At that moment the elevator door opened, and Johnson stepped out, accompanied by two additional uniformed police officers. Although their uniforms were blue, they were somewhat different from Johnson’s and Goodhouse’s, with less paraphernalia. They also had ESU emblazoned on their backs. Madison pressed against the wall of the hallway as they passed. These two new policemen were more obviously seasoned than Johnson and Goodhouse in both appearance and comport. The first one, a heavyset African American, was carrying a tool that Madison had never seen before. It was a weird-looking crowbar with a right-angled point and a narrow shovel-like extension at one end and a claw at the other.
Without the slightest hesitation, the officer stepped up to the door of 4B and with lightning speed popped the door open. Madison blinked at how easy the man made it seem. In the next instant a whiff of the putrid smell drifted out into the hallway while all four policemen disappeared into Kera’s apartment. She could hear them talking but couldn’t make anything out. She heard a window being opened, followed by an increase in the smell of decomposition. Madison felt a new wave of nausea spread over her, which she struggled to suppress.
A few minutes later the two ESU officers came out of the apartment. Neither spoke as they passed Madison, although they both acknowledged her with a nod. Madison didn’t respond. She felt numb. Although she still didn’t want to admit it, in her heart of hearts she knew what she was facing. Somehow it didn’t seem possible that someone she’d gotten to know and like, who was in the prime of her life, might actually be gone forever. For a time, she felt paralyzed and overwhelmed. She couldn’t even cry.
All at once she became aware of the phone still clutched in her hand. She needed to make the call to her supervisor, but before she could initiate the call, Johnson came out of the apartment. His expression told her what she didn’t want to hear.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that your friend is deceased,” he said, confirming Madison’s worst suspicions. “Did you know she was a drug user?”
“I had no idea,” Madison said. “Is that... what killed her?”
“Looks like an overdose, which we cops see too much of on a daily basis. It’s an ongoing tragedy.”
“Am I going to have to see her?” she asked, horrified at the idea and dreading it. She didn’t even like seeing dead rabbits on the side of the road, much less a dead human friend.
“We’re going to need identification,” Johnson said. “Normally we call EMS to come and pronounce, to be absolutely sure, but in a case like this where the victim’s been deceased for a couple of days, the lieutenant at the precinct had us call the medical examiner directly. Their investigator will be here shortly. The ME will certainly need an ID, and I understand your friend has no family in the area.”
“So, I will have to see her,” Madison said reluctantly.
“The MEs often use photos, which would be a good idea under the circumstances.”
Madison slapped a hand over her mouth to try to suppress a sudden urge to vomit.
Chapter 4
May 8th
2:35 P.M.
It was a beautiful spring day with a startlingly blue sky as Laurie walked along First Avenue, heading back to the OCME from the NYU Medical Center complex. Normally she would have enjoyed the short walk just to be outside for a brief time. Unfortunately, on this particular day she was oblivious to her surroundings, her mind in overdrive. The previous three hours had been totally unsettling. Up until then the day had been going well, including her presentation at the City Council’s Health Committee meeting. She had been able to overwhelm them with actual statistics showing how the turnaround time for bodies at the OCME had significantly improved under her watch despite rumors to the contrary. As for the regrettable mix-up of the two Henry Norton bodies, Laurie had been able to say that the OCME IT department had already made changes to the computerized case management system to make such problems much less likely to occur in the future. The only complaint Laurie was not able to completely quash was the concern about closing the morgues in Staten Island and the Bronx. The fact that significant money was being saved and the quality of the forensics had actually improved fell on deaf ears with the City Council member from the Bronx who sat on the Health Committee. This individual took the closing personally, as if the Bronx was somehow being denied appropriate service, which clearly wasn’t the case.
When she had returned to the OCME, her meeting to consider raising the salaries of the medical-legal investigators also went well. Everyone unanimously agreed a significant salary increase was absolutely necessary for recruitment purposes. To fill vacancies, the OCME had to be competitive with the salaries that certified physician assistants and paramedics could get on the outside. So, when she had rushed over to the NYU Medical Center for her annual breast-cancer screening, she was feeling smug enough to assume the rest of the day would be smooth sailing as well. Unfortunately, that turned out to be disturbingly not the case.
The worst part of the screening from Laurie’s perspective was the mammogram. Each year she wondered if she was being injured in the mildly painful process of having her breasts forcibly squeezed between two firm, unforgiving surfaces, and today was no exception. The experience was as uncomfortable as usual, but at least when the ordeal was over, there wasn’t any bad news.
As chief medical examiner, Laurie held a position of Associate Professor of Pathology at NYU Medical School and Head of the NYU Department of Forensic Pathology. Consequently, she was recognized as a VIP and treated as such, meaning the Radiology Department was aware of her presence. Today, like her previous sessions, one of the ranking radiologists was present to read the digital images as they were produced. He even went over them with Laurie, who was rather adept at reading them herself.
The next part of the screening process was the MRI, which she found to be much easier than the mammogram because she wasn’t claustrophobic and didn’t mind lying prone within the narrow tube-like opening in the massive machine. Usually she was even able to relax during the procedure, and today was no exception.
It was after the test that her day had gone drastically south. Another ranking radiologist came in and looked at the slices. Unfortunately, the MRI picked up a problematic lesion that the screening mammogram missed, requiring a second diagnostic mammogram that was even more uncomfortable. This test, too, confirmed a disturbing abnormality, meaning the MRI finding was not artifact.
Laurie entered the OCME building in a kind of daze as her mind struggled to put in perspective what she had just learned over in the NYU Medical Center, and its implications. Marlene Wilson buzzed her into the building. She could tell the woman wanted to chat, but Laurie was in no mood for small talk. Instead she made a beeline into the head office area. She even passed Cheryl Sanford without stopping, which was certainly abnormal as Laurie was a gregarious person sensitive to other people’s feelings.
Once inside her office, she hung up her coat before sitting down at her desk. With unseeing eyes, she merely stared ahead. The problem was simple. She didn’t have the time to have a medical issue foisted on her, especially one of this type of potential consequence. She had a thousand employees at the OCME to worry about, and two children, one with a diagnosis of autism and the other with a newly announced potential behavioral problem at school.
A furtive knock followed by her door opening brought Laurie’s attention back to the present. Cheryl was standing in the doorway, note in hand.
“Are you okay?” Cheryl asked, clearly concerned.