His first order of business was to pour himself a cup of coffee from the communal pot. Even the aroma seemed to have a beneficial effect, which Jack attributed to Pavlovian conditioning. He took his first sip. It was a heavenly experience. Though he doubted the caffeine could work quite so quickly, he felt like his mild hangover headache was already on the mend.
He stepped over to Vinnie Amendola, the mortuary tech whose day shift overlapped the night shift. He was ensconced as usual at one of the office’s government-issued metal desks. His feet were parked on the corner, and his face hidden behind his morning newspaper.
Jack pulled the edge of the paper down to expose Vinnie’s Italianate features to the world. He was in his late twenties, in sorry physical shape, but handsome. His dark, thick hair was something Jack envied. Jack had been noticing over the previous year a decided thinning of his gray-streaked brown hair on the crown of his head.
“Hey, Einstein, what’s the paper say about the Franconi body incident?” Jack asked. Jack and Vinnie worked together on a frequent basis, both appreciating the other’s flippancy, quick wit, and black humor.
“I don’t know,” Vinnie said. He tried to pull his beloved paper from Jack’s grasp. He was embroiled in the Knicks stats from the previous night’s basketball game.
Jack’s forehead furrowed. Vinnie might not have been an academic genius, but about current news items, he was something of a resident authority. He read the newspapers cover to cover every day and had impressive recall.
“There’s nothing about it in the paper?” Jack questioned. He was shocked. He’d imagined the media would have had a field day with the embarrassment of the body disappearing from the morgue. Bureaucratic mismanagement was a favorite journalistic theme.
“I didn’t notice it,” Vinnie said. He yanked harder, freed the paper, and reburied his face.
Jack shook his head. He was truly surprised and wondered how Harold Bingham, the chief medical examiner, had managed such a media coverup. Just as Jack was about to turn away, he caught the headlines. It said: Mob Thumbs Nose at Authority. The subhead read: “Vaccarro crime family kills one of its own then steals the body out from under the noses of city officials.”
Jack snatched the entire paper from the surprised Vinnie’s grasp. Vinnie’s legs fell to the floor with a thump. “Hey, come on!” he complained.
Jack folded the paper then held it so that Vinnie was forced to stare at the front page.
“I thought you said the story wasn’t in the paper,” Jack said.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t in there,” Vinnie said. “I said I didn’t see it.”
“It’s the headlines, for crissake!” Jack said. He pointed at them with his coffee cup for emphasis.
Vinnie lunged out to grab his paper. Jack pulled it away from his grasp.
“Come on!” Vinnie whined. “Get your own freakin’ paper.”
“You’ve got me curious,” Jack said. “As methodical as you are, you’d have read this front-page story on your subway ride into town. What’s up, Vinnie?”
“Nothing!” Vinnie said. “I just went directly to the sports page.”
Jack studied Vinnie’s face for a moment. Vinnie looked away to avoid eye contact.
“Are you sick?” Jack asked facetiously.
“No!” Vinnie snapped. “Just give me the paper.”
Jack slipped out the sports pages and handed them over. Then he went over to the scheduling desk and started the article. It began on the front page and concluded on the third. As Jack anticipated, it was written from a sarcastic, mocking point of view. It cast equal aspersion on the police department and the medical examiner’s office. It said the whole sordid affair was just another glowing example of the gross incompetence of both organizations.
Laurie breezed into the room and interrupted Jack. As she removed her coat, she told him that she hoped he felt better than she.
“Probably not,” Jack admitted. “It was that cheap wine I brought over. I’m sorry.”
“It was also the five hours of sleep,” Laurie said. “I had a terrible time hauling myself out of bed.” She put her coat down on a chair. “Good morning, Vinnie,” she called out.
Vinnie stayed silent behind his sports page.
“He’s pouting because I violated his paper,” Jack said. Jack got up so Laurie could sit down at the scheduling desk. It was Laurie’s week to divvy up the cases for autopsy among the staff. “The headlines and cover story are about the Franconi incident.”
“I wouldn’t wonder,” Laurie said. “It was all over the local news, and I heard it announced that Bingham will be on Good Morning America to attempt damage control.”
“He’s got his hands full,” Jack said.
“Have you looked at today’s cases?” Laurie asked, as she started glancing through the twenty or so folders.
“I just got here myself,” Jack admitted. He continued reading the article.
“Oh, this is good!” Jack commented after a moment’s silence. “They’re alleging that there is some kind of conspiracy between us and the police department. They suggest we might have deliberately disposed of the body for their benefit. Can you imagine! These media people are so paranoid that they see conspiracy in everything!”
“It’s the public who is paranoid,” Laurie said. “The media likes to give them what they want. But that kind of wild theory is exactly why I’m going to find out how that body disappeared. The public has to know we are impartial.”
“I was hoping you’d have a change of heart and given up on that quest after a night’s sleep,” Jack mumbled while continuing to read.
“Not a chance,” Laurie said.
“This is crazy!” Jack said, slapping the page of newsprint. “First they suggest we here at the ME office were responsible for the body disappearing, and now they say the mob undoubtedly buried the remains in the wilds of Westchester so they will never be found.”
“The last part is probably correct,” Laurie said. “Unless the body turns up in the spring thaw. With the frost it’s hard to dig more than a foot below the surface.”
“Gads, what trash!” Jack commented as he finished the article. “Here, you want to read it?” He offered the front pages of the paper to Laurie.
Laurie waved them off. “Thanks, but I already read the version in the Times,” she said. “It was caustic enough. I don’t need the New York Post’s point of view.”
Jack went back over to Vinnie and quipped that he was willing to return his paper to its virginal state. Vinnie took the pages without comment.
“You are awfully sensitive today,” Jack said to the tech.
“Just leave me alone,” Vinnie snapped.
“Whoa, watch out, Laurie!” Jack said. “I think Vinnie has pre-mental tension. He’s probably planning on doing some thinking and it’s got his hormones all out of whack.”
“Uh-oh!” Laurie called out. “Here’s that floater that Mike Passano mentioned last night. Who should I assign it to? Trouble is I don’t think I’m mad at anyone and to forestall guilt I’ll probably end up doing it myself.”
“Give it to me,” Jack said.
“You don’t care?” Laurie asked. She hated floaters, especially those which had been in the water for a long time. Such autopsies were unpleasant and often difficult jobs.
“Nah,” Jack said. “Once you get past the smell, you got it licked.”
“Please!” Laurie murmured. “That’s disgusting.”
“Seriously,” Jack said. “They can be a challenge. I like them better than gunshot wounds.”