Blindsight by Robin Cook

“It’s difficult to believe so little can be done,” Laurie said.

“Something can only be done if we get hard evidence. Take Frank DePasquale here. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Cerino and his crew are responsible for whacking him. But I can’t do anything without some proof, some break.”

“I thought the police had informers,” Laurie said.

“We have informers,” Lou agreed. “But nobody who really knows anything. The people that could really point a finger are more scared of each other than they are of us.”

“Well, maybe I’ll come up with something with this post,” Laurie said, redirecting her gaze to Frank DePasquale’s corpse. “The trouble is that bodies in water tend to be washed of evidence. Of course, there is the bullet. At the very least I can give you the bullet.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Lou said.

Laurie and Vinnie tackled the autopsy. At each step she explained to Lou what they were doing. The only difference between Frank’s autopsy and Duncan’s was the way Laurie did the brain. With Frank she was meticulously careful to follow the bullet’s path. She noted that it never came near to the swollen eye. She was also careful not to touch the bullet with a metal instrument. Once she’d retrieved it, she put it into a plastic container to avoid scratching it. Later, after it was dry, she marked it on its base, then photographed it before sealing it in a small envelope. The envelope was then attached to a property receipt, ready to be turned over to the police, meaning Sergeant Murphy or his partner upstairs.

“It’s been quite a morning,” Lou said as they exited the autopsy room. “It’s been very instructive, but I think I’ll pass on your third case.”

“I was surprised you tolerated two,” Laurie said.

They paused outside the locker room. “I’ll go through the microscopic material on Frank DePasquale, and I’ll let you know if anything interesting turns up. The only thing that I think might be interesting is the eye. But who knows?”

“Well, it’s been fun…” Lou said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Laurie looked into the lieutenant’s dark eyes. She had a feeling he wanted to ask her something else, but couldn’t seem to get it out. “I’m heading upstairs for another shot of coffee,” she said. “Would you care for another before you run off?”

“Sounds good,” Lou said without hesitation.

Up in the lunchroom they found themselves at the same table they’d occupied earlier. Laurie couldn’t understand why the confident Lou had become so fidgety and awkward. She watched while he took out his cigarettes and matches and fumbled to light up.

“You’ve been smoking for a long time?” Laurie asked, just to make conversation.

“Since I was twelve,” Lou said. “In my neighborhood it was the thing to do.” He shook out his match and took a long drag.

“Have you ever considered stopping?” Laurie asked.

“Absolutely,” Lou said. He blew smoke over his shoulder. “It’s easy to stop. I’ve been doing it weekly for a year. Seriously though, I do want to quit. But it’s hard at headquarters. Most everybody smokes.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t come up with a breakthrough with DePasquale,” Laurie said.

“Maybe the bullet will help somehow,” Lou said. He dropped his cigarette into the ashtray while trying to balance it on the edge. “The ballistics people are pretty resourceful. Ouch!” Lou pulled his hand away from the ashtray. He’d burned his finger on his cigarette.

“Lou, are you all right?” Laurie asked.

“I’m fine,” Lou said too quickly. He tried again and this time succeeded in retrieving his cigarette.

“You seem upset about something,” Laurie said.

“Just have a lot on my mind,” Lou said. “But there is something I’d like to ask. Are you married?”

In spite of herself, Laurie smiled and shook her head. “Now there’s a question out of the blue.”

“I agree,” Lou said.

“Also, under the circumstances, it’s not very professional,” Laurie said.

“I can’t argue with that either,” Lou admitted.

Laurie paused as she had a mini-argument with herself. “No,” she said finally. “I’m not married.”

“Well, in that case…” Lou said, struggling for words, “… maybe we could have lunch someday.”

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