“May I help you, madame?” the doorman asked. He had a thick Irish brogue.
Laurie showed her medical examiner’s badge and asked to see the superintendent. A few minutes later the man appeared in the foyer.
“I’d like to view Julia Myerholtz’s apartment,” Laurie told him. “But before I go up, I want to make certain that no one is there just now.”
The superintendent asked the doorman if the apartment was empty.
“It is indeed,” the doorman said. “Her parents aren’t due in until tomorrow. You want the key?”
The superintendent nodded. The doorman opened a small cabinet, took out a key, and handed it to Laurie.
“Just give it back to Patrick here when you leave,” the superintendent said.
“I’d prefer if you came along.”
“I have a hot water leak in the basement,” the superintendent explained. “You’ll be okay-9C. It’s to the right when you get off the elevator.”
The elevator stopped on 9, and Laurie got out. Just to be sure, she rang the bell of 9C several times and even pounded on the door before going in. She didn’t want to run into any of the deceased’s loved ones this time around.
The first thing Laurie noticed were the shards of a plaster cast statue scattered over the floor of the foyer. Judging by the larger pieces, Laurie guessed the piece had been a replica of Michelangelo’s David.
The roomy apartment was decorated in a comfortable, country style. Not sure of what she was looking for, Laurie simply roamed from room to room, surveying the scene.
In the kitchen Laurie opened the refrigerator. It was well stocked with health food: yogurt, bean sprouts, fresh vegetables, and skim milk.
In the living room the coffee table was loaded with art books and magazines: American Health, Runner’s World, Triathlon, and Prevention. The room was lined with bookshelves filled with more art books. On the mantel, Laurie noticed a small plaque. She went closer to read the inscription: “Central Park Triathlon, Third Place, 3034.”
In the bedroom Laurie discovered an exercise bike and lots of framed photographs. Most of the photos featured an attractive woman and a handsome young man in various outdoor settings: on bikes in a mountain setting, camping in a forest, finishing a race.
As she wandered back into the living room, Laurie tried to imagine why an amateur athlete like Julia Myerholtz was apparently taking drugs. It just didn’t make any sense. The health food, the magazines, and the accomplishments just didn’t jibe with cocaine.
Laurie’s musings were abruptly cut short when she heard a key in the door. For a second of absolute panic she contemplated trying to hide, as if she expected Bingham to come through the door.
When the door opened, the young man who entered seemed as surprised as Laurie to meet someone in the apartment. Laurie recognized him as the man in many of the bedroom photos.
“Dr. Laurie Montgomery,” Laurie said, flipping open her badge. “I’m from the medical examiner’s office, investigating Miss Myerholtz’s death.”
“I’m Robert Nussman. I was Julia’s boyfriend.”
“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Laurie said, moving to leave. “I can come back at another time.” She did not want Bingham to get wind of this.
“No, it’s all right,” Robert said, holding up a hand. “Please stay. I’ll only be here a moment.”
“Terrible tragedy,” Laurie said. She felt the need to say something.
“Tell me about it,” Robert said. He suddenly looked very sad. He also acted as if he needed to talk.
“Did you know she took drugs?” Laurie asked.
“She didn’t,” he said. “I know that’s what you people say,” he added as his face flushed, “but I’m telling you, Julia never did drugs. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was totally into health. She got me into running.” He smiled at the memory. “Last spring she had me do my first triathlon. I just can’t figure it. My God, she didn’t even drink.”
“I’m sorry,” Laurie said.
“She was so gifted,” Robert said wistfully. “So strong-willed, so committed. She cared about people. She was religious: not overly, but enough. And she was involved in everything, like pro choice, the homeless, AIDS, you name it.”
“I understand you identified her here at the scene,” Laurie said. “Were you the one who found her?”
“Yes,” Robert managed. He looked away, struggling with tears.
“It must have been awful,” Laurie said. Memories of finding her brother crowded in with graphic intensity. She did her best to dismiss them. “Where was she when you came in?”
Robert pointed toward the bedroom.
“Was she still alive at that point?” Laurie asked gently.
“Sort of,” Robert said. “She was breathing off and on. I gave her CPR until the ambulance got here.”
“How did you happen to come by?” Laurie asked.
“She’d called me earlier,” Robert said. “She said to be sure to come over later on.”
“Was that customary?” Laurie asked.
Robert looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess.”
“Did she sound normal?” Laurie asked. “Could you tell if she’d taken any drugs yet?”
“I don’t think she’d taken anything,” Robert said. “She didn’t sound high. But I guess she didn’t seem normal either. She sounded tense. In fact, I was a little afraid she was planning on telling me something bad, like she wanted to break up or something.”
“Was there some problem in your relationship?” Laurie asked.
“No,” Robert said. “Things were great. I mean, I thought they were great. It’s just that she sounded a little funny.”
“What about that broken statue by the front door?”
“I saw that the second I came through the door last night,” Robert said. “It was her favorite possession. It was a couple of hundred years old. When I saw it was broken, I knew something bad was going on.”
Laurie glanced over at the shattered statue and wondered if Julia could have broken it while in the throes of a seizure. If so, how did she get from the foyer to the bedroom?
“Thank you for your help,” Laurie said. “I hope I haven’t upset you with my questions.”
“No,” Robert said. “But why are you going to all this trouble? I thought medical examiners just did autopsies and only got involved with murders, like Quincy.”
“We try to help the living,” Laurie said. “That’s our job. What I’d really like to do is prevent future tragedies like Julia’s. The more I learn, the more I may be able to do that.”
“If you have any more questions, call me,” Robert said. He handed Laurie his card. “And if it somehow turns out that it wasn’t drugs, please let me know. It would be important because…” Suddenly overcome with emotion, he wasn’t able to continue.
Laurie nodded. She gave Robert her own business card after scribbling her home phone number on the back. “If you have any questions for me or if you think of anything I should know, please give me a call. You can call anytime.”
Leaving Robert to grieve in private, Laurie left the apartment and boarded the elevator. As she was riding down, she recalled that Sara Wetherbee had said that Duncan had invited her over the night he’d overdosed. Laurie thought both Duncan’s and Julia’s invitations to their significant others were odd. If both were doing such a good job hiding their drug abuse, why invite someone over the very night they were indulging?
Laurie returned the key to Patrick the doorman and thanked him on her way out. She was a half dozen steps from the door when she turned around and went back.
“Were you on duty last night?” Laurie asked him.
“Indeed I was,” Patrick said. “Three to eleven. That’s my shift.”
“Did you happen to see Julia Myerholtz yesterday evening?” Laurie asked.