So just find someplace with adequate lighting.
' Doug Smithers got to his feet. 'What's the accession number? '
'That I don't know, ' Jack said. 'The name is Connie Davydov. She came in, I believe, early this morning.'
'That body's not here, ' Doug said.
'You're joking.'
'No, I'm not. It went out not that long ago, maybe a half hour.'
'Damn! ' Jack yelled with a shake of his head for emphasis. He tossed his satchel onto the desk with a clatter. His face reddened.
'I'm sorry, ' Doug said. He hunkered down as if he expected Jack to take a swing at him.
'It's not your fault, ' Jack snapped. He cracked his knuckles in frustration. 'Where did the body go? '
Doug warily bent over the ledger book on the desk. He used his index finger to scan down the column.
'It went to Strickland's Funeral Home.'
'Where the hell is that? '
'I believe it's on Caton Avenue over near Greenwood Cemetery.'
'Jesus H. Christ! ' Jack muttered. He began to pace while he tried to think what to do next.
'Dr. Stapleton, I presume, ' a voice said with a distinctly condescending air. 'Aren't you wandering a little far afield? ' Jack glanced up at the doorway. Framed between the jambs was Dr. Randolph Sanders. He was a bit older than Jack with mostly gray hair brushed back from his narrow face. He wore thick-rimmed black glasses that gave him an owlish appearance. In the hierarchy of the medical examiner's office, he was far above Jack, with almost twenty years of experience.
'I thought I'd dash over here and give you some very needed help, ' Jack shot back.
'Oh, please! ' Randolph remarked contemptuously.
'Why in hell's name did you send the Davydov body out when you knew I was coming over here? '
'I got a mysterious message that you might pay us a visit, but there was no request to keep the body here.'
'I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, since an IQ of fifty or more would have been necessary to have presumed as much.'
'I don't have to listen to your juvenile slander, ' Randolph said.
'Have a nice trip back to Manhattan.' He spun on his heels and disappeared from view.
Jack stepped out into the hall. He called out to the retreating Randolph. 'Well, let me tell you something.
Connie Davydov did not have either asthma or allergies. She was an entirely healthy woman who suddenly experienced respiratory failure without having a heart attack or a stroke. If that's not the kind of case that deserves an autopsy, I don't know what is! ' Randolph stopped at the elevators and faced around.
'How do you know she didn't have asthma and allergies? ' he demanded.
'From her brother, ' Jack said.
'Well, let me tell you something, ' Randolph said disdainfully, . 'My source of the woman's history happens to be this office's most experienced forensic investigator. You can believe whomever you wish.
I'll rely on a professional.' Randolph turned and calmly pressed the elevator button. He glanced back briefly to give Jack a condescending smile.
Jack was about to counter angrily Randolph's last statement when it dawned on him how ludicrous it was for him to be arguing with such a blockhead. Besides, a confrontation with this ME would do nothing to advance his looking into Connie Davydov's case. Shaking his head, Jack went back into the mortuary office and grabbed his satchel from the desk. Doug looked at him curiously but didn't say anything.
Still fuming, Jack stalked out of the Brooklyn ME's office and strode down the sidewalk toward Warren's car. Warren and Flash were leaning up against the Caddy's fenders. They looked at Jack expectantly as he approached, but Jack didn't say a word. He just climbed into the back seat.
Warren and Flash glanced at each other and shrugged before climbing into the car themselves. Each twisted in his seat and regarded Jack, who had his mouth and lips clamped shut.
'You look pissed, ' Warren commented.
'I am, ' Jack admitted. He looked off for a moment, obviously thinking.
'What happened? ' Flash asked.
'They sent the body to a local funeral home, ' Jack said.
ren asked. 'They knew you were coming.'
'It has something to do with how competitive doctors are with each other, ' Jack said. 'It's hard to explain and you probably wouldn't believe it.'
'I'll take your word, ' Warren said. 'So what are we going to do?'
'I don't know, ' Jack said. 'I'm thinking.'
'I know what I'm going to do, ' Flash said. 'I'm going to Brighton Beach.'
'Shut up, man, ' Warren said. 'This is just a wrinkle here.'
'Some wrinkle, ' Flash said. 'If she'd been white, none of this would have happened.'
'Flash, that's not the problem, ' Jack said.
'There's a lot of racism around this city, that I'll grant you, but it's not the problem here, believe me.'
'Why can't you just have the funeral home send the body back? ' Warren suggested.
'I wish it were that easy, ' Jack said. 'The problem is it's a Brooklyn case, and I'm from the Manhattan office, which means there's a lot of politics involved. I'd have to get the super chief to do it, which would get the Brooklyn chief defensive, since he'd assume the affair was a reflection of how he's running the office. It would become a bureaucratic turf war of sorts. Plus it would take eons. By the time all the paperwork was done, the phone calls made, and the battles waged, the funeral home might have embalmed the body, or worse yet, cremated it.'
'Shit, ' Warren said.
'That settles it, ' Flash said. 'I'm going to Brighton Beach.'
'No, let's all go to the funeral home, ' Jack said. 'It might create some waves, but I don't see we have much choice to keep Flash from selfdestructing. Maybe we'll be lucky. It's on Caton Avenue near the Greenwood Cemetery. You got a map? ' Warren nodded. He had Flash dig it out of the glove box.
While the two of them bent over it, Jack tried to anticipate what they'd be up against in the funeral home.
He imagined the funeral director would not be particularly cooperative.
'When we go into the funeral home we're going to have to kinda barge in and overwhelm them, ' Jack said.
Warren looked up. 'What do you mean? '
'We've got to try to do what we have to do before they have much of a chance to think about it.'
'But you're a medical examiner, ' Warren said. 'You're a city official 'Yeah, but this is irregular, to say the least, ' Jack said.
'The funeral director is not going to like it. You see, the way the system works is that the body is technically released to the next of kin, in this case the husband, even though the funeral home picks the body up.
Nothing is supposed to happen to the body unless the husband says so.
Obviously we don't want them calling the husband, because if he's guilty of what Flash suspects, he'd scream bloody murder.'
'Why not just say you're from the Brooklyn office and there was a couple things you forgot to do.'
'The funeral director would be sure to call the Brooklyn office, ' Jack said. 'They'd wonder why they hadn't gotten a call to bring the body back. Remember, they work with them all the time and know the MES.
For me to suddenly show up will be very irregular. Trust me! '
'So what do you propose? ' Warren asked.
'I'm thinking, ' Jack said. 'Did you find it on the map? '
'I think so, ' Flash said.
'Let's go before I chicken out, ' Jack said.
After driving a few blocks Jack got an idea. Taking out his cell phone, he placed a call to Bingham's office. As
