sudden trauma to his system, primarily his brain. A death by narcosis in which vital organs simply shut down domino fashion after the brain had ceased to send signals. They ran tests for any traces of the usual suspects: arsenic, strychnine, household chemicals. But the usual routes to certainty were leading nowhere, and Jessica's attempt at getting results from toxicology had totally failed.
She called a meeting with Sturtevante's boss, Chief Aaron Roth, to air her complaints about the PPD's toxicology lab. When she entered the room, she wasn't surprised to see the old coroner, Shockley, and his toxicologist, Frank DeAngelos, allied against her.
Chief Roth, clearly a man of few words, said, “Let's hear it, Dr. Coran.”
She decided it would not do to mince words with these men. 'Toxicology on all previous victims has netted us nothing substantial, and so we remain in the dark as-”
Dr. DeAngelos, PPD's top toxicologist, immediately shot to his feet to defend himself and his department. “It always proves difficult to test for a mystery substance.” The thin man's black mustache twitched mouse like over his lip as he spoke. “Not knowing what to test for, and unable to test for all the myriad possibilities-almost any substance can be turned into a poison-we don't know where to begin.”
Jessica calmly sat down here in the operations room, where the photos of all the victims had been pinned on every wall, their dead eyes now looking down on the living in what looked like accusation. Earlier in the day, this room had been filled with the men and women on the citywide task force that was working to crack the case.
Jessica said evenly, “May I suggest-”
“No, you may not suggest how to run my department,” said DeAngelos.
“Frank, let's hear Dr. Coran out, please,” scolded the chief.
“May I suggest, Dr. DeAngelos, that your people begin with anything that works like an anesthetic. I'll go out on a limb here and suggest that our killer might be an anesthesiologist. He knows how to quickly and efficiently put people to sleep for a long time.”
“We've tested for the usual barbiturates, such as Brevitol,” said DeAngelos.
“Then what about the unusual; what was used commonly before Brevitol?”
Jessica had been after DeAngelos since Maurice's body had been brought in, desperately trying to get some fix on the toxins found in the victims. She had also attempted to understand DeAngelos's perspective, and to remain open to any educated conjecture about the type of poison or drug the killer used. In fact, she had all but camped on his doorstep and badgered his people for results, for all the good it had done her.
Disappointed now with the lack of progress, her blood pressure rising, Jessica was angry and upset. She put DeAngelos on the defensive, confronting him. “I just learned that your people have still not forwarded samples of the ink poison to D.C. Is that true?”
“My people are busy, Dr. Coran, and we are all doing our damnedest to solve this mess.”
You're only testing for household chemicals and over-the-counter drugs.”
“We've tested for PCP, heroin, cocaine, all the usual street crap.”
“Dammit, Doctor, test for everything. Every known substance, if you must.”
“Do you know what you're asking?” he grumbled back.
“I can't approve that kind of overtime for my people. We have to work within a strict budget, Dr. Coran. Postmortem investigation doesn't come cheap. This isn't the goddamned FBI; here in Philadelphia, we don't collect taxes the way the feds do. We aren't funded to-”
It was maddening. “Dr. DeAngelos, we are stymied in this case until we can identify the drug or poison the killer uses.”
“I am quite aware of that.”
“The poison must be exotic, colorless perhaps, certainly odorless, with the possibility of a metallic taste or aftertaste. We have told you that we suspect it produces a reddish-colored rash, which dissipates after time.”
DeAngelos defended himself before Police Chief Aaron Roth and Dr. Shockley. “Whatever it is, our mystery poison isn't the standard text, and as for these symptoms, all of them you learned from Dr. Desinor's suppositions about the nature of the poison. A woman who holds no credentials in toxicology-or even pharmacology, as far as I know.”
“She enumerated the suspected symptoms while under trance, and once again I can tell you-”
Dr. DeAngelos demanded, “How can she possibly describe symptoms of a poison we have not as yet identified? This is sheer madness, Chief. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.”
Finally, Jessica blurted out, “Dr. Desinor's psychic abilities are well documented, sir.”
“Ah, and we're all to jump to the orders of your pet sorceress, I suppose?”
“She has at least given us some intriguing clues to pursue, Dr. DeAngelos.”
“I do not deal in the intriguing. And I tell you, we are doing everything in our power at this time. In addition, we've tested for iodine, lead, and mercury-all of which leave a metallic taste in the mouth, and all of which tests, thus far, have come back negative.”
She tried to calm both herself and him. “All right, but have you tested for Flagyl?”
“Flagyl?”
“Metronidazole, the antibacterial used to treat vaginal infections,” said Shockley, coming alive at this suggestion, curious at to what Jessica was getting at.
“Vaginal suppositories. My God, Doctor, at what point do we draw the line? Do you think we can test for every substance in the universe?”
“Flagyl leaves a metallic taste in the mouth,” Jessica stated flatly.
“All right. I'll have Heyward test for it. Meantime-”
“Please, sir, come to some result, some conclusion, and quickly,” Jessica warned, “or else I'll be forced to personally scrape together samples for the FBI lab in Washington for processing.”
DeAngelos busied himself now with stripping off his lab coat, saying he had a luncheon appointment with Sturtevante and Parry. Putting on his regular coat, he said, “As for our little chat. Dr. Coran, do whatever you like. I am, as I have said, constrained by a budget that has seen no increase for over six extremely difficult years. You may want to discuss that with our chief here.”
“Well, then, why in God's name are you hesitant to pack off a sample of everything to the FBI lab? I should think you'd be pleased to get it off your hands. Can you arrange the transport or not?” Nerves frayed, fatigue overcoming her, Jessica no longer played at politics or pleasantries with DeAngelos. In the back of her head, she wondered why Sturtevante and Parry were having lunch with him, and why she had not been invited. Apparently, lunch meant the case.
“I'll put my best man, Dr. Heyward, on it, as soon as I get back.”
“Hold lunch and do it now,” she demanded.
DeAngelos gritted his teeth, stared at his boss and the chief, read the signals, and with his thin mustache quivering, considered his options while Jessica thought about how uncooperative he'd been since the day they'd met, even going so far as to get her name wrong, calling her Dr. Cohen. He appeared to be one of that breed of men who find it difficult, even painful, to take orders from a woman.
“All right, then, go see Heyward yourself,” he said, storming out.
“Good. I'll deal from here on out with Dr. Heyward,” Jessica shouted after the man, then turned and stared at Shockley and Roth, both of whom returned a shrug and a frown.
Dr. Shockley said, “I've never seen DeAngelos forced so handily into a corner, Dr. Coran. Bravo!”
As the chief quietly concurred, Jessica bid them good day and went in search of Dr. Heyward.
Jessica knew Dr. Arnold Heyward only as the even thinner, slightly built shadow of DeAngelos. The man was virtually joined to the other doctor's hip, ready at a moment's notice to do his bidding, a kind of Igor to his Frankenstein. The relationship, while not unusual in a laboratory situation where democratic principles did not apply, seemed to her worse than usual. It reminded her of a nobleman with a serf.
Having bid the chief and Dr. Shockley good-bye, she was about to step on an elevator to locate Heyward when DeAngelos, apparently having undergone a change of heart, caught her in the hallway outside the ops room. “Look here, I'm sorry for the defensiveness. It's just that this case has us all unnerved. I'll get word to Heyward for you this minute, before I go to lunch.”
Taken aback by his sudden reasonableness, Jessica held her tongue while he dialed the toxicology lab from a nearby office. “Heyward!” DeAngelos barked into the phone. “I want you to catalog and box up all items we have on those poison-pen killings for the mail and-”
