’s cases. Each folder contained a case worksheet, a partially filled-out death certificate, an inventory of medico-legal case records, two sheets for autopsy notes, a telephone notice of death as received by communications, a completed identification sheet, an investigative report, a sheet for the autopsy report, and a lab slip for HIV antibody analysis.
As she was shuffling through all the material, Laurie noticed the names of the other two cases: Louis Herrera and Duncan Andrews. She remembered the name Duncan Andrews from the day before.
“That was the case you asked me about yesterday,” a voice said from over Laurie’s shoulder. She turned and looked up into Calvin Washington’s coal black eyes. He’d come up behind her and put a finger by Andrews’ name. “When I saw the name, I thought you’d want the case.”
“Fine by me,” Laurie said.
Each one of the medical examiners had his own way of approaching his autopsy day. Some grabbed the material and went directly downstairs. Laurie had a different modus operandi. She liked to take all the paperwork up to her office to plan her day as rationally as possible. With her coffee in one hand, her briefcase in the other, and the three new files under her arm, Laurie set out for the elevator. She got as far as communications when Sergeant Murphy, one of the policemen currently assigned to the medical examiner’s office, called her name. He bounded out of the police cubicle, dragging a second man behind him. Sergeant Murphy was an ebullient, red-faced Irishman.
“Dr. Montgomery, I’d like you to meet Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano,” Murphy said proudly. “He’s one of the brass in the homicide department at headquarters downtown.”
“Happy to meet you, Doctor,” Lou said. He stuck out his hand. He was an attractive, dark-complected man of medium height, with well-defined features and bright eyes that just then were riveted to her face. His hair was cropped short in a style that seemed appropriate for his stocky, muscular body.
“Happy to meet you as well,” Laurie said. “We don’t see too many police lieutenants here at the medical examiner’s office.” Laurie felt a bit nervous under the man’s unblinking stare.
“They don’t let us out of our cages too often,” Lou said. “I’m pretty much glued to my desk. But I still like to sneak out once in a while, especially on certain cases.”
“Hope you enjoy your visit here,” Laurie said. She smiled and started to leave.
“Just a moment, Doctor!” Lou said. “I was told that you were assigned to autopsy Frank DePasquale. I wonder if you would mind if I observed the post. I’ve already cleared it with Dr. Washington.”
“Not at all,” Laurie said. “If you can tolerate it, be my guest.”
“I’ve seen a few autopsies,” Lou said. “I don’t think there will be any problem.”
“Fine,” Laurie said.
There was an awkward pause. For a moment no one spoke. Finally Laurie realized the man was waiting for some directions.
“I’m on my way to my office,” Laurie said. “I usually go over the paperwork first. Would you care to come along?”
“I’d be delighted,” he said.
In the elevator Laurie looked at Soldano more closely. He was a square, athletic-
appearing man of obvious intelligence whose rumpled appearance vaguely reminded her of Colombo, the TV detective made famous by Peter Falk. The crease in his suit pants had long since disappeared. Despite the fact that it was only a little after eight in the morning, he had a heavy five o’clock shadow.
As if reading Laurie’s mind, Lou self-consciously ran a hand up and down the sides of his face.
“I guess I look a wreck,” Lou said. “I’ve been up since four-thirty when the DePasquale body floated to shore. Didn’t have a chance to shave. Hope it doesn’t offend you. I’m not trying for the Don Johnson Miami Vice look.”
“I didn’t notice,” Laurie lied. “But why is a detective lieutenant so interested in an eighteen-year-old homicide victim? Is there something special about this case that I should know?”
“Not really,” Lou said. “It’s more personal. Before I got promoted to lieutenant and switched to Homicide, I’d been with the organized crime unit for six years. With DePasquale the two areas overlap. DePasquale was a young hoodlum on the fringes of the Lucia crime family organization. He might have been only eighteen, but he already had a long sheet.”
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Laurie motioned for them to get off.
“As you’ve probably already guessed,” Lou continued, following Laurie down the corridor, “DePasquale’s death was an obvious execution.”
“It was?” Laurie questioned. As of yet, nothing was obvious to her.
“Absolutely,” Lou said. “You’re going to find that he was shot from close range with a small caliber bullet into the base of the brain. It’s the usual, proven method. No mess, no fuss.”
They went into Laurie’s office. Laurie introduced Lou to Riva, who was already hard at work. Laurie got a chair for Lou and put it next to her desk. They both sat down.
“You’ve seen these gangland-style execution cases before, haven’t you?” Lou questioned.
“I’m not sure,” Laurie said evasively. From medical school training, she knew how to be vague when asked a pointed question. She didn’t want to give the impression she was inexperienced.
“They usually mean friction between rival organizations,” Lou said. “And in this case it would mean friction between the Lucia and the Vaccarro crime families. They are the major players in the Queens area and their respective interests are controlled by midlevel bosses, Vinnie Dominick and Paul Cerino. My guess would be that Paul Cerino had a hand in poor Frank DePasquale’s murder, and if he did, I’d like nothing better than to nail him with an indictment. I was after the guy for the entire six years I was assigned to Organized Crime. I could never get an indictment to stick. But if I could link him to a capital offense like whacking DePasquale, I’d be in fat city.”
“That puts the burden on us,” Laurie said as she opened DePasquale’s folder.
“If you or your lab could come up with something, I’d be eternally grateful,” Lou said. “We need some kind of break. The problem with guys like Cerino is that they keep so many layers between themselves and all the crime committed in their name, we seldom get any charges to stick.”
“Oh, damn!” Laurie said suddenly. She’d been listening to Lou as well as going through the DePasquale file.
“What’s the matter?” Lou asked.
“They didn’t take an X-ray on DePasquale,” Laurie said. She reached for her phone and dialed the morgue. “We have to have an X-ray before the autopsy. Unfortunately that’s going to hold things up. I’ll have to post one of the other cases first. I’m sorry.”
Lou shrugged.
Laurie told the mortuary tech who answered the phone to X-ray Frank DePasquale as soon as possible. The tech said he’d do his best. As she was hanging up, the doorway to her office was filled by Calvin Washington.