Theres a break for you, Frank said.
Yeah, thanks, Ill give Raif a call. I know him best, Joe said as he rose. Well have to grab a beer soon, Frank. I dont want to keep you from your work now, though.
Dont worry. Old Hank isnt going to get any deader, Frank told him.
Joe glanced over at the body on the Gurney. If it werent for the gash, Old Hank could have been sleeping.
A fall? he asked skeptically.
Oh, yeah. You bet. He fell right into his buddys broken-off whiskey bottle.
Sad, Joe said.
Its always sad, Frank said. Thats the thingdeath is sad. Except
Curiously, Joe turned back to him. Except?
Frank shrugged. Every once in a while, I get someone in here who was dying of cancer or something. I cut them open, and its horrifying what disease does to them on the inside. But on the outside, hell, sometimes its as if theyre actually smiling. Like death was a release from god-awful pain. He shrugged. You get used to it. Then againhell, you should know thisyou never get used to it. And if you did, youd suck at your job.
Dr. Arbitter?
A young woman was standing in the open door.
Connie? Frank said.
They need you in reception.
Be right back, Frank told Joe.
Joe started to protest. He needed to get going. But Frank had already gone to see to whatever business had summoned him away.
Joe looked over at the body, and suddenly the corpses head turned, and the grizzled old man opened his eyes. Hey, you. Yeah, you, buddy. You can see me, and you can hear me. You tell Vinny I said fuck you! You tell him hes going to get his. He can get that crack-freak friend of his to pay his bail, but hes going to go down out on the streets. You tell him. He aint going to have a moments peace. You tell him, you hear me? Damn you, you hear me?
Joe felt frozen, staring at the corpse.
This was bullshit.
It was all in his mind.
Hell, he must have had even more to drink last night than hed thought.
The door behind him swung open again. He spun around. Frank had returned, muttering. With all todays technology, these clerks still cant spell. Who the hell mistakes the word breast for beast?
Joe looked back at the body.
It was just a corpse again.
Old Hank couldnt get any deader.
Joe? You all right? Frank asked. Hell, man, youre as white as if youd seen a ghost.
Joe forced a laugh. Like you said, Frank. Old Hank cant get any deader. I take it the cops have whoever did this to him?
Dead to rights. A low-life drug dealer. Not that Hank was your model citizen. He bought it during a barroom fight with a guy named Vincent Cenzo.
Hed just had to ask, Joe thought.
So, Joe. Im sorry, where were we? Frank asked.
Finished, Joe said, offering his hand.
Beers are on me, Frank said as they shook.
Sounds good. See you soon.
You bet. You need anything else, dont hesitate to call.
Call. Yup. Next time, he would just call.
See you, Frank. Thanks.
He felt like a swimmer who had seen a shark and needed to stay calm. He tried like hell not to go running out of the autopsy room.
He managed to push his way through the doors like a normal person, then walked quickly down the hall. He even managed a goodbye and thanks for Judy at the desk.
Then he burst out into the light of day and joined the throng of people rushing around in the Saturday afternoon sunshine.
He was almost running
And then he stopped.
Because there was no way for a man to run away from his own mind.
What a beautiful day.
He walked and walked, wishing he had a hat to tip to passersby. It was nearly summer, but the usual heat and humidity werent plaguing the city today. No rain clouds marred the heavens. No unhealthy miasma hung around the buildings, and a pleasant breeze swept through the giant forests of concrete and steel. It was simply a perfect day.
He visited St. Marks Square, where he paused, thinking that politicians, stars, geniuses, men of letters, heroes, patriots and enemies of the state had once walked this way. He closed his eyes and imagined a long-ago city.
What a beautiful, beautiful day. It was just good to be out. To love New York. To love the world.
To bask in pleasure.
Someone walked by him with a boom box blaring, gold chains making a strange clanking sound against the plastic casing. The mans arm sported a tattoo.
Ah, yes. The gangs of New York. Ever present. Then and now.
A little Yorkie passed him, yapping shrilly. He was tempted to kick the tiny beast into the traffic. Instead, he paused and said something complimentary to the dogs pudgy owner, who blushed and chatted. He moved on quickly then, afraid she was going to try to give him her phone number.
