This morning the reception area was relatively quiet. There were still a few media people hanging around for more word on the “preppy murder II” case. Yesterday’s Central Park murder had made the front page of the tabloids and the local morning news.
Just shy of the inner door, Laurie stopped. Over on one of the vinyl couches she spotted Bob Talbot deep in conversation with another reporter. After a moment’s hesitation Laurie strode over to the couch.
“Bob, I’d like to talk to you a moment,” she said. Then to his companion, she added, “Pardon me for interrupting.”
Bob eagerly got to his feet and stepped aside with Laurie. His attitude surprised her. She would have expected him to be more sheepish and contrite.
“Seeing you two days in a row must be some sort of record,” Bob said. “It’s a pleasure I could get used to.”
Laurie started right in. “I can’t believe you didn’t have more respect for my confidence. What I told you yesterday was meant for your ears only.”
Bob was clearly taken aback by Laurie’s rebuke. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t think what you were saying was a secret. You didn’t say so.”
“You could have thought about it,” Laurie fumed. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what such a statement would do to my standing around here.”
“I’m sorry,” Bob repeated. “It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right, it won’t happen again,” Laurie said. She turned and headed for the inner door, ignoring Bob as he called out to her. But although she ignored him, her anger had lessened. After all, she had been speaking the truth the day before. She wondered vaguely if she shouldn’t be more uncomfortable with the social and political aspects of her job that Bingham had referred to than with Bob. One of the attractions for Laurie of pathology in general and forensics in particular was that they tried to deal with the truth. The idea of compromise for whatever reason disturbed her. She hoped she would never have to choose between her scruples and the politicking.
After Marlene Wilson buzzed her through, Laurie went directly to the ID office. As per usual Vinnie Amendola was drinking coffee and perusing the sports pages. If the date on the paper hadn’t been that day’s, she might have sworn he’d never left. If he noticed Laurie, he didn’t give any indication. Riva Mehta, Laurie’s office-mate, was in the ID office. She was a slight Indian woman with a dark complexion and a soft, silky voice. On Monday they’d not crossed paths.
“Looks like today’s your lucky day,” Riva teased. She was getting herself some coffee before heading up to the office. Tuesday was to be a paper day for her.
“How so?” Laurie questioned.
Vinnie gave a short laugh without looking up from his paper.
“You got a homicide floater,” Riva said. A floater was a body that had been in water for a period of time. They generally were not desirable cases since they frequently were in advanced stages of decomposition.
Laurie looked at the schedule Calvin had made up that morning. Listed were that day’s autopsies and the people to whom they’d been assigned. After her name were two drug overdoses and a GSW homicide. The GSW stood for Gun Shot Wound.
“The body was hauled out of the East River this morning,” Riva said. “An attentive security man had apparently seen it bobbing past the South Street Sea Port.”
“Lovely,” Laurie said.
“It’s not so bad,” said Vinnie. “It hadn’t been in the water long. Only a matter of hours.”
Laurie nodded in relief. That meant she probably wouldn’t have to do the case in the decomposing room. It wasn’t the smell that bothered her on such cases as much as the isolation. The decomposing room was all by itself on the other side of the morgue. Laurie much preferred to be in the thick of things and relating to the other staff. There was a lot of give and take in the main autopsy room. Often she learned as much from other people’s cases as she did from her own.
Laurie looked at the name of the victim and his age: Frank DePasquale. “Poor fellow was only eighteen,” she said. “Such a waste. And like most of these homicides, the case will probably never be solved.”