Laurie was certain that homicide was extremely implausible, and she wasn't going to worry about it, especially since Peter's toxicology screen would pick up an overdose of insulin or digoxin or another potentially lethal drug akin to those implicated in the previous institutional murders. After all, that was what the toxicology screen was all about. In her mind, Sean Jr.'s death had to be either natural, which was most probable, or accidental. Yet what was she going to do if the microscopic and the toxicological turned out to be negative? Such a concern seemed reasonable, considering the autopsy itself had been so surprisingly clean. From her experience, it was rare not to find some pathology, even in a twenty-eight-year-old, and even if the abnormalities were not associated with the demise.
To prepare for such an eventuality, Laurie needed as much information as possible. Although the usual course of action in such a case would be to wait for the microscopic and the toxicological to come back, she decided to be proactive to save time. Impulsively, she snatched the receiver and called down to the forensic investigator's office. Bart Arnold picked up on the second ring.
"I posted a Sean McGillin this morning," Laurie said. "He was an inpatient over at the Manhattan General. I'd like to get a copy of his hospital chart."
"I'm aware of the case. Did we not get what you need?"
"The forensic investigator's report is fine. To be honest, I'm on a fishing expedition. The post was negative, and I'm a little desperate. There's kind of a time constraint."
"I'll put the request in immediately."
Laurie replaced the receiver while racking her brain in hopes of coming up with something else that would be useful if everything turned out to be negative.
"What's wrong?" Riva asked. She had swung around in her desk chair after overhearing Laurie's conversation with Bart. "Knowing how tired you are, I thought I'd given you straightforward cases. I'm sorry."
Laurie assured her officemate that she needn't apologize. Laurie admitted that she was creating a problem when there really wasn't one, probably to keep from obsessing about her social life.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"You mean my social life?"
"I mean Jack and what you did this morning."
"Not particularly," Laurie responded. She waved a hand as if swatting a nonexistent fly. "There's not much to say that you and I haven't hashed over before ad nauseam. The reality is that I don't want to be stuck in a never-never-land relationship, which is what I've been settling for over the last couple of years. I want a family. It's that simple. I guess what's really irking me is that Jack is being such an ass by acting so blasted cheerful."
"I've noticed," Riva agreed. "I think it is an act."
"Who's to know," Laurie responded. She laughed at herself. "I'm pathetic! Anyway, let me tell you about the McGillin case." Quickly, Laurie related the whole story, including the details of the conversations she'd had with the parents and then subsequently with Jack.
"It's not going to be a homicide," Riva said emphatically.
"I know!" Laurie agreed. "What's bothering me at this point is not being able to live up to the promise I made to the parents. I was so sure I'd be able to tell them today what killed their boy, and now I have to sit on my hands and wait for Maureen and Peter. My compulsiveness is driving me batty."
"If it's any consolation, my opinion is that Jack was right about the microscopic being the key. I think you'll find the pathology in the heart, especially with a strong family history of elevated LDH and heart disease."
Laurie started to concur, but her phone rang. Twisting around, she answered it, expecting some quick tidbit of information on one of her cases, which is what the vast majority of her calls were about.
Instead, her eyebrows arched in surprise. Covering the mouthpiece, she looked back at Riva and whispered. "You're not going to believe it! It's my father!"
Riva's face reflected equal disbelief. She hastily motioned for Laurie to find out the occasion for the call. Phone contact was restricted to Laurie's mother, and that was rarely at work.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Dr. Sheldon Montgomery said. He spoke in a resonant voice with a hint of an English accent, despite his never having lived in Great Britain.
"You're not disturbing me," Laurie answered. "I'm sitting here at my desk." She was intensely curious why her father was calling, but resisted the temptation to ask directly, fearful such a question would sound too unfriendly. Their relationship had never been anything special. As a self-absorbed, workaholic cardiac surgeon who'd demanded perfection from everyone, including himself, he'd been emotionally distant and generally unavailable. Laurie had tried vainly to break through to him, constantly pushing herself to excel at school and in other activities, which is what she thought he wanted. Unfortunately, it never worked. Then came her brother's untimely death, which Sheldon blamed on her. What little relationship they'd had deteriorated even further.
"I'm at the hospital," he said. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he was telling her the weather. "I'm here with your mother."
"What is Mother doing at the hospital?" Laurie asked. For Sheldon to be at the hospital was not out of the ordinary. Although he was retired from private practice now that he was in his early eighties, he still frequently went to the hospital. Laurie had no idea what he did. Her mother, Dorothy, never went to the hospital despite being active in various hospital fund-raising activities. The last time Laurie remembered her mother being in the hospital was for her second facelift fifteen years earlier, and even then, Laurie had learned of the admission after the fact.
"She had surgery this morning," Sheldon said. "She is doing fine. In fact, she is rather chipper."
Laurie sat up a bit straighter. "Surgery? What happened? Was it an emergency?"
"No. It was a scheduled procedure. Unfortunately, your mother had a mastectomy for breast cancer."
"My word!" Laurie managed. "I had no idea. I just spoke with her on Saturday. She didn't mention anything about surgery or cancer."
"You know your mother, and how she likes to ignore unpleasant issues. She was particularly insistent on shielding you from unnecessary concern until this was behind her."
Laurie looked at Riva with disbelief. As close as their desks were in the small office, Riva could hear both sides. Riva rolled her dark eyes and shook her head.
"What stage was the cancer?" Laurie asked solicitously.
"A very early stage with no apparent nodal involvement," Sheldon said. "Things are going to be fine. The prognosis is excellent, although she'll have to undergo further treatment."
"And you say she is doing well?"
"Very well indeed. She's already taken some nourishment orally, and she's back to her old self by being genuinely demanding."
"Can I speak with her?"
"Unfortunately, that would be rather difficult. You see, I'm not in the room at the moment. I'm at the nurses' station. I was hoping you'd be able to come over here to see her this afternoon. There is an associated aspect to all this that I would like to discuss with you."
"I will be right over," Laurie said. She hung up the phone before turning back to Riva.