He passed a police officer strolling his beat, and nodded a greeting. The officer nodded and smiled in return.
As he walked at a leisurely pace, he passed an electronics store. A giant plasma screen took up most of the display window. The news was on, so he paused to watch.
His heart was filled with glee. He longed to laugh aloud. Instead, he watched gravely as other people grouped around him on the sidewalk.
The entire city was still pondering the death of Thorne Bigelow.
Philanthropist.
Icon.
Brilliant man of letters.
Like hell!
Bastard. Braggart. Glutton. Idiot.
What a horrible way to die, someone said.
Its that book he wrote. He was killed because someone didnt like his book on Poe, a young woman said solemnly.
Her boyfriend slipped an arm around her shoulders. She was hugging something that looked like a mop. Maltese, Pekinese, some kind of ese. What was it with people and their obnoxious little dogs ruining his Saturday morning?
It could have been anything, the boyfriend said. I mean, the man was a billionaire.
The man was a bag of hot air. Gas. He was one big fart.
Tragic, he said aloud.
The boyfriend was shaking his head. Did you know that one of the guys who got hurt in that pileup on the FDR was some friend of Bigelows?
The girl shivered. And that psychic said somebody else is going to die.
Think psychics really know the future? he asked, turning to the couple.
Oh, yes, the girl said, and turned to look at him. Maybe a little too closely. There are real psychics out there. People who see things. Who knows if that woman, that Lori Star, is really one of them, though. I mean, I never heard of her. She hasnt written a book or anything. Anyway, its all so tragic, dont you think?
Tragic, he repeated, shaking his head.
And he moved on somberly, his head lowered.
His grin wide.
Yes, it was a beautiful day.
His grin suddenly faded.
It was bull. There werent really people out there who could see the future, who had second sight, who could share experiences as if they were in another persons body and justknow things.
Were there?
He kept walking, pensive.
Maybe it wasnt such a beautiful day after all.
CHAPTER 4
Yes, it was a beautiful day.
His grin suddenly faded.
It was bull. There werent really people out there who could see the future, who had second sight, who could share experiences as if they were in another persons body and justknow things.
Were there?
He kept walking, pensive.
Maybe it wasnt such a beautiful day after all.
CHAPTER 4
Thanks, guys, for taking the time to meet me, Joe said.
They were at Ginos Salads and Sandwiches, near One Police Plaza.
Times had changed. Once upon a time, Raif Green would have been wolfing down a hamburger anywhere that served up hot, greasy food. Tom Dooley would have chosen corned beef on rye.
But, as he had discovered when he called Raif, Tom Dooley had suffered a heart attack two years ago. No doughnuts for these cops anymore.
Raif had opted for the Greek salad, while Tom was nibbling his turkey, low-fat Swiss, lettuce and tomato on wheat, as if by taking small bites he could make the sandwich last longer.
Thomas Dooley was a big man. Hed lost weight since Joe had seen him last, but he was still six-four and just shy of three-hundred pounds. Raif wasnt really all that small or thinfive-ten and one-eighty, maybebut next to Tom Dooley, he looked like a midget.
Both men were in their early forties.
Both still had their hair.
They were like Laurel and Hardy in size and appearance, but there was nothing comedic about the work they did.
Hey, Raif said. Its Saturday, we should be off, but here we areworking. You know, this may be a democracy but Joe Schmo in the streets gets knocked off and its nine to five. Bigelowwell, he was a big cheese. No one is off until we solve this one. He cast Joe a crooked grin. At least we can eat light and fit, with you picking up the tab. Theres the problem with heart-healthy. Its expensive.
Id kill for a fry, Tom said. His round face was deceptive. He looked so amiable, but in an interrogation room, he was about as amiable as King Kong on steroids.
So, one day, order some fries, Raif said.
Tom shook his head. My wife would kill me.
Is your wife here, Tom? Raif demanded.
I swear, that woman should be the detective. Shes got surveillance everywhere, Raif said, shaking his head. Hell. Shes got eyes in the flipping lettuce, I swear.
Were getting old. Talking about food, Raif said to Joe.
