“I’m a little confused,” Jack said to Laurie. “Why does Franconi’s return make you more interested in his disappearance?”
“Mainly because of what you found during the autopsy,” Laurie said. “At first I thought that whoever stole the body had done it out of pure spite, like the killer wanted to deny the man a proper funeral, something like that. But now it seems that the body was taken to destroy the liver. That’s weird. Initially I thought that solving the riddle of how the body disappeared was simply a challenge. Now I think if I can figure out how the body disappeared, we might be able to find out who did it.”
“I’m beginning to understand what Lou said about feeling stupid about your ability to make associations,” Jack said. “With Franconi’s disappearance I always thought the ‘why’ was more important than the ‘how.’ You’re suggesting they are related.”
“Exactly,” Laurie said. “The ‘how’ will lead to the ‘who,’ and the ‘who’ will explain the ‘why.’ ”
“And you think someone who works here is involved,” Jack said.
“I’m afraid I do,” Laurie said. “I don’t see how they could have pulled it off without someone on the inside. But I still have no clue how it happened.”
After his call to Siegfried, Raymond’s brain had finally succumbed to the high levels of hypnotic medication circulating in his bloodstream from the two sleeping pills. He slept soundly through the remaining early hours. The next thing he was aware of was Darlene opening the curtains to let in the daylight. It was almost eight o’clock, the time he’d asked to be awakened.
“Feel better, dear?” Darlene asked. She made Raymond sit forward so she could fluff up his pillow.
“I do,” Raymond admitted, although his mind was fuzzy from the sleeping pills.
“I even made you your favorite breakfast,” Darlene said. She went over to the bureau and lifted a wicker tray. She carried it over to the bed and placed it across Raymond’s lap.
Raymond’s eyes traveled around the tray. There was fresh-squeezed orange juice, two strips of bacon, a single-egg omelette, toast, and fresh coffee. In a side pocket was the morning paper.
“How’s that?” Darlene asked proudly.
“Perfect,” Raymond said. He reached up and gave her a kiss.
“Let me know when you want more coffee,” Darlene said. Then she left the room.
With childlike pleasure Raymond buttered his toast and sipped his orange juice. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing quite so wonderful as the smell of coffee and bacon in the morning.
Taking a bite of both bacon and omelette at the same time to savor the combined tastes, Raymond lifted the paper, opened it, and glanced at the headlines.
He gasped, inadvertently inhaling some of his food. He coughed so hard, he bucked the wicker tray off the bed. It crashed upside down on the carpet.
Darlene came running into the room and stood wringing her hands, while Raymond went through series of coughing jags that turned him tomato red.
“Water!” he squeaked between fits.
Darlene dashed into the bathroom and returned with a glass. Raymond clutched it and managed to drink a small amount. The bacon and egg that he’d had in his mouth was now distributed in an arc around the bed.
“Are you all right?” Darlene asked. “Should I call 911?”
“The wrong way down,” Raymond croaked. He pointed to his Adam’s apple.
It took Raymond five minutes to recover. By that time, his throat was sore and his voice hoarse. Darlene had cleaned up most of the mess he’d caused except for the coffee stain on the white carpet.
“Did you see the paper?” Raymond asked Darlene.
She shook her head, so Raymond spread it out for her.
“Oh, my,” she said.
“Oh, my!” Raymond repeated sarcastically. “And you were wondering why I was still worried about Franconi!” Raymond forcibly crumpled the paper.
“What are you going to do?” Darlene asked.
“I suppose I have to go back and see Vinnie Dominick,” Raymond said. “He promised me the body was gone. Some job he did!”
The phone rang and Raymond jumped.
“Do you want me to answer it?” Darlene asked.
Raymond nodded. He wondered who could be calling so early.
Darlene picked up the phone and said hello followed by several yeses. Then she put the phone on hold.
“It’s Dr. Waller Anderson,” Darlene said with a smile. “He wants to come on board.”
Raymond exhaled. Until then he’d not been aware he’d been holding his breath. “Tell him we’re pleased, but that I’ll have to call him later.”
Darlene did as she was told and then hung up the phone. “At least that was good news,” she said.
Raymond rubbed his forehead and audibly groaned. “I just wish everything would go as well as the business side.”
The phone rang again. Raymond motioned for Darlene to answer it. After saying hello and listening for a moment, her smile quickly faded. She put the phone on hold and told Raymond it was Taylor Cabot.
Raymond swallowed hard. His already irritated throat had gone dry. He took a quick swig of water and took the receiver.
“Hello, sir!” Raymond managed. His voice was still hoarse.
“I’m calling from my car phone,” Taylor said. “So I won’t be too specific. But I have just been informed of the reemergence of a problem I thought had been taken care of. What I said earlier about this issue still stands. I hope you understand.”
“Of course, sir,” Raymond squeaked. “I will…”
Raymond stopped speaking. He took the phone away from his ear and looked at it. Taylor had cut him off.
“Just what I need,” Raymond said, as he handed the phone back to Darlene. “Another threat from Cabot to close down the program.”
Raymond put his feet over the side of the bed. As he stood up and slipped on his robe, he could still feel the remnants of yesterday’s headache. “I have to go find Vinnie Dominick’s number. I need another miracle.”
By eight o’clock Laurie and the others were down in the “pit” starting their autopsies. Jack had stayed in the ID room to read through the records of Carlo Franconi’s hospital admissions. When he noticed the time, he went back to the forensics area to find out why the chief investigator, Bart Arnold, had not come in that day. Jack was surprised when he found the man in his office.
“Didn’t Janice talk to you this morning?” Jack asked. He and Bart were good enough friends so that Jack thought nothing of marching right into Bart’s office and plopping himself down.
“I just came in fifteen minutes ago,” Bart said. “Janice was already gone.”
“Wasn’t there a message on your desk?” Jack asked.
Bart started to peek around under the clutter. Bart’s desk looked strikingly similar to Jack’s. Bart pulled out a note which he read aloud: “Important! Call Jack Stapleton immediately.” It was signed “Janice.”
“Sorry,” Bart said. “I’d have seen it eventually.” He smiled weakly, knowing there was no excuse.
“I suppose you’ve heard that my floater has been just about conclusively identified as Carlo Franconi,” Jack said.
“So I’ve heard,” Bart said.
“That means I want you to go back to UNOS and all the centers that do liver transplantation with the name.”
“That’s a lot easier than asking them to check if any of their recent transplants is missing,” Bart said. “With all the phone numbers handy I can do that in a flash.”
“I spent most of the night on the phone with the organizations in Europe responsible for organ allocation,” Jack said. “I came up with zilch.”
“Did you talk to Euro Transplant in the Netherlands?” Bart asked.
“I called them first,” Jack said. “They had no record of a Franconi.”
“Then it’s pretty safe to say that Franconi didn’t have his transplant in Europe,” Bart said. “Euro Transplant keeps tabs on the whole continent.”
“The next thing I want is for someone to go visit Franconi’s mother and talk her into giving a blood sample. I want Ted Lynch to run a mitochondrial DNA match with the floater. That will clinch the identity, so it will no longer be presumptive. Also have the investigator ask the woman if her son had a liver transplant. It will be interesting to hear what she has to say.”