Even though it was ugly and quite cold, Laurie decided to huddle under her umbrella and walk for a bit before catching a cab home. She wanted to mill over what she had learned and what it might mean for the case as a whole.
By far the most significant discovery was the surfacing of these two mystery men. Laurie wondered if the pair was involved in the drug trade. She wondered if this revelation would be enough to get the police narcotics squad interested. She began to hope Lou might feel differently now that more similarities between the cases were falling into place.
Laurie wished she could speak to the tenant who complained of noise. What did he hear and when did he hear it? When it began to rain in earnest, Laurie hailed a cab and headed for home. Over a salad and some hot tea, she got out all the material she had concerning her series and made a new sheet listing the cases in order. She started two columns beside the column of names: “Found by”; “Two Men at Scene?”
She filled in what answers she had. The rest of the afternoon she devoted to filling in the blanks. It meant a lot of legwork, but Laurie knew she had to be thorough if she was ever going to get anyone to believe in her theory.
By late afternoon, Laurie was convinced her efforts had been worthwhile. In each of the scenes the bodies had been discovered by a doorman or superintendent investigating after a neighboring tenant’s complaint of strange noises coming from the deceased’s apartment. With the information on her sheet nearly complete, Laurie headed home convinced more than ever that there was something sinister afoot. There were too many coincidences. Now if only she could persuade someone in a position to do something about it.
By the time she got home, it was dark. She wasn’t sure what her next move should be. Out of curiosity, Laurie opened the Sunday Times to see if the media had picked up the story of the banker and the Columbia coed who’d OD’d. She found a brief mention of the deaths in the depths of the second section. The article made the deaths sound like just another couple of overdoses and made no mention of other demographically similar occurrences in the recent past. Another day, another opportunity to alert the public lost.
Laurie decided to try Lou’s home number. She wasn’t sure she had enough to convince him of anything, but she was eager to give him an update. She got Lou’s answering machine but decided against leaving a message.
Hanging up the phone, Laurie pondered the thought of calling Bingham. Believing it would be an exercise in futility at best, and might get her fired at worst, she gave up the idea. He clearly stated that he intended to do nothing, at least not until he spoke with the commissioner of health.
Laurie’s eyes moved from the phone to the open newspaper. Slowly the idea of leaking the story herself began to occur to her. She’d had a bad experience with giving her opinion to Bob Talbot the last time, but in all fairness to him, she’d not specifically said her remarks were confidential.
With that thought in mind, she got out her address book to see if she had his number. She did, and she gave him a call.
“Well, well,” he said when he heard it was Laurie. “I was afraid I was never going to hear from you again. I didn’t know what else to do beyond apologizing.”
“I overreacted,” Laurie admitted. “I’m sorry I never got back to you. It was just that I got an awful chewing out by the chief over your story.”
“I apologize again,” Bob said. “What’s up?”
“This might surprise you,” Laurie said, “but I may have a story for you, a big story.”
“I’m all ears,” Bob said.
“I don’t want to talk on the phone,” Laurie said.
“Fine by me,” Bob said. “How about I buy you dinner?”
“You’re on,” Laurie said.
They met at P. J. Clark’s on the corner of Fifty-fifth and Third. They were lucky to get a table on a rainy Sunday evening, especially one by the far wall where they could talk above the usual hubbub. After a clear-eyed Irish waiter took their order and slid two brimming draughts in front of them, Laurie began.