Riva looked up. "Not particularly, from a professional point of view. It's just a hit-and-run on Park Avenue. She was a tourist from the Midwest, and she was holding on to her husband's hand when she was struck. He was only a step ahead of her. It always amazes me pedestrians aren't more careful in this city, considering how fast the traffic moves. How about your case?"
"Extremely interesting," Laurie said. "Almost no pathology whatsoever."
Riva looked at her officemate askance. "Interesting and no pathology? That doesn't sound like you."
"I'll explain later. Meanwhile, do I have another case?"
"Not today," Riva said. "I thought you could use a little down time."
"Hey, I'm okay. Really! I don't want any special treatment."
"Don't worry. It's a relatively light day. You've got a lot on your plate."
Laurie nodded. "Thanks, Riva," she said, although she would have preferred to keep busy.
"I'll see you upstairs."
Laurie returned to her table, and when Marvin came back with the gurney, she thanked him for his help and said that she was finished for the day. Ten minutes later, after the usual cleaning process, she hung up her moon suit and attached her battery to the charger. Planning on heading to histology and toxicology, she was surprised to see Jack blocking her exit from the storeroom.
"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked.
Laurie glanced up into his maple-syrup-colored eyes and tried to gauge his mood. She'd had quite enough of his lightheartedness; considering the circumstances, it was ultimately humiliating. Yet there was no impish smirk like he'd worn the previous afternoon when he'd appeared in her office doorway. His expression was serious, almost solemn, which she appreciated, since it was more apropos to what was going on between them.
"I'd like to talk," Jack added.
"I'd love a cup of coffee," Laurie responded. With some difficulty, she tried to reign in her expectations about what Jack had in mind. This seemed to be almost too-appropriate behavior for him.
"We could head up to the ID office or the lunchroom," Jack said. "It's your call."
The lunchroom was on the second floor. It was a loud room with an old-fashioned linoleum floor, bare concrete walls, and a bank of vending machines. At that time in the morning, it would be reasonably crowded with secretarial and custodial personnel on break.
"Let's try the ID office," Laurie suggested. "We should have the place to ourselves."
"I missed you last night," Jack said as they waited for the back elevator.
My word, Laurie thought. Despite her concerns, her hopes of having a significant conversation rose. It was not customary for Jack to admit to his feelings quite so directly. She looked up at his face to make sure he wasn't being sarcastic, but she couldn't tell for certain, since his face was averted. He was absorbed in watching the floor indicator above the elevator door. The numbers were decreasing with their typical agonizing slowness. The back elevator was used for freight and moved at a glacial pace.
The door opened, and they boarded the cab.
"I missed you, too," Laurie admitted. Concerned that she was allowing herself to be set up for a fall, she felt embarrassingly self-conscious and now avoided eye contact. From her perspective, they were both acting like a couple of preteens.
"I was a hopeless case on the basketball court," Jack said. "I couldn't do anything right."
"I'm sorry," Laurie said, but then immediately wanted to take it back. It sounded as though she was apologizing, when she was merely sympathizing.
"As I expected, the internal on my case was consistent with SIDS," Jack said to change the subject. It was obvious that he was equally uncomfortable.
"Really?" Laurie said.
"How was yours?" Jack asked as the elevator began its ascent. "When I bumped into Janice, she mentioned it seemed similar to your McGillan case, so I told Riva that you'd probably want it."
"I appreciate it," Laurie said. "I did want it. And you were right. It was exactly like McGillan to an uncomfortable degree."
"What do you mean 'uncomfortable'?" Jack asked.
"I'm beginning to think that your suggestion yesterday about forensics establishing a manner of death opposite to what was expected could be applicable. I'm thinking I might be dealing with homicide, sort of the Cromwell case in reverse. In other words, I might have stumbled onto the work of a serial killer. I can't help but think about some of those infamous health-institution serial murders, particularly the recent one over in New Jersey and Pennsylvania." Laurie did not have the same reservations about mentioning her suspicions to Jack as she had had with Fontworth.
"Whoa!" Jack said. "When I was talking about forensics providing some surprises, I was talking in general. I wasn't suggesting anything about your case."
"I thought you were," Laurie said.
Jack shook his head as the elevator door opened on the first floor. "Not at all. And I have to say that I think you're taking a quantum leap going from natural to homicide with the case you described to me. Why on Earth did it even occur to you?" He gestured for Laurie to exit ahead of him.
"Because I've now autopsied in successive days two relatively young, healthy people who have died suddenly, yet have no associated pathology. None!"
"Your case today didn't have any emboli or obvious cardiac abnormalities?"
"Absolutely none. It was clean! Well, there were a few uterine fibroids, but that was it. Like McGillan, she was within twenty-four hours postsurgery with general anesthesia. Like McGillan, she had been completely stable without complications, and then… bingo! She arrests and is totally unable to be resuscitated!" Laurie snapped her fingers for emphasis.
They passed through the communications room. The secretaries were bunched together and chatting. For the moment, the phone lines were quiet. After the mayhem of the morning commute, death generally took a breather in the city.
"Two cases don't make a series!" Jack asserted. He was dumbfounded by Laurie's suggestion of a serial killer.
"I think it is four cases, not two," Laurie said. "That's too many to be a coincidence." While they helped themselves to the communal coffee, Laurie described her conversations with Kevin and George. As she spoke, she and Jack sat down in the two brown vinyl club chairs that Kevin and Arnold had been in earlier.
"What about toxicology?" Jack questioned. "If there turns out to be no pathology on gross or histologically, then the answer is going to come from toxicology, whether there was hanky-panky going on or even if there wasn't."
"George said he's still waiting on toxicology for his case. Obviously, for mine I've got a wait. Be that as it may, we're dealing with a curious set of circumstances here."
Jack and Laurie sipped from their respective cups, eyeing each other over the brims. Both were aware of the other's current mindset in regard to Laurie's serial-killer theory. Laurie's expression was challenging, while Jack's reflected his feeling that she was out in left field.
"If you want my opinion," Jack said finally, "I think you're letting your imagination run wild. Maybe you're upset because of our problems, and you're looking for a diversion."
Laurie felt a wave of irritation spread through her. It came from a combination of Jack's being patronizing on the one hand and his being correct on the other. She averted her gaze and took a breath. "What is it you wanted to talk about? I'm sure it wasn't our respective cases."
"Riva told me about your mother yesterday," Jack said. "I was tempted to call last night to ask you about her and extend my sympathies, but under the circumstances, I thought it better to talk in person."
"Thank you for your concern. She's doing fine."
"I'm glad," Jack said. "Is it appropriate if I send some flowers?"
"That's completely up to you."
"Then I will." Jack said. He paused, fidgeted, and then said hesitantly, "I don't know if I should bring this up about your mother…"