Aria briefly glanced over at Richard and had to suppress a surge of anger at his interfering. She was tempted to say something along the lines that his legal advice was not necessarily true if she were a real medical examiner. But then she sensed whatever she said would only serve to get them into an argument about subpoena power and complicate the situation. She turned back to Madison. “Something has changed,” Aria said. “I did the autopsy this afternoon, and something unexpected was found.”
“What?” Madison challenged. “What could change? She’s dead. That’s not going to change.”
“No, but...” She paused. She found herself about to regurgitate the shit that Dr. Montgomery had spewed out that afternoon about the role of the forensic pathologist listening to the dead tell their stories. Feeling embarrassed about the urge, she changed tactics. “You are a social worker who I am sure understands the issues about HIPAA and the constraints it puts on us medical professionals to honor patient privacy. Correct?”
“I suppose,” Madison said. Her voice had lost a good bit of its stormy intensity.
“Because of HIPAA I cannot out-and-out tell you what was found, but in New York the autopsy record can be requested by the family or even a personal representative, and what was found will certainly be in the autopsy report that I will be dictating. So this is medical information that falls somewhere in between being part of the public record and not being part.”
Aria looked at Richard. “As a lawyer, even you must understand what I mean.”
Richard pretended to laugh. He started to say something, but she ignored him.
“So,” Aria said, redirecting her attention to Madison. “I’m going to ask you some questions that will enable you to figure out what it is that I can’t tell you. I know that sounds ridiculously indirect, but here goes... David Goldberg, the MLI, said that you had told one of the responding patrolmen that Kera did not have any current boyfriends. Do you remember saying that?”
“Yes, I did,” Madison said.
“And you considered yourself a good friend of Kera’s, so if she had had a boyfriend you would have probably known. Correct?”
“I know she absolutely didn’t have a boyfriend during the fall,” Madison said. “No question. But after the holidays, we didn’t see as much of each other socially. I mean, at work we saw each other pretty much every day. She could have had a boyfriend then. In fact, there were times that I thought that might have been the case, but she denied it when I asked her.”
“Did she ever talk about her old boyfriend from LA, Robert Barlow?”
“Back in the fall she did, but not recently.”
“Do you know if he ever came to NYC to visit her?”
“Not to my knowledge. She was over him. I’m certain.”
“Do you know if she had any other particularly good friends like yourself who she might have confided in?”
“Not that I know of. But I suppose it is possible after the holidays, like I mentioned.”
“I gather from what you have said, there is a chance she had developed some relationship with someone, possibly male, after the holidays that she kept secret from you.”
“That’s what I thought on occasion, but I didn’t know for sure and I didn’t press her on it. I mean, she was entitled to her life, so I moved on.”
“Okay,” Aria said. “I suppose by now it’s apparent enough that what was found at autopsy needs a male participant.”
Madison exchanged a glance with Richard and then returned her attention to Aria. Before anyone could respond, a waiter in a spotless white coat appeared at Aria’s side with the Bellini. He placed it in front of her, positioning the champagne glass dangerously close to the edge of the crowded table. It was the only spot available.
“Are you planning on eating something?” the waiter asked Aria. “Would you care to hear our specials for tonight?”
“No, I’m not going to eat,” Aria said.
The waiter nodded and retreated.
Aria dug into one of her side pockets and pulled out a small pad of paper. Taking one of her pens from a breast pocket, she wrote down her number. “The reality is that after the autopsy and its surprise discovery, the cause of death is not as definitive as it seemed when the autopsy began. Nor is the manner of death, if you get my drift. Unfortunately, the NYPD is not concerned about yet another overdose, and as far as I know are not investigating at all and won’t be investigating. Of course, that is entirely understandable with four overdose deaths a day in the city. I think your friend Kera Jacobsen deserves for this mysterious boyfriend/lover to be found so he can explain why it had to be you, Madison, who had the burden of finding Kera’s putrefying corpse and not he. He also needs to explain exactly what role he had in the overdose. Locating this missing male is something that I’m committed to doing.”
Aria picked up the Bellini and tossed it back. She wiped off her lips with the back of her hand as she set the empty glass back on the table. “Here’s my number in case you think of anything that might help me find this bastard.” She reached out and handed the slip of paper to Madison. She then stood up, purposefully avoided looking at Richard, and walked away without another word.
Chapter 13
May 8th
9:05 P.M.
With some difficulty Aria managed to squeeze her way through the throng of people, mostly men, standing around the bar at the front of the restaurant hoping to get a table. Inevitably her presence garnered a few very unclever, snide remarks about her white coat, but as was the case on her way in, she ignored them. Such behavior only served to cement her general feelings toward the male gender. Once on the street, she pulled her phone from her pocket with the intention of using one of the ride apps. But at that very moment, a yellow cab pulled up. Suddenly, convenience outweighed Aria’s preferences. Stepping into the street, she climbed in and gave her home address on West 70th Street as she sat back and fastened her seat belt.
As the car sped north, Aria had some time to think about the conversation she’d just had with Madison Bryant. It had been much more productive motivation-wise than she would have imagined when she’d been first confronted with how busy and noisy the restaurant had been. She was glad she’d made the effort. Now she was even more sure than she’d been before talking to the social worker that Kera Jacobsen was telling her loud and clear that the mysterious boyfriend had to be found.
Suddenly, after checking the time on her phone, she undid the seat belt and slid forward so she could talk more easily to the driver through the plexiglass divider. She knew the divider was there to protect the driver, but she disliked them, and they were one of the many reasons she preferred to use Uber, Lyft, or Juno over regular taxis. “I want to change my destination,” Aria said. She fumbled in her pocket for the piece of paper David Goldberg had given her. When she found it, she held it up to the light coming in through the front windshield.
“Twenty-Third and Second,” she said.
“D’accord,” the driver said agreeably.
She sat back and redid her seat belt. The reason she had suddenly changed her destination was that she felt she was on a roll from having spoken with Madison. Even though it was rather late, a little after nine, she thought it wasn’t too late to see if she could also talk with Kera Jacobsen’s possibly nosy neighbor, Evelyn Mabry. Short of Kera having another close friend with whom she might have shared information about a secret lover, which Madison said she didn’t have, the neighbor might be the only person who could confirm the possibility. Despite the hour, Aria thought it was worth the chance.