“Good grief,” Lou commented. “That compounds the tragedy. I wonder if they knew. Paul never let on his wife was pregnant.”
“He might not have known, but she undoubtedly did,” Jack said. “One way or the other, it’s certainly not going to help his case.”
“Nor should it,” Lou said with a shake of his head.
For the rest of the autopsy, there was little talk. The discovery of the fetus was unsettling. By the time they were finished, the autopsy room was in full swing with all the tables occupied. A low-level din of multiple conversations prevailed, punctuated intermittently by the sound of power tools, particularly the vibrating saws used to open the craniums.
“If you and Lou want to talk, I’ll finish up here,” Vinnie said as soon as Sharron Seton was sewn up and thereby returned to a semblance of normalcy, at least outwardly. The internal organs had been returned to the body cavity inside a large plastic bag, except for the brain, which was in a jar filled with formalin.
“You’re being uncharacteristically gracious,” Jack teased. Normally Jack made it a point to help with the post-autopsy chores, as did most of the medical examiners, as it speeded up the schedule considerably. When things went smoothly, the day’s cases were usually done around noon.
“I’m assuming we’re done for the day,” Vinnie added.
“That would be my guess,” Jack said, as he waved to Lou to follow. On the way out of the room, Jack stopped briefly at Jennifer’s table and reintroduced Lou. They had met previously, but Jack was intent on keeping Lou feeling welcome.
“Any more cases for me today?” Jack asked her.
“You are all done. Sorry that your supposed suicide case wasn’t as challenging as you had hoped. Word has it that it was rather cut and dried.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jack assured her. He wasn’t surprised she already knew. It was just another indication among many that the grapevine at the OCME was alive and well. As a rule, there were few secrets. “Maybe I’ll be more lucky tomorrow.”
“I’ll try my best,” Jennifer kidded, and Jack responded with a thumbs-up.
Jack also stopped at the table of his old office mate, Dr. Chet McGovern, so Chet could say hello to Lou as well. Back when Jack and Chet shared an office, Chet had met Lou on innumerable occasions when Jack and Lou had collaborated on various cases. Chet responded by introducing both Jack and Lou to Margaret Townsend, one of the two new senior NYU pathology residents who were rotating through the OCME to get a hands-on taste of forensic pathology. They had arrived at the beginning of the month and would stay on until the new year.
Jack and Lou then pushed through the swinging doors leading out into the main hallway. After appropriately disposing of their personal protective gear, they ended up sitting at either end of the bench that ran between the lockers in the changing room. Both were still dressed in scrubs.
“Okay, you’ve kept me in suspense long enough,” Lou said. “Out with it! What’s got you bummed out on the home front?”
“Before I get into that,” Jack said, “do you remember Dr. Sue Passero? She and her husband were at that Halloween costume party Laurie and I had three years ago. I remember introducing you two.”
“Of course I remember her,” Lou said. “She came to the party as the Giants running back and looked the part. Now that you have reminded me, I think the Giants could have used her this year. Kidding aside, what’s with her?”
“She did appear very athletic, and I happen to know that she worked out regularly and was a vegetarian. Yet despite all that, she suffered a terminal event last night in her car in the MMH parking garage. She was autopsied this morning, and at Laurie’s specific request, I did it.”
Lou shook his head in dismay. “That couldn’t have been pleasant.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Good God!” Lou moaned. “Having someone that’s fit suddenly kick the bucket is a shock and a reminder we are all living on borrowed time. I do remember her looking as healthy as a goddamn horse. Or is it healthy as an ox?”
“Either one works,” Jack said, waving off the distinction. “And you are right, the autopsy proved it. Even though she did have diabetes, which often affects the heart, I found no pathology, nothing. Of course, there’s the outside chance microscopic sections might offer some explanation, but I sincerely doubt it, as carefully as I went over the heart. To be honest, I’ve never had a case quite like this, and it’s bothering me big-time, especially because of Laurie’s connection with the woman and her family.”
“I’m sorry to hear all this,” Lou said. “But why are you telling me? Are you suspecting foul play here or something in that vein?”
“Laurie spoke to the husband by phone this morning who, I might add, was suddenly against an autopsy, supposedly because he was Muslim, which was completely new information to us even though his wife and Laurie were good friends. We even had socialized all together maybe a dozen times, and his being Muslim never came up once. And on top of that, he told Laurie that he wants to get the death certificate ASAP for a life insurance claim.”
“Okay,” Lou said, rolling his eyes before looking back at Jack. “Suddenly I see how those wheels are turning in that overly inventive brain of yours. So, you are suspecting foul play here on the husband’s part. Am I right, or am I completely off base?”
“Well...” Jack fumbled for words because now that he was giving vent to his thoughts, he realized how much he was jumping to conclusions on very little evidence. Lou had mocked him in the past when he tried to play detective — and warned him on multiple occasions not to do so. Here was yet another instance.
“You’ve been watching too many run-of-the-mill TV dramas! If you want to know what I think, here it is. Whatever is bothering you at home is making you look for a diversion and playing detective has been your method in the past. I mean, listen to yourself! You’re telling me a woman with diabetes died in her car with no signs of trauma and you are suspecting the husband. Please! I mean, what could be involved here? Some kind of mysterious poison or possibly carbon monoxide somehow? Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but your Toxicology Department will be looking into all that stuff. Am I right?”
“You are right,” Jack said, feeling embarrassed. What Lou was saying was all true.
“And if the husband was guilty, would he offer the life insurance information right off the bat? I don’t think so.”
“Okay, you are right. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t be,” Lou said. “There’s a lesson to be learned here. As I have reminded you time and time again, playing detective is dangerous and not for amateurs, and you are exactly that: a goddamn amateur when it comes to homicide investigation. Hell, just looking at you is a reminder of the danger. That chipped front tooth and that hairline scar, if I remember correctly, came from your playing detective a number of years ago. Am I right?”
“Okay, okay!” Jack repeated, holding up his hands as if to ward off Lou’s derision. Lou was entirely correct. The scar and the chipped tooth had come from Jack investigating a conspiracy pitting one major managed care company against another by starting outbreaks of infectious disease in the other’s primary hospital. “I get the message.”
“Fine and dandy,” Lou said. “You’re a forensic pathologist and a damn good one. Leave it at that. If and when you have any suspicions about criminal and particularly homicidal malfeasance, you call me. Understood?”
“Understood,” Jack said.
“All right, let’s hear about what’s really bothering you. Let me guess. It’s either your mother-in-law and her anti-vax stance, Emma’s autism, or JJ’s possible ADHD. Which is it?”