It was a modest-sized room with a window that looked out into an interior courtyard. There was space enough for a nondescript desk, a desk chair, a reading chair, and a small bookcase. On top of the bookcase was a collection of family photos, mostly of Sue’s children as they had grown up. On the desk was a monitor and several bookends supporting a number of brightly colored folders, each clasped with a matching elastic. The room was neat and utilitarian.
“First let me express my sincere condolences for Dr. Passero’s death,” he began as he walked over to the desk.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been a terrible shock to all of us, but particularly to me. I’m the most senior scheduling clerk, and I worked closely with Dr. Passero, essentially functioning as her assistant. It’s why I got to talk with your wife as often as I did. She and Dr. Passero were extraordinarily good friends.”
“I can assure you that the doctor’s passing was a terrible shock to my wife as well,” Jack said. “How was Dr. Passero’s health in general? Was she having any problems?” He glanced at the labels on the folders. Each seemed to be titled with the name of a hospital committee.
“It was perfect, as far as I know,” Virginia said. She sat down on the edge of the reading chair, with her legs demurely tucked to one side. She was dressed in dark slacks and a sweater with a long white lab coat. “She was back to going to the gym three times a week now that it had reopened.”
“How about her diabetes?” he asked. “Do you know if that had been stable?”
“As far as I know. She was very careful.”
“Did she have an insulin source here?”
“Certainly. It’s in the closet behind you.”
Jack turned and opened the closet door. Inside were several highly starched white lab coats on hangers. To the side on the floor was a small refrigerator. He opened it and looked at the vials of insulin. It was obvious all was in order. Even the labels were lined up. So much for any idea that her death could have been due to an accidental mix-up with her medications — not that Jack had seriously considered it, but it was another fact to be checked off his mental list.
Closing the refrigerator door, he caught his breath as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. With trepidation he pulled it out and looked at the screen. With a sense of relief, he saw that it was John DeVries, head of the Toxicology Department. “Excuse me,” he said to Virginia as he took the call. She motioned she understood.
“I got some news on the Passero case and wanted to get it to you ASAP,” John said. “No ketoacidosis, no hyper- or hypoglycemia, meaning no need to check her insulin source or levels.”
“What about the general drug screen?” Jack asked.
“My God, you are impossible,” John teased. “You’re never satisfied. The rest is pending. I’ll let you know as soon as we have the answers.”
After repocketing his phone, Jack again apologized to Virginia for taking the call, mentioning it involved Dr. Passero. He then asked her if she knew who Dr. Passero used as her GP.
“Dr. Camelia Gomez. She’s an internist over at University Hospital who specializes in diabetes. I can get you the doctor’s number if you’d like.”
“No need. I’m sure I can find it,” he said. “Do you know if Dr. Passero had seen her recently?”
“I doubt it,” Virginia said. “When Dr. Passero did see her, I usually made the appointment, and the last time I did was probably six months ago.”
“Do you mind if I glance through these folders and Dr. Passero’s desk drawers?”
Virginia shrugged. “I don’t mind. Suit yourself. But why? I can probably answer any questions you might have. What else did you want to know?”
“To be honest, I’m struggling a bit with the exact cause of death,” Jack admitted. “I knew it is a long shot coming here, but I thought there could be a slim chance of finding some notes to herself or something that suggested she was worrying about some personal health issues that she was keeping to herself.”
“We were told she had a heart attack,” Virginia said, looking confused. “Is that not true?”
“It’s probably true,” Jack said. “Tests are still pending. I just want to make sure I’ve crossed the Ts and dotted the Is. Laurie is interested in knowing all the details for the family, particularly for the kids, who are now both doctors in their own right.”
“Please, look as much as you want,” Virginia said. “I did all of Dr. Passero’s copying, which was always rather extensive because of her hospital committee responsibilities, and she was a bit old school about having hard copies. I can tell you it’s never been about an individual illness or symptoms she might have been worried about. But talking about family, maybe you should know that Dr. Passero’s husband has already been here, gone through the desk, and possibly taken some of Dr. Passero’s personal items.”
He froze in the process of glancing into the center drawer of the desk and slowly let his point of view rise to stare at her. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Did you say Abraham has already been here?”
“Yes, this morning, rather early, while we were still setting up to open.”
“That’s curious,” Jack said. It was more than curious in his mind and immediately raised the life insurance issue and its implications. But as fast as the idea occurred to him, he dismissed it. The idea that Abby would take out life insurance on his wife and then murder her was preposterous. Same with the idea that Sue might be involved in some nefarious plot, waiting the desired grace period, and then killing herself in some undetectable way.
After Jack ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, which he often did as a way to reboot his brain, he asked, “Did you happen to notice if he removed a lot of things?”
“I don’t know if he took anything because I didn’t see him leave,” Virginia said. “But just looking around now that I am in here, it doesn’t appear so. I mean, all the kids’ photos are still there on the bookcase.”
“I noticed the photos when I first came in,” he said. He shrugged, wondering why Abby had thought coming to the office to rescue personal items was a priority, especially leaving all the photos. Being involved with death as much as he had been as a medical examiner, Jack was well aware that most people were paralyzed by grief with the passing of a family member, especially a spouse. And why would Abby make the effort to come to the office and yet leave the BMW in the garage?
“To change the subject, let me ask you this,” Jack said. “How was Dr. Passero’s mood lately? Did she act at all depressed over the last month?”
“Not in the slightest,” she said without hesitation. “Dr. Passero was not the depressive type. She was much too busy day in and day out to be depressed. She even insisted on coming in on most Saturdays, and so did I even though the clinic was closed. She did it just to see the patients she couldn’t see during the week but felt needed to be seen, and I couldn’t let her be here by herself.”
“Sometimes depression can be subtle,” he suggested. He glanced in each desk drawer in turn.
“I’m aware,” Virginia said. “In fact, I’m probably more aware than most people. I have a master’s degree in psychology and know a fair bit about depression. If anything, instead of showing any depressive symptoms, Dr. Passero had been fired up of late. I’m not trying to suggest she was manic, but she was, let’s say, very enthused over multiple committee-related issues and campaigning hard despite how busy she was with her patient load.”