“Wow,” Jack said around a mouthful of cereal. “She must have brushed him off big-time.”
Laurie waved away his attempt at humor at Chet’s expense and rinsed out her bowl. “I’m impressed that Chet is as concerned as he apparently is, and I’ll be interested in what he has to say. Under Dr. Bingham’s tenure, there was never much attention paid to the NYU anatomic pathology residents. I think that’s got to change, and Chet seems to be doing just that. I want to be supportive.”
“Whatever.” He followed her to the sink. “If this school meeting is only going to take fifteen or twenty minutes, are you sure you can’t tackle it? What about you looping back to the Brooks School immediately after your Committee meeting? I want to support you and JJ and pull my weight, but sending me is a risk. I’m worried that I’ll screw everything up by ruffling feathers. I mean, I feel as strongly about this overdiagnosis of ADHD as I do about the anti-vaccination movement.”
“I already told you I won’t have the time,” Laurie said. “As soon as I can get back to the OCME I’ve got a meeting with the chief of staff, the director of human resources, and Bart Arnold about medical-legal investigators’ pay. It’s an important meeting the four of us have been trying to schedule for weeks. The OCME is falling too far behind compared to what physician assistants can make in the private sector, which is making our MLI recruitment almost impossible. And following that, I’m meeting with the architects about the new morgue building. Actually, I’m even going to have trouble fitting both of those in because at eleven I’m scheduled to be over at the Tisch Hospital for my annual breast-cancer screening.” After Laurie’s mother, Dorothy, had been diagnosed and treated for breast cancer a number of years previously, Laurie had had herself checked for the BRCA gene. When it was determined she, too, was positive for the BRCA1 mutation, she’d adhered religiously to regular screening.
“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Now, that’s important! Why didn’t you just say that right off the bat?”
“It’s not my favorite subject,” she admitted. “Actually, I hate it, and I suppose I indulge in a little denial. At least I hate the mammogram part. The MRI I can tolerate because it’s not uncomfortable or painful. Worst of all, the whole screening process makes me terrified all over again. I’m always afraid they are going to find something suspicious and put me in a tailspin. I’m way too busy to have a serious medical problem.”
“You’re also way too important to me and to this family to have a serious medical problem,” Jack said. “Your health comes first. Leave the school meeting to me. I’ll try to be my normal diplomatic self.”
“Thank you,” Laurie said. “Despite your sarcasm, I’m confident you can handle it.” She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
At that moment Caitlin O’Connell, their live-in nanny, materialized as she came up the open stairs from the floor below. She was as Irish in appearance as her name sounded, with dark hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and a ready smile. She, too, was in her robe.
“Good morning,” she called out, as she approached the granite-topped central island. “What on earth are you two doing up this early, especially you, Laurie? I’ve never known you to be a morning person.”
Laurie smiled and took one last sip of coffee. “Apparently I am one today.”
Chapter 2
May 8th
6:57 A.M.
As Laurie mounted the front steps and entered the aged and admittedly ugly OCME building on the corner of First Avenue and 30th Street, she realized it was approximately the time that Jack liked to arrive to allow him to pick through the night’s ME cases and choose the most interesting. Although Laurie wasn’t planning on following suit and arriving this early as a matter of course, she could already see the benefits. The biggest by far was that the trip from their home on West 106th Street had taken less than half the time it did during her normal eight A.M. commute. There had been monumentally less traffic. She also didn’t have to greet and make conversation with so many people since she was probably the first of the day shift to arrive.
Laurie nodded to the night security person manning the front desk where Marlene Wilson normally held court. Laurie had never met the man, but he certainly recognized her and said a cheery hello before buzzing her into the building. Coming into her windowless outer office, Laurie was surprised at how dark it was. Cheryl Sanford, her secretary, sat out here and always turned the lights on but had yet to arrive and wouldn’t for another hour. Laurie went to the wall switch and turned on the overhead illumination.
Within her inner office, there was more ambient light since there were windows, yet it still wasn’t nearly adequate. The windows were high, faced north, and were only feet away from the NYU Medical Center building. Laurie turned on the lights as she entered. She loved her office since she and Jack had painted it. When Bingham had occupied it, it had been dark and gloomy, with gray walls, dark trim, and heavy mahogany furniture. Now the walls and trim were white with a pink blush, and to jazz things up even more, brightly colored drapes and a matching sofa had been added. Although Laurie still used Bingham’s ponderous desk, the dark library table and dark glass-fronted bookcases had been removed. Also, all the dark paintings of black-suited brooding old men had been moved to the neighboring OCME conference room and replaced with framed, colorful impressionist prints.
Laurie put her backpack on the floor next to her desk chair before hanging her spring coat in the closet. She briefly thought about heading into the ID room, where the communal coffee pot lived, as the caffeine from her first cup had worn off, but she guessed that Vinnie Amendola, who was tasked with making the morning coffee, was most likely not in yet. Instead, she sat down at the massive desk, took out the presentation she’d prepared for the morning City Council Health Committee meeting, and started to go over it all yet again. As she did so, she felt her anxiety ratchet upward. It was hopelessly clear to her that she would most likely never get over her aversion to speaking in front of groups, just like she was likely never to get over her fear of authority figures thanks to her emotionally distant and domineering father.
The first person who interrupted Laurie’s concentration was Cheryl, who gently knocked on the partially open door just after 7:30. Stepping in but maintaining a hold on the doorknob, she said, “Lordy, what in heaven’s name are you doing in here so early?” Cheryl, a buxom African American woman, had been working at the OCME for centuries, or at least that was the way she described it. She’d been the chief’s secretary starting with Dr. Bingham’s predecessor before becoming Bingham’s secretary for his entire tenure. Laurie was glad to have her, as she had made Laurie’s transition to being chief infinitely easier. She’d also become somewhat of a family friend. She and Jack had taken a liking to each other during the countless times Jack had been called on the carpet in front of Bingham for his inclination to ignore rules and regulations in his dogged determination to solve forensic cases. Jack had also gotten Cheryl’s son, Arnold, to play on the neighborhood basketball court.
“Trying to prepare for the early-morning meeting down at 250 Broadway,” Laurie said.
“Pardon the pun, but you’ll knock them dead,” Cheryl said with a wry smile. Then she added, “Usually Mr. Amendola has the coffee ready by now. Can I bring you a cup?”
“That would be terrific,” Laurie said. “Thank you.”
Cheryl nodded and started to back out of Laurie’s office.