"Maybe easier," Franco agreed.
"That means we should have more people." Angelo put the van in gear, looked behind him down First Avenue, and pulled away from the curb. "When we come back later this afternoon, I think we should have Freddie and Richie with us."
"I think that's a good idea," Franco agreed.
ADAM HAD SCOUTED the area around the OCME the night before and had come up with a plan to make a definitive ID on the target. He'd arrived that morning just before seven and had parked his Range Rover in an appropriate no-parking zone where he was reasonably confident the commercial plates would work their usual magic. He hadn't been happy about the protest, which was just beginning to form, not because of the people and the confusion they would cause but because of the TV vans and crews he assumed would be sent to cover the event. Adam wanted to avoid at all costs being caught on film.
As he'd expected, the outer door to the OCME had been open, although it had been locked the night before. Why he'd been so sure it would be open in the morning was that by peering in the previous night, he had been able to see a reception desk inside and another set of glass doors beyond.
Once inside, Adam had retreated to a vinyl couch with a copy of The New York Times. The receptionist asked Adam if she could be of assistance. He had told her that he was told to wait for one of the medical examiners.
For fifteen minutes, Adam had sat in the reception area. Several people had come in, including one medical examiner whom the receptionist had greeted as Dr. Mehta. The other people had been addressed by their first names. The receptionist's name he learned was Marlene Wilson.
At exactly seven-fifteen, the outer door opened. The first person to come in did so on crutches. Adam lowered the paper so he could see over the top. The second person looked encouraging. She was of medium height with sculptured features, brunette hair with auburn highlights, and a surprisingly pale, almost blond complexion. In Adam's mind she matched the description, as meager as it was, but he had to be certain.
"Good morning, you two," the receptionist said to Adam's chagrin, meaning he was forced to go to plan B. He'd quickly learned the modus operandi for entry was for the receptionist to make verbal contact before buzzing the employees in. The regular employees went through the double doors directly opposite doors to the street. The one medical doctor who'd come in went to a door beyond the receptionist's desk to be buzzed in, requiring her to walk across the room in front of Adam. The person Adam believed to be the target proceeded to follow the route of the previous doctor, as did the man on the crutches.
"Excuse me," Adam called out. "Are you Dr. Laurie Montgomery?"
Laurie stopped a step beyond Adam, as did Jack, who was almost even with the man's location.
Adam got to his feet and regarded Laurie for a beat. In keeping with her light complexion, her eyes were a pale blue-green. Adam asked again if she were Laurie Montgomery.
"Why do you ask?" Laurie questioned.
"I'm from ABC Collection," Adam said. "Could you tell me if you have ever lived in the SoHo section of Greenwich Village?"
Laurie exchanged a questioning glance with Jack. "No, I haven't," Laurie said.
"But your name is Laurie Montgomery."
"Yes, but I've never lived in SoHo."
"Sorry to bother you, then," Adam said and started for the door. "Why are you looking for a Laurie Montgomery in SoHo, if I may ask?"
"For a phone bill which was unpaid when she moved."
"Sorry," Laurie said as she turned toward the ID room door.
Adam continued outside. The protest was in full swing, with the protesters marching in a circle in front of the building, chanting over and over in unison, "Police brutality must be stopped! Cover-up! Cover-up!"
Being careful to avoid any chance of being caught by any of the cameras, Adam returned to his vehicle, climbed in, and then skirted the commotion. Heading north on First Avenue, he thought he'd return to the hotel, do a little planning over a second cup of coffee, and then head up to the Metropolitan Museum. It had been a favorite destination in his youth. He was quite certain he'd not see Laurie Montgomery until late that afternoon. Since he had yet to have her home address, he was going to have to rely on the OCME to provide access.
19
"Well, it's about time, you guys," Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano said. He tossed his newspaper aside and made a production out of examining his watch. "You've always bragged how early you get here. This ain't that early."
"What is this?" Jack questioned. "Is this today, or is it yesterday? We don't see you for months, and here you are two days in a row. What gives?"
"I imagine my appearance gives away the fact that once again I've been up all night."
"How come you don't let anyone else in your department do any work?"
Lou thought for a minute. It was a question he'd never asked himself. "I guess because I don't have anything else to do. I suppose that sounds rather pathetic."
"You said it, I didn't," Jack said, as he settled into one of the brown vinyl chairs and elevated his bad knee.
"We would have been earlier," Laurie said, "but we had to stop at the hospital for Jack's pre-op workup."
Lou looked from Laurie to Jack. "Are you still going through with the surgery tomorrow?"
"Let's not get into that," Jack said. "Rather, let's hear why you were up all night!"
"It was a bit of deja vu," Lou said.
Laurie called over to Jack to ask if he wanted coffee, and he gave the usual thumbs-up sign. He then motioned for Lou to continue.
"I was out with the harbor guys once again. Just like the previous night, they'd come across a floater who'd been shot in the exact same fashion as the one the previous night. I'd left word to call me if it happened, and they did. It's just what I didn't want to see. Most of the other wars the competing organized-crime syndicates have waged have started out the same way. First a hit, then another, and then a goddamn avalanche."
Laurie brought over Jack's coffee in one hand and hers in another. She sat on the arm of Jack's chair, listening to Lou.
"The only hopeful sign is that this hit was a little different."
"How so?" Jack asked.
"The victim's a girl," Lou said, but then quickly added, "I mean, a woman." He glanced up guiltily at Laurie. He knew she was sensitive to feminist issues, such as calling women girls. "That's rather novel," he continued. "We haven't seen too many women bumped off gangland-style, so I suppose there's hope this episode is unrelated to yesterday's, meaning it's not necessarily an escalation of whatever was the cause of yesterday's hit."
"The floater is not the only bit of deja vu," Dr. Riva Mehta called out from the desk where she was going over all the cases that had come in overnight and deciding which ones needed to be autopsied and who in the ME staff would do them. "Laurie, you asked about MRSA cases. There's another one here. I assume you want it."
"Absolutely" Laurie said, slipping off the arm of Jack's chair and scooting over toward Riva. "Is it from an Angels Healthcare hospital?"
"Nope. It's from University Hospital."
Laurie took the case folder and walked over to the chair next to Vinnie's, who was engrossed as per usual in the sports section of the Daily News.
"Damn!" Jack whispered, returning his attention to Lou. "She's probably going to use this new case as more grist for her mill about canceling my surgery tomorrow. So please, don't bring it up."
"I'll try, but when it comes to common sense, you are not even in Laurie's league. Are you sure you shouldn't follow her advice?"