The way of the world, Joe assured him. Your wife just wants you alive, Tom.
Yeah, he said sheepishly. Man, this is rabbit food, though.
Joe nodded sympathetically, and asked, Whats your take on the Poe angle? Motive or smoke screen?
So far? Raif wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. So far, we dont have a hell of a lot to go on. What you saw in the papers is pretty much what we have. I wanted to conceal the note, but there was a leaknot a big surprise, there were uniforms all over the place before we got there. The crime-scene guys had a nightmare, trying to figure it all out. First the son gets there and gets hysterical, then the sister-in-lawand the butler, to boot. Everyone decides theyre going to save him. People calling 9-1-1, med techs all over. It looked like hed had a heart attack or something.
Whats the deal on the butler? Joe asked.
Raif shook his head. You think it might be as easy as the butler did it? I dont think so. Hes a skinny old English guy, and he was totally shaken. His name is Albee Bennet. He was in tears when we interviewed him, and he didnt know a thing. He has his own little apartment in the building, and he was there napping when it happened. Never saw or heard anything.
You believe him? Joe asked.
Yes, Raif said.
I believed him, too. You know, its that sixth sense you get about people after doing this job for so many years, Tom said.
So, he was there. And the son?
First one on the scene. Hed been out. But he lived therecame and went all the time, Tom told him.
Whats your take on him? Joe asked.
Raif shrugged. His tears seemed real, too. Young guy, early thirties. We asked around, and it seems he and his dad didnt have any major problems.
The sister-in-law? Joe asked.
Mary Vincenzo. His late-brothers wife, Tom said.
Youll interview her, Im sure, Raif said dryly. But I dont see it. Shes real thin, one of those nervous types. Wealthy in her own right. The brother left her part of the family fortune already.
You should have seen them wiping their lips when they heard it was poison, Tom commented, shaking his head.
The concept of poison didnt in the least deter him from his enjoyment of his sandwich.
Sorry, I just want to hear it beginning-to-end. The med techs were there? How soon did they discover that it was a crime scene, if everyone thought it was a heart attack? Joe asked.
Pretty darned quick, thanks to one of the bright boys with fire rescue, Raif informed him. He stopped them from moving the body when he noticed it was cold. But, actually, they were right to think it. I mean, say your grandmother or someone in your house dies in the middle of the night, and you call 9-1-1. Theyre taught to try mouth-to-mouth. Even if youre sure theyre dead. Anyway, the body is cold, and this kid is bright. And because its an unexplained death, he tells the head guy on his team that they need the cops. The cops come, and then the medical examiners office gets out there. Doc Arbitter is on, and he figures out it could be poison in the wine. So at least theres photo documentation of just about everything. Everything after the family and EMTs have moved everything to hell and gone.
So was the note found?
Right on his desk. Just one piece of paper among a bunch of othersno one even noticed it at first. Looked likeand forensics provedit had come right out of his own printer. Computer was dusted, of course, and there werent any prints, so it had been wiped down, Tom told him.
What was the timing? And why did the sister-in-law show up? Joe asked.
The son showed up first to tell his dad it was time to go. And hed already been to get his aunt. They were all going to some dinner party. The butler didnt come out until after the son and sister-in-law arrived, Tom explained.
Raif continued the report. When the son walked in, it looked like the old man had been drinking his special vintage wine, and then just keeled over.
There was just one wineglass? Joe asked.
Just one, Raif said.
Tom waved what was left of his turkey-and-Swiss in the air. In a nutshell, we think Bigelow was alone. He was due at that dinner party at eight, and hed been dead about an hour when he was found. He had a visitor earlier, though. He last spoke to the butler around five and told him someone was coming before closing himself into his office. But whoever it was must have come and gone, because Bigelow was drinking alone.
Joe shrugged. Either that, or the killer took his wineglass with him. Anyone check to see if a glass was missing?
Tom flushed and looked at Raif.
I dont know, Raif admitted, reddening.
No one saw anyone come or go? Joe asked.
No one. The chauffeur was waiting for them out in the garage, sleeping behind the wheel, by his own admission, Tom said. And, yes, we canvassed the neighborhood. No one saw anything.