possibility that a case had come in that particularly interested her.
Jack called the medical examiner's office. Mariorie Zankowslgi, the night communications operator, answered. She told Jack that she was ninety percent sure that Dr. Laurie Montgomery was not there.
She said that the only medical examiner there was the tour doctor.
With a sense of frustration bordering on anger, Jack gave up. He vowed not to spend any more mental energy trying to figure out what was on Laurie's mind. Instead he went into his living room and curled up on the couch with one of his many unread forensic journals.
At six-forty-five, Jack got up, tossed aside the reading, and hefted his Cannondale mountain bike from where it leaned against the livingroom wall. With it balanced on his shoulder, he started down the four flights of his tenement. Early in the morning was the only time of the day that loud quarreling wasn't heard in apartment 2B. On the ground floor, Jack had to navigate around some trash that had been dropped down the stairwell during the night.
Emerging on West 106thStreet, Jack took in a lungful of October air.
For the first time that day he felt revived. Climbing onto his purple bike he headed for Central Park, passing the empty neighborhood basketball court on his left.
A few years ago, on the same day that he had been punched hard enough to chip his front tooth, Jack's first mountain bike had been stolen.
Listening to warnings from his colleagues, particularly Laurie, about the dangers of bike riding in the city, Jack had resisted buying another. But after being mugged on the subway, Jack had gone ahead with the purchase.
Initially, Jack had been a relatively careful cyclist when riding his new bike. But over time that had changed. Now Jack was back to his old tricks. While commuting to and from the office, Jack indulged his selfdestructive streak by taking a twice-daily, hair-raising walk on the wild side. Jack believed he had nothing more to lose. His reckless cycling, a habitual temptation of fate, was a way of saying that if his family had had to die, he should have been with them and maybe he'd join them sooner rather than later.
By the time Jack arrived at the medical examiner's office on the corner of First Avenue and Thirtieth Street, he'd had two protracted arguments with taxi drivers and a minor run-in with a city bus.
Undaunted and not at all out of breath, Jack parked his bike on the ground floor next to the Hart Island coffins and made his way up to the ID room. Most people would have felt on edge after such a harrowing trip. But not Jack. The confrontations and physical exertion calmed him, preparing him for the day's invariable bureaucratic hurdles.
Jack flicked the edge of Vinnie Amendola's newspaper as he walked by the mortuary tech, who was sitting at his preferred location at the desk just inside the door. Jack also said hello, but Vinnie ignored him. As usual, Vinnie was committing to memory the previous day's sports stats.
Vinnie had been employed at the ME's office longer than Jack had. He was a good worker, although he'd come close to being fired a couple of years back for leaking information that had embarrassed the office and had put both Jack and Laurie in harm's way. The reason Vinnie was censured and put on probation rather than terminated was the extenuating circumstances of his behavior. An investigation had determined he'd been the victim of extortion by some unsavory underworld figures. Vinnie's father had had a loose association with the mob.
Jack said hello to Dr. George Fontworth, a corpulent medical examiner colleague who was Jack's senior in the office hierarchy by seven years.
George was just starting his weekly stint as the person who reviewed the previous night's reported deaths, deciding which would be autopsied and by whom. That was why he was at the office early.
Normally, he was the last to arrive.
'A fine welcome, ' Jack mumbled when George ignored him as Vinnie had.
Jack filled his mug with some of the coffee that Vinnie had made on his arrival. Vinnie came in before the other techs to assist the duty doctor if need arose. One of his jobs was to brew the coffee in the communal pot.
With his coffee in hand Jack wandered over to George and looked over his shoulder.
'Do you mind? ' George said petulantly. He shielded the papers in front of him. One of his pet peeves was people reading over his shoulder.
Jack and George had never gotten along. Jack had little tolerance for mediocrity and refused on principle to hide his feelings. George might possess stellar credentialshe had trained with one of the giants in the field of forensic pathologybut to Jack, his efforts on the job were merely perfunctory. Jack had no respect for the man.
Jack smiled at George's reaction. He got perverse pleasure out of goading him. 'Anything particularly interesting? ' Jack asked. He walked around to the front of the desk. With his index finger he began to shuffle through the folders so he could read the presumed diagnoses.
'I have these in order! ' George snapped. He pushed Jack's hand away and restored the physical integrity of his stacks. He was sorting them according to the cause and manner of death.
'What do you have for me? ' Jack asked. One of the things that Jack loved about being a medical examiner was that he never knew what each day would bring. Every day there was something new. That had not been the case when he was an ophthalmologist. Back then Jack knew what each day was going to be like three months in advance.
'I do have an infectious case, ' George said. 'Although I don't think it's particularly interesting. It's yours if you want it.'
'Why was it sent in? ' Jack asked. 'No diagnosis? '
'Only a presumed diagnosis, ' George said. 'They listed it as possible influenza with secondary pneumonia. But the patient died before any of the cultures came back. Complicating the issue is that nothing was seen on gram stain. And on top of that the man's doctor was away for the weekend.
' Jack took the folder. The name was Jason Papparis. Jack slipped out the information sheet filled out by Janice Jaeger, the night-shift forensic investigator or physician's assistant, called a PA for short.
As Jack skimmed the sheet, he nodded with admiration. Janice had proved herself a thorough researcher. Ever since Jack had made the suggestion for her to inquire about travel and contact with animals in infectious cases, she never failed to do so.
'Mighty potent case of flu! ' Jack commented. He noted that the deceased had been in the hospital for less than twenty-four hours. But he also noticed that the man had been a heavy smoker and had a history of respiratory problems. That raised the issue of whether the infectious agent was potent or the patient unusually susceptible.
'Do you want it or not? ' George asked. 'We've got a lot of cases this morning. I've already got you down for several others, including a prisoner who died in custody.'
'Groan, ' Jack mumbled. He knew that such cases frequently had complicated political and social fallout. 'Are you sure Calvin, our fearless deputy chief, won't want to do that one himself? '
'He called earlier and told me to assign it to you, ' George said. 'He'd already heard from someone high up in the police hierarchy and thought you'd be the best one to handle the job.'
'Now that's ironic, ' Jack said. It didn't make sense. The deputy chief as well as the chief himself were always complaining about Jack's lack of diplomacy and appreciation of the political and social aspects of being a medical examiner.
'If you don't want the infectious case, I've got an overdose you can do, ' George said.
'I'll take the infectious case, ' Jack said. He did not like overdoses.
They were repetitious and the office was inundated with them. There was no intellectual challenge.
'Fine, ' George said. He made a notation on his master list.
Eager to get a jump on the day, Jack stepped over to Vinnie and bent the edge of his paper down.
Vinnie regarded him morosely with his coalblack eyes. Vinnie was not pleased. He knew what was coming. It happened almost every day.
'Don't tell me you want to start already? ' Vinnie whined.
'The early bird gets the worm, ' Jack said. The trite expression was Jack's stock response to Vinnie's invariable lack of early-morning enthusiasm. The comment never ceased to further provoke the mortuary tech even though he knew it was coming.
'I wish I knew why you couldn't come in when everyone else does, ' Vinnie grumbled.
Despite appearances Jack and Vinnie got along famously. Because of Jack's penchant for coming in early,
