“Yamaguchi-gumi.”
“That’s it. I mean, don’t overdo it. Just some trifle reference his guys were concerned about a couple of the Yamaguchi-gumi enforcers, or whatever they call their hit men. The Yakuza are paranoid about each other and do more harm to each other than the police. Am I making sense?”
“A lot of sense,” Louie said.
“Are you going to take my advice?”
“I’ll think about it,” Louie answered.
“But it’s key that you don’t add to your violence problem by anybody finding a couple of bodies with a single bullet in their brains.”
“Understood,” Louie agreed.
“Now, about the current violence problem,” Paulie continued, lowering his voice. “I haven’t heard anything about a guy getting whacked on any subway platform, nor any mass murder in New Jersey. How come? What’s the story? Here inside, we learn about such things sometimes even before they happen.”
“When I got upset with Hideki telling me the truth instead of the wacky story of a heart attack, he tried to calm me down by insisting that the death was done in a way that would be considered natural and would be undetectable to the police. Also, his guys took all the man’s IDs, so it’s going to be an unidentified corpse until someone comes out of the blue to identify him.”
“What about the mass murder?”
“The only explanation for now is that no one has stumbled on the scene. If the whole family was home, except for Satoshi, who surely is not going home, it might be a while before it’s discovered. My guys say it’s not the best part of town, mostly empty buildings, trash, and graffiti. They didn’t even see a single person, and it was evening, when you most often see people coming home from work.”
“That’s in our favor. Under such conditions it could be months, and it would never be associated with the hit on the subway platform, which is important, in my mind. As far as going over there and cleaning it out ourselves, I say definitely no. We shouldn’t go near the place.”
“I agree with that totally,” Louie said.
“That leaves the victim who was whacked. Did Hideki tell you how he was killed?”
“No. All he said was that no one is going to figure it out, so it will be considered a natural death.”
“That means it’s important that it remains a natural death.”
“I suppose you’re right. But there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Paulie said. “I know a kid that works at the medical examiner’s office named Vinnie Amendola. Well, he’s no kid anymore. Hell, he’s got to be in his forties. Nice kid. I literally saved his father way back when, so the kid owes me big-time. Of course, we used him once a number of years ago to sneak a body out of the morgue. He got into a bit of trouble over it, but I smoothed it over, since he’s lived all his life out here in Queens. He could help you on this case.”
“By doing what?” Louie questioned.
“He could tell you the status on the case, like if the cause of death has been signed out as natural. Vinnie loves his job, God knows why. He knows everything that goes on in the medical examiner’s office.”
Louie took a moment to look back at the visitors’ desk. He was afraid they would soon be asking him to leave, yet he wanted to hear the rest of Paulie’s suggestions. As Louie had envisioned, Paulie had some good ideas. When no one waved at him from the desk, Louie turned his attention back to Paulie.
“You waiting for someone?” Paulie asked.
“No. I’m afraid they’re going to kick me out. So you think it’s worth it to take the time to go to the morgue?”
“I definitely think you should go for one very important piece of information.”
“Are you going to tell me or what?” Louie questioned. It seemed Paulie was stalling on purpose with time running out.
“The most important thing I want you to ask Vinnie Amendola is the name of the medical examiner on the case.”
Louie knotted his brow in surprise. “Are you serious? What the hell for? Why does it matter?”
“If it’s Laurie Montgomery, we are in trouble.”
“Who the hell is Laurie Montgomery?”
“She’s one of the MEs,” Paulie said. “If I had to pick the single person most responsible for my being here in prison, it would be Laurie Montgomery. She’s the smartest one at the morgue, and certainly the most dogged. She figured out stuff from the bodies I was responsible for sending in there in ways that still mystify me. We even tried to whack her and couldn’t. We even had her nailed in a coffin at one time—you know, one of those simple pine boxes they use for the unidentified dead. She’s like a cat with nine lives. Even Vinnie Dominick tried to kill her without luck.”
“You must hate her guts.”
“No, I’ve forgiven her, since she’s also responsible for me finding God.”
Louie didn’t respond for a moment, instead staring into Paulie’s scarred face again, trying to figure out if Paulie was seriously religious or seriously into character for the parole board’s benefit. Paulie remained placid, a smile at the corners of his distorted lips.
“My point is,” Paulie continued, “if you find Laurie Montgomery involved with your subway platform victim, you must, and I emphasize
“What would I do, have her killed?”
“No. Absolutely not. I tried. Dominick tried. And merely by trying you will unleash from the police just what you are trying to avoid: probably a decade of harassment, because she’s connected in high places in the police department. She used to date Lou Soldano. And when they stopped dating, the relationship didn’t change. In fact, it got better.”
A piercing whistle got Louie’s attention. Checking the desk, he saw the guard waving at him. Time was up. Louie looked back at Paulie. “If she’s on the case, how do I get her off?”
“Can’t help you there. You gotta figure that one out yourself. Ask Vinnie Amendola. He might have a suggestion.”
Another whistle penetrated the general background hum of voices filling the room.
“See ya,” Louie said, standing up.
“You know where to find me,” Paulie said as they hung up their phones in unison.
10
MARCH 25, 2010
THURSDAY, 2:30 p.m.
Laurie took off her coat and hung it on the back of her office door, then pushed the door closed. At least for a while she wanted to be out of contact with the rest of the world. She’d just returned from a rather rowdy lunch in her honor at a nearby restaurant called the Waterfront Ale House. Feeling as she did, she would have preferred not to have gone, but she couldn’t refuse, since the lunch was celebrating her return to work, and Jack had been the organizer. Most of the MEs had shown up, filled with good cheer and laughter. For Laurie it had been exhausting to act as happy as everyone else. The day was not going nearly as well as she’d hoped, with only one case with no identity and no cause or manner of death. And she couldn’t stop thinking about JJ and Leticia. Laurie had stopped calling when Leticia asked, saying Laurie was interfering with her ability to pay adequate attention to JJ. “If there’s the slightest problem, I’ll call you,” Leticia had insisted earlier. “Please relax and do your work. Everything is going to be fine.”
Laurie sat down at her spotlessly clean desk. She stared at the phone for a moment. “Screw it!” she said abruptly, then angrily punched in Leticia’s number. “Nobody’s going to tell me I can’t call about my child!